“You found out about the spellwork,” he said.
“I did,” I told him. My tone was just as cold as his. I just couldn’t bring myself to be warm toward a guy who’d tried to sabotage my hard work.
“It wasn’t anything personal toward you,” Robert said. “Or your center. It was an anti art spell. As a good OAA member I can not stand by passively at a weekend dedicated to the promotion of artistic ways. I took an oath to prevent the spread of art.”
“Robert, that’s crazy,” I said. “You hear how crazy it sounds... right? What did art ever do to you?”
Robert didn’t have an answer, so I supplied him with one. “Nothing, that’s what,” I said. Then I continued in a softer tone. “A better question is: What did Asti ever do to you? She hurt you, Robert. I understand that. But you’re projecting your anger toward her out onto all artists. It’s not fair, and it’s not healthy. If you want to talk about it, I—”
“I do not want to talk about it with you,” Robert said in an icy whisper. Then a touch louder he said. “What do you think you are, a psychologist or something? What do you know of emotions and how to deal with them? I coped with the pain of my breakup with Asti in the only way I knew how. She loved her paintings more than she loved me.Yes, maybe that was the beginning of my distaste for art. In my opinion, it’s a justified hatred.”
“Hatred is never justified,” I said with a shake of my head.
He ignored this and went on. “You must get it. You’re dating that lanky musician fellow, right? I heard you talking to him on the night that I died.”
“Mm...” I said noncommittally. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about my relationship with Justin at the moment.
Robert didn’t pick up on my reluctance, or he just didn’t care to honor it. “Then you must understand what it’s like to date the selfish artist type,” he said. “You know how frustrating it can be when they put their art above all else.”
“Justin’s not really like that,” I said.
“Oh, no?” Robert said. “So you don’t mind that he’s planning a year-long tour?”
“Excuse me?” I said. Robert’s statement didn’t make any sense to me. What tour? I thought. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“You know, his tour with that band of his,” he said. “I heard him talking to Asti about it this afternoon—I was lurking around the lobby, quite unnoticed. I heard your boyfriend say he’s excited about getting out of Hillcrest for a while, and building momentum with his band. Sounds like they’re going to start in California. Are you going with him?”
I didn’t answer.
Fear gripped my heart.
Was Justin really planning on leaving Hillcrest?
Maybe Robert misunderstood, I thought. He’s got his information garbled up; twisted. Maybe his ghost-ears aren’t working right.
Justin’s never talked to me about a tour. I would know about that. He would have said something.
Then again—could that be the reason he’s been acting so secretive lately? I wondered. Is this what he’s keeping from me? And how does Sarin fit in with it?
Robert went on. “It seems to me that it’d be very difficult to run this center and go on tour with your boyfriend, but if that’s your plan, then I wish you all the luck in the world. I couldn't make it work with my artist, but maybe you’ll be able to make it work with yours.”
I didn’t know what to say. His news had caught me completely off guard. Is Justin planning on breaking up with me? I wondered fearfully. I thought he loved me!
I tried to keep breathing evenly. I tried to stop tears from welling up in my eyes. I didn’t want Robert’s news to shake me to the core, but it was.
In order to gain back some control, I turned the conversation back to Robert. “Let’s leave Justin out of this,” I said. “I’m more concerned about you. Your feelings for Asti are preventing you from thinking clearly. There’s no reason to try to hurt her tomorrow.”
He glared at me. “Can you convince me that Asti is innocent?”
“Actually, yes,” I said. “I know for sure she’s innocent. I gave her a truth berry and then asked her if she killed you. She said no.”
“That’s not very convincing,” Robert said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You could be lying to me just to stop me from exacting my revenge on Asti. The only way I’ll believe you is if I hear someone else confess to the crime—firsthand. None of this hearsay nonsense. Secondhand accounts do not represent good data.”
“Well, I’m not quite there yet,” I said. I thought back over my day. Geoff and Margie were no longer on my suspect list, which meant I had no suspects. Someone wanted me to suspect Margie; her knife matched the weapon used against Penny.
In addition, I had Justin’s strange behavior to worry about.
“I need more time,” I told Robert. “Please. Don’t go after Asti at the concert tomorrow. Give me another 24 hours to try to work this out. The guests aren’t leaving until Monday morning.”
He stood. “No,” he said. “I’ve waited decades to hurt Asti like she hurt me. Seeing her again has brought it all up for me. Tomorrow... noon....” He backed up into the night, in the same creepy way that he’d done on Friday.
“Wait!” I called out. “Robert, let’s talk about this. I think there are healthier ways to deal with your emotions than...” I let the sentence drift off. It was no use. Robert wasn’t listening anymore. He was gone.
I did my best to shake the creepy feeling that lingered around my little home. I brushed my teeth, changed into pajamas, said goodnight to Skili, and then tucked myself into bed. I settled my head down on my pillow, and stared out through my windows at the rising moon.
My thoughts turned to Justin. Is he really going to just walk away from what we have? I wondered. I thought our relationship was special.
I even thought that one day, I might become a vampire so that I could live forever with him. I thought we might get married... not right away, but at some point in the future.
Apparently, he doesn’t have the same dreams in mind.
He won one stupid songwriter competition, and now he wants to take Hillcrest Funk Collective out onto the road.
He wants to become a famous musician.
I can’t blame him for that—he loves making music.
It’s his form of creative expression. Maybe he even loves it more than he loves me.
Why didn’t he tell me about the tour? I wondered.
I recalled Skili’s intel that Justin had been talking to Sarin. How does he know Sarin? I asked myself.
I couldn’t come up with any answers. Finally, I drifted off into sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, I woke up in a funk.
It was the last day of the weekend workshop, yet the being who’d been terrorizing the center was still on the loose.
Who was it?
The question ate away at my insides. If I didn’t figure out who Robert’s killer was in time for the concert at noon, the ghost of Robert was going to attack Asti. Adding to my sense of uneasiness was the idea that Justin was about to jaunt off on tour for a year, and he hadn’t even told me about it yet.
My stomach was in knots.
Not so much so that I couldn’t eat breakfast, though.
I was munching on a thick slice of zucchini bread and sipping a strong cup of chai tea out on the deck when my witch sisters joined me. Even Annie was there, seeing as she usually took Sundays off from her café.
Over breakfast, as the sun rose higher in the sky and started to warm us, we exchanged data. I told them about the surprise labyrinth from my two employees, and we all agreed that Margie and Geoff could be crossed off of the suspect list. Since Asti was also off of the list, that left us with nowhere to go.
My friends made one suggestion after another for how we could find the killer, but none of the plans resonated with me. I knew that our priority had to be on catching the bad guy, but I was so distraught over Justin t
hat it was like half of me was absent from the conversation.
I kept quiet about Justin’s tour. I just didn’t trust myself to talk about it without getting into a big emotional scene, and I knew that collectively we had more important things to worry about. I figured my romantic life should take a back seat to our more pressing concern, which was catching a killer.
We finally decided that our best bet was to keep our eyes and ears open throughout the day, and be ready to respond to any attacks that might occur. We just didn’t know what else to do.
When breakfast wrapped up, we all went separate ways. We figured it was best for us to spread out, and try to have a presence in as many parts of the center as possible. I warily headed for the spa. I had a laundry list of things to take care of there, and I figured I might as well do them while I patrolled the area.
I was walking down the long, dimly lit hallway, lost in thought, when the door to the women’s locker room opened up and Asti stepped out. Her skin was glowing, her hair was damp, and she wore a relaxed smile.
“That eucalyptus steam room is wonderful,”’ she said as she approached.
I felt my lower lip tremble.
The knot in my throat, which had developed over breakfast, got even bigger. For whatever reason, at the sight of Asti, I could no longer keep my emotions about Justin at bay.
“What’s wrong, Marley?” she asked as she continued to walk toward me. Her thick brows tented with concern.
I bit my trembling lip, trying to still it. The knot in my throat became so big, it was hard to breathe.
“Come,” she said, as though sensing I was having some kind of breakdown. “Sit.” She led me over toward a little alcove, where two black leather chairs were positioned.
“Now, tell me what’s going on,” she said softly.
I cried for a minute. Then, when I felt I could get some words out, I said, “I can’t take up your time with my problems.”
“Yes, you can,” she insisted. She waited patiently while I wiped my eyes a few times with the back of my hand.
I let out a shaky sigh. “Ugh,” I said. “I’m just trying to get through this day. This weekend was a disaster. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re going to catch the being who killed your ex-boyfriend before the guests go home. We’re running out of time. He really might attack you at the lunchtime concert, if we don’t ...” I sniffed, and took another jagged breath. “If we don’t figure out who killed him before—” sniff, “before then.”
“There’s something else that’s bothering you, isn’t there?” she asked me.
I let her question sink in. Then I answered honestly. “Yes, there is,” I admitted.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” she said. She sat forward, and folded her hands together. She looked at me with intensity.
I knew she wasn’t going to let me off the hook without getting an honest answer from me, so I started to speak. “It’s my boyfriend, Justin,” I said.
“Oh! I’ve started to like him quite a bit,” Asti said with a nod. “I wasn't sure what to think at first, but we had a nice conversation yesterday. He’s very interesting. He has the soul of a true artist, you know.”
I nodded, too. “I know he does,” I said, “And I think that’s part of the problem.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“He’s going on t-t-tour,” I said, barely getting the last word out before I started to cry again.
“Ah...” she said, with understanding. “You’re upset that he’s leaving Hillcrest.”
Tears slid down my cheeks. “He hasn’t even told me about it,” I said. “ I can’t believe he’s planning this big tour with his band, and he hasn’t even brought it up with me. Maybe this songwriting competition went straight to his head. He’s so excited about his music, but what about us...? What about our relationship?”
“What about it?” Asti said.
“It’s going to be over,” I said. “He’ll be off in California or who knows where, and I’ll be here. A year is a long time. He’ll forget about me.”
“Ah,” said Asti. “I see. You’ve fallen for the biggest lie.”
The phrase rang a bell, but I couldn't quite place it. “You mentioned that in your painting workshop yesterday, didn’t you?” I said.
She nodded.
“What’s the biggest lie again?” I asked.
“It’s the lie we tell ourselves... the erroneous belief that we’re separate. Artists know that all space is filled. It’s filled with light, and that’s all you are, Marley. Light. And that’s what Justin is, too. That’s what I show in my paintings—it’s the reason that they’ve become so revered. People like to see that light. Think of Monet’s masterpieces. He was painting the light, too.”
I sniffled. “But if there’s so much light all around, why does it feel like I’m separate? I feel like I need Justin. I want him to be here in Hillcrest with me. I don’t want him to leave.”
“Maybe you feel separate because you’re used to it. It’s a habit. You’re in the habit of focusing on objects all day, every day. Try looking at the spaces, just for a little while, and see if you feel something shift.”
“Will that help me with Justin?” I asked.
“I think it will help you with everything,” she said
With that, she stood up.
“I have to go talk to him, don’t I?” I said.
She nodded. “Mm hm. It isn’t going to be easy, but that means it’s a conversation worth having.”
I stood, too. “Thanks,” I said, wiping the last wet tears from my cheeks. “Oh, and Asti? I want you to know that my coven is intent on helping to prevent an attack on you at the concert. We don’t want to see you get hurt, so we’re going to do everything we can to top Robert’s ghost from doing something irrational.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said. “But I know Robert, and when he sets his mind to something he usually succeeds in making it happen. If he’s set on getting revenge, even if it’s unjustified, revenge he will get. There’s nothing you or your coven could do to stop him. He’s a brilliant man.”
“Maybe you should leave early, then,” I suggested. “Or at least lock yourself in your room before the concert. Oh, wait, he’d probably just float through the walls... but if we worked some magic beforehand, maybe we could—”
She shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said gently. “I will not run from him.”
“Why are you acting so calm about this?” I asked.
“Because,” she said with a subtle smile. “I trust that whatever happens will be for the best. This place is made for healing, isn’t it? I trust that deep healing will occur.”
“I hope so,” I whispered.
I walked by her side down the hallway. We parted with a hug. “Good luck,” she said before I headed for the doors.
I carried her words with me as I stepped out into the mid-morning air. If I was going to go confront Justin, I was going to need all the well wishes I could get.
Chapter Fifteen
I decided to walk to Justin’s house, because I wanted time to think about how to approach him. As usual, Skili soared above me. We didn’t talk about what I was planning to say to Justin, and that was fine by me, because I really wasn’t sure. He lived in the middle of Hillcrest, on a little side street just north of Main Street. After about ten minutes of walking, I spotted his apartment building, which was really just a run-down house divided up into two units. Justin rented the first floor, along with two other dudes.
I felt jittery as I turned onto his front walk. I was nervous about the impending conversation.
I climbed up the worn, wooden steps that led up to the front porch, while Skili perched on the branch of an aspen tree in the yard. It was almost nine, and the sun was slightly higher in the cloudless sky. A few bluebirds and chickadees scattered out of the aspen tree as Skili settled in, twittering as they fled. They clearly didn’t know that Skili was on an all-Fluffernutter-sandwich diet. I heard
ravens cawing in the distance.
There were three mountain bikes crowded onto the narrow porch, along with a bin of recycling, a wiffleball bat, and a bike tire pump. Two windows to the right of the door looked out onto the porch. The farthest one was covered up with a tapestry on the inside. That was Justin's room. I could hear guitar music floating out from inside, and I knew Justin was home. I rang the doorbell.
The guitar music stopped.
I waited.
Soon Justin opened the door.
His hair was a mess, and stubble covered his chin and cheeks. He wore jeans with holes at the knees, and a faded tee shirt. He reached up to scratch the back of his head, and I saw the tattoo on his tricep. It’s of the mountain range that surrounds Hillcrest. I’d always loved that tattoo. To me, it meant that he felt just as at home in Hillcrest as I did.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“Hey Mar,” he said quietly. He looked at me with big, sad eyes. He stepped aside. “Come on in.” He led the way to his room, and I followed.
His bed was unmade. An amp in one corner of the room hummed with electricity, and his guitar was out, propped against his desk chair. I sat down on the edge of his bed. He walked over to the amp, switched it off, and then he sat next to me. The lack of humming from the amp made the silence that filled the room feel even more intense.
“When were you going to tell me?” I said.
He looked up at me, and tented his brow. “You mean... you know?”
“About your tour? Yeah. I know.”
He sighed. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Mar,” he said. “You’re so sensitive...”
“I’m your girlfriend,” I said. “I should have been the first one to know about this. Instead I had to find out from a ghost.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He reached for my hand. I let him hold it.
Sometimes it feels to me that touch can transmit even more communication than words. Justin’s touch was warm and kind. I sensed that he cared about me, just as deeply as he always had. There was nothing about his body language, or the energy I could feel his touch transmitting, that suggested he wanted to pull away from me.
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