Broomsticks and Burials

by Lily Webb

  “The witches on either side of Heath are the two running for Head Witch,” Mitch whispered as he leaned over next to me.

  “The one on his left is Opal Cromwell,” he said, pointing at a plump, rosy-faced witch with short, curly grey hair who smiled down at us. I recognized her name. Flora said Harper had taken an interest in her — which meant I needed to as well.

  “The other is Grace Magnus,” Mitch said, pointing to the witch on Heath’s right. I recognized her name too from the attack ad that’d accosted me the day before.

  Grace seemed half Opal’s age with chin-length blonde hair swept to one side of her face, and a staged smile that didn’t seem near as warm as Opal’s — her beady brown eyes didn’t help. The two couldn’t have been more opposite candidates, and I made a note of that on my pad of paper.

  “Before we begin, please ensure all Paraphones are silenced,” Heath said, and the sound of rustling pockets and bags filled the room as everyone reached to mute their phones.

  “Thank you, the last thing we need is an unexpected call from the other side,” Heath continued, and again laughter filled the chamber. He was charismatic, I had to give him that.

  “With that out of the way, our first speaker of the session will be—” Heath started, but his voice got lost when the chamber doors burst open and shouts filled the air.

  I whirled in my seat to find two towering men in skin-tight tailored black suits standing in the doorway. Their skin was so white I could almost see through it, and their eyes were the color of fresh blood.

  The taller of the two, who must’ve thrown the doors open, wore a bright red collared shirt under his suit jacket and long, curly black locks of hair tumbled down his shoulders and back. The other kept his matching black hair in a loose bun on top of his head.

  I didn’t need Mitch to tell me they were vampires. I only wondered how old they were.

  “Valentine Delacroix needs no introduction,” the first vampire said, straightening his suit. His voice was thick with a French accent. Were all vampires in this town French?

  “I apologize for the dramatic entrance, but we had to get your attention somehow.”

  “Who’s he?” I hissed in Mitch’s ear.

  “King of the Vampires,” Mitch growled, his upper lip curled. Ah, yes, a good old-fashioned rivalry between vampires and werewolves, of course.

  “Who’s the other one?”

  “Lucien Bellerose, land baron of Moon Grove,” Mitch said.

  “King Valentine, you were invited the same as everyone else,” Heath said.

  “Yes, to a meeting in the middle of the day when you were sure none of us would be able to attend given our, shall we say, condition,” Valentine said, and Heath blushed.

  “I’m very sorry to disappoint you in that regard.”

  “This is an outrage!” Grace shouted, slamming her palms against the table. “Never in my life have I seen such blatant disrespect for this Council. Heath, order them removed at once.”

  “They have just as much right to be here as the rest of us, Grace,” Opal chimed in, smiling down at the vampires. Lucien winked at her and Opal’s face turned even rosier, which I didn’t think was possible.

  “Do they? Or is it just that you want them here to help you advance your corrupt agenda, Opal?” Grace fired back.

  So much for an uninteresting meeting.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Madame, but we vampires were one half of the Pact of 1693, were we not?” Valentine asked Grace, who flustered at the question. “Haven’t we earned a seat at this Council that claims to represent us all in the three hundred years since?”

  “Enough!” Heath shouted, his voice booming through the chamber and making me jump. He must’ve enhanced his voice with magic somehow because there was no way a sound that large had come from such a small man.

  “Today’s meeting has clearly been compromised and will be adjourned until further notice,” Heath said to groaning and shouting in the audience.

  Valentine exchanged pointed looks with Lucien, and Grace stared down at them before shoving back from her chair and vanishing.

  I didn’t have a dog in the fight, but it made me wonder: did Grace have some sort of beef with the vampires? And why was Opal taking their side?

  “Mitch Harris,” Opal called from the dais after all the others had gone, and I froze. “Is this your new attack dog?”

  Mitch laughed at the bad joke and shook his head.

  “We only attack when you give us a reason to, Councilwoman,” Mitch answered.

  Opal frowned and stood from her chair to waddle down the steps to the front row, her off-white robes somehow managing not to trip her on her way. She jutted a hand of round, short fingers — made even rounder by the gaudy rings of all shapes, sizes, and colors she wore on every one of them — in my face like some sort of royalty.

  “Opal Cromwell, candidate for Head Witch. Pleased to finally meet you, Ms…?” Opal asked. When I didn’t take her hand, she scoffed and yanked it away.

  Clearly, she wasn’t as warm as her looks suggested.

  “Zoe Clarke,” I said.

  “What a charming name,” she said with a smile.

  I didn’t miss the condescension.

  “I hope you won’t be half as much of a nuisance to me as Mr. Harris’ last one was. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s dreadful what happened to Ms. Woods, but what’s that saying again? Something about curiosity killing the cat?”

  My breath caught in my throat.

  “Opal, you’re being disrespec—”

  “Of course, Mr. Harris, where are my manners? I’m truly sorry for your loss, and I do hope the police find whoever’s responsible soon. Lilith below knows we could use some stability in this town again,” Opal said.

