Elves' Bells

by Nova Nelson

  Ruby had been thinking about that since Clifford had first told her about it. It just about seemed to tie the whole thing up with a pretty bow.

  But not quite.

  “He did,” she replied, sitting opposite the sheriff at the round parlor table.

  “And whose was it?” Bloom was clearly trying not to act impatient, but Ruby knew her too well. And why wouldn’t she be impatient? Ruby herself was impatient to get this whole thing wrapped up. Could there be other elves at risk?

  Perhaps only if there was an encore performance of the play. But three seemed to be the magic number this time.

  “He can’t tell definitively. But he recognized it from the room at the Ram’s Head Inn.” She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, cradling the steaming mug in her hands. “Whoever they hired to maintain the bells this time around was in that hotel room.”

  “Bitania?”

  “That would certainly be my guess.”

  Bloom fell silent, and Ruby took the brief opportunity to let her mind drift. Time like this was precious. Did kids in Eastwind have enough time to sit and think? That seemed to her to be the only way to become a morally solid person, learning to think for oneself.

  “Care to lay the whole thing out for me?” Bloom asked. “I feel like I might be missing a few pieces you have tucked away.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” She sat up straighter, trying to locate the starting point of a thread. “That bell. The one Periwinkle called Twilie. I believe it’s the root of Bron Danann’s death, Dalora Greyborn’s attempted death, and Magnus Taerwyn’s outright creepy kitchen redecoration. I also believe it’s the root of the attack in my bedroom. Moreover, I don’t believe it’s Twilie at all.”

  Bloom nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “Where the bell came from and how long it’s been there, I can only speculate.”

  “Oh, please do. Speculate away.” Bloom kicked out her boots, crossing one foot over the other and settled in with the teacup cradled between both hands.

  “Thank you. I don’t mind if I do.” Ruby grinned. “As for the how long, I believe that Bitania brought it with her into town only a couple of weeks ago. She must have been scouting Eastwind for a while and learned of the upcoming maintenance. Perhaps she’d been keeping an eye on it for years, since the last time they serviced the bells. How she originally learned of that routine, I can’t even begin to guess. The possibilities are too vast. But one thing must be true: she was the lowest bidder on the work and was therefore allowed to enter the bell tower to conduct the maintenance. And that is when she switched Twilie with the one she brought. Which leads me to the where of it. I believe she brought the bell with her from Fallia itself.”

  Bloom nodded. “All this holds up. And I see where you’re going with this, I think.”

  “I’m sure you do. Because besides the gross customs violation of bringing the imposter Twilie in without notifying anyone, I believe the bell itself contained an illegal hitchhiker. The spirit of one Queen Naifa.”

  Bloom set down her cup. “See, that’s where you lose me. It seems like a bit of a jump to say not only is the bell itself haunted, which I could buy if prompted, but that the winged entity that haunts it is specifically Queen Naifa.”

  Ruby nodded solemnly. “Then maybe it would help assuage your skepticism if I told you that the Queen Naifa depicted in The Rambling Mummers’ production is, in fact, Queen Naifa the Fifth.”

  Bloom’s eyes opened wide. “Ah, now we’re talking. When did you learn about that?”

  “Yesterday. Stella Lytefoot was treating some minor bruising from the strangling, and we got to talking.”

  Bloom leaned forward. “Looks like whatever she did worked. And if she’s your source for that information, I’ll take it to be fact.”

  “There is a slight chance the spirit is, say, the former queen’s lover or some such,” Ruby conceded. “I have considered that option, but the degree of power I’ve experienced firsthand speaks to two things: the entity was a powerful one before death, and after death, she is a vengeful one. And not your average vengeance. I believe her to be fueled with the kind of vengeance only one who has been both terribly betrayed and allowed to believe herself the most important person in the world could possess.”

  Bloom said, “Too true. Queens don’t ascend to the throne without being raised to believe they’re more important than the average peasant.”

