by J L Collins
“Whoa.”
“I’ve had to cut her off plenty of times before, all that wailing. It doesn’t do anything to me but a lot of my patrons had to run out, worried she’d deafen them. Or worse.”
Which made sense considering she was half-banshee and all. I thought about that morning in the Athenaeum, seeing her power really coming to life. I shuddered. “Huh. So, she’s a bit of a blabber-mouth?”
He nodded, downing the contents of his bottle in an easy gulp. “The worst. She’d probably tell anyone anything they wanted to hear. Not ideal, considering her job and all.”
Something tickled at the back of brain, though I wasn’t really sure if it was because I already had a light buzz going or what. The brain fog cleared and I sat straight up.
“You’re right. The Head Librarian knows a lot of the Athenaeum’s secrets. Not ideal at all.”
20
Pixie Dust and a Thief
I thought I was being pretty discreet after meeting back up with Fi and Erie at the library. But apparently my kid was more observant than I gave her credit for. After Erie headed home to check on her many types of pets, I walked with Fi back to the Apothecarium. Even though bright violets and deep oranges lit up the sky at sunset, everything seemed extra bright and still a little fuzzy.
“How ya feeling?” There was no hiding the amusement in her words.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My throbbing head said otherwise.
We hadn’t stepped inside the shop for thirty seconds before Fiona-Leigh rushed down the aisle toward Aunt Bee who was busy securing the lids on all the open barrels. “I don’t suppose you have more of that hangover tonic, do you?” I heard her say.
I hung my head for a moment, rubbing at my eyes.
“Hangover?” The floor creaked as Aunt Bee stood up, her bespectacled glare making even Fiona-Leigh take a few steps back. “I certainly hope you aren’t serious.”
“For me,” I groaned, shuffling down the aisle. “It’s for me,”
Her face brightened instantly. “Oh! Well that’s a different story. Yes, of course dear.”
She went behind the shop counter and bent down, rummaging around, bottles clinking up against one another. “Here you go, Gwennie-Bee. Let me get you a clean glass.” Summoning a glass from a cupboard in the back, she poured the dark liquid into it before handing it to me.
It cooled the burn from the indigestion currently sitting at the top of my stomach, and took the pounding to a dull ache. Even my eyes, which felt blurry and a bit glazed over, seemed to clear up.
“Thanks, Aunt Bee.”
“You’re welcome. Though I would maybe caution against drinking in the middle of the daytime. It doesn’t help to walk outside and be welcomed by the brightness of the sun any.” Both her and Fi snickered.
“Ugh. Yes, yes. I know.” Why had I thought it was a good idea to day-drink? My brain really must be exhausted…
Fiona-Leigh ducked down to inspect a jar of pixie dust. “Aunt Bee?”
“Yes?”
“What exactly does pixie dust do? And how do you go about . . . harvesting it? It doesn’t hurt them, does it?” She looked up; her expression wary.
But Aunt Bee just smiled down at her, shaking her head. “Oh no, nothing like that. I have a few contacts in Arcadia who willingly give it to me for a small trade. And pixie dust is just an accumulation of pixie shavings, ground up into a fine, sparkly powder.”
Fi’s eyes went wide. “Pixie shavings?”
I couldn’t help but add my two cents in, knowing exactly the kind of reaction my daughter would have. “It’s not as extreme as it sounds. Pixie dust is just made from dead skin the pixies slough off into a jar for her. She grinds it up with her mortar and pestle over there,” I said, pointing to one of the smaller-sized marble bowls, “and then you get the dust. Their skin naturally shimmers, hence the sparkles.”
And just as I suspected, her lip curled up. “Um, ew. That is not at all what I imagined.”
I shrugged. “Most of the stories you’ve heard are pretty different from the truth. But that’s humans for you. We keep our secrets well-hidden, and that’s how it works out for the best.”
“Speaking of Arcadia,” Aunt Bee said, fixing the last barrel’s lid on securely. “A few Leprechauns came in here yesterday talking about how the Queen has added a record-amount of new Fairy Knights to her army. If you ask me, that’s a little suspicious.”
That did sound rather suspicious. “Hm. Does Uncle Gardner know about that?”
She nodded. “I brought it up with him earlier while he was grabbing lunch with Ginevra at the Kitty Cauldron. He didn’t seem particularly worried about it.”
Sitting down at the little table set up near the back, I placed my wand on top of it, the exhaustion and day catching up with me. Guilt settled in, cutting at me for not spending more of my time with Fiona-Leigh as I’d promised her. In the back of my mind I knew I needed to make it up to her.
“He’s got a lot on his plate at the moment,” I said, thinking about how maybe he and I weren’t so different. Erie used to complain about how busy Uncle Gardner was even when we were kids. “I don’t doubt he’ll look into it though. But our link to the Fae is all but destroyed with the Queen’s admission. You know they can’t lie, and that short sword didn’t prove to be anything more than a dead-end.”
Aunt Bee sat down across from me, sending a duster around the room, dusting off the tops of all the surfaces. “You know, that thing had me puzzled from the very beginning. Why was it outside of all places? Underneath a bush? It sort of reminds you of the ones they have in those statues on your way into the Arcadian castle, don’t you think?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really recall. All I remember is the Queen trying to play mind games with me. Lovely, she is.” The last thing I was thinking about was the Queen’s decorating tastes. And the only statues I’d ever seen of the Fae were located in the Athenaeum.
Then it hit me. There was a statue of a proud and slightly pompous looking Fairy Knight, wielding a very familiar short sword, not far from the main desk, standing at the end of the Recipes section
“I think I want to take another look at that sword,” I said slowly, trying to recall its features in my minds’ eye.
Fi, who was standing behind Aunt Bee listening in, piped up. “Ooh, can I come with you this time?”
“I’m sorry, honey. They won’t let you into the evidence room. I promise I’ll be back soon though. It shouldn’t be long at all.” I stood up, trying to fight off the rising tide of guilt again as I pulled her in for a hug.
With the street lanterns flickering their magic flames to light up the road, there were less people out. Through the windows of some of the shops I could see where people were finishing up for the day and setting their wards back up around their businesses before returning home. The bronze plaque at the entrance of the MARC shimmered underneath the lamplight above it.
I knew that even though most of the MARC offices had emptied out by now, there were still some Witches left inside the looming building, working late into the night. I was sometimes one of them a long time ago. Most of the main offices were empty, and when I checked upstairs for Uncle Gardner, I was surprised to see that even he was gone, at least for now.
“Everyone’s so busy being spread thin over the different cases that no one has time for anything else,” I muttered to myself, deciding to take matters into my own hands. I’m sure Uncle G won’t mind if I re-examine the evidence without him. At least… I hope so.
Letting myself in and down the elevator to the top floor, I pulled out my wand to tap in the special code at the door to the evidence room. There was the sound of a click, then the door slid open to reveal the dimly-lit room behind it.
Gustavo, the retired Shadow Hand that manned the evidence room, sat up in his chair. “Gwendolyn Brady. What brings you here?”
I gave him a small smile, placing my wand down on the table in front of him as was required
. “Just checking out something. About the murder investigation.” I didn’t need to explain any further—there was only one murder case in town since violent offenses in Spell Haven weren’t common.
He tipped his hat at me, gesturing past himself. “By all means. But the locker self-locks after nine o’clock, unless you’re the Inquisitor or the Archmage, so . . . you might want to hurry up in there, Miss Brady.”
I thanked him, walking past into the locked off corridor.
I glanced up, following the labels along each aisle marker. “A-H, I, J, K . . . O! Here we go.” I found the ‘O’ files, trailing my finger along until I saw the most recent box labeled “O’SHEA, ROURKE. MURDER. 3RD QUARTER.” I slowly pulled it out of its space, opening the top.
The inside was of course, pretty empty. The main thing inside the specially-magicked cloth sack was the short sword. But there were prints that had been lifted and placed on identification papers, and some more autopsy reports, too. I slid the bag off, feeling the weight of the short sword in my hands.
Truth be told, it didn’t feel nearly as heavy as it should, and even though it had shone pretty well under the sunlight when I first uncovered it—now it looked dull. How could this thing be a real sword? It was like a weird imitation of one, really, but I couldn’t piece together why it would even exist in the first place.
The statue I’d passed by countless times back at the Athenaeum felt like a faraway memory in my head, like trying to recall something you only vaguely knew about to begin with. I was sobered up enough fine, but I couldn’t seem to picture the sword in my hands and the sword in the statue side-by-side.
I was going to have to compare them for real. The problem was the fact that all evidence in the evidence room had to stay there. And I couldn’t exactly summon the statue from the Athenaeum to the locker. I frowned, glancing down the corridor to where the light from the small room up front came from. Uncle Gardner had already told Queen Mabily that the evidence never left the room. I guess I’m going to have to make a liar out of myself. Yet again.
I carefully slipped the short sword in the waistband of my pants, tucking my tank top over it and into my pants. If I could keep faced away from Gustavo, I knew I had a chance. I’d have to grab my wand and do a quick disabling charm though, so the short sword wouldn’t set off any of the wards. It was a tall order and as much magic as I could wield, I was no magician.
Careful not to look suspicious, I strode back down the corridor, my hands calmly at my sides. Gustavo had his head bent down, filling in the weekly crossword puzzle in the Spell Haven paper. Maybe I’d get lucky after all.
“Finished already?” he asked without looking up.
“Yep,” I said, doing my best to sound nonchalant. The short sword’s weight against my back felt heavier by the second.
He scratched a long word across some empty boxes, sighing. “Well. Another one done.” He looked up at me, looking me up and down a moment before handing my wand back. “Good luck with the case. Looks like it’s going to be a tough one to crack.”
“It’s definitely going that way,” I agreed, my cheeks flushing with heat as I shoved my wand into my back pocket carefully giving it a little flick toward the door as I did so. “See you around, Gustavo.”
He gave me a nod. “Sure thing, Miss Brady.”
I walked backward a few steps; my throat dry as parchment until I was past the invisible ward boundary. With one last polite smile, I turned and walked back down the hall toward the elevator.
I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried. It really shouldn’t have been so easy to sneak evidence out of the room like that. But it worked for me, so the best I could do was to make sure my small victory wasn’t in vain.
My finger hovered over the button with a red star that would take me to the main lobby to leave. Shoot, I almost forgot! I meant to come to the MARC headquarters for another reason too—to look back over Zoya’s statement in the case file. Which was probably sitting on top of Uncle Gardner’s desk, no doubt. I punched the button to take me up to the top floor instead.
Of course his door was locked—but the trick to this was knowing what special incantations Uncle Gardner would use to keep his office secure. My uncle was stubbornly set in his ways —now I just had to hope his privacy endeavors were too.
I pulled my wand out, careful not to bump into the short sword as I crouched to eye-level with the doorknob. I stuck the tip of my wand into the small mechanical lock, waiting until I heard a soft whirring of gears. I was going to need an old spell to get through, that was for sure. “Oscailte dom teacht, tríd gach constaic. Lig isteach mé.” I whispered just loud enough. As the gears all aligned and clicked into place inside, I stood waiting again until the barrier spell around the door was visible. It wavered blue like the reflection of a pool on your face at night.
“Isobel, Reaghan, Erie, Gwendolyn. 00100.”
The barrier evaporated and the door slowly opened for me. I closed my eyes for a moment, thankful it had actually worked.
Casting an illumination incantation, I lit one of the larger candles in the room. I didn’t want to draw too much attention to the room from beyond the windows, so I had to be careful. Rourke’s case file was stacked on the top of a neat and orderly pile of other folders on Uncle Gardner’s desk. I sat down in the chair behind the desk, flipping it open until I found the statements and pulled out Zoya’s.
“Witness found victim’s body outside the Dark Craft section, on back, shown in picture 1A. She found him at approximately seven o’clock in the morning, immediately sending for help via the MARC Shadow Hands office . . . Yeah, yeah, I know that,” I mumbled, following the rest of the statement through with my finger. “Witness’s wand was missing. Witness claims she had a terrible headache before she found victim. Okay . . . that checks out.”
I squinted at the next few lines, trying to read the scrawled handwriting. “All right, Zoya,” I said softly, sitting back in the chair after fixing the file back to the exact way it was. “Your statement makes sense. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t let something slip at the bar.” I chewed on my lip.
It was getting late, and I knew that Fiona-Leigh was already going to be irritated with me once I got back to Aunt Bedelia’s place. Checking the clock on the wall, I groaned. Definitely later than I’d hoped.
Tonight, I would spend the rest of the evening with them. But first thing tomorrow morning, I was going back over to the Athenaeum with the short sword in hand.
21
Stolen Time
I pushed the doors to the Athenaeum open, thanking the Shadow Hand that was standing by it for letting me through. The library’s lights all brightened around me as I walked inside, welcoming me back.
Zoya was thankfully standing up at the front desk this time, stamping a small stack of manila cards. Judging by the look on her pale face, she was possibly even more exhausted than I was.
“Hey there,” I said, walking up to her. Even though I had the whole walk over to think about what I wanted to say to her, nothing really came together in my head. I was just going to have to wing it.
She jumped; her cool blue eyes wide as she let out a squeak. “Oh, my goodness. I didn’t see you there, Gwen.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. I just figured you heard the doors open . . .”
She nodded. “I thought it might be Dennison, the young man out there who let you in. It’s nearly time for them to switch out, I believe.”
Hopefully not too soon. I didn’t exactly want any of the Shadow Hands to see me with an important piece of evidence outside of headquarters. “Gotcha.”
“Were you looking for something specific?”
Was it just me, or did she seem a little too eager? I took a better look at Zoya, noting the way her eyes blinked as she regarded me too. I knew she was an anxious person, but she was being downright twitchy.
“Actually, I kind of wanted to check out something—one of the statues. T
he Fairy Knight statue by the Recipes section.”
She gave me a smile but it didn’t really reach her eyes. “Okay. The floor’s all yours. I’ve got to finish with these over here.” She pointed to the stack of cards that looked like they might take her maybe ten more minutes to get through.
I just nodded. “Thanks.” There was no reason to involve her until I figured out how to approach her about her drinking habits at Harm’s Charm, anyway.
Making sure the short sword was concealed well enough before turning away, I headed over to the statue in question. As soon as I got within fifteen feet of it, I knew I was right. The arrogant-looking Fairy Knight was wielding a sword that could’ve been an exact copy of the one I was hiding. I glanced around, making sure Zoya couldn’t see and that no one else was lurking nearby before untucking my shirt and retrieving the sword.
“Whoa.” Same size. Same details and style. The only difference was the statue was made of pure stellarnite—a special mineral that only grew in Danann. The shiny stone surface was nearly metallic looking but the short sword in my hand was a lackluster iron of sorts. I rubbed by thumb along the edge again, wondering how such a dull sword was worth any good to anyone.
“Did you want anything to—” Zoya stopped short at the sight of me with the short sword in hand. “Gwen? Is that the sword you found outside?”
I had no idea how much she knew about the regulations of the evidence room in the MARC building, so all I could do was hope for the best and that she wouldn’t blow it for me just yet. “Yes? I was wanting to um, compare the styles of weaponry. I thought it might give me a better clue as to where it came from. I realized that this one,” I said, lifting up the actual sword, “looks incredibly similar to the one on the statue here. Don’t you think?”
Her eyes slid from sword to sword. “I guess it does sort of. That one you’re holding though is the oddest weapon I’ve ever seen. Doesn’t really look real, does it?”
