by Lily Webb
“Good evening, Zoe,” Circe said, her voice raw. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were visiting, Councilwoman. I can come back another night if this isn’t a good time,” I said.
“No, no. Please, come in, dear. My sister and I both could use the company,” Circe said. She allowed me in, and I found Raina sitting in her rocking chair staring blankly into the flames in the fireplace. Raina smiled at me weakly when I sat down beside her and reached for my hand.
“It’s more important now than ever that we witches band together,” Raina said. Circe sat in front of us, the flame from the hearth dancing across her face, and took both our hands in hers. “Two of our sisters are gone,” Raina continued, and Circe whimpered.
“First my daughter, and now my colleague. I don’t understand why,” Circe said.
“How are you handling it, Zoe?” Raina asked.
“I’m struggling, but I’m trying to stay focused. I think these two murders are linked, but I haven’t figured out how,” I said.
“Zoe, dear, please. We know you were there. Tell us what you know, maybe we can help,” Raina said.
“It isn’t much. I was going to ask Opal about some rumors I’d heard, so I walked to Town Hall, and Councilwoman Cromwell wasn’t answering when her assistant knocked. She opened the door and found the Councilwoman dead,” I said.
“Opal was never easy to work with, but I can’t fathom why anyone would want her killed,” Circe said.
“If there’s anything I’ve learned in my time as a journalist, it’s that everyone has secrets, big and small,” I said. “But politicians tend to have more than the rest of us.”
“I’ve worked with Opal for years. I never would’ve suspected her of anything suspicious,” Circe said.
“More than one person I’ve talked to has made mention of some skeletons in Opal’s past, including Opal herself,” I said. Circe and Raina exchanged concerned looks.
“Such as?” Raina asked.
“I spoke with Valentine Delacroix over the weekend. He told me Opal might not be who she claims,” I said. Raina looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Do you know anything about that?”
“It seems you’ve been busy, Zoe. It’s true that rumors about Opal’s parentage have haunted her for years, but there’s simply no proof. It’s nothing more than a rumor, but a long-lasting one nonetheless,” Raina said.
“Do you think there could be any truth to it?”
“I can’t possibly say. I knew Opal’s parents well, they were both teachers at Veilside in their own time. Nothing about them seemed untoward,” Raina said.
“I agree,” Circe said. “Though I’ll say, I can’t see how the identity of Opal’s parents would give anyone reason to murder her.”
“Oh, I could. Plenty of people lie about much less scandalous things, and she was running for Head Witch. If she wasn’t who she’s said, it could’ve undermined her credibility. Do the witches keep any kind of records on that sort of thing? Maybe birth records?” I asked.
“The Moon Grove Historical Society does keep extensive records in the library at Veilside, but we stopped the practice of recording births and parentage hundreds of years ago. Knowing who and who wasn’t a witch in those times was dangerous information,” Raina said. “That’s part of the reason I’ve had so much trouble tracing your lineage, Zoe.”
“I didn’t know you were trying,” I said.
“Absolutely. It could be critical,” Raina said.
“To think we may have a direct descendant of Lilith herself among us again,” Circe said, smiling for the first time since I’d arrived.
“Too bad it didn’t help me get inside Valentine’s head. I bet that would’ve turned up something useful,” I said.
“The undead work with their own set of magic, dear. It’s not a surprise you weren’t able to hear Valentine’s thoughts,” Raina said.
“That reminds me, something else weird happened with my powers this week. I met with Councilwoman Magnus to interview her the same way I did Opal. But when I tried to peek into her thoughts, I felt this head-splitting pain. Could she have known I was trying to break in and pushed me out?” I asked.
Raina looked concerned.
“It’s possible, though an ejection wouldn’t have harmed you,” she said.
“Could she have had some sort of blocking spell on her mind like I suspect Opal did?”
“That’s possible too, but I’ve never heard or seen any kind of protective magic that inflicts pain on anyone trying to break it,” Raina said.
“Neither have I,” Circe said. “This is troubling.”
“Quite,” Raina agreed.
“Do you think Grace could’ve had something to do with Opal’s murder?” I asked. “Opal told me she’s been acting strange for months. They were opponents.”
“She has been acting odd, that’s true,” Circe said. “Still, for all her bluster, I can’t imagine Grace would have the wherewithal to hurt anyone, much less one of her colleagues.”
“Hm. What’s going to happen with the election?” I asked.
“The Council is discussing it now. I suspect we’ll postpone, or possibly even cancel it outright and leave the role vacant for the time being,” Circe said.
“Vacant? But doesn’t the Council need a Head Witch?”
“Not necessarily. We’ve functioned without one more than once in our history, but we’ll see what happens. We’re set to vote on it tomorrow and announce the decision shortly Opal’s funeral,” Circe said.
“Funeral?”
“Yes, dear. The Cromwell family has already made arrangements for a service on Wednesday morning,” Circe said.
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. As was said, we witches must support each other now,” Circe said.
Raina had fallen silent, but I saw the cogs turning in her head.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I want to tell you something, but before I do, I need your assurance you’ll keep it in confidence, Zoe,” Raina said. She had my full attention.
“Of course,” I said. “Anything said between us stays here.”
“Good. Chief Mueller contacted me earlier this afternoon to ask for my help analyzing Opal’s tea,” Raina said. “They suspect a poison or potion of some sort. I accepted, but I haven’t yet been given access to the sample. We’ll know soon.”
The connection wasn’t lost on me. The images of potion recipes and famous potions masters lining the hallway of Grace’s home flashed in my mind — and a chill followed.
“That could be a great lead,” I said.
“It could. But it could just as easily be a dead end,” Raina said. “Only time will tell.”
“I don’t know what else to do. I thought I had an in with the police to try to figure out if Opal’s parentage had anything to do with this, but that turned out to be a bust,” I said.
“There is someone in town who might have historical information,” Raina said, though I sensed her hesitance to tell me.
“Who? I’ll talk to anyone. It’s more urgent now than ever,” I said.
“Lucien Bellerose,” Circe finished for Raina. “Of course. Between the cemetery he owns and his age, not to mention everything else, he’s sure to have come across all manner of records.”
“He’s also widely known as a history enthusiast,” Raina said.
“Well, when you’ve got hundreds of years to spare, what else would you spend your time doing?” I asked. Both Circe and Raina laughed. “Besides, there are other rumors Opal is tied to the vampires financially somehow. Lucien probably knows and has dealt with a lot of people.”
“Absolutely,” Raina said. “But he’s difficult to pin down.”
“What do you mean?”
“He rarely leaves his office at Bellerose Enterprises,” Circe answered. “And he’s notoriously secretive.”
“If I was as old and rich as he is, I’d hold my secrets close too.
Where’s his office?” I asked.
“On the southwest side of town on Étoile Street near the cemetery,” Raina said. “But you aren’t likely to be admitted to see him if you walk in without an appointment. And getting an appointment isn’t easy, not even for me.”
“We’ll see about that. Something tells me he’d want to talk to me, given everything that’s going on,” I said.
“Perhaps. But Zoe, dear, I beg you. Be careful,” Raina said, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb. We’d gotten so caught up in conversation I’d forgotten our hands were linked.
“I will. I have to be,” I said.
“Particularly with the vampires,” Circe said.
“Why? What’s so special about them?”
“They’re cunning, make no mistake, but it’s more than that. Some among them, typically the elders, have abilities not even witches fully grasp,” Circe said.
“I don’t understand.”
“What my sister is trying to say is that there’s a reason Lucien is referred to as one of the most persuasive residents of Moon Grove,” Raina said.
“The vampires are alluring and dangerous, particularly when you’re alone with them. Their appeal has ways of influencing the rest of us, an influence we can’t always resist.”
“Really? They just creep me out,” I said, and they chuckled.
“Then you’re well equipped,” Circe said.
“I hope. Anyway, thank you both for talking with me. I needed this,” I said.
“So did we, dear,” Raina said and squeezed my hand.
Somehow, feeling the energy coursing between the three of us assured me everything would be okay.
Chapter Nineteen
The house was so quiet that my own breath sounded like an earthquake in my ears.
It was just before midnight, and everything was going according to plan. After suffering through a day of endless shows of sympathy from my co-workers at the Messenger, many of whom I didn’t know the names of, I’d retreated to my room at home and plotted my meeting with Lucien.
If anyone found out I was planning to crash the offices of a powerful vampire in the middle of the night after Opal was murdered, I never would’ve heard the end of it — which was why I didn’t tell anyone, not even Flora, and why I’d gone to bed fully dressed.
Holding my breath, I turned the knob of my bedroom door and inched it closed. Luna was snuggled on the couch, and the last thing I wanted was the noise of the latch to wake her because the loudmouth would tell everyone.
Thankfully, the door closed with barely more than a whisper of air. I tiptoed to the front door and almost reached it when the smallest of my toes connected with the solid, sharp corner of the end table by the door. Eyes watering, I bit my lower lip so hard it hurt to keep from screaming while I hobbled the rest of the way.
“What are you doing?”
I froze, one hand reaching for the doorknob, the other clamped over my mouth. When I turned, Luna was not only awake but trotting across the hardwood floor toward me, her blue eyes like neon signs in the night.
“Go back to sleep,” I hissed, shooing her. She furrowed her little kitty brows at me and sat down indignantly.
“You first,” she said.
“This isn’t funny, Luna. I have somewhere to be,” I said.
“You’re right, and that place is in bed. Now scoot your booty back to your room,” she said. She raised one paw and flexed her claws. “Don’t make me use these. Cat scratch fever isn’t one you want to catch.”
“Please, Luna, I don’t want Flora to worry,” I whispered.
“Don’t want to make her worry? You think sneaking out in the middle of the night won’t?”
Luna had a point, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. But as soon as light spilled out from under Flora’s bedroom door, I knew I was busted.
“Zoe? What’s going on?” Flora asked, rubbing the sleep out of one eye.
“She was trying to sneak out,” Luna said.
“Tattletale,” I snapped, and Luna twitched her tail at me like she was sticking out her tongue.
