by Elle Adams
“It’s easy.” Helen swung a leg over her broom and was in the air a moment later. “See?”
I blinked at her. “Could you demonstrate again, more slowly?”
“Sure.” She bounded off the broomstick onto the lawn. “It’s simple. Just stand like this, grip the broom between your legs—” She did so—"and when you’re ready to fly, tap the end with your wand.”
“You didn’t use your wand just then,” I pointed out.
“That’s the advanced class.” She grinned at me. “You’ll get to that later.”
I pulled out my wand and sat on the broom, awkwardly gripping it between my legs. Then I tapped the end. The broom didn’t move. Maybe it knew I didn’t want to be in the air.
Another tap, more aggressive. “Broom…. fly.”
The broom tipped backwards, knocking me onto my back. “Ow.”
“You okay there, Blair?”
I lifted my head. “Sure. I take it getting my wings out would be cheating?”
“In the exam? Yes. But if it helps you now, I won’t tell anyone.” She winked.
Ugh. I guess I’d better learn to do this by the book, then.
I got to my feet, mounted the broom, and tapped the end. The broom rose at an angle, and once again, I slid backwards and toppled onto the grass. Muffled laughter came from behind me. So much for no witnesses.
I risked a glance over my shoulder to see who was amused at my misfortune and spotted a dozen children hiding in the bushes.
Helen flapped a hand at them. “Go on, run along and meet your parents.”
More laughter from the other bushes. Adult laughter. Their parents were watching and laughing at me, too. My face heated up. I wished we’d gone over to the lake instead. Then I could have hidden in the woods until everyone went away.
Gritting my teeth, I picked up the broom. “Don’t like fairies, do you?” I muttered to it. “Tough. I’m witch enough to fly, and you’re going to do as I say.”
“Why is she talking to the broom?” asked one of the little girls, loudly.
I mounted the broom. When it jerked into the air, I abruptly fell off again to another cloud of laughter. “Ow. Can the broom sense that I’m nervous?”
“No,” Helen said. “It’s a spelled object, not sentient.”
“It sure doesn’t seem to want me in the sky.” I climbed to my feet again. “Is it because I’m left-handed? Or is my fairy magic interfering?”
“I doubt it. You just need to keep trying.”
I practised. The broom refused to cooperate with me. Finally, in a fit of frustration, I de-glamoured before hitting the end of the broom hard enough for sparks to burst from the end of my wand. There was a rising gasp from the small children, then the broom shot into the air.
Without me.
If not for my wings, I’d have fallen out of the air. As it was, I hovered on the spot as the broom plummeted back to earth and hit Helen on the head.
I dropped, beating my wings, and landed beside her. “Helen, are you okay?”
She looked up dizzily. “Hmm?”
“Oh, no. I can call Alissa.” I snapped my fingers and turned back into human mode again, grabbing my phone.
“No need.” Rita crossed the lawn, waved her wand, and Helen’s dazed expression disappeared. “You might have a sore head for a bit.”
“I’m sorry!” My face flamed. “This is why I shouldn’t be flying.”
Helen shook her head. “No, you just need to be more prepared next time. Try again.”
With Rita watching expectantly, I was outnumbered, so I grabbed the broom and swung my leg over the side. Drawing in a breath, I tapped the end.
This time, I managed to hang onto the broom as it rose into the air a few inches. “Yes!” I didn’t quite have the courage to dance in mid-air, but I did a silent celebratory dance in my head.
Steering it back to earth was another story. I leaned forwards, and the broom pitched me off sideways. I tumbled to the ground in time for the broom to hit me in the head. I looked up dazedly to screaming laughter from the small children.
“Go home,” Rita said to them. “Blair, are you okay?”
“Great.” I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t think I’ll be joining the High Fliers anytime soon.”
“Maybe you should try another day,” Helen said. “You’re not bad for a beginner, at all. I’ve seen worse.”
From small children. It was hard to concentrate when I was being gawked at by onlookers waiting for me to fall off my broom anyway. I picked up the broom and accompanied Helen back into the witches’ headquarters.
A tall witch wearing a red hat accosted her on the way to the store cupboard. “Oh, Helen, I was looking for you. Can I have a word?”
“Sure.” Helen turned to me. “Blair, can you take both brooms back?”
“Okay.” I took the broomstick from her, and returned them both to the store cupboard, giving them a thorough glare before closing the door.
Helen showed up a moment later, her sunny demeanour gone. If anything, she looked almost as upset as she had at the lake.
“Are you okay?” She might have put me through broomstick hell, but I’d asked her to do it, after all.
She flicked her wand and the store cupboard locked itself. “Yes… it’s Terrence. The verdict is that he didn’t die by accident.”
My heart sank. “Really?”
“His talent was water manipulation,” she explained, putting her wand away. “In some cases, magical talents can activate even if the wizard is unconscious, so it’s unlikely that he drowned by accident. Madame Grey confirmed it.”
“Oh, no.” I hadn’t known it was possible for someone to have a skill that worked even when they’d passed out.
She exhaled in a sigh. “The problem is, we don’t have any real idea of who might have done it, and I don’t want Steve terrorising everyone at the academy if he gets wind that it wasn’t an accident.”
