by J L Collins
Say what you want about teenage girls, but mine always seemed to find the right thing to say. “Sure. Just make sure you pull out the compass. We want to keep track of how far we are from the road.” Our compass wasn’t just for telling the direction in which we were going—it also contained a minuscule, retractable map inside of it that would shoot out and expand with the snap of your fingers. Very handy.
“And I thought you were queen of these woods way back in your day. Didn’t you used to know them like the back of your hand? I’m pretty sure you read me that line recently.” A smile played at the corner of her mouth.
“Sure, way back in the time of the dinosaurs I might have known my way around here better,” I said, following up her jab. “But it’s been a while as you can imagine. And you’re the one headlining this party, so the responsibility rests on your pretty shoulders, sweetheart.” With that, I clapped her on the back and wandered deeper into the woods.
The morning wore on, and by the time we were on our way back toward the road—tons of photos of the woods and its various furry, feathered, and scaly inhabitants in hand—it was already mid-afternoon.
“How far did we walk?” Fiona-Leigh huffed, taking a sip from the metal bottle hanging from the small knapsack we brought along with us.
I glanced down at the holoscope. “About four miles, roundtrip. Not too shabby.”
She nodded, still a little out of breath. “Definitely got in our exercise for the day. Though I should probably go ahead and put this thing back on,” she groaned, slipping into the heavy coat she’d discarded after walking a ways in.
“Oh. Did we… miss something?” I was the first to break past the trees. The mountains that were in the distance from where we started on the road, were now considerably closer. “Let me see that map.”
Fi caught up and handed me the compass before rubbing her hands together. Her breath hung in the air. “What’s wrong?”
I turned the map the other way around until the compass was facing north again. “Uh, sweetie? Did you have the map turned upside down the whole way?”
She leaned over and snatched the thing from my hands, practically burying her nose into it. “No? I mean…. I don’t think so. Wait.” She looked back up at the area around us and frowned. “This isn’t where we went it, is it?”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid not. From the looks of it, we’ve wound up about five miles further down the road. The entrance to the Glowmine Caves isn’t far from here, actually.”
She raised a brow. “The Glowmine Caves?”
“Where the Dwarves mine. Glowstone, things like that.”
Shielding the sun from her eyes, Fiona-Leigh gazed off toward the mountains. “How far do you think Arcadia is from here?”
The way she said it told me it was more than just some innocent question. “Pretty far. Not that we’re going anywhere near it, of course.” The Fae were mostly good people, but they were brutally honest, and many of them distrusted Witches. Not to mention the kind of effect Arcadia’s magic had on us. I shuddered, thinking of what it might do to Fiona-Leigh. It was pretty much an unspoken rule that she’d never find out.
She rolled her eyes and turned her back on the mountains, facing the opposite way instead. “Back to the manor then, I guess.”
The road curved tightly around the bottom of a steep hill, not giving us very much clearance to see ahead. I yanked Fiona-Leigh out of the middle of it. “Come on, Fi. Where is your head at today?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled without looking up, swiping photo after photo on the holoscope. “These are just really cool.”
I should’ve known as soon as we were back on the road that the first thing she’d do would be to zone out over that darn thing. Netflix, cell phone, holoscope. It was all the same to her.
A carriage transport bobbed past us, the two Witches inside waving hello. I gave Fiona-Leigh a look before she sheepishly handed over the holoscope.
“It’s not going to be much longer is it? My feet are getting super cold.” She shook the caked-on snow off her boots, frowning at me.
“Let’s just get up over this hill here and then I can summon a transport. I think the temperature might actually be dropping.”
The hill was slick with snow. I practically had to drag Fiona-Leigh after me to help her up the side of it. Luckily the other side was a very gradual decline into the small valley that led even further down to where another of the cave entrances were. There was a slight warm glow even visible in the sunlight, several hundreds of yards to the left of us up ahead.
“See? Glowmines.”
She nodded. “Cool. How about that transport?”
“Fine, fine. Come on. Let’s get down here to the fence and I’ll send for one.”
The road that led out from the valley had been cleared of most snow and ice, creating snows banks against the fence that separated the road from the valley.
Fiona-Leigh groaned but kept after me, the biting wind blowing her red hair all around her face as I looked back. When we finally did make it down the hill and I pulled out my wand from my cloak, I heard her swear under her breath, the exhale of the word curling in on the air.
I ignored this and held my wand up, ready to pull out the holoscope and send a message off to the manor house to ask if we could borrow Aunt Ginny’s transport. But I froze, my wand still in mid-air. A pile of snow at the foot of one of the fence stiles looked a little… off. For starters, it was inside the fence instead of on the outside, against the road. The lumpy shape wasn’t exactly hidden under the powder of fresh snow just yet, and I was just able to make out what looked like… hair?
“Oh my god,” I whispered, hurrying over to it. “Oh crap!” I brushed away the snow as fast as I could, my hands like icicles as I unearthed the rest of what was sticking out. I felt around, hoping I was wrong and that this was just some kind of sick joke. “Fi! Fi, get the holoscope now!”
Lying in the heap of snow was a very cold and possibly very dead Dwarf.
