Broomsticks and Burials

by Lily Webb

  “Maybe that’s why you shouldn’t be working alone,” Beau said. “There’s strength in numbers.”

  “And increased exposure,” I said. “Plus, I don’t really know what partnering up on that would mean for, uh, you know, us.”

  “Right, yeah, could be awkward,” Beau said, blushing again. Maybe the Magishake was wearing off.

  “Okay. I respect that, but like I told you before, don’t hesitate to ask if you want to bounce ideas off me or just need help.”

  “I won’t. Thanks, Beau,” I said.

  “Anytime,” he said, smiling. “So, what’s your plan, then?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve talked to Opal and Grace, and both of them seem like they’ve got something to hide, but I don’t know if it’s related to Harper,” I said.

  “Wait, you talked to both of them already? Wow, you move fast,” Beau said. “What did Grace say?”

  “Unsurprisingly, she’s convinced it was a vampire,” I said. Beau chuckled and rolled his eyes.

  “Of course she does,” he sighed. “But I don’t know, this time she might not be wrong. The vampires could’ve wanted Harper dead if she was looking into whatever deal they made with Opal — if they really did make one.”

  “Maybe. I guess I need to talk to them to find out,” I said. Beau stared at me blankly.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked.

  “Not really, no. They scare the daylight out of me, but I don’t think I have a choice,” I said. “Grace wouldn’t say for sure, but she pretty heavily implied that Lucien Bellerose was involved.”

  “Could be. He owns the cemetery along with pretty much everything else in this town,” Beau said. “Oh, the cemetery!” he shouted, slamming a fist on the counter and making me jump.

  “What about it?”

  “Have you been there yet?”

  “No? Why would I want to go there?”

  “Maybe the police missed something. There could be other evidence around,” Beau said. “You know, fingerprints or something.”

  “Wait, do vampires even have fingerprints?” I asked.

  “Hm, good question, I never thought about that. I’m not sure. Anyway, it’s down by the town gates not far from here. Do you want to go? I could come with you and use my nose to sniff stuff out,” Beau said.

  My throat went dry. I couldn’t deny that having Beau’s doggy nose around would help, but I couldn’t bring myself to drag him into the mess.

  But visiting the cemetery was a good idea — and there wasn’t anything stopping me from going alone.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m sure the police did a pretty thorough search, and if either of us got caught snooping around a crime scene after dark, it wouldn’t make us look good,” I said.

  “Good point,” Beau said and returned to sipping his shake. Mine had already mostly melted, but I drank a few more gulps before I decided I’d had enough. My stomach was full, but at least my headache had gone away.

  “All done?” Beau asked.

  “Yeah, I think so. What about you?”

  “Same here. I don’t think I could drink another drop. It’s good, but man is it rich,” he laughed. “Can I walk you home?”

  “That’s sweet of you,” I said, blushing.

  “Can’t be too careful anymore,” Beau said as he pulled a wad of bills and a handful of moon-shaped coins out of his pocket and set them on the counter.

  “You didn’t have to pay for me,” I said.

  “I know, but I wanted to,” he said with a smile and stood from his stool to offer me his arm. Smiling, I looped mine through his and walked with him to the door.

  “Thanks! Y’all come back soon!” Mooney called after us, but I barely noticed. I was arm-in-arm with Beau Duncan, and I had all kinds of feelings about it.

  Outside, the sun had set, and a cool breeze carried through the willow trees as we walked north on Crescent Street. The oil lamps lining the street were lit and cast a soft, warm glow over the cobblestone streets.

  “Do you even know where I live?” I asked, breaking the silence.

  “No. That’s part of the reason I offered to walk you home,” Beau said, and I laughed.

  “How crafty of you,” I said. “I’m up on Swiftsage.”

  “With the fairies?”

  “With a fairy, yeah,” I said. “I’m rooming with Flora Gemwood. Do you know her?”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone in the business knows who Flora is,” he said. “She’s a legend.”

  “Speaking of work, I saw you on PV the other night,” I said. Beau’s face turned redder than the flames in the lamps.

  “Oh? What did you think?”

  “I only saw a few seconds in Opal’s office, but it was cute,” I said.

  “Cute? That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he said, smiling. “You should come down to the station sometime, I could show you around. I think you’d like it.”

  “Beau Duncan, that sounds an awful lot like a date to me.”

  “Well, it doesn’t have to be a date, it could just be two friends hanging out or whatever you’re comfortable—”

  “I was joking, Beau,” I interrupted. “I’d love that.” Beau beamed at me.

  We walked the rest of the way to Flora’s house in silence, but when we reached the front door, Beau seemed like he didn’t want to let go of my arm like he knew I was plotting something.

  “I had a great time tonight, Zoe,” he said.

  “Me too. We should do this again soon.”

  “Really? You want to?”

  “Definitely,” I said and unlinked my arm from his. “Thank you again, Beau.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine. You can pick where we go next time,” he said as he walked backwards down the walkway toward the fence. I hoped he didn’t trip over anything.

  “Okay. I’ll ask Flora for some recommendations,” I said.

  “Can’t wait,” he said. “Goodnight, Zoe.”

  “Goodnight, Beau,” I said and stood watching him as he turned and walked away. Every few seconds he stole a glance over his shoulder, his teeth shining in the moonlight as he smiled back at me until he reached the intersection of Swiftsage and Crescent.

  After he disappeared around the corner, I counted to sixty in my head to give him a lead and set off toward the entrance to town, hoping I didn’t run into Beau — or anyone else — on the way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The cemetery’s rusted and warped iron gates towered over me, and a wispy fog rolled out from under it. The scene was appropriately creepy, and my skin erupted in goosebumps as I approached. The gates creaked open when I pushed them, and hundreds of rows of gravestones stretched on further than I could see.

  I’d never seen so many dead people gathered in one place.

  Coming across death dates from the late 1500s reminded me just how old Moon Grove was. As I passed row after row, I felt like I was walking through time.

  I found it unusual for the cemetery to be wide open at this hour, but then again, it wasn’t like there was anything normal about Moon Grove.

  I wandered through the first dozen rows before realizing the graves were organized in alphabetical order, more or less. Not everyone dies at the same time, which could create some confusion when it came to planning in advance.

  Still, everywhere I looked, I couldn’t find a grave marked Claudette Riddle — until I came to a gated part of the cemetery that housed a long, grand row of decorative mausoleums and gravestones dedicated to prior Head Witches and Warlocks.

  At the leftmost edge sat a slab of marble fashioned in the shape of a witch’s hat engraved with the words Claudette Riddle, Head Witch 2000-2018. The soil in front of the headstone was still moist.

  Looking at the scene and knowing what happened in the grave made my skin crawl. Just a few weeks ago, Harper Woods herself stood in this same spot looking for something — and she wound up buried in Claudette’s grave.

  What did Harper find? And who killed her to make sure i
t never got out?

  “We meet again, ma chérie,” a thick French accent sliced through the darkness and I screamed. When I whirled around, I found a stark white vampire with blood-red eyes standing a foot behind me. He stepped forward with a smile, his long, curly black hair bouncing across his shoulders.

  Valentine Delacroix, the King of the vampires. Great, it looked like I was about to have my own interview with a vampire — alone in a dark cemetery.

  “You scared the life out of me,” I breathed, my heart still hammering against my chest.

  “So I smelled,” he said, his nose nipping at the air between us, which made me conscious of just how alive I was. Valentine straightened the maroon satin jacket he wore, and dirt flew off in my direction. What the…?

  “What brings you to this fine establishment on such a beautiful night?” Valentine asked, his crimson eyes flashing in the moonlight.

