by Lily Webb
Smiling, Céline threw the doors open to reveal a massive circular room whose fifty-foot tall walls were fashioned into shelving lined with thousands of books, many of which had crumbling leather spines. They had to be as old — or older — than Moon Grove itself.
The ceiling was domed and painted immaculately to look like a scene from heaven, complete with angels. From the outside, I would never have guessed a room like this was possible. It looked like it belonged more in a castle on the cliffs overlooking the ocean than in a boring office building.
In the center, Lucien sat in a high-backed red leather chair. He hunched over an open book resting on a spacious wooden desk illuminated by an ancient oil lamp — the center of his own strange, disparate universe.
Lucien looked up at me and smiled, the tips of his fangs touching his lower lips, his red eyes gleaming in the lamplight like hot coals. He’d let his hair down out of the bun he’d worn it in the last time I saw him, and his dark curls stopped just short of his chin.
“Zoe Clarke, what a pleasant surprise. Bienvenue,” Lucien said, standing to greet me. “Please, come in. Make yourself at home.”
Cautiously, I walked toward him and the two plush red velvet chairs parked in front of his desk. He had flair, I had to give him that.
“What’s with the painting of heaven?” I asked, pointing above us as I sat down.
“A reminder of what I’ve traded for eternity on Earth,” Lucien said, smirking. “So, to what do I owe this honor?”
“Opal Cromwell is dead,” I said.
“Yes, so I’ve heard,” Lucien said as he sat back down and pulled his chair closer to the desk. He joined his hands and rested them on the book he’d been reading. “Most unfortunate. But I suspect that’s not all that brought you here tonight.”
“Look, I know you’re a businessman, so I’ll cut right to the chase: were you involved with her death?” I asked. Lucien looked astonished, his eyes wide.
“Zoe, I may feed on the living to survive, but I wouldn’t have reached this age by making a habit of murdering my fellow residents,” Lucien said. “More than that, what reason would I have to kill the witch single-handedly working to elevate my people to power?”
“Single-handedly? Are you sure about that?” I asked, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Lucien had intimidation all his own, feigning friendliness to make me comfortable. I wasn’t buying it. He chuckled.
“You’re smart. I suppose few do anything all on their own,” he said.
“Or without a good reason,” I said.
“Why do I get the distinct feeling you’re implying something?”
“Because I am. I know Opal was worried about her past coming back to ruin her campaign, and I’m willing to bet you had some hand in helping her manage that,” I said.
“You’re in the right profession, Zoe,” Lucien said, smiling. “It’s true, Councilwoman Cromwell and I were in business together. Now that she’s passed, I don’t see a reason to keep that secret anymore.”
“In business doing what?”
“Late in her campaign, the Councilwoman grew concerned that her past, coupled with the boost her opponent saw in support after the death of Harper Woods, had become an issue that could cost her the election,” Lucien said.
“So, she contacted me for assistance managing her image, focusing her message, and attracting the support of the vampires.”
“Was there any truth to those rumors about Opal’s family?” I asked.
“Not that I or anyone else have been able to prove,” he said.
“So she was basically paying you to do PR and community outreach, so to speak?”
“Yes, something like that. And quite handsomely.”
“But money was the only thing changing hands between you? No quid pro quo for your services?” I asked.
“Your career has made you cynical, Zoe,” he said, smirking. “But to answer your question, no. The Councilwoman and I shared a vision for the future of Moon Grove, but that was all it was: a vision. I supported her campaign, and I still do.”
I wasn’t buying that either, but I needed to move forward.
“If not you, could it have been one of the other vampires?” I asked.
“That would be highly unlikely. We vampires require an invitation to enter a private room or residence, and as far as I know, none have ever been invited into the Councilwoman’s office. It’s impossible to enter without that,” Lucien said.
Interesting. It seemed not everything I’d seen about vampires on TV was wrong.
“You mentioned Harper. I know you own the cemetery where she was found. You’ve gotta admit, that seems suspicious. Where were you the night she was killed? I heard there was a vampire Clan meeting you missed,” I said.
“Business waits for no one, not even me, and it’s less generous with second chances,” Lucien said. “I was here finalizing a deal with one of my partners. The negotiations went late into the night, and I didn’t leave the office until just before sunrise. Céline can verify, she has my schedule. There are also records of every entrance and exit into this room, for security purposes. I would be happy to let you see them.”
“No, that’s fine,” I said. For once, I believed him.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked.
“One more thing. I’ve been told you’re a history guy, and this library of a room proves it. You must know a ton about all kinds of subjects. Do you have any idea what it could’ve been that killed Opal?” I asked.
Lucien paused for a moment to think, and I wished more than anything I could get inside his head, but I didn’t bother trying after my experience with Valentine.
“Judging from the fragments of what I’ve heard about the way the Councilwoman was found, the only conclusion I can come to is that it must’ve been some sort of potion or spell,” Lucien said.
“Like what?”
“It’s hard to say without seeing the victim myself. But there are only a few potions and spells in the world that can kill quietly like that,” Lucien said. “It would take an extraordinarily skilled practitioner to do such a thing, but it seems to me we have a rather noteworthy potions master of our own here in Moon Grove, don’t we?”