“What—he thinks a student did it?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I actually wondered if you could do me a favour, Blair. You know when people are lying, right?”
“Oh,” I said, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. I’m not a detective. And people have got around my lie-sensing power before.”
She bit her lip. “It’s just… well. We’re having trouble piecing together what happened by the lake. I wondered if you could come and talk to the students after tomorrow’s lesson. or before. Wait, you work at Dritch & Co, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I might have plans tomorrow evening.” Like meeting Nathan’s parents, for instance. “I can come in the morning, though, but it’d have to be before nine.”
“Classes start at eight. That’s perfect.”
The poor kids, being dragged out of bed at that hour in the summer holidays. Still, I felt bad for Helen. She clearly cared about her job, and now she was having to deal with the death of one of her students.
I’d probably regret this, but at this rate, I’d need weeks of lessons before I mastered the broomstick. I owed her at least one favour for helping me out.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll talk to them.”
3
Early the next morning, I set off for the academy. The town’s premier witchcraft institution was a brick building with its exterior decorated with a symbol of two wands crisscrossing. In August, there weren’t as many students crowding behind the wrought-iron fences as there would be during term time, though on the other side of the fence, a small group of teenagers stood in a huddle, talking among themselves.
Helen spotted me and smiled. As I walked to the gates, she unlocked them with a wave of her wand, inviting me into the school grounds.
“The students have to come here every day for registration, so everyone who was at the lake the other night is in the grounds,” she said to me in an undertone. “They know you’re here to talk to them, so there won’t be any misunderstandings.”
Good. I was already regretting dragging myself out of bed to
play detective when I’d told Nathan I wouldn’t do anything to stir up trouble this week. Even if I owed Helen a favour, things had a tendency to spiral out of control wherever I was involved. I’d made it through a whole month without an argument with Steve the Gargoyle and I’d prefer not to break my streak.
Helen approached the huddle of robe-wearing students. “Hey, everyone,” she said brightly. “This is Blair. She’s a detective.”
Ah, no.
“She isn’t,” said a teenage boy. “She works at that weird place where the lady was accused of murdering someone.”
Ack. “I do work for Dritch & Co,” I admitted. “That means I find suitable candidates for paranormal clients. Anyway, Helen asked me to come here and talk to you about what happened at the lake on Sunday. I think you’d rather talk to me than Steve, right?”
A few murmurs of agreement passed through the group.
“What d’you want to know?” asked the teenage boy.
“Who was the last person to see Terrence, before he died?” I asked.
Several people spoke up, pointing fingers. Even my lie-sensing power wouldn’t work on a dozen people talking at once.
“Okay, one at a time.” I turned to the nearest student. He had a mop of dark brown hair and while he must have fixed his cloak so it no longer resembled a superhero cape, I recognised him as the boy who’d been accused of arguing with Terrence before his death. “Did you know Terrence?”
“We were friends, yeah.” He looked as irritated and tired as Helen. “The police have already spoken to me. I didn’t push him into the water.”
Truth.
“You were arguing, though,” said a girl with blond hair. “Weren’t you?”
His mouth turned down at the corners. “We were drunk. It was a stupid argument.”
“About what?” I asked.
“The sirens,” supplied the blond girl. “You were arguing because he wanted to swim off and flirt with the sirens.”
“Right,” he said. “Yeah. He’s—he was an idiot. Everyone knows not to flirt with the sirens. There was one who kept coming close to shore and he kept saying he was going to swim off with her.”
True.
“But he didn’t, right?” I asked.
“I didn’t see,” the boy said. “I wouldn’t have thought he would, but you know, he was drunk.”
True… as far as I could tell.
“Did you see him go in the water?” I asked. “With the siren?”
“Like I said, I lost track of him when he stormed off after we argued,” the boy said.
True. “Did he go down to the falls?” I asked, thinking of the elves. “You must have known that he was in no fit state to climb down that path. It’s tough enough when you’re sober.”
“For some people, maybe,” he said. “No, I’m not his babysitter. Stop looking at me like that, Clarence. I didn’t kill him.”
Truth. I saw Helen looking at me and shook my head, just slightly.
“But he had the ability to manipulate water, right?” I asked the group. “That means he can’t have drowned by accident, doesn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” said the blond girl. “If he was drunk enough, he might have forgotten to use magic.”
“I’m surprised he even got to the falls without breaking his neck,” added one of the others.
The boy scowled. “Yeah, okay, okay. Maybe his power stopped working. Or the sirens sang…”
“The siren song might have made him forget his magic?” Maybe I’d need to speak to the sirens, not the students. I’d dealt with a siren before who’d accidentally killed her human lover. A drunk wizard, even one who had an affinity with water, would be an easy target.
“You can’t forget your magic,” put in someone else. “Survival instinct kicks in.”
“I dunno, some people are stupid enough to forget,” said the boy.
“Don’t call him stupid, Casey,” said the girl with braided hair who’d said she was a healer. “He’s dead. Show some respect.”
“Any luck?” Helen whispered to me.
