Covens and Coffins

by Lily Webb

  “All right, let’s get this over with already,” I said as I crushed the paper cup in my fist and passed it back to Grandma.

  “‘Atta girl,” grandma said, beaming. “Remember, no matter what else happens, we’ll always be here for you.”

  “No matter what happens? You make it sound like I’m already condemned,” I said. Grandma rolled her eyes and gave me a hug.

  “You know darn well I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “Now go on, fix your face.”

  “Good luck, not that you need it,” Mallory said and walked me to the massive double doors of the town hall. With each step, the dull roar of the crowd outside grew larger, until it was all I could hear — drowning out even my thoughts. Had it been up to me, I would’ve turned on my heel and ran as fast and far away as possible, but there wasn’t any getting away from it now.

  Mallory pulled the doors in and shouts, cameras, and fingers flung at me like a wave. A podium stood less than ten feet away, but my legs were Jell-O. People shouted questions at me, so many that they ran together into a mass of noise, and it seemed like my entire life flashed before my eyes.

  “Zoe, go,” Mallory hissed from the relative safety of the interior. I gulped hard, winced at the pain because my throat was so dry, and walked for what seemed like an eternity to the podium.

  A dozen or more mounted microphones sat eager to capture every word that came out of my mouth — words that the papers and PV anchors would surely repeat thousands of times in the next few days.

  “Good morning, everyone,” I started, growing more confident with each word. We’d gone over my statement so many times I could recite it from memory, and that was exactly what I needed to do. Staring out over the heads of the crowd in front of me, I imagined the words I needed to say displayed in the clouds above them like a Teleprompter.

  “I wish we gathered here under different circumstances, but life doesn’t always cooperate with our wishes,” I said. “As I’m sure you’ve already heard, someone killed our sister and cherished racer, Lydia Crowe, yesterday during the town hall meeting.”

  I paused as rehearsed, and the almost complete silence that greeted me was deafening. Pens hovered above pads and fingers above keyboards as the reporters hung on my every word. I swept from one end of the audience to the other, desperate for anyone I recognized — and my heart skipped a beat when a tall, brown-haired warlock wearing a camera around his neck pushed his way into the crowd.

  He was several yards away, such that I couldn’t make out the concrete details of his face, but I knew in my heart of hearts it was Damon Fade. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest that Damon and the NWA didn’t respond to our offer for an interview — they couldn’t risk being that obvious — but with any luck, Damon might still talk to me after the conference was over.

  With Mallory’s words echoing in my head, I did my best to play it cool and avoid making eye contact with Damon.

  “Today, I’ve gathered you all here to address the concerns surrounding Lydia’s death. It’s come to my attention that there are those who suspect my campaign had something to do with the attack, and I want to state unequivocally that we had no involvement, directly or indirectly,” I said.

  A mumble tore through the crowd as reporters and citizens alike disputed my version of events among themselves, but I tried not to let it bother me.

  “Further, I want to state that we condemn this attack and whoever was responsible for it,” I continued, raising my voice to carry over the noise out in the audience. “We understand that this unfortunate event has done immeasurable harm to the trust you’ve placed in us as public servants, and in the days that follow we will work hard to correct that.”

  The shouting in the crowd grew louder until I doubted I’d be able to speak over it anymore, but I still had plenty of things to say so I pressed forward.

  “We are actively working with the Moon Grove police and other official bodies to assist them in identifying the attacker and bringing them to justice, and we‘ve committed to being transparent with you and all of Moon Grove while that process plays out,” I said.

  There were at least three more paragraphs of words to read, but the crowd grew increasingly unruly and the flashing cameras blinded me. I froze, trying to summon the courage to continue, and failing.

  “That’s all for today, thank you, we won’t be taking questions,” Raina said, appearing from nowhere in front of the microphone to save me from myself yet again. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me inside the town hall as the reporters charged up the stairs. The gargoyle guards slammed the doors in their faces.

  “You did well,” Raina said, but I barely heard her. My ears rang like someone had blown them out by a gunshot, and all I could focus on was Raina’s smile — until I remembered I was inside and Damon wasn’t.

  “Where’s Damon?” I demanded. Based on the energetic reaction to my statement, I couldn't believe it’d done anything meaningful to clear my name. The only way I’d be able to do that now was to get my hands on Damon’s photos.

  “He was here?” Mallory asked.

  “Yes, I saw him in the crowd. He came late, but there was no mistaking him,” I said. The attack on Lydia seared the details of Damon’s face into my mind.

  “You know what he looks like, go find him and bring them here,” Mallory commanded a gargoyle who looked less than enthused to be taking orders from her, but when I nodded my agreement, he grumbled and went out a side door, his massive, clawed wings clipping the top of the door frame on his way.

  “They’ll find him. If the gargoyles can’t do it, no one can,” Mallory said.

  “I hope you’re right,” I said and walked to the nearest chair to catch my breath. “That was a disaster.” Now I knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of my medicine, and I couldn’t say I liked it. It made me regret how much of an attack dog I’d been as a reporter in my past life.