“Where are you going?”
“To a meeting, nothing special,” I said.
“Right, which is why she was trying to sneak out while the rest of us were asleep,” Luna said.
“You’re not helping, Luna.”
“Wasn’t trying.”
“Look, Flora, I’m sorry. I’m going to try to talk to Lucien, and I didn’t want you to worry about me,” I said, and Flora snapped awake all at once.
“Zoe, I really don’t think that’s a good idea, especially after what—”
“Happened yesterday, I know. I get it, Flora. But that’s just it. Two people are dead now, and I need answers. Lucien could have them,” I said. Flora sighed and shrugged.
“Okay. I know I can’t stop you. I just wish I could come,” she said.
“Why can’t you? I mean, not that I want you to, but still…”
“Fairies are too tempting for vampires, so we try our best to stay as far away from them as possible,” she said.
“Probably not a bad idea for all of us,” I said.
“Are you seriously going through with this?” Luna asked.
“I have to,” I said. “Look at the bright side, at least now you’ll know to come looking for me if I’m not back in a couple hours.”
“That’s not funny, Zoe,” Flora said.
“Sorry. Anyway, I need to go before it gets much later,” I said.
“Please be careful,” Flora said.
“I will,” I said and walked out into the dark before I had the chance to second guess myself. I’d already done enough of that throughout the day.
As soon as I was out alone in the night, I realized how risky this plan of mine was. If Opal Cromwell could be killed in the middle of the day in her own office, what was to stop someone coming after me while I was skulking around Moon Grove alone after midnight?
I pushed the thought out of my head and continued down Swiftsage, trying not to look like I was up to anything funny — as if that were possible in the first place. When I reached Crescent Street, I couldn’t believe how quiet it was. Other than the flickering of the oil in the street lamps and the whistling of the wind through the willow trees it was dead silent, and there wasn’t a soul outside except for me.
Still, as I walked the cobblestone streets south toward the town gates, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. More than once, I whirled around at the kiss of the wind on the back of my neck, convinced it was something undead that’d come to suck the life out of me. At this hour, it was impossible to say what else was creeping around in the dark.
When I reached Étoile Street, a few blocks from the entrance to town, I squinted to see what was down it. Nothing out of the ordinary stuck out at me. It was the business part of town where most of the less exciting but necessary offices were kept — but it was still in what the Parapages referred to as the “Vampire Quarter” of Moon Grove, which kept me on my toes as I walked down the street toward the end.
Eventually, I reached a large, nondescript black building with thick and reflective windows. Had it not been for the sign posted out front that read “Bellerose Enterprises” in a modern font, I wouldn’t have been able to tell it apart from any of the other buildings on the street.
Even the glass front doors were thick enough to be bulletproof, and they were tinted so darkly I couldn’t see anything through them.
Swallowing my anxiety, I pulled the door open and stepped into what looked like the entrance of a hospital waiting room. Fluorescent lighting beamed down from the ceiling and a row of chairs lined either side of a narrow hallway that led to another thick pane of glass — and a female vampire in horn-rimmed glasses staring wide-eyed at me like she’d never seen anything living on the premises.
She raised a finger and motioned for me to come closer. As I approached, I noticed a slit at the bottom of the glass protecting the vampire,
and a name tag on her chest that said “Céline.” She tapped a button built into the countertop in front of her, and the hiss of a microphone spilled into my ears.
“Bonsoir. Who are you?” the vampire asked. Between the digitization of her voice by the microphone and her accent, I could barely understand her.
“I’m Zoe Clarke, a reporter with the Moon Grove Messenger,” I said. “I’m here to talk to Mr. Bellerose.” The vampire ran a finger down a list of some sort. When she reached the end, she clucked at me and shook her head.
“There’s no such name on the agenda this evening. Monsieur Bellerose doesn’t see anyone without an appointment, no exceptions. See yourself out, s’il vous plaît,” she said.
So she wanted to play hardball? Fine by me. I didn’t fail a sneak out attempt to come to Lucien’s office in the middle of the night for nothing.
“With all due respect, Céline, given that your boss is implicated in a murder case, something tells me he’ll want to get his version of the story out in the press,” I said. “I can help him do that.”
Céline glared at me for what felt like forever without blinking once.
“One moment,” she said.
She tapped the button again to turn off her mic and picked up a phone. Less than a second later, Céline turned into a blur, and a beep echoed in the room around me before a door to my right flung open. Céline stood holding it in place in ridiculously tall black pumps.
“Monsieur Bellerose will see you now. This way,” she said, trying to smile in a comforting way — and failing.
“Merci beaucoup,” I said. It was the extent of my French, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.
Céline led me down a narrower hallway, her heels click-clacking against the tile all the way. Several doors split off from the hall, but they were all unlabeled and secured by complicated electronic locks. What did Lucien do in this place anyway? It was built like a maximum security prison.
A grand set of crimson double doors with ornate golden handles stood at the end of the hall. As I got closer, I realized the doors were carved to depict a scene from Dante’s Inferno. My palms turned slick at the sight.
