“Big plans?” I asked, motioning to the curlers.
Octavia peered at me. “Are you mocking me, sorceress? I can have my talons out faster than you can…”
“Grandmother!” Darcy interjected. “Emma wasn’t mocking you.”
Octavia observed me carefully. “You’re still fat.”
I patted my belly affectionately. “I’m pregnant, remember?”
“Mother, what have we told you about body shaming?” Marisol streaked into the sunroom with a tray of cookies. “You’re positively glowing, Emma.” She lifted the tray in my direction. “Bladderwrack cookie?”
I stared at the offering. “Um, as delicious as that sounds, I’m trying to cut down on sweets.”
Octavia grunted. “See? She knows she’s fat.”
Marisol set the tray on the table. “Ignore her, Emma. I remember all too well what pregnancy is like.”
“And I don’t?” Octavia asked. “You think you sprang from my head after a night of binge-drinking like Athena herself?”
“I don’t think Zeus had been binge-drinking, Mother,” Marisol said matter-of-factly.
“My hands and feet were swollen with both of you,” Octavia grumbled. “It was nine months of the worst hangover imaginable.”
“That explains a lot,” Phoebe said, striding into the room. “We miss you at harp therapy, Hart.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Hopefully, I’ll be back soon.”
“How’s your lower back?” Marisol asked. “Mine was terribly sore with all three of my girls.”
Callie appeared in the doorway. “And you never let us forget it.” The pretty brunette made a beeline for the cookies.
“My bladder never recovered,” Octavia said. “I still pee myself whenever I sneeze.”
“Thanks for sharing,” Phoebe said.
“My feet never went back to their regular size,” Marisol added. “I had to buy all new shoes.”
“Oh, boo hoo,” Phoebe said. “I’m sure that must’ve been awful for you, all that shopping.”
Marisol bristled. “I loved my shoes. It had taken me years to build my collection.”
Octavia crooked a finger and beckoned me forward. “Let me have a closer look at you.”
Hesitantly, I moved closer to the aging harpy.
“I’m not going to eat you, sorceress,” Octavia said. “Although it would be a twofer at the moment. Not a bad deal.” She tossed her head back and laughed.
I stood in front of her with my hands splayed protectively across my belly.
“Do you know what the sex is?” Octavia asked.
“We want it to be a surprise,” I replied.
She made a guttural sound. “I can tell you, if you’re interested.”
“You can tell me just by looking at my stomach?”
“She only thinks she can,” Darcy said.
“I guessed all of you,” Octavia shot back.
“Easy to say. Hard to prove,” Phoebe said.
“Are you having cramps?” Marisol asked. “I had the worst leg cramps with Darcy. One cramp in my calf made me limp for two whole weeks.”
Darcy folded her arms. “Yes, blame the baby.”
“I’m not blaming you,” Marisol said. “Well, it was technically your fault…but I’m not blaming you.”
“I had a horrible leg cramp recently,” I said. “It woke me up out of a deep sleep.”
“Those are the worst,” Marisol agreed.
“I grew hair in weird places,” Octavia said. “Has that happened to you yet?” She squinted at me. “Ah, yes. I can see that it has.”
My hand touched my ear and then my chin. I had no idea where she meant by ‘weird places’ and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know.
“I’d like to ask your opinion about something,” I said. The faster I got to the point, the sooner I could leave for my nap.
“Yes, your face definitely looks rounder,” Octavia said. She paused. “Was that not your question?”
“Not even close.” I sat on the settee opposite Octavia. “My friend Millie is hoping to fill a new position called the Voice of the Coven.”
“Millie’s the mouthy know-it-all, right?” Phoebe asked. “I like her.”
“What’s the Voice of the Coven?” Darcy asked.
“A witch or wizard that acts as a liaison between the coven and the community,” I said. “Apparently, lots of covens have one, but we’re somewhat behind the times thanks to the curse.”
“And there’s an election?” Callie asked.