  “No it wasn’t, far from it,” Raina argued. “You did and said exactly what you needed to, there’s nothing left to do at this point other than investigate.”

  I agreed, but what I didn’t tell Raina was how little faith I had in Mueller and the rest of the police department to help me get to the bottom of Lydia’s attack — they’d never come through for me before, and given I’d solved more murders in my time in Moon Grove and they had, it didn’t bode well.

  The side door the gargoyle had used burst open and Damon came stumbling through. He collided into the opposite wall and let out a squeal from the force.

  “Move,” the gargoyle growled, jabbing a claw through the air toward the main hall. With a curled lip, Damon moved into the town hall, his royal blue suit crumpled and ruffled, no doubt from the overzealous grip of the gargoyle who’d seized him.

  “I suppose that’s one way to request an interview,” Damon said, his brows wrinkled over his deep brown eyes. He looked me up and down quickly like a nervous, trapped animal, and straightened his jacket and tie.

  “I’m sorry for the less than gentle treatment, but it’s urgent,” I said, eyeing the camera dangling from Damon’s neck. It was a longshot, but the photos I needed might be on the same memory card lodged in his camera.

  “Oh, don’t think I haven’t already guessed what this is all about,” Damon said as he clutched his camera like a mother might her newborn.

  “Good, then I guess we don’t need to play ring around the camera, do we?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what you hope to get out of me. There were photos, sure, but nothing definitive,” Damon said.

  “Prove it,” I demanded, nodding at the camera. “Are the photos on that memory card?”

  “Maybe, I’m not sure,” Damon said, and I fixed him with the most intimidating stare I could manage.

  “Did you forget that I used to be a reporter myself? I know a lie when I hear one,” I said.

  “I had nothing to do with the attack,” Damon said.

  “Good to know, but that’s not what I asked,
” I said, and he scoffed.

  “I don’t have to stand for this. When my employer hears about this treatment, they’ll make sure it doesn’t go unpunished,” Damon said, straightening up to look more threatening.

  “Are you threatening a candidate for Head Witch?” Heath demanded from behind me. I hadn’t heard or seen him enter the room, but he must’ve come with Raina.

  “No, merely stating a fact,” Damon said, his confidence waning.

  “How did you get seated next to Lydia last night?” I asked, trying to avoid a confrontation. We needed Damon to cooperate with us, not dig his heels in and refuse everything we asked.

  “Pure coincidence,” Damon said, staring at Heath.

  “So the National Wand Association didn’t plant you there?” I asked and Damon turned his gaze on me, completely confused.

  “What? No, I don’t even know what you’re trying to imply,” Damon said.

  “It’s no secret you’re a photographer for the NWA’s magazine,” I said and Damon seemed to retreat on himself.

  “That’s true. I’ve been a member of the NWA for most of my adult life, and I’m very proud of that,” Damon said, though I couldn't believe it when he spoke to the floor rather than to me.

  “Which would give them all the more reason to make sure someone seated you next to their biggest antagonist during her attack,” I said. “Pictures like that would draw a lot of eyeballs to your magazine — and any message they want to send with it.”

  “No, you’re wrong. Whatever you’ve heard or think about the NWA, we’re a harmless political organization just like any other. We vote with our ballots, not violence,” Damon said, staring me straight in the eye. That was more like it.

  “Then why won’t you let me see what’s on your camera?” I asked and knew I’d won when his expression fell. He smashed a button on the back of the camera, and the glow of the screen flickering to life cast his face in strange shadows.

  “Fine, suit yourself, but you’ll be disappointed,” Damon said as he lifted the camera off his neck and over his head and stepped toward me. The gargoyle growled, but I held up a hand to tell him it was okay.

  Damon passed me the camera and the smiling face of Lydia Crowe stared back at me. It was a shot taken from below her while Damon sat. I pressed the arrow key to scroll through the photos, and like a moving picture, I watched Lydia sway left and right through the frame, her mouth opening and closing, and I could almost hear her words in my head all over again.

  Horrifyingly, toward the end of the stream of photos, a long, slender wand slid into view behind Lydia. Eager, I smashed the arrow button several more times, but frustratingly the details of the attacker never came into the frame. The photos Damon continued to snap during and after the attack were blurry and scattered — most were of the floor and ceiling, taken as he ran from the attacker.

  “See? I told you,” he said, tearing me out of the camera and my memories. As I passed the device back to him, I felt like I was handing him an admission of defeat. Though I still didn’t believe he had no involvement, I had no proof otherwise.

  There was still a chance that photographic proof might surface from another journalist, but it was an infinitesimally small one. If the photographer seated right next to Lydia hadn’t got a clear shot of her attacker, I couldn’t expect it from anyone else.

  But I still had one thread left to pull.

  “Did you know the attacker was carrying an NWA coin?” I asked and though it was brief, a look of panic flashed across Damon’s face before he regained his composure and cleared his throat.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said.

  “Don’t you think that’s damning?”

  “Hardly. The NWA is a large organization, with many members. It’s not a crime to carry one of their membership coins, nor is being a member,” he said.