Grace. He could only have meant Grace.
“Are you saying you think Councilwoman Cromwell’s opponent might’ve done this?” I asked.
“You’re the journalist, Zoe. Aren’t all questions worth asking?”
He wasn’t wrong. It did make sense. Opal herself had noticed Grace acting strange, and I’d seen the same behavior when I interviewed Grace at her ranch — not to mention all the weird clippings hanging on her walls.
Grace had all the reason in the world to want to do Opal in, and she would’ve had access to Opal’s office as a member of the Council, but would she really have done it?
And if Grace did kill Opal, had she killed Harper too?
“If I were you, that’s who I’d ask,” Lucien said.
“Thank you, Lucien,” I said, standing.
“My pleasure. Please, if there’s anything else I can help you with, let me know. Councilwoman Cromwell and Miss Woods alike deserve justice,” Lucien said. “Céline will walk you out.”
I nodded and turned to find Céline waiting for me with the same fake smile she’d worn before. Wordlessly, she led me back down the hall we’d entered, and as soon as I walked through the door into the lobby, she closed it without saying goodbye.
I stepped out of Bellerose Enterprises with a growing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Someone wasn’t telling me the truth — or at least not the whole truth — and the worst part was that I didn’t have the slightest clue who was lying.
Chapter Twenty
I’d never been to a funeral before, much less one for a well-known witch, so I had no idea what to expect. Thankfully, Flora had been to more than a few, so she was there to help me at every step.
It turned out, she and I wore about the same size clothes, which was perf
ect since I hadn’t brought a single piece of black clothing with me to Moon Grove — a grievous oversight in more ways than one on my part.
But Flora had me covered there too. She let me borrow a simple black dress and a pair of black flats. The dress was a tiny bit too big for me and understated, but that was okay; the less I stood out, the better.
“Perfect,” Flora said as she zipped the dress’ main zipper and the four others that were meant to allow wings to poke through.
“Thanks again. I’d be totally lost without you,” I said, turning to face her. She wore a dress nearly identical to mine. She smiled and nodded.
“I know,” she teased. “So, how did your little adventure last night go?”
“As well as it could’ve, I guess,” I said, shrugging. “Evidently, Opal was paying Lucien to help those rumors about her parents go away.”
“Do you blame her? I wouldn’t want that out in the court of public opinion if I were running for office either,” Flora said.
“Yeah, fair enough.”
“So do you think Lucien’s tied to this at all?” Flora asked.
“Hard to say. I’m not as suspicious of him as I was before, but I still don’t think he’s as innocent as he wants me to believe,” I said.
“Why?”
“I think there was more to the deal he had with Opal than just managing her dirty laundry,” I said. “But even so, it wouldn’t make any sense for him to hurt her. Now Harper, on the other hand…”
“Are you sure the murders are connected? What if they aren’t?”
“How couldn’t they be? They happened three weeks apart, and even though I can’t find a particularly strong link between them, Harper and Opal were tied to each other somehow. I just know it,” I said. “I mean, I know for a fact Harper was investigating Opal for something.”
“True. Anything else interesting?”
“Lucien seemed sure Opal could only have been killed by a spell or potion — and he implied Grace would know how to make something like that,” I said. Flora’s face lit up like a bulb.
“He’s not wrong. Everyone knows Grace is amazing with potions,” she said. “She’s sure to be at the service today. It might be difficult, but I bet you could talk to her again if you wanted.”
“I was already planning on it,” I said.
“Well, I guess we’d better get going before we’re late,” Flora said, and I glanced up at the clock: 8:45 AM. The service was set to start at 9 o’clock sharp, and we still had to walk to the cemetery.
After stepping outside, I found a moving stream of people in all-black clothing already trickling south down Crescent Street toward the town gates to pay their respects. It was a sight to see. Clearly, as divisive a personality as Opal seemed to be, she was well regarded by Moon Grove at large.
Flora and I merged into the stream of people. Everyone was silent, but I couldn’t blame them. What exactly was anyone supposed to say in a situation like this? I sure couldn’t think of anything appropriate.
When we arrived, the cemetery gates were wide open to accommodate all the traffic. We filed through them a few people at a time toward the back where a new grave had been dug near the area designated for Head Witches and Warlocks.
An all-white casket adorned with a large, golden crescent moon hung over the grave, and an explosion of colorful flowers surrounded the scene. Two women with identical white, curly hair who looked remarkably like Opal stood at its head crying and consoling each other. Each held a single black rose in one hand.
“Who’s that?” I whispered to Flora.
“Opal’s younger sisters, Ruby and Emerald Cromwell,” Flora whispered back. Interesting. I didn’t know Opal had any siblings.
Behind them, Head Warlock Heath Highmore and the rest of the Council members sat in high-backed wooden chairs — all of them except Grace. Had she decided not to come, or did she think it would be inappropriate?