  “Oh, I uh, I lost a piece of jewelry here the other night,” I lied.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “Er, no, not exactly,” I mumbled.

  “As I suspected.”

  “You know, I could ask you the same question,” I said. Valentine smirked, but rather than put me at ease, it made me want to run screaming. No one else I’d met in Moon Grove made my blood run cold as much as Valentine and his buddy Lucien.

  “Me? Sometimes I enjoy sleeping here when things are too restless at home,” Valentine said, and I choked.

  “Sleep… Here?”

  So he just decided to take a dirt nap in the cemetery?

  “Yes, as I’m sure you know by now, vampires are nocturnal,” Valentine said. “But sleeping in coffins all the time can be, well, suffocating.”

  “Right, yeah, obviously,” I said like I had any idea what I was talking about.

  “You know, Zoe, people are taking notice of you and your work.”

  “Is that a good or bad thing?” I asked.

  “I suppose that depends who’s asked,” Valentine said, smirking. “You’re here because of Harper Woods, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Zoe, ma chérie, I’m hundreds of years old. I can spot a lie from a mortal the same as the pulsing of their heart in their veins,” Valentine said. That didn’t make me feel any better.

  “Okay, fine. Yeah, I’m here because of what happened to Harper,” I said.

  “Such a shame, what befell Miss Woods,” Valentine sighed and glided across the cemetery grass to sit on Claudette’s gravestone. I didn't know much about cemetery etiquette but it didn't seem respectful.

  “The silencing effect her death has had on the entire town is most unfortunate.”

  His bloody eyes met mine, and I focused, willing myself inside his head to see if he meant it — but when I finally broke through the only thing I heard was a vast, dull silence like I’d been buried myself.

  Nothing went through his mind, or at least nothing I could hear. Was it because he was technically dead? Did vampires even have thoughts?

  Valentine smirked at me like he was the one who’d read my mind.

  “So, you said you sleep here sometimes. Have you ever seen or heard anything suspicious?” I asked, desperate to shift the focus.

  “You mean murder?” Valentine asked, his smirk broadening. “No, I’m afraid not. I wasn’t here for that. As King, there are certain duties I’m obligated to perform for my Clan, and duty called for a meeting that evening. Ask any of my brethren, they’ll confirm I was occupied.”

  “And your friend, Lucien?”

  “What about him?”

  “Was he at that meeting?”

  “As a matter of fact, he wasn’t,” Valentine said, and I allowed myself to breathe again. So neither Grace nor Lucien could account for their whereabouts the night Harper died — assuming Valentine was telling the truth, which was a stretch.

  “Then where was he?”

  “Zoe, mon amour, I may be King of the vampires, but that doesn’t entitle me to their every coming and going,” Valentine said. “With only half the day to take advantage of, we’re all quite busy during waking hours.”

  “But Lucien owns this cemetery, doesn’t he?”

  “Indeed, he does,” Valentine said. “He owns most property in Moon Grove.”

  “How?”

  “Lucien is, shall we say, persuasive,” Valentine said, his smirk blossoming into a full-blown smile. Despite the darkness, I saw the wine-red stain of blood on his teeth. It gave me chills. No wonder people around town were afraid of vampires.

  “There isn’t a soul in town, living or otherwise, that could easily say no to a business proposition from Monsieur Bellerose.”

  “Some think he might be tied to Harper’s death,” I said, watching Valentine’s face for a reaction, but his smile remained as firm as stone.

  “How, ma chérie?” Valentine asked. I hesitated, not at all sure I could trust the vampire. But if anyone would know about the inner workings of the species at large and Lucien in particular, it would be their King.

  “There are rumors the vampires — Lucien, specifically — are tied to Opal Cromwell in some sort of dirty deal for power,” I said. The bit about Lucien was a leap, but not a big one, and there wasn’t any way Valentine would know that. His bushy black eyebrows crept up his forehead, and his eyes flashed.