6
A Dwarf’s Affair
For a man who used a cane to subtly help get around, Uncle Gardner sure was quick on his feet. I clambered after him once he strode past me out of his office.
“We’ve already brought the husband in for questioning,” he said, stopping for a moment to tuck a file under his arm.
“And his wife?” I asked, stopping only to start after him again.
He sighed. “She’s downstairs already. Of course that isn’t helping much considering she’s a blubbering mess down there.”
I frowned, watching the other Magical Acts & Regulation Control workers all hurrying to catch the elevators. Uncle Gardner and I found one unoccupied and were met in the main lobby with a bunch of stares. By now, word had traveled through the entire headquarters about what happened. A dead Dwarf found not far from the Glowmine caves he worked in. And a woman’s husband who only just recently found out about the affair she was having with said dead Dwarf. It seemed pretty obvious on the outside at least.
“What did she say her name was, again?”
“Darla. And the deceased is Tiberius. Okay, okay.” He stopped and looked me in the eye using the same expression he always used when I was doing my too-muchness. “You cannot keep asking me questions regarding the case, Gwendolyn. I’ve already told you this.”
I knew he was right, and I knew that technically I was sorta exploiting the fact that my uncle was head of the MARC, but since I was the one who found the poor guy, I figured I at least had the right to know what happened to him. Maybe. My sub-conscious really just likes to know things, but either way.
Murders in Spell Haven were rare. This was a well-known fact yet somehow, ever since I’d returned to my hometown, every so often someone got the proverbial ax. No connection between the two things, of course.
Uncle Gardner paused to hand something off to his secretary, Arinda. “The Archmage will want to set up an appointment, I’m sure. Please let me know when he’s available. I know he’s
in the middle of construction on the new wing in City Hall.”
She nodded, her perfectly symmetrical bob barely moving. “Yes, sir. And I’ll let him know you have plans for lunch out this time.”
A flicker of a smile appeared on Uncle Gardner’s face as he thanked her and waved her on. “What? He’s always wanting to play a round of golf with me. And he’s a bit of a sore loser when it comes to it. I’d rather focus on the task at hand.”
“Finding Tiberius’ killer?”
“Eating my lunch.”
“Oh,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I had to continually follow after him. “So where are you off to now, sir?”
“To do my job.”
I groaned. “Uncle. Please. It’s just a simple question.”
We got to the elevators where he looked at me, his eyes steady on mine. He always had a way of making me feel like I was being scrutinized, though now that I’m older I know it’s not as serious as all that.
“Down to the Questioning Room to check in with Rufio. He’s handling the questioning. He should be finished speaking with the husband by now, and I’d like to get the ball rolling on our evidence reports. Nasty business with all the paperwork involved, as you may remember.”
Well. At least he’d given me that.
“It’s pretty cut and dry, don’t you think? I mean, I know you’re still reviewing their statements and the evidence from the scene. But if the husband knew about the affair, it could be seen as a crime of passion.”
He raised a brow at me. “A crime of passion?”
Was that something I’d picked up in all those true crime shows Fi makes me watch? “Uh, I mean a crime committed in the name of love? I don’t know. Just scratch that. What I mean is that it shouldn’t take long to wrap this all up. Once you connect the husband to everything else then I’m sure you can relax. I bet Aunt Ginny would be relieved to finally have you home for the Solstice without work intervening.”
Uncle Gardner frowned, his hand lightly squeezing the top of his cane as he glanced toward the door that led toward the Questioning Room. “I don’t think it’s wise to assume as such. I’ve learned over the years that appearances can truly be deceiving. Just because the husband found out does not mean he couldn’t see past that rage. It doesn’t mean he would do something so drastic. I must admit though, that I’m rather surprised at your line of thinking. Usually you know better than to judge a case so quickly.”
Ouch. “Okay, I know. Maybe it’s not smart to automatically just assume. I do remember some of my training. But in my defense, Dwarves are not known to be particularly forgiving. I’ve heard of past cases like this, especially with a Dwarf scorned. They don’t like to be humiliated and this guy finding out his wife is cheating on him probably feels like the ultimate humiliation to him.”
We continued into the hallway, until we were on the other end of it, opening up into the main lobby. A group of Shadow Hands complete in their traditional robes and the emblem of the Shadow Hand shining brightly on their chests, paused and bowed their head all together in Uncle Gardner’s direction. As much as I fully respected my uncle during my time as a Shadow Hand in what seemed like another life, I always felt weird saluting him this way. They walked past as he acknowledged them, and they headed toward the stairs.
People in cubicles peered over the tops of their confined spaces as we walked to the Question Room. It still surprised me just how many people held my uncle in such high reverence. It was like everywhere he went, people treaded lightly and didn’t quite meet his gaze. As strong of a person as Uncle Gardner was, I never thought to actually be scared of him.
Down another hallway we went—this one shorter and comprised of a few doors on both sides of it, labeled rooms one through six.
“Sir?” Rufio, Uncle Gardner’s Lead Investigator within the Shadow Hands and apparently Althea’s husband, appeared in the hallway, closing a door behind himself.
Uncle Gardner’s face was all business. “What’s the report?”
