Son of a Witch

by K E O'Connor

  “Then you marry him.”

  “Who’s getting married?” Brogan wandered over with a bottle in his hand and two glasses. He balanced a bowl of water on his forearm, which he set down for Wiggles.

  “Oh, it’s not important,” I said, shooting Wiggles a warning glare.

  “I thought you might be talking about your sister and her engagement to Toby Matlock.” Brogan settled in the seat opposite me. “That’s an interesting match.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “I’m still trying to get my head around that one.”

  “Are you single, Brogan?” Wiggles asked.

  I cleared my throat and grabbed the dessert menu.

  Amusement crossed Brogan’s face. “I was the last time I checked. Why, have you got someone you’d like to set me up with?”

  “No, he hasn’t,” I said.

  Brogan sat back in his seat. “It takes a certain kind of woman to put up with the habits of a half-vampire. Some get freaked out by my fangs.”

  “Fangs are cool.” Wiggles bared his teeth. “Tempest is used to fangs.”

  Brogan chuckled. “They have their uses.”

  “What kind of woman are you looking for?”

  “Maybe he’s not looking,” I said.

  Brogan shrugged. “I always like to look. There are some pretty women in the village. I’m not sure if I’m ready to stop looking at them all just yet.”

  “Playing the field.” Wiggles nodded. “I get it. I’m yet to find a furry friend to spend eternity with.”

  “Which will be shorter than you think if you keep prodding Brogan about his private life,” I muttered.

  Brogan’s smile widened. He tapped his finger on the bottle he’d brought over. “This is sparkling apple juice. I got it when I visited Puzzlewood. They make it locally and tell the tourists that the apple trees contain ancient magic, which is why their cider tastes so good.”

  “So, they’re telling the truth.” I smiled at Brogan. “I love Puzzlewood. Mom and Dad took us there a few times when we were kids.” It was a tucked away magic community, much like Willow Tree Falls, but with more forest and a lot more fairies.

  “Do you want to try their magic apple juice? Don’t worry. It won’t make you sparkle. Although you can buy a variety that does.”

  “That sounds great.”

  Brogan poured me a glass. “You’re both dressed up for the evening.”

  I yanked off my bowtie and stuffed it in the pocket of my tuxedo. “I was doing our mayor a favor at the museum. It backfired.”

  “I’d have liked to have come to the museum opening,” Brogan said, “but I didn’t have cover here tonight.”

  “It was an opening that won’t be easy to forget. Mannie wants me to poke around until Dazielle shows up. I’d most likely know by now who put Gretel on that ducking stool, but Mannie insisted I don’t talk to key witnesses until tomorrow.”

  “Our mayor doesn’t like to ruffle feathers. From the sounds of it, you’re dealing with some influential people.”

  “That’s what Mannie said. I don’t care how influential they are if one of them killed Gretel. Murder is murder, no matter how high up you are.”

  “What about our lovely mayor? Could he be involved?”

  “That’s what I thought,” Wiggles said. “He’s covering up something.”

  “I’ll have to talk to him,” I said, “but I’m not looking forward to it. Mannie can make life difficult if you get on his wrong side.”

  Our food arrived, the plates piled with sweet smelling carrots, creamy mash, and pie.

  The three of us stopped speaking as we enjoyed the food for a moment.

  “Who else could be involved?” Brogan asked.

  “That’s the information I hope you can help with,” I said. “Do you know Seth Fellows?”

  Brogan’s top lip curled. “I do.”

  “You’re not friendly?”

  “Seth pretends to be friends with everybody.” Brogan shrugged. “He’ll stab you in the back if it gets him what he needs.”

  “Would his murderous intentions expand to killing an annoying historian who made his life difficult?”

  Brogan pulled on his bottom lip. “I’ve not seen Seth for a while, but he’s got a past. He had some control issues when he was younger, almost killed a girl he drank from.”

  “He seems like a massive slime ball,” Wiggles said.