  Mitch glared at her and I felt the rage roiling in him.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have a word with our unexpected guests,” Opal said. She swished away from us toward the vampires standing by the front door staring down everyone who passed.

  What on Earth could Opal possibly have to talk to them about — and why?

  “What was that?” I whispered when I was sure the Councilwoman was out of earshot.

  “Not now. Let’s get out of here,” Mitch snapped. He bolted out of his seat and charged toward the door. I tore after him, not wanting to be alone in a room with Opal and her two vampire friends.

  “Leaving so soon?” Valentine called to us as we approached.

  Opal excused herself from their conversation, and in a flash, the vampires were on either side of me, their skin so cold I felt like I was standing between two glaciers. Mitch growled at them.

  “Stay calm, my furry friend, we mean no harm,” Lucien said as he looked me up and down — somehow I didn’t believe him.

  “It would be rude of us not to introduce ourselves to the newest addition to Moon Grove.”

  “What’s your name, ma chérie?” Valentine asked, and I shivered. Claude the bus driver had called me the same thing, but somehow the effect was worse with Valentine.

  “Z-Zoe,” I stammered.

  “Enchanté,” Valentine whispered as he bowed and reached for my hand to place a kiss on the back of it. His fingers were like icicles, and I gasped when his lips touched my skin.

  “Monsieur Harris, my deepest condolences for Ms. Woods,” Lucien said, and Mitch growled again.

  “Please, if there’s any way we can help, let us know. Our brethren would be happy to do anything, anything at all, for the Messenger.”

  I didn’t know much about vampires, but even I knew what Lucien said wasn’t sincere.

  “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind,” Mitch snapped and snatched my hand away from Valentine.

  “You two had better get back to sleep, there are only a few more hours until sundown. I’ll see you around,” he said and tugged me out of the Town Hall and into the bright, warm sun. Nothing had ever felt so good.

  When we were safe within the walls of the Messenge
r again, I followed Mitch to his office. He slammed the door shut and mumbled something under his breath while he paced the room.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Mitch snapped.

  “Come on, Mitch, I wasn’t born yesterday. I know Harper was investigating Opal before she died and I know you were helping her,” I said, and Mitch froze.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Why was Harper digging up info on Opal? Was it related to those two vampires?” I asked.

  Mitch narrowed his eyes at me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and turned his back to me.

  I couldn’t tell where it came from, but an idea struck me. I stared at the back of Mitch’s head and concentrated, willing myself to use whatever magic everyone else was convinced I had, and just when I thought I might pass out from holding my breath for so long, a whooshing like a wave crashing over me rolled through my ears.

  She’s getting too close. Why does she have to keep picking at this? Why couldn’t this story just stay buried with Harper? Mitch’s thoughts rang as clear as day in my head.

  “Because the truth has a funny way of clawing its way to the surface even when people wish it wouldn’t,” I said, and Mitch whirled around, his eyes wide.

  “Did you just…?”

  “Read your mind? Yeah, basically,” I said, and Mitch looked like he might scream.

  I couldn’t believe it. Raina was right, I did have some sort of mind magic. If I’d been alone, I might’ve pumped my fist in the air.

  “So you can tell me what happened or not, either way, I’ll get answers from you.”

  “Zoe, trust me, you have no idea what you’re doing. The Council, the vampires, all of them, they’re dangerous. Just leave it alone,” Mitch said.

  “Why? So whoever killed Harper can come after me next? Not on my watch,” I said.

  “Zoe, I’m only going to say this one more time: Drop. The. Story. I don’t want to fire you, but I will if you make me,” Mitch said.

  “Oh, and stay out of my mind.”

  “Whatever you say, boss,” I said, and left Mitch’s office in a huff.

  I couldn’t say for sure what it was, but Mitch knew something about Harper’s death — way more than he let on — and I wasn’t going to roll over and ignore it no matter how hard he insisted.

  I’d managed to read his thoughts once, and I wasn’t above doing it again, so it looked like I needed to talk to Headmistress Raina about training my mind magic.

  Chapter Seven

  I spent the rest of the day transcribing what little notes I’d taken and trying to forget everything I’d seen and heard at the Council meeting, which proved next to impossible.

  To his credit, Mitch left me alone, though I wasn’t sure if that was because he was angry or afraid of me — or some combination of both.

  I couldn’t say I blamed him either way because it probably wasn’t every day an editor had his mind read by his newest employee.

  But was that really what I’d done? I couldn’t come up with any other explanation. I’d heard Mitch’s voice in my head, no doubt about it, and based on the way he reacted, my interpretation of his thoughts wasn’t too far off base.

  Regardless, I couldn’t wait to go home and talk it over with Flora. Every five seconds, I glanced up at the clock mounted on the wall five feet away from the desk in the middle of the newsroom that Mitch assigned me. Was it Harper’s old desk? It seemed like I was getting all her hand-me-downs so it wouldn’t have surprised me.

  “Hey, what are you up to?” Flora asked, snapping my eyes away from the clock. Was it finally time to leave?

  “Spending my time wisely,” I said, smiling as I straightened the papers on my desk. Flora raised an eyebrow at me.

  “You’re lying,” she said.