Rufio was clearly hesitating, glancing over at me before straightening his back and giving my uncle a curt nod. “The suspect is claiming his innocence, and his whereabouts during the victim’s projected time of death are public knowledge. He says he was busy working with his team—he’s one of the Dwarves’ foremen in their construction guild. They’d been steady at work for four nights in a row—even staying over at the work site.”
There were a million things I wanted to say but I knew better than to interrupt this conversation. Who exactly was the husband working for? How could we be sure that his fellow workers wouldn’t just try to cover for him? And how did he do it, anyway? From what I saw when I first found the victim he looked as though he might have just died after exposure to the elements in the snow overnight. But that did not make any sense.
Uncle Gardner sighed. “Have you had the chance to follow-through on his claims?”
Rufio shook his head but added, “Not yet sir, but he says their team was working at City Hall, at personal request of the Archmage. I think it would be wise to personally check up with Archmage Bacchus to validate this, but I don’t see why he would make it up when we can easily verify.”
He held up a white notepad full of shorthand notes he’d taken inside the room, handing them to Uncle Gardner. “As you can see, sir, his statement completely lines up with his wife’s. He says he left to go to work at seven o’clock four mornings ago and ended up coming back home only this morning. His wife’s statement reads that she saw him leave at the same time and he returned at four o’clock this morning, which is when she claims to have woken up.”
I frowned, still struggling to keep my mouth shut. It was weird… Why was I so adamant that the guy killed his wife’s boyfriend? If anything, the husband could be seen as the original victim here. Maybe I just wanted the case to move along quickly. The last time the MARC dealt with something like this, well, it wasn’t pretty.
My curiosity didn’t have to wait long. After stopping in to ask the husband a few more questions and leaving me to awkwardly stand around outside waiting, Uncle Gardner had Rufio escort the husband out into the main lobby to fill out some more paperwork before he was free to go.
Uncle Gardner came out of the Questioning Room, pinching the space between his thick eyebrows. “Well. I just fire-messaged the Archmage. He’s telling the truth about his whereabouts that night and morning. Bacchus has been working the Dwarves hard this past week as he wants to have the new wing of City Hall finished in time for the Winter Solstice Gala coming up. I trust the Health Maester’s judgment to know his assessment of the body is right. Tiberius died at someone else’s hands… just not Fromdor’s. Nothing else could pin this on Fromdor, and I’ve let him leave.”
“And the wife? Darla?”
“From what we could get out of her, she was in love with the victim. There were no arguments before he left, nothing to suggest there were bitter feelings between the two of them. We will of course, follow up with this as she was home alone during the estimated time of death and has no witnesses to back this up just yet.”
I knew firsthand that the Shadow Hands had methods of extracting the truth out of people, and not all of them were as bad as they sounded. It wouldn’t surprise me if they ruled her out within the hour, too.
“Okay. Okay then.”
He gave me a funny look. “You sound as if you’re disappointed in his apparent innocence.”
I shrugged. “It’s not really that. I mean, hey, if the guy didn’t kill another Dwarf then that’s great.”
“It also means that you were off in your observation,” he added.
As if I didn’t already feel like an idiot because of it… “I know. It was… as you always used to say, a mistake to quickly pass over the information without shaking it out any. I’m just worried about what else this means.”
He tapped at the top of his cane “And what’s that?”
That there are bigger fish to fry.
“If it wasn’t the
husband, and we… you find out that it wasn’t the wife… then was it a murder? I mean… I found him at the bottom of a hill where he could’ve possibly been coming home from the caves. Maybe he took a wrong turn at night? It sounds like it should be simple, but it’s just so odd that he could’ve been there for more than one night like that and no one knew. How could someone kill a Dwarf without leaving a trace of magic on him and no signs of trauma, other than him freezing to death?”
My question hung in the air, unanswered. All he could do was give me a knowing look before gesturing for me to lead the way out of the hallway. I wouldn’t get anything further from him, at least not now. There was a sort of impatience in my uncle to hurry up and get me out of there.
I know I’m supposed to let the MARC handle it, and I will. I just hope Uncle Gardner isn’t opposed to letting more information about the case slip once he knows more.
7
Hold Your Tongue
“You know, for being powdered dead skin, Pixie dust sure is shimmery.”
Fiona-Leigh snagged the end of the garland on a nail, twisting the length of it until the string of holly was coiled tightly around the pine branch. Pixie dust shimmered as it fell from the mantle in front of the roaring fire.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I mumbled, desperately wiping my hands on my thighs. “Not only is it disgusting, but it’s relentless.”
The sitting room’s corners were strung with lights, and the mantle was thick with pinecones, berries, and glittering baubles. Enchanted snow gathered at the foot of all the floor lamps around the room, as always.
We were well on our way to having the place finished before the Winter Solstice tomorrow night. And working on getting the manor house in tip-top shape was at the tip-top of my list of distractions. Anything I could do to keep my mind off what the MARC and my uncle were currently working on, was well worth the effort. I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I found myself sneaking outside in the snow to see if Uncle Gardner was on his way back home. The investigation into Tiberius’ death was one thing—the dismantling of the Dark Market was an entirely different beast.