  Brogan nodded. “Seth has a high opinion of himself. He has vampire royalty in his lineage. It’s what makes him such a... well, let’s just say, a self-entitled individual.”

  “A slime ball,” Wiggles said.

  Brogan smiled and took a sip of the apple juice. “Yes, that as well. His father is Daray Plantagenet, although Seth kept his mom’s surname. Daray has a liking for seducing stunning women, only to reveal what he is after they become pregnant.”

  “He sounds like a charmer,” I said.

  “Seth’s inherited many of his traits. He idolizes his father but is half as powerful because, obviously, he’s not a full vampire. His mother was human.”

  “What’s he doing working as a publicist?” I asked. “That doesn’t seem royal to me.”

  “This isn’t his only job,” Brogan said. “Seth’s a freelancer, so he goes where the big bucks are. I suspect he’s getting a healthy cut from the profit of whatever he’s promoting.”

  “He’s looking after the author Isadora Ash. She’s also involved with the museum. It’s her book he’s promoting.”

  “You can make a decent amount off a book if it’s a bestseller,” Brogan said. “That must be why Seth’s doing this.”

  “You don’t consider him trustworthy?”

  “No. He’ll say whatever he needs to cover his back.”

  “Did he come in here last night?”

  “He did. He had something to eat then said he was going to the Ancient Imp. He got here about eight and left within the hour.”

  “Did you talk to him?” I scooped up the last of my pie. I could manage another of these. It was the perfect blend of crunchy and peppery.

  “As little as possible. Seth plays nice with everybody, but it’s an act. He only looks out for himself.”

  “What about his girlfriend, Lotus? Do you know anything about her?”

  “He wasn’t with anyone,” Brogan said. “He dined alone and didn’t mention a girlfriend. I pity her, whoever she is.”

  I set down my knife and fork and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I haven’t spoken to Lotus yet, but she seemed sweet enough.”

  “Is it only Mannie and Seth in the frame for this murder?” Brogan asked.

  “There could be others,” I said. “Lotus, who works as a researcher. The author, Isadora, although she seemed nice when we spoke, a bit stressed about the launch of her new book, but who wouldn’t be? There’s also her assistant, Jonah. I don’t know much about any of them.”

  “I’m pointing the paw at Mannie,” Wiggles said. “He’s a social climbing creep. He argued with Gretel and got his nose put out of joint.”

  “Everyone had access to the museum the night the murder took place,” I said. “And with Mannie being so well-known in the village, he’d have a hard time killing Gretel and not getting spotted leaving the museum. There’s always someone who wants to bend his ear.”

  “Not if he’d done it in the middle of the night,” Wiggles said.

  “True, but he’d have needed to persuade Gretel to be at the museum at the same time as him. She didn’t seem like the sort of woman who’d be easy to persuade to do anything if she didn’t want to do it.”

  “What’s your next step?” Brogan asked. “Are you really planning to interrogate our mayor?”

  I grimaced. “I’m going to try for as gentle an interrogation as possible. But yes, I need to speak to Mannie and everybody else.”

  “What about the scene of the crime?” Brogan asked. “Any clues there?”

  “The angels are in charge of that side of things,” I said.

/>   “That’ll be a no,” Wiggles said. “Dominic’s a good-looking angel, and I like Sablo well enough, but neither of them have a clue how to find a clue. Without Dazielle to direct them, they won’t know what to look for.”

  “You should check out the murder scene, without any interference,” Brogan said. “You might find something useful. I hear you’re good at dealing with bad guys.” He flashed me a smile.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “The angels won’t let me take a look. Mannie put them in charge of guarding the scene until Gretel’s body can be collected.”

  “I thought you were involved in this investigation?”

  “So did I. But Mannie can’t help but crack the whip and take over. No one’s getting to the crime scene until tomorrow.”

  “Then you need a distraction,” Brogan said. “Something to take the angels’ minds off their jobs and let you do yours.”

  I grinned at him. “I’m listening. What do you have in mind?”

  Chapter 7

  The lengthening shadows of the trees around the museum made for a perfect hiding place as we prepared for our mission.

  I carefully arranged the box of doughnuts on Wiggles’ back.

  “You realize that a few doughnuts might fall off,” Wiggles said.

  “Do not eat the doughnuts before you offer them to Sablo and Dominic,” I said. “If you eat our distraction, this plan will fail.”

  “I’m just telling you the likelihood of what will happen,” Wiggles said. “There are twelve doughnuts in this box. The angels won’t want them all, and this box keeps wobbling. It’s an accident waiting to happen.”

  I stood back and checked the weight of the doughnut box was evenly distributed. “That will have to do.”

  Brogan had donated the doughnuts to our good cause. He was right. We needed to get back in the museum and investigate the murder scene without Mannie or the angels getting in the way.

  After finishing our dinner, I’d taken the doughnuts, and we’d headed back to Cloven Hoof for a few hours. After doing a bit of work and waiting until just gone two in the morning, when the bar was closing, we’d snuck back to the museum.

  “I bet they’re asleep,” Wiggles said. “Those angels will have curled their wings around themselves and forgotten they’re supposed to be guarding a crime scene.”

  “They’d better not be asleep.”

  “If they are, can I eat the doughnuts? They won’t want them if they’re sleeping.”

  “No! Wake them up and get them out of my way,” I said. “Insist the doughnuts will go well with coffee and get them into the kitchen. I need time to check out the crime scene.”

  “I’m on it.” Wiggles walked slowly toward the museum door, the box of doughnuts wobbling on his back.

  I crept along behind him and pressed my hand against the door. It was locked from the inside, but a simple unlock spell unbolted the door, and I eased it open.

  Wiggles crept into the darkness, and I kept the door ajar and pressed my ear against the gap. I didn’t have to wait many seconds before I heard movement.

  “Wiggles!” Sablo sounded surprised. “How did you get in?”

  “Oh! Through the dog door at the back,” Wiggles said.

  “Dog door?”

  “Yes, it’s like a cat flap but a bit bigger.” Wiggles’ lie sounded convincing. “I come bearing gifts.”

  “Yum! Doughnuts.” That was Dominic. “I’m dead on my feet here. It’s so boring guarding a body.”

  “Why don’t you have a coffee, as well?” Wiggles suggested. “It’ll go great with these doughnuts.”

  “Good thinking,” Dominic said. “Would you like to join us?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  I waited until I could no longer hear them talking before easing open the door and slipping inside.

  There was a light on at the back of the museum. I kept an eye on it as I hurried toward the ducking stool exhibit.

  I stepped over the barrier and scanned the surrounding area with a torch.

  There were no footprints, but there were what might be drag marks around the pond. It suggested Gretel had been pulled along or fought back. Her attacker might be sporting a few bruises, which could help identify them.

  The angels had moved Gretel from the ducking stool, so she lay on her back by the side of the pond. I was no expert on murder, but I saw bruising on her arms. Gretel had tried to kick butt before being ducked.

  Her clothes were also damp and wrinkled, suggesting she’d spent a long time in the water.

  I kept my attention from her face as I touched her cold arm. The angels’ energy fluttered up my arm. It felt like a preserving spell, used to keep the body from decomposing and the evidence from being disturbed.

  There was also another spell. It was the faint trace of a freeze spell. It made the tips of my fingers icy cold and numb. That spell could have been used to trap Gretel into place on the ducking stool. Her attacker might have forced her in here and used magic to hold her in place while she was ducked.

  I removed my fingers and shook the magic off me. I’d need to take a few crime scene investigation classes if I had to keep doing this sort of thing. I usually left the more gruesome side of an investigation to the angels. But with Dazielle missing, I was out of options.

  I jumped as I heard a crash from the back of the museum.

  “Hey! That one was mine.”

  I ducked out of sight. Whatever was going on between the angels and Wiggles, it didn’t sound good.

  “He stole my doughnut!” Sablo yelled. “That’s his third one.”

  Grimacing, I shook my head. I’d wasted my breath telling Wiggles not to steal the doughnuts. He could never resist anything sweet.

  I had another quick look around the exhibit but couldn’t see anything useful. It was time to get out of here before the angels returned.

  I turned toward the door and yelped as a blast of hot, dust-laden magic slammed into my chest and knocked me off my feet.

  My head hit the ground, and I gasped. Whatever had hit me had a weird feel to it. I felt itchy, and the air sparkled around me like fairy dust.

  I struggled to my feet and peered into the gloom to see my attacker. I caught the gleam of someone’s eyes. It was a woman, standing in the shadows.

  “Who are you?” I held my hands out and sparked my magic to warn her I’d attack if she tried anything again.

  “You must leave this place,” the woman hissed. “This is my new home, and it has been defiled.”

  “Your home?” I edged closer and recognized the woman’s face as she moved from the shadows. “You were at the museum. You helped with the opening.”

  She nodded. “I’m Cleo Jinx. What are you doing in my home? There’s been enough destruction and pain here tonight. No more. Leave that witch alone.”

  “I’m not here to destroy anything or to hurt anyone,” I said as I edged closer. “Do you live in the museum?”

  There was another shout and the sound of pounding feet. The angels must be pursuing Wiggles and the stolen doughnuts.

  Cleo continued to glare at me. I saw fear mingling with the anger on her face. She seemed terrified, and I was certain it wasn’t my presence causing her such concern.

  “Murder and angels have spoiled this pristine place.” A sob caught in her throat.

  “Murder is a bad business,” I said. “But the angels are only doing their jobs. You were around when Gretel was discovered, right?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like crowds, so I skipped out as soon as I could. I came back when I heard what happened. The angels must leave my home. I didn’t invite them to stay.” She raised her hands as if to attack again but then lowered them and sighed.

  “The angels have to stay here to protect Gretel.” I glanced over my shoulder as I heard more yelling. “Come with me, and we can talk about it.”

  “I want the peace back. I want my museum back. I don’t want a body polluting such a sanctuary.”


  I tilted my head as I studied her. She had an exotic look. Cleo would look perfect in ancient Greece, with her tanned skin and glossy dark hair. “Are you descended from the Muses?”

  She blinked at me before nodding. “From Kleio. Did you know her?”

  “Not personally,” I said. Kleio was the muse of history. Her father was Zeus. There was a lot of ancient power surrounding the muses. It was no wonder her ability felt so tangled and old. “I can see why you’d be interested in the museum, given your family connections.”

  “History runs through my blood,” Cleo said. “It’s why I’m here. It’s why I must protect this place. It’s why you and the angels must leave.”

  “I was about to,” I said. “You’ll get no trouble from me. I would like to talk to you, though. I’m also not happy that someone’s been murdered in your museum. We can work together and figure out what happened.”

  Cleo wiped her hands across her cheeks. “I’d like that. I would like the peace back. If you can help me achieve that, then I will answer your questions.”

  “Incoming!” Wiggles raced past. “The angels are on their way.”

  Cleo’s mouth opened, and a huge smile spread across her face when she saw Wiggles. “Oh! A puppy!” She ran after him, her arms open.

  I hurried after her. “He’s not exactly a puppy. He’s pretty old and grumpy most of the time.”

  “I love puppies.” Cleo giggled as she chased Wiggles.

  I could hear the angels searching for Wiggles, getting closer by the second.

  My gaze ran over Cleo as we followed Wiggles to the door. She didn’t seem like a threat and had acted much like Fallon and Suki did when defending the forest. Cleo seemed to think she had guardianship over this museum and protected it from any perceived threat.

  “Would you like to pet the puppy?” I asked her.

  Cleo slowed and clapped her hands together. “I’d love to.” She did a little jump and floated in the air for several seconds.

  “That’s great.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the ground. “The puppy is about to leave, and we need to chase him.” I gestured Wiggles to the door.

  “When I catch the puppy, I’m giving him a big squeeze and lots of kisses.”