  “What? No, I’m not,” I said, my face burning.

  “Even if it weren’t written all over your face, I’d know the truth. You can’t lie to fairies,” Flora said, her wings fluttering.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

  “Are you done for the day?”

  “I… think so?”

  “What does that mean?” Flora asked as she leaned on my desk.

  “Things didn’t go well today, and Mitch has more or less ignored me since we got back from the Council meeting,” I sighed, and Flora frowned.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that. I told you they were difficult to cover.”

  “Honestly, the Council meeting wasn’t nearly as difficult as Mitch was,” I said, looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t within earshot. His office door was closed, but that didn’t mean he was inside it.

  Flora’s eyes widened.

  “Come on, let’s go home. I’ll cover for you if Mitch tries to give you grief,” Flora said.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want you taking the fall,” I said.

  “Nonsense. This paper would be lost without me,” Flora said. “Come on. Something tells me we have a lot to talk about.”

  “You have no idea,” I said and gathered up my things to follow Flora out the front door.

  The sun was low in the sky, twinkling through the willow trees as we made our way up Crescent Street toward Veilside. At the intersection, I reached for Flora’s arm and pulled her to a stop.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I need to talk to Raina again. I mean, since we’re already here and all,” I said.

  “Oh, okay. Good for you, I was hoping you would,” Flora said, smiling. “Does that have anything to do with today?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, and Flora smirked.

  “I thought so. Before we go in, tell me everything and don’t leave anything out. I’ll know if you do,” Flora said.

  “A lot happened. Everything seemed normal enough at the Council meeting until a couple vampires made a scene,” I said, and Flora clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “King Valentine?” she asked through her fingers, and I nodded. How did she know?

  “And Lucien Bellerose,” I said.

  “Of course. They’re an inseparable pair,” Flora said as she ran a hand through her hair. “So what happened?”

  “It was hard to follow, but basically the vampires demanded they be allowed to attend the meeting like everyone else and accused the Head Warlock of organizing the meeting during the day when they couldn’t come,” I said.

  “They’re getting more brazen by the day,” Flora said.

  “They mentioned something about a Pact of 1693. Do you know anything about that?” I asked. Flora sighed and nodded.

  “Hundreds of years ago, the witches and vampires weren’t on the best terms. Are you familiar with the story of the so-called Lost Colony of Roanoke?” Flora asked.

  Once again, I was glad I’d paid some attention in high school history. Every North Carolinian knew that story. How couldn’t they?

  “That was the first colony in America that later disappeared without a trace, right?” I asked.

  “Well, the colony didn’t disappear so much as it was destroyed — by vampires,” Flora said, and my stomach dropped.

  “The only ones who survived were a small number of closeted witches and warlocks among the colony. They fled after the attack, founded Moon Grove, and cast every protective spell they knew over the area to shield themselves from the vampires.”

  “But why would the vampires attack them?” I asked. “Wouldn’t paranormals want to band together?”

  “Under normal circumstances, sure, but the vampires were famished and out of their rational minds,” Flora said.

  I shuddered. The vampires I’d met were terrifying enough under the best circumstances — I didn’t want to know what they were like when they were hungry.

  “There’s a rumor that an abandoned and starving French colony established in the northeast of the country during that time was stalked and attacked by a traveling clan of vampires fleeing Canada’s
brutal winter,” Flora said.

  “But even feeding on that colony wasn’t enough. Later, that same clan of vampires made its way further south, right toward the colony of Roanoke, to satiate themselves.”

  So that was why all the vampires in Moon Grove seemed to be French or of French descent.

  “Well what changed then? Why did the witches and vampires sign a pact, and why are the vampires living here now?” I asked.

  “During the Witch Hunts of the late 1600s, the witches and warlocks realized if they wanted to survive they’d have to start trusting other paranormals again,” Flora said.

  “So they signed a peace pact with the vampires, who were also being hunted by humans. They agreed to forgive and forget everything that’d happened prior if the vampires used their abilities to help them protect Moon Grove.”

  “Wait, is it possible then that Valentine is—”

  “Of that original clan? Yes, he is,” Flora interrupted, and I shivered.

  That certainly explained why he’d burst into the Council meeting and demanded he be heard; he’d waited more than three hundred years for the opportunity.

  “Is there any reason a witch might want to support the vampires?” I asked. Flora furrowed her eyebrows at me. “I only ask because one of the witches on the Council seemed to be more interested in them than her own people.”

  “Who?”

  “Opal Cromwell,” I said, and Flora nervously looked over both her shoulders. “What? What is it?”

  “I need to tell you something,” Flora said.

  “Then tell me,” I said.

  “That’s the angle Harper was working on before she died,” Flora whispered.

  My throat tightened.

  “Then that must be why Mitch forbid me from pursuing the story. Though, to be fair, I did read his mind,” I said.

  “You did what?!” Flora squeaked, her eyes wide. “Is that why you wanted to see Raina again?”

  “Look, Flora, if I have some magical ability that could help me find out who murdered Harper, why wouldn’t I use it?” I asked. “For all I know, the killer could be waiting to take a swing at me or someone else at the Messenger next.”