  “I see. It’s true that Lucien and I don’t always agree on everything, as much as the rest of this town would like to believe we do,” Valentine said. “That said, Opal Cromwell has been known to lie and deceive to further her own agenda.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I blinked and Valentine was less than six inches away from me, the scent of dried blood and soil filling my nose.

  “Rumors aren’t the sole realm of reporters, Zoe. Perhaps you should ask Opal about the truth of her family. I suspect that’s what you’re really looking for in this cemetery, the same as Harper Woods before you,” Valentine said.

  I opened my mouth to ask why, but the blinding beam from a flashlight swept over us and Valentine vanished.

  “Who’s there?!” a gruff voice shouted through the darkness. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!”

  With my hands raised, I turned as slow as I could and squinted against the light to find the grizzled face of Fenrir Mueller, Chief of Police, with his gun drawn — the last person I wanted to see in the Moon Grove cemetery.

  “Well, well,” Mueller clucked as he holstered his pistol. “Look what the black cat dragged in.”

  “Chief, this isn’t what you think it is, I can explain, I—”

  “Save it for the record, Miss Clarke,” Mueller said. He stepped around me, wrapping my arms behind my back to cuff my wrists. “Now get stepping toward the gates. You and I have a lot to discuss.” He jabbed his flashlight between my shoulder blades.

  “Mr. Mueller, please, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. The gates were open, I came to pay my respects,” I said.

  “You really expect me to believe that?”

  Sighing, I walked to the entrance of the cemetery. Mueller shoved me through the gates and slammed them shut behind him before shining his flashlight in my face.

  “What were you really doing in there, Miss Clarke?” he barked.

  “I told you, I was paying my respects,” I said.

  “Right, and I’m a vampire,” Mueller said, rolling his eyes. “I know what you’re up to. Keep your nose out of my investigation. If I ever catch you where you don’t belong again, I won't be this kind about it.”

  If he called this kind, I’d hate to see him angry.

  He switched off his flashlight and holstered his gun.

  “Now get out of here before I change my mind,” he said and all the air left my lungs.

  I tore out of the cemetery toward Crescent Street without ever looking back, unsure which of the two men I’d talked to was more frightening.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “We need to talk, Zoe. My office. Now,” Mitch snapped as Flora and I stepped through the Me
ssenger’s doors.

  Flora gave me a look like she knew I was in trouble before scurrying off to her desk. Mitch’s arms were crossed over his chest like always, but something else about his body language — and the fact he was waiting for me to get to work — told me he meant business.

  “Okay,” I said. I set my things down on my desk on my way over and walked what felt like forever to Mitch’s front door. He slammed the door behind us, and stomped around me to pound his fists on the desk.

  “What did I tell you? What did I tell you?!” he shouted. At least the walls of his office weren’t glass so everyone couldn’t see him screaming at me.

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Clarke,” he snapped. The use of my last name caught my attention but not in a good way. “You know who I got a call from this morning?”

  “No…?”

  “Chief Mueller,” Mitch said. I fought the urge to curse and kick the chair in front of me. It wouldn’t have done me any good anyway. “He told me he caught you snooping in the cemetery around Claudette Riddle’s grave Saturday night. You want to explain that?”

  “Mitch, I was just looking for information about—”

  “About Harper, I know,” he interrupted. “I told you to drop this for your own good. I told you things I should never have told anyone because I hoped it would scare you away, and instead you went and got yourself tangled up with the police.”

  Mitch glared at me, and my face grew hotter by the second. My heart pounded so hard in my chest I worried it could give out — but I wasn’t going to let him bully me.

  “If you want me to apologize, you’re going to be disappointed,” I said. Mitch looked like he might explode.

  “I don’t want you to do anything other than leave this story alone,” Mitch hissed.

  “I’m so close to figuring out who killed—”

  “No, you’re not. You aren’t a member of the police force, Zoe, and it’s past time you stopped acting like you are,” Mitch cut me off.