Chapter 23 Funkytown

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Stargazer Inn dining room, illuminating the remains of a hearty breakfast buffet. A few guests from the Gilbert and Sullivan Society lingered over their eggs and nursed their coffees, their conversations punctuated by the occasional shift in the room's decor. The dining room shimmered and warped, transforming momentarily into Studio 54—Donna Summer blaring, a dizzying swirl of flashing lights all around. A moment later, the room morphed into a Hawaiian luau, with a roasted pig on a spit and hula dancers swaying. Then, with a final flicker, it settled back into its familiar New England charm, although a faint scent of coconut oil lingered in the air. The guests had all gotten used to these changes—their conversations barely missed a beat as the room bounced from a fabulous disco to Waikiki Beach and then back to the familiar paneling and floral wallpaper.

Scarlett came downstairs, bleary-eyed but determined not to miss another breakfast. She spotted her mother, Luna, and Delilah at a table, surrounded by the remnants of their meals. Before joining them, she headed for the buffet, piling her plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a mountain of fruit. Scarlett plunked down at the family table, allowing the scent of coffee and the gentle hum of conversation to wash over her.

"Good morning, Scarlett." Her mother was occupied with the morning paper and didn't look up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Luna chirped. "Welcome to the land of the living."

Delilah wasted no time on pleasantries. "Luna managed a rough translation of a page from the Myrmex Arcana . Seems these red flies have a somewhat biblical origin."

Curious, Scarlett leaned in. "Tell me."

"According to the book," Luna explained, "the dragonflies date back to Ancient Egypt. Remember all the insect plagues in the Book of Exodus? Gnats, flies, locusts? Myrmex Arcana speculates that our flies may have been created in response, conjured by Jannes and Jambres, two sorcerers employed by the Pharaoh. But it seems their plan backfired. Their flies render all magic unpredictable and surreal—"

"Yeah, no shit," Scarlett injected.

"Right, which makes them a pretty self-defeating weapon. They create chaos instead of control."

"So, who brought these nasties back? And why'd target us?"

"That's what we've been trying to figure out." Delilah sighed.

With a sudden jolt, the inn's wallpaper dissolved into a dizzying swirl of neon graffiti. The overhead lights vanished, replaced by a rotating disco ball that cast fractured shards of light across the room. The air filled with the pulsing beat of perennial roller-rink favorite, "Funkytown." For a heart-stopping moment, the Melroses found themselves clinging to the edge of their chairs as roller-skaters whizzed past in a blur of neon leg warmers and spandex.

"This is an old one," Mama Melrose shouted over the din. "I think we conjured this for Earl Twelve's twelfth birthday."

Abruptly, the roller rink was gone, and the dining room was just as it had ever been.

Scarlett sighed and took a sip of her coffee. "Okay, as we were saying . . . Who's unhappy in Oak Haven? Who has a bone to pick with us?"

"What about the town meeting, Scar?" Luna asked. "Did you notice anyone who seemed . . . agitated? Bellicose?"

" Bellicose , wow . . ." The town meeting felt like a lifetime ago. Scarlett racked her brain, trying to recall faces from just the night before. "The Chatterjees were pretty worked up about their missing gnomes, but mostly they seemed grumpy, not vengeful. This one guy was losing his mind over flamingo poop, but that didn't seem . . . Oh wait. What about that time witch? She was a bit bellicose, maybe?"

"Ehh." Mama's face soured. "Louise Demain. I wouldn't put this past her."

"Now, Mama," Delilah said. "Is Louise truly bellicose? Or just French?"

"I don't know this Louise person," Luna offered, "but a time witch seems an unlikely culprit. They have far stronger weapons at their disposal than dragonflies. And they aren't this subtle. I've encountered time witches before, and trust me, if they're mad at you, you know it."

"True," Mama conceded. "Still, a conversation couldn't hurt. Perhaps she'll have some thoughts about how to solve this problem. It would certainly massage her ego if one of us went to her for help. Scarlett, why don't you pay her a visit?"

"Me?" exclaimed Scarlett. "Why me?"

"Well, Delilah has the inn to run, and Luna must continue with the Myrmex Arcana translation, and I hate Louise Demain. That leaves you. Besides, what else do you have to do today beyond mooning over Nate Williams?"

Scarlett felt her cheeks flush. "I'm not mooning! In fact, Nate and I aren't on the best terms at the moment and that's probably exactly how it should be. As I have plenty of other things to do."