  “Definitely not. The ego is a powerful force. And a destructive one.”

  “Why the elves, though?” Bloom asked. “Why Bron, Dalora, and Magnus?”

  Ruby sucked in air like she’d stubbed a toe. “That I don’t actually know.” That was the almost in her theory being almost complete.

  Bloom grinned. “I have a pretty good guess.”

  “Ooh! I do love your theories,” she replied, grabbing the kettle and pouring herself another cup before topping off the sheriff. “They’re always full of poetic justice.”

  “And this one is no different,” Bloom replied. “How closely did you watch the play?”

  “As closely as someone with no tolerance for theater and a big, sexy werebear next to her could.”

  “So not very closely.”

  “No, I wouldn’t say so.”

  Bloom nodded. “On stage, the queen’s three guards were fairies.”

  “They were all fairies.”

  “Correct. But the three protecting her were fairies playing elves.”

  Ruby felt her mouth fall open before she could stop it. Of course. She’d missed that bit. She’d been sure to pay attention to the actual scene in the tower, but she’d missed the lead-up to it.

  “Three elves?”

  Bloom nodded. “Apparently, it was traditional in Fallia for elves, being the biggest and strongest of the fae, to train as guards for the queen herself. Of course, that tradition was quickly dropped after the events depicted in the play took place.”

  “And how long ago did the events depicted in the play take place?”

  Bloom rubbed her chin and she thought.

  Ah, yes, thought Ruby, there was that little bit of drama from her earlier days in Heaven.

  “Oh, I’d say it all took place right before three elves showed up in Eastwind requesting Liberty’s assistance in creating a totally invisible avenue in which no one who might want to murder them could find them.”

  “Sounds about right. And why noon? Why midnight?”

  Bloom narrowed her eyes. “Surely you’ve figured that out as well.”

  And now Ruby, who’d been so pleased with herself only moments before, was starting to feel genuinely silly. “You know but you’re not going to tell me? Okay, fine. I’ll do it myself.”

  She fell silent, staring at the serene burgundy surface of her tea. Her Insight quickly perked up when summoned and pointed her back toward the Pixie Mixie. The bell. When it rang…

  She had it.

  “Noon and midnight are the only times when the clock tower plays the entire lead- in before chiming the hours. The spirit is awakened whenever the imposter of Twilie is rung.”

  Bloom shrugged a shoulder. “That’s my guess, at least.”

  Ruby considered it for another moment. “But she must return at some point, yes? She’s not free to roam around for the rest of the day.”

  “Attached to the sound perhaps?”

  “That’ll do.”

  “Three guards, three shows,” Bloom said, staring absently at one of the warding baubles above Ruby’s head. “Does that mean the town has nothing to worry about? That the danger for Dalora and Magnus will pass once The Rambling Mummers ramble their way out of town?”

  “Only if they take that bell with them,” Ruby supposed. “It seems like the bell itself was the cause of all the trouble. But then why bother with the play?” She continued, talking it out aloud. “If Bitania could have just as easily slipped into Eastwind, replaced the bell, and let it do the damage, why risk all the eyes on them by per
forming during the planned attacks?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Bloom said, “You’re expecting the behavior of professional actors to make sense.” At Ruby’s surprised look, she said, “What? I can enjoy the theater and also accept that it’s full of strange people.” She sighed. “Perhaps Bitania and whoever else might have been complicit liked the poetry of it all. Or maybe Bitania wanted an excuse to be there to see it happen.”

  “Or maybe…” Ruby began, letting that quote surface once again.

  The play’s the thing…

  “Maybe she knew that a theatrical performance of the murder they committed would pique their interest. It’s not a bad lure, you know. They murder their queen, flee, and then centuries later, a traveling band of players is performing the very act. I know I’d be interested in seeing how it was all presented. And my guilty conscience might drive me there as well. I might feel like I deserved to sit and watch what I’d done, to confront it.”