“Sort of,” I said. “Millie will give a speech to the coven explaining why she’s the most qualified and then answer questions. Part of the job will entail smoothing over difficulties and dealing with difficult members of the community.”
Phoebe cackled. “And you thought we were the best paranormals to ask. Go figure.”
“I’m insulted,” Octavia huffed.
“Oh, please,” Phoebe shot back. “You love it. You invented the challenging personality. You’re an expert.”
Octavia squared her broad shoulders. “I suppose I am. After all, everyone should be an expert in something.”
“I know what I’m an expert in,” Phoebe said. “There just aren’t enough men around to practice on.”
I swallowed hard. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” I tried to steer the conversation back on track. “How can Millie convince the more difficult members of the coven that she’s the best candidate for this position? What could she identify as her strengths that would appeal to you?”
The harpies fell silent for a moment, considering the question.
“She needs to demonstrate a confident personality,” Phoebe said. “If I sense weakness, I’ll attack.”
“You’re not a shark,” Marisol said.
“That’s blood,” Callie interjected.
“Millie has confidence in spades,” I said.
“Maybe, but she needs to lose the arrogance,” Marisol said. “You can have one without the other. The community will want to feel heard and not disregarded.”
Ooh, that was helpful. “What else?” I prompted.
“Diplomacy,” Callie said. “I don’t want confidence to mean she leaps before she looks. I want to know that she’ll take into account all sides of an issue and present things fairly.”
“She’d represent the coven,” Darcy said. “She only needs to push whatever agenda they’re peddling.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said. “The coven wants to improve its relationship with everyone else. A lot of damage was done by Lady Weatherby.”
“I’ll say,” Octavia agreed. “I’d spit on the floor in agreement if I weren’t in my own sunroom.”
“We want to have someone in place who can soothe ruffled feathers but also speak for the coven and represent us well,” I explained. “Without insulting anyone or making things worse.”
“Why not you?” Darcy asked.
“For starters, I’m the last person the High Priestess would want. She doesn’t even want me in the coven.” I told them about her rule to exclude my child from the coven.
“She must really hate you,” Phoebe said.
“I don’t think she does, to be honest,” I said. “I just think she likes rules and I tend to break them.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not a good choice,” Phoebe said. “Tell Millie that whatever she says, she needs to be forceful and double down if anyone challenges her.”
“That sounds like a recipe for disaster,” I said.
“Millie wants to be a representative of the coven, not a stubborn dictator,” Darcy said. “I think a Voice of the Coven is a wonderful idea, Emma. I’m glad the High Priestess is taking a step like this.”
“Speaking of stubborn, has that Valkyrie let Althea go yet?” Phoebe asked. “I hear she’s still languishing in a holding cell like a common criminal.”
“I’m working on it,” I said.
“In your condition?” Darcy asked. “You should be resting
, Emma. Hang up your cape and let someone else take care of saving the town for once.”
Marisol waved a hand airily. “Emma’s condition doesn’t render her helpless. You should’ve seen what I was capable of when I was pregnant with you and your sisters.”
“Do you think I hung up my wings and talons when I was pregnant with Marisol or Phoebe?” Octavia added. “If anything, I was even more bloodthirsty than usual. I remember one time flying into the forest at night and spotting a nice, juicy…”
Darcy cringed. “Please stop, Grandmother. I’ve heard this story and I know for a fact it will give Emma nightmares.”
Octavia harrumphed. “I don’t care much for delicate constitutions unless they’re smothered in peppers with a side of garlic mayo.”
I rose to my feet before Octavia could continue her rant. “Thanks for your help, everyone. I appreciate it.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Darcy said.
“She can walk on her own,” Octavia snapped. “She’s pregnant, not broken.”
Darcy clasped her hands together, torn between acting the dutiful hostess or the dutiful granddaughter. Unsurprisingly, the dutiful granddaughter won out. “See you soon, Emma. Best of luck with everything.”