“No, but I didn’t sense any lies,” I whispered back. “I think I might need to talk to the sirens. My lie-sensing power doesn’t work on speculation, only direct statements. And it’s affected by whatever the person I’m talking to believes is the truth.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “It’s better than nothing, though, right? Casey is having a tough time with all the accusations. He and Terrence were on the same Sky Hopper team.”
“Well, he didn’t lie,” I said. “It sounds like the sirens might have been involved, but I’d need to talk to them to be sure.”
Which meant another trip to the lake. I didn’t have time for that now… wait a moment. I got out my phone to check the time.
“I’m late for work,” I said, backing towards the gates. “I’ll see you later, Helen. Sorry.”
I took off, switching on my Seven-Millimetre Boots with a click of the button on the heel. Gliding wasn’t quite as effective as flying, but my fairy form came with the unfortunate side effect of shedding glitter everywhere. Showing up late at the office would be bad enough without adding a glitter shower on top of it.
I glided to a halt in front of the doors of Dritch & Co’s office, skidded inside, and sagged with relief when I spotted Callie behind her usual desk and the boss nowhere in sight.
“Hey, Blair.” Callie waved at me. She was a friendly-faced blond woman who occasionally looked like a snarling wolf when I glanced at her out of my peripheral vision. My paranormal-sensing power had become background noise now, for the most part, but seeing a wolf in the corner of my eye in place of a pretty blond woman still weirded me out sometimes.
“Hey.” I approached the door to the main office at the back. “I guess the boss is late aga—”
I broke off as the door swung inwards. Veronica Eldritch sat in my desk chair before a stack of paperwork, her silver-white hair splayed over the back of the seat.
“I’m glad you decided to join us, Blair.” She slid to her feet with more poise than I could achieve even with my boots.
“Oh, sorry I’m late.” I took my seat with as much dignity as I could muster. It was typical that Veronica would show up early the one day I lost track of time.
“What were you doing, exactly?” she enquired.
“Er, meeting with Helen,” I said. “She’s giving me broomstick lessons as part of my training.”
“Well, try to do that outside of work hours next time. And you have a note from your friend Nathan.” She pressed a piece of paper into my hand.
Oh, no. He must have come here and missed me. Weird that he hadn’t texted instead—unless I’d missed that, too. I was in dire need of a shot of motivational coffee to wake up my brain.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll make up the time after work.”
“Do that.” She left the office, at which point I made a beeline for the coffee machine and hit the button on the side for an extra-large motivational coffee. Then I checked Nathan’s note. It invited me to his house for dinner with his family this evening.
Apparently, it was one of those days. I took my coffee and returned to my seat, my stomach somersaulting with nerves. The chaos of the morning had wiped Nathan’s family from my mind. It’s okay. It’s only a family dinner, not a trial.
Bethan raised her eyebrows at me. “Broomstick lessons? You?”
“If I’m to skip a grade, I have to at least know the basics,” I said. “Didn’t you hear what a spectacle I made of myself at the witches’ place last night?”
“No,” she said. “Why, did you hit yourself in the face with it?”
“Nope, I nearly knocked Helen out cold and made a fool of myself in front of a whole pack of schoolchildren and their parents.”
Bethan laughed. “Only you, Blair.”
“Oh, Helen,” said Lizzie. “She seems nice. If a bit over-enthusiastic. If she wasn’t married to the academy, I might consider asking her to apply here.”
“Wait, are we hiring a fourth person again?” I blew on my coffee to cool it down.
“We are,” Bethan confirmed. “This time, Mum wants us to interview them in person to make sure they’re a good fit. To avoid a repeat of last time.”
Our office didn’t have the best track record for keeping employees. Firstly, Blythe had been fired for hexing both Callie and me in an attempt to get me kicked out. Then Lena had barely lasted a few weeks before she’d been hit by Rebecca’s personality-altering powers and left town. The office was supposed to have four witches and some people—okay, Blythe—said it was bad luck to have anything less. I’d often thought I was the cause of the office’s lingering streak of bad luck, but Dritch & Co had been having a great summer. At least since Veronica had been cleared of murdering someone who wasn’t actually dead. Maybe we didn’t need four witches to function, but it’d be even better if we weren’t so overworked all the time.
“Okay, who are the candidates?” I took a huge sip of coffee.
“Check the list,” Lizzie said. “Veronica put you in charge since you did such a great job with the town’s security team.”
“Wait, she did?” I should be flattered, but I already had a full plate. For some reason, the universe always piled everything on me at once. “Right—we need a witch or wizard to keep with tradition, right? Or maybe we should branch out.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with branching out,” Lizzie said. “Hiring a fairy didn’t do us any harm. Maybe a vampire.”
“Isn’t one lie-detector enough for a single office?” I asked. “Pretty sure I referred all the newest vampires to the town security team, anyway. The older ones don’t need to work since they’re all millionaires.”
“Werewolves?” Lizzie suggested.
“Chief Donovan still has us blacklisted,” Bethan said. “We have Callie, besides. See who’s on the list.”
I checked the list of names atop the pile of papers on my desk. Mostly witches and wizards, by the look of things.