  Bloom nodded. “That would make the play a powerful lure to make sure at least one of them was within a reasonable distance of the clock tower and could fall from the top.”

  “Like Queen Naifa the Fifth was tossed from her tower, yes.” She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the angel. “You really are a dramatic bunch. The flare for drama is just too rich for my blood.”

  “In this case, it’s a little too rich for mine as well.”

  As Bloom took another long sip of tea, Ruby said, “They’ll be leaving either today or tomorrow, won’t they? Now that the last curtain has fallen.”

  Bloom swallowed and shook her head. “And I don’t have a good feeling about the entire troop making it out of Eastwind. I have this funny feeling they’re about to lose their troop leader.”

  Ruby arched an eyebrow. “Lose her to?”

  “Justice.”

  Ruby laughed. “Oh, Gabby. You must have made a fine thespian. But while it is a beautiful story we’ve spun here, it’s still only a story. We have very little evidence. How do you plan on apprehending her lawfully?”

  “The old-fashioned way. We get her to confess.”

  The Fifth Wind arched an eyebrow. “We? Sounds like you already have a plan.”

  Bloom waved her off. “Please. I always have a plan. That’s why I’m sheriff. Now would you be so kind as to bring me a piece of parchment and a pen? The murdered Queen Naifa has a letter to write.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “All I want is for you to admit that you love this part of the job,” Clifford said.

  They were in the top of the clocktower, surrounded by darkness. The time was eleven fifty-seven P.M.

  “What part,” Ruby replied, “staying up past my bedtime?”

  “No. The danger.”

  “I don’t know why you seem so keen on me admitting that.”

  “Because the sooner you stop pretending it’s an imposition, the sooner you can start truly enjoying it.”

  “Ah, so you’re merely looking out for my happiness.”

  “Someone has to.”

  Ruby rolled her eyes and was glad it was too dark for Clifford to notice.

  Would Bitania respond to the summons from her queen? There were a lot of possible flaws in their plan. For one, they had no idea what the fairy queen’s handwriting looked like. Would Bitania know? One of the things they hadn’t been able to speculate on was why the fairy was so set on vengeance. Had she known the queen personally? Or was she simply a fanatic? And if she’d known the queen, would she be able to tell the letter was a fake? Could she remember handwriting after so long a time?

  They had attempted to compensate for that by explaining in the letter that she was possessing another body to write the letter and send it.

  But there was one obvious flaw in that, too: when would she have written it?

  As far as they were aware, the fairy queen only left the confines of her bell each time it rang, and that was only at noon and midnight. Then she was recalled to it as the sound faded, not to emerge again until the next toll.

  Ruby’s hope was that Bitania was at least moderately insane, which wasn’t too much of a shot in the dark for an actor. If the fairy had delusions of grandeur, which was almost a guarantee, the flattery they’d included in the letter might be enough to make her forget all about that small technicality.

  But the bell was about to ring again. And Ruby was certain that she would come face to face with the entity that tried to strangle her to death when that happened.

  Maybe Clifford was right. Maybe she did enjoy the danger. It certainly made her feel more alert than usual. And being this alert, feeling her heart flutter in her chest, was a novelty that increased year by year.

  Any minute now. Literally.

  She walked carefully to the edge of the tower, making sure not to get too close to the hole in the center as she did. Bracing herself on one of the four stone beams, she gazed over the edge to make sure her backup was still waiting below.

  Sheriff Bloom was almost impossible to spot in the shadows. If Ruby hadn’t been looking, she wouldn’t have noticed her.

  Well, that was good. If things really went amiss, it was comforting to know there was a crime-fighting immortal being from Heaven who had her back.

  “You thinking about jumping?” came a gruff voice behind her. “I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  Perhaps she was more tightly wound than she had realized, because the sudden sound made her jump half a foot into the air. She clutched the stone column with both hands to make sure she didn’t lose her balance and topple.

  Once she was stable, she turned around to face the source of the voice.

  Clifford was already growling, hackles up, at the hovering fairy.

  But it wasn’t Bitania.

  She recognized his turquoise wings immediately and tried to recall his name. Willford? Wendel? Ah! Welling. That was it. The one Bitania had carelessly shoved off the chair in the hotel room.

  “Call off the hound,” he said. “I just want to talk.”

  Ruby asked her familiar to give the fairy a little space, and he did as he was told, but his hackles remained raised.

  The fairy’s wings beat rapidly as he remained on eye level with her, perhaps only ten feet away.

  She shouldn’t have moved so close to the edge. She had no room to retreat now if she needed.

  “I thought,” she began, “it was Bitania.”

  He grinned, and as he did so, the moonlight glinted off his teeth—what he had left of them, at least. Two large gaps where some were missing caught her eye like dangerous black wells with no bottom. “I know you did. And that, among other things, is how I knew the letter wasn’t from Queen Naifa.”

  “I’m surprised you knew about the letter at all, then. It wasn’t addressed to you.”

  He scoffed. “She thought it was a secret admirer role-playing the queen. Very fancy. She decided to show it around so we all could revel in how special she was for being singled out.” He scowled. “She’s not special. She thinks this is all just a performance. She wasn’t there during the revolution.” He fluttered a foot closer. “But I was. After the guards killed the queen, they threw her body from the tower. I was the one who found it.” He fluttered closer still, his voice deepening with malice. “We were lovers. I’d long had my suspicions about those elves, but she insisted they were the strongest and the best suited for the job. She didn’t see their looks of contempt behind her back. Elvenkind couldn’t stand a fairy holding the highest honor in the realm. They thought it should have been them. I told her. I told her!”

  Ruby inched to her left. She wasn’t in a position to move away from the edge, but she could at least get her back up against the stone pillar so she couldn’t be pushed or lose her balance and fall.

  Welling didn’t seem to notice. He was lost in his memory, that was easy enough to see. “So, when I heard they’d taken her to the tower to protect her from the rebels, I flew there immediately, despite the danger of crossing th
e army’s line. But… I was too late. Her wings were broken, and she was white as a ghost, crumpled in a heap at the base of the tower like a discarded sack of trash.”

  And then the bells began to ring.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It happened as soon as the ancient bell was struck. The spirit of Queen Naifa leaped free and appeared beside Welling.

  “My love,” he breathed, moving toward her.

  But she had eyes only for Ruby. And boy, were those eyes full of murder.

  “How dare you try to stop me. I’ve waited centuries for this revenge. It doesn’t involve you, witch!”

  Ruby shrugged. “Agree to disagree.”

  The queen shot forward, barreling toward her.

  Normally, a spirit rushing her wouldn’t have been too concerning. After all, they went through objects, and she’d long since learned how to avoid an unwanted possession.

  But this one was different. The power of the fairy queen was different. She’d experienced that firsthand. This one could muster the energy to affect physical objects: namely, strangle them.

  Good thing Ruby kept another physical object by her side that was equally tricky to mess with…

  Clifford sprang, jaws snapping, taking the impact of the queen without so much as a flinch.

  He might have already outlived the lifespan of the average hellhound, but he had by no means slowed down in his advanced years. Clifford could move quickly when he needed to. And this was one of those times when he needed to.

  The spirit tried to shoot past him again, but he moved and blocked her once more.

  On her third charge, though, she went straight through him. She’d figured out the trick.

  “Fangs and claws!” Ruby yelped, ducking right as the spirit solidified and dove for her. The stone right behind where Ruby’s head had been exploded, raining fragments down into her hair.

  Ruby opened her eyes, which she’d closed reflexively as she flinched, and saw the queen making another charge.

  But the snicker-snack of Clifford’s teeth marked the end of that. Because when Naifa had made herself material again in hopes of punishing the witch, she’d also left herself vulnerable to an attack from the familiar. He grabbed one of her ghostly feet and flung her back toward Welling, who was watching with slack-jawed admiration.