I gave her a pointed look, thinking of her date with Alex. “You, too.”
Chapter Eleven
An hour nap and a healthy meal was all I needed to get back to work. It was time to check in with Xavier Kaminsky and find out more about his argument with Mr. Geary.
From the outside, Xavier’s house looked like a quintessential English cottage, complete with a wild garden. There were roses, lilacs, azaleas, and fifty other species I couldn’t name. As chaotic as the garden appeared, there seemed to be a method to madness. Despite the different colors, shapes, and smells, they all worked together to create a floral tapestry. The competing scents could’ve resulted in an assault on the senses. Instead, they produced an olfactory symphony.
Xavier didn’t socialize with the other vampires I knew. Although I’d asked Gareth about him during my brief stop at home, the most information I could extract was that Xavier mainly kept to himself and enjoyed a close relationship with his wife, Finian. Apparently, Xavier golfed with Gareth, Demetrius, and the others before he was married, but his interests changed over time. Based on the bursting garden around me, it was easy to see where he invested his time now.
I didn’t need to wait long for someone to answer the door. A slender woman with strawberry blond, shoulder-length hair appeared in the doorway. Although I could tell she was a vampire, her cheeks sported a rosy hue that I chalked up to clever makeup. She looked surprised to see me.
“Oh, hello,” the woman said. “I thought you were my husband. Sometimes he forgets his key.”
“I’m Emma Hart,” I said. “Are you Finian Kaminsky?”
Her fingers rubbed the black pearls of her necklace. “I am.”
“I was hoping to ask your husband some questions about his friend, Albert Geary.”
I noticed her gaze dart to my round stomach and back to my face. “Terrible news about Al. Such a lovely elf. Xavier has been quite concerned.”
“I understand they’re in a gardening group together,” I said.
Finian put a finger to her lips. “Nobody talks about gardening club. They like it to be their little secret.”
I gestured to the cottage garden. “So I've been told, but I figured it would be a difficult secret to keep from you, given that you share a home and garden with him.” I also wanted to gauge exactly how close Xavier was with his wife. If she hadn’t known about the garden, I would have wondered what other secrets he kept from her.
“Why don't you come in? Xavier should be back soon. He ran out to the garden center for more soil. With the competition coming up, he’s entering full obsession mode.”
That was an interesting choice of words. Was he obsessed enough to eliminate the competition by turning him to stone?
I trailed behind Finian as she made her way to the kitchen. The cottage was as charming on the inside as it was on the outside. The rooms were small and lovingly kept with an assortment of knickknacks and other tasteful decorations. In another house, it might have seemed cramped and overwhelming, but their cottage managed to maintain a welcoming feel.
“Tea?” Finian asked, gesturing to the kettle. “I have a wide variety of herbals thanks to Xavier’s garden.”
“That would be great, thanks," I said.
Finian reached for a box of tea sachets and set them on the counter. “My personal favorite is the red anemone and lousewort blend. It tastes much better than it sounds.”
I noticed that each square in the box was labeled with a different property, such as spirituality, protection, and love. “Do you practice witchcraft?” Although it would be unusual for a vampire, it wasn’t unheard of.
She filled the kettle and set it on the stovetop to boil. “Not really. I just like all of those herbs in the garden to serve a purpose.”
I smiled. “It's not enough for things to look pretty, huh?”
Finian retrieved two mugs from the shelf and set them on the counter. “I admit that I have a utilitarian streak.”
I sniffed a few of the squares and decided on a sachet of chameleon star and blueberry.
“Good choice,” Finian said, dropping it into a floral mug. “It will provide protection for you and the baby. When are you due?”
“Not soon enough,” I said vaguely. I felt uncomfortable disclosing my due date. For starters, Boyd wasn't sure whether the baby would experience a normal gestation period because of his hybrid status. Even more than that, I was superstitious and didn't want to jinx anything. There was still a part of me that worried I would lose everything the way I had lost everything before. Good fortune thrilled me, but it also made me nervous. The more I had, the more I had to lose.
The kettle came to a boil and Finian filled the mugs with water. “Is this your first?”
“Yes,” I said. “It's both exciting and positively frightening.”
She blew the steam off the surface of her tea. “Sounds like being a vampire.” A knock on the front door brought a smile to her lips. “And there's my forgetful husband now. Excuse me.”
Finian returned a moment later, followed by a hulking vampire. Xavier's stature reminded me more of a troll or a tall dwarf.
“Darling, we have a visitor,” Finian said. “This is the lovely Emma Hart.”
Xavier broke into a smile, showing his fangs. “Of course. What a pleasure. I've heard so much about you.” He offered his hand and I shook it. “Vampires are such a catty bunch, as I'm sure you know by now.”
I smiled. “Yes, even when they're dead.”
Xavier threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, yes. You live with Gareth in his old house, don't you? How's that old demon cat? Still spitting and kicking?”
“And hissing,” I added. I sipped my tea, careful not to burn my tongue.
“I suppose you’re here to ask about Al,” Xavier said. “The others mentioned you paid them a visit. It must be my turn.” He scratched his head. "What I don't understand is why you're interviewing us when the sheriff has someone in custody.”
“Because Althea is innocent,” I said.
“Isn't she a Gorgon?” Finian asked. As she lifted her mug to her lips, she seemed to remember her manners. “Darling, would you like tea?”
“No need to dote on me, dear,” he said. “I can boil the kettle as well as you.”
“I'm sure there's enough warm water for one more cup,” Finian said.
Xavier took a mug from the shelf and I noticed that he opted for a sachet labeled prosperity.
“Yes, Althea is a Gorgon, but she had no reason to attack Mr. Geary,” I said.
“I heard that he was rude to her and that she decided to teach him a lesson,” Finian said.
“Al can be a thorn when he’s in the mood,” Xavier said. “I wouldn’t blame her for having a strong reaction.”
&nbs
p; “That’s not what happened,” I insisted. “She was Gareth’s assistant for years before he died and she’s worked by my side ever since I arrived in Spellbound. Her snakes saved my life. She would never use them to hurt anyone.”
Xavier inhaled the scent of his tea. “So you'd like to know whether I have any theories on what happened to Al?”
I wanted to see whether the vampire would tell me about his recent disagreement with the victim without being prompted.
“That would be a good start,” I said. “Are you aware of any recent incidents involving your friend?”
“Well, you already know about the fight at the garden center,” Xavier said, smiling. “I’m sorry I missed that.”
Finian scowled. “It's probably to do with that stupid competition.” She immediately seemed to regret her harsh statement. “Sorry, darling. You know I don't think it's stupid.”
“I should hope not,” he said. He slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed. “You're very tolerant, dear. I know it's a time-consuming hobby.”
She raised her mug. “But I get to reap the benefits, so it's a win-win.”
“I can't imagine anyone in our group doing something like that to Al,” Xavier said. “We bicker sometimes.” He hesitated. “Fine, we bicker a lot, but that's because we’re like family. I can't imagine any one of us deliberately injuring another, certainly not for the sake of a competition.”
“Has Al mentioned any altercations with someone else recently?” I asked. “A friend? Neighbor? Family member?” You?
Xavier shook his head. “I doubt it. Half our garden club sessions involves griping. If something was going on with Al, we would all know about it.”
“Any mention of a romantic interest?” I asked. I wondered if Al had hinted to him about a relationship with Amanda.
Xavier swilled his tea. “No, not Al. He was married to his garden.”
Finian snorted. ”Sounds familiar.”
Xavier elbowed her playfully. “I think Al is open to the possibility of a relationship, but he doesn't devote the time to much else besides gardening.”
I decided to be more specific and see if Xavier knew more than he was letting on. “Someone suggested that he’s involved with Amanda,” I said. “Do you know anything about that?”
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