"Such as?" Mama raised an eyebrow.

"Well." Scarlett pushed her eggs around her plate. "I thought I'd hike up to the grove, check on things, look for clues. And I was going to stop by the bookstore to see if I could help with the clean-up. And, you know . . ." She looked up to find her family staring at her expectantly. "Fine," she sighed. "I was going to check on Nate, yes. But not because I'm mooning. He's got that whole magic storeroom at the hardware store—anything could be going wrong with all that magic, literally anything. It's quite dangerous. Honestly, Mama, I don't know why you aren't taking that particular situation more seriously. And as a Melrose, I feel like it's our duty to—"

The Melrose women exchanged amused glances. Delilah snickered openly.

"Oh shut up, all of you." Scarlett's face was as pink as the grapefruit on her mother's plate.

"Louise first," Mama said reasonably. "Nate Williams can wait."

"Fine," Scarlett agreed. "I'll do it. But there's something else." She leaned forward, her voice barely a whisper. "Last night, when I was heading to bed, I heard noises coming from Maximillian's room."

Luna's eyes widened with interest. "Really? What was it?"

"Music, conversation, ice clinking in glasses. It sounded like he was having a little gathering."

"Err, he's allowed to have company, isn't he?" Luna smiled. "In fact, I think it's lovely that Maximillian is making friends. He seems like such a lonely soul."

"Lonely?" Delilah scoffed. "He's as lonely as a peacock in a mirror factory."

Scarlett shook her head. "It's not just that. It seemed more like a secret meeting than a party."

" Oh, please ." Delilah shot back. "Secret meeting to do what?"

But Scarlett pressed on. "And it's not just Max. I saw a bunch of magicians at the coffee shop, and I just—"

"No, bunch sounds all wrong," Delilah interrupted. "What's the collective noun for magicians? An ensemble of magicians?"

Luna replied, "Maybe a troupe of magicians?"

"What about, like, a sorcery of magicians?"

"Ughhh," Scarlett groaned, "will you two cut it out?"

"Ummm," Luna said thoughtfully, "a spellcraft of magicians?"

Delilah shook her head. "Not quite."

From behind her newspaper, Mama announced definitively, "A conjuration of magicians."

"Boom!" said Luna. "That's perfect."

"Can we please move on?" Scarlett begged. "I saw a bunch of magicians—yeah, I said bunch , deal with it—at the coffee shop last night, all dressed in top hats and capes. And it was all very odd."

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Magicians are always odd, Scarlett. It's in their job description."

"But what are they all doing here?"

"Maybe they're here for the foliage," Luna suggested, her tone hopeful. "Max did say he loves autumn."

Scarlett wasn't convinced. "It's more than that. There's something . . . off with them. I can feel it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Delilah scoffed.

Mama lowered her newspaper. "Now, girls, let's not be hasty. Instinct is important, Scarlett. Just be careful not to let your imagination run away with you. But for now, how about that visit to Louise . . .?"

***

Scarlett crossed Main Street, the crisp autumn air carrying the mingled scents of cinnamon, woodsmoke . . . and swimming pools?! A clear reminder that magic remained as drunk as ever. Her destination was on the far side of the green: Tout le Temps, Louise Demain's enigmatic clock repair shop.

A towering grandfather clock stood sentinel beside the door, its intricate gears and pendulums gleaming in the morning sun. The shop's display window was a chaotic jumble of old-world timekeeping devices—a sundial in weathered brass, an hourglass filled with sparkling sand, and a meticulously carved water clock bubbling merrily.

Scarlett entered the shop, the bell above the door announcing her presence. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and aged parchment, mingling with the metallic tang of old gears and springs. Flickering oil lamps provided the only light, casting even innocent objects in ominous shadow. The shop was a labyrinth of clocks, each one ticking and tocking in its own rhythm.

One massive clock dominated the entire side wall: an astronomical clock dating back to medieval times. The clock was a complex marvel of intricate dials, moving parts, and an elaborately carved housing. Its primary face displayed the hour, but surrounding it were smaller dials and displays, showing the positions of celestial bodies and the signs of the zodiac. Small wooden figures appeared and disappeared, marking the passing of time. Periodically, the clock would "ding" or "dong" without any clear motivation.

A customer stood at the counter. Scarlett recognized him as one of the Gilbert and Sullivan troupe staying at the inn. He held out a cracked smartwatch with a hopeful expression and called out. "Hello? Is anyone here?"