  “No, but it is a crime to murder a witch in cold blood in the middle of the Moon Grove town hall,” I said. “But fine, let’s assume the NWA had nothing at all to do with the attack. Who do you think is responsible? Given you were sitting next to Lydia, you must have some theories.”

  “If I were you, I would talk to the two remaining Crowes,” Damon said, and I took a second to register what he’d said.

  “What? Why?”

  “In the same way it’s no secret I’m an NWA member, it’s no secret that Lydia’s sisters are just as ruthless and competitive as she was,” Damon said.

  “Are you suggesting—”

  “That Ivy or Eden might’ve wanted their sister silenced? Possibly. I wouldn’t put anything past either of them,” Damon said. “Did you know that, when wounded, crows sometimes eat their own?”

  My heart plummeted into my stomach, and a chill washed over me like I’d been doused with a bowl of ice.

  “It sounds like I have some questions to ask the Crowe sisters,” I said and Damon smiled. “Would you mind if I kept a few copies of these photos?”

  “Not at all. Where should I send them?” he asked.

  Chapter Six

  “I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Raina said, her frown making her face look more severe than usual. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her normally tight bun slid to one side like a melting scoop of ice cream.

  “What other choice do I have? We put out a statement that amounted to nothing and there are still people out there calling for me to withdraw my candidacy,” I said.

  “That’s all true, but I don’t know that turning to Ivy and Eden will solve your problems,” Raina said.

  The small fire smouldering in the pit at the center of the room popped and a log tumbled into the ash. I couldn’t have come up with a better metaphor for my campaign if I’d tried.

  For the last two days, since we’d run into a dead end with Damon, we’d laid low to regroup. We allowed no one outside the campaign to join us as we camped out in Raina’s house, just to be safe. We hoped new evidence would surface in the meantime, but no luck. Scattered reports had streamed into Mueller’s office, and though he did his best to keep us in the loop, none of it was anything substantial.

  “I have no one else to turn to right now. The longer we hide out and try to pretend like nothing’s wrong, the more damage this will do. Hiding makes me look guilty,” I said. “Besides, the Crowe sisters might’ve come to their senses by now.”

  “After the way Ivy was shrieking at you, I highly doubt that,” Raina said.

  “It can’t hurt to try. Worst-case scenario, they turn me away at the gate, and best-case scenario, they give me something I can work with, however small,” I said.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. It absolutely can hurt you to try. What if you say the wrong thing, the visit goes south, and afterward the Crowes flex their PR muscle to bury your campaign once and for all?” Raina asked.

  “They won’t because they can’t. Not even people as powerful as them can put their fingers on the scale without consequence,” I said.

  “Oh, please, you know as well as I do that they wouldn’t do anything directly. They’re far too cunning for that,” Raina said. “And with the memorial service for Lydia scheduled for tomorrow, it’s bad timing all around.”

  “Not if I offered to back their wand restriction bill,” I said, and Raina’s eyes went wide. For a moment, I thought she might leap out of her rocking chair to shake some sense into me.

  “Are you serious?” Mallory asked, glaring at me over the rim of her glasses from where she sat on the couch.

  “Why not? It could help us in several ways. For starters, partnering with the two of them would look good in the public eye, especially if it was in the name of their sister. I think the voters would love the sentiment,” I said.

  “Did you forget what Damon told you? He suspects Ivy and Eden helped orchestrate Lydia’s death, and you want to buddy up to them? Talk about climbing into a pit of vipers,” Raina said.

  “I know it’s risky, possibly even disastrous, but it’s the best option we have. We need t
o do something. The longer I stay quiet and hidden the more damage it’ll do, and I think now more than ever it’s important that I win,” I said, frustrated. I understood where Raina and Mallory were coming from, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “What do you hope to hear from them? They won’t be forthcoming with you. Remember, at least one of them suspects you murdered their sister,” Raina said.

  “I don’t think they really believe that, honestly,” Mallory said. “Anyone who looks at it objectively can see how absurd it sounds. Zoe, the town hero, hiring someone to murder one of her opponents? We can’t be the only ones in Moon Grove who find that hard to believe.”

  “Exactly, and I think a lot more people think that way than we know about,” I said.

  “Fine, if you insist,” Raina said and my heart rate doubled. “But be careful and let no one see you going to or leaving the Crowes’ Keep,” Raina said. There wasn’t any way I could guarantee that, but I nodded anyway.

  “Would you mind calling them and seeing if they’ll even meet with me?” I asked, and though Raina looked like she would rather have fallen off a broom, she went for the phone.

  “Do you think you could give me a ride over there?” I asked Mallory. “I’d be a lot less conspicuous arriving via air and I don’t trust myself to fly alone. The last thing we need is for me to end up with a broken neck.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Mallory agreed with a shrug. Though I couldn’t make out what she said, I heard Raina’s voice in the other room, which meant that she must’ve gotten a hold of the staff at the Crowes’ Keep.

  A few minutes later, she returned to her living room and gave me a thumbs up.

  “It took quite a bit of convincing, but Eden at least will hear what you have to say. I didn’t mention that you were considering backing their bill, and if I were you, I wouldn’t offer it from the start. It’s the only bargaining chip you have,” Raina said.