From her chair, Circe’s eyes caught mine, and she smiled somberly at me. I waved, remembering what she’d said to me about witches banding together. Her smile broadened.
A podium had been placed in front of Heath, so I wondered if he’d make a speech or at least explain why Grace wasn’t there. I didn’t have to wonder long though. As I swept the rest of the crowd to see who all had come, I spotted Grace just off to the right of the casket behind the Cromwell sisters in a wide-brimmed hat with a veil that dangled over her face.
“There’s Grace. I’m gonna make my way over to her,” I whispered to Flora. She nodded, and I carefully maneuvered through the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone or step on any toes. As if she’d sensed me coming, Grace looked over at me and cleared her throat when I stood next to her.
She pulled her hat down further over her face, and I noticed her hand trembling. I opened my mouth to ask if she was okay, but never got the words out.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice called over the crowd. Heath stood at the podium, his voice magically projecting over the hundreds of heads. “Thank you for coming. I wish we were gathered under better circumstances, but alas.”
I glanced over at Grace and found her softly crying.
“The Cromwell family has asked me to say a few words, but I would prefer to keep this brief, so you all have more time,” Heath said. He paused before clearing his throat.
“Opal Cromwell was a formidable witch and an incredible politician. It was my honor to serve with her on the Council and as her Head Warlock. Moon Grove will never be the same without her,” he said.
“But in this time of fear, I beg you: don’t withdraw, don’t give in to fear. We need each other — all of us — if we’re going to make it through this as a community. While we sort through the details of Councilwoman Cromwell’s passing, the Council has decided to suspend the election for Head Witch until further notice,” Heath said.
Not a single soul objected. Good. It was the right thing to do.
“Councilwoman Cromwell may have passed through the Veil, but she will never be forgotten,” Heath said. He raised his hands in front of him.
“Magic is in the mundane and works in mysterious ways,” the crowd said along with Heath. Chills rippled across every inch of my body as Heath waved a hand and the casket lowered itself into the soil.
“At this time, I invite you all to come forward, in an orderly fashion, to pay your final respects,” Heath said. Nodding at Ruby and Emerald, Heath retreated to sit with the rest of the Council. Overcome, the sisters tossed their roses down into the grave and left hand-in-hand, walking right past Grace and me.
“You shouldn’t be here, murderer,” one of the sisters snapped at Grace as they passed. My heart caught in my throat, and Grace choked on her own tears. She spun on her heel and shoved through the crowd toward the exit, and I tore off after her.
“Councilwoman Magnus,” I called as she power walked through the cemetery gates. She froze and whirled on me, her bloodshot eyes brimming with tears.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted. “You bloodthirsty reporters… Don’t you think I’ve had enough questioning for one day?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, I heard what—”
“You heard that?” Grace gasped. I nodded. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Fantastic,” she laughed, a new wave of tears forming in her eyes. “I didn’t kill Opal. I swear I didn’t. Whatever you’ve heard, it’s wrong.”
“Why would her sister say that then? Talk to me. Tell me your side of things. I’m asking as a concerned onlooker, not a journalist.”
Grace looked from side to side like she’d rather run than tell me anything, but eventually she sighed.
“This is a small town, Miss Clarke. Rumors spread almost as quickly as they’re created,” Grace said.
“The theory goes that I concocted some potion or other and put it in Opal’s tea to make sure I won this blasted election. It’s beyond absurd, it’s downright vicious, and it’s all I’ve heard since Opal died. And now this?”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with this, but no one wants to hear that,” Grace rambled on, and I wasn’t about to stop her.
“No one wants to bother asking the gargoyles who follow my every move to make sure I was, in fact, asleep in my own bed the night before. And no one wants to ask them whether or not I ever entered the office the day she died.”
“You weren’t at the office? Why?”
“I was ill again if you must know,” Grace said. “There’s surely a record of some sort of my hospital visit, but again, no one wants to hear that. They just want to hop on the salacious bandwagon and point the finger at me.”
Hospital visit? Jumping into Grace’s thoughts seemed more appealing than ever, but based on what happened the last time I tried, it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take twice.
“I’m not saying it’s right, but I can understand why. You were her opponent in the race, it makes for good headlines,” I said. Grace’s face reddened. “Again, I’m not saying they should be doing it.”
“It may well be true that Opal and I were bitter rivals and that I would’ve done anything to win the election, but I would never have wished any harm on Opal, much less poisoned her,” Grace said.
“You do think it was poison then?”
“What else could it have been? No spell is strong enough to pierce through solid walls, save for voodoo, but that magic was outlawed decades ago,” Grace said. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility, though poison seemed likelier.
“But what kind of poison could kill someone silently without them noticing a smell or something off about it?” I asked.
“There’s only one substance in the world that lethal and that insidious: vampire's blood,” Grace said. My head spun.
“Isn’t that stuff supposed to give people superhuman abilities if they drink it?” I asked. Grace smirked.
“Only in movies outside Moon Grove,” she said. “No, vampire’s blood is deadly if consumed by the living. Worse yet, it’s practically undetectable when mixed with other liquids — for instance, in a fresh cup of tea.”
