Magic & Monsters (Starry Hollow Witches Book 12)

by Annabel Chase

  “Weird.” I had to distract her. Calla was an old and powerful witch; there was every chance she could figure out what had been buried here. “Do you know of any poisons that could turn someone’s lips and skin blue?”

  “A substance that deprives the body of oxygen could have such an effect.” She tapped her stick on the ground, thinking. “Overexposure to certain metals like silver.”

  “But the overexposure would happen over a prolonged period, right? Someone wouldn’t suddenly turn blue and drop dead. What about any herbs or plants?”

  “I’ve heard of allergic reactions to blue cohosh causing blue lips. And there’s a toxin found in Yew trees that can cause blue lips, but I’m not aware of any of those cases involving blue skin.”

  My phone bleeped to remind me of my meeting with the sheriff. Another of Raoul’s suggestions to prevent running around town like a headless chicken.

  I clicked off the alarm. “I’ve got to get to the sheriff’s office for a meeting soon, so can we do a quick overview on how I can avoid killing everything within reach?”

  “That sounds like a bigger problem than this herb garden.” Calla plucked the tip of her wand from the earth and ambled to the front row of the garden. “This one needs extra water. It’s growing nicely, but it can quickly take a bad turn if it gets thirsty. You have to take preemptive measures or it loses its potency and eventually dies.”

  I typed notes on my phone so that I had something to reference later. There was no way I’d remember everything Calla told me.

  “This one is called asafetida or devil’s dung. Very useful for rituals.”

  “What does it do?” I gazed at the bundle of yellowish flowers.

  “It increases the power of your ritual, that’s the main thing it’s used for here. Lots of witches shy away from it because of the foul odor, but it’s an excellent addition to any witch’s supply.”

  “I guess that’s where the name devil’s dung comes from.” I inhaled deeply. “It smells okay now.”

  “It only smells when you cut it. It’s also good for helping to break free of negative desires, for those that struggle with that sort of thing.”

  “So it’s a weight loss alternative?” I could picture the advertisement—Don’t want to give in to that baked good temptation? Try devil’s dung!

  “Depends on the individual and her desire,” she said, her gaze moving to the next plant. “The arbutus is a good choice. Protects children.”

  “We have PP3 for that.”

  Calla gave the rest of the garden a cursory glance. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Ember. This garden looks as though it’s being tended to by an expert.”

  “I know, but it’s me I’m worried about.”

  Calla’s lips peeled away from her small, square teeth. “Then I suggest you keep a safe distance and let the budding witch do what she does best.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Fair enough.” I’d never had a green thumb, so there was no reason to believe that would change in my thirties.

  “Marley is young to be this instinctive. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was being guided by her ancestors.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me?”

  Calla made a sweeping gesture with her wand. “This has the mark of experience. It’s possible she’s channeling their knowledge without realizing it.”

  I shuddered. I didn’t love the idea of someone as powerful as Ivy working through Marley, even for something as benign as planting an herb garden. If the witch’s spirt could do that much, what else was she capable of?

  Calla must have noticed my concerned expression. “It’s nothing to fear, Ember. Our ancestors are only interested in helping us. One generation guides the next. It’s how it’s always been.”

  “You channel your ancestors?”

  “Of course. Every time I perform a ritual, I ask for blessings from my ancestors and, one day soon, I’ll join them.” Calla didn’t seem bothered by the statement, whereas the thought made me want to curl into the fetal position and take a long, dreamless nap.

  “An ancestor can’t…” I trailed off, uncertain I wanted to know the answer to my question.

  “Can’t what?” Calla prompted.

  “An ancestor can’t take over a living body, right? Marigold and I were messing around during our lesson and switched bodies. Could that happen with an ancestor?”

  “There’d be no body swapping if there’s only one body, Ember.”

  “Good point. What about astral projection though? If I leave my body for that, couldn’t a spirit swoop in and lock me out?”

  Calla regarded me silently for a moment. “You seem to have a lot on your mind aside from the herb garden. Poisons and body thieves.” She chuckled. “Too much time with an attractive author, I’d say.”

  I cleared my throat. “You’re absolutely right. Never mind. I need to head out anyway. The sheriff gets cranky when I’m late.”

  The elderly witch sighed. “Ah, Sheriff Nash. If only I were a few years younger…”

  A few years? Try a century. “He’s single, you know,” I said with an encouraging smile. “There’s still a chance.”

  “Single isn’t the same as available, dear.” Calla gave me a knowing look and used her walking stick wand to cross the lumpy ground back to the cottage.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You ordered food?” The aroma of curry and other spices penetrated my nostrils and I salivated at the variety of takeout containers on the table in the conference room of the sheriff’s office.

  Sheriff Nash was already loading up a plate with poppadum and mango salsa. “I know you, Rose. It’s lunchtime. Your stomach will be growling the whole time if you don’t get food into it. I don’t need the distraction.”

  I gave him a wry smile. “So this lunch is really for your benefit?”

  “Absolutely. I figured we can eat while we discuss the investigation.”

  “Multitasking with food is one of my specialties.” I sat in the chair adjacent to him and contemplated my options. “Ooh, naan bread.”

  “I avoided garlic for your sake, even though it’s my favorite.”

  “So thoughtful.” I piled food onto a plate and opened a bottle of water. “Will Deputy Bolan be joining us?”

  “He’s not a fan of curry. Besides, right now he’s somewhere deep in the woods with a flashlight and a bad attitude.”

  I laughed. “How much does he hate his life right now?”

  The sheriff crunched on a poppadum. “To be honest, I think he’s enjoying himself more than he’s willing to admit. He gets to frolic in the woods all day and still get paid.”

  “If there were issues, you’d have already had an earful…I mean, an update. I don’t suppose he managed to get one of those teaching unicorns.”

  He wore a vague smile. “Not really in our budget.”

  I was curious about the unicorn’s unique tracking ability. “What would it have been able to do? Pick up a scent that others miss or maybe magic hooves that can retrace the tepen’s steps?”

  “From what I read, the horn will light up when she’s near the object of the search.”

  Well, that was disappointing. “I thought you said these unicorns have a sixth sense. Sounds more like a metal detector than an actual tracker.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’s a sixth sense that a horn lights up when they’re near something they can’t see?”

  I shoveled chicken curry into my mouth and immediately regretted the oversized bite. “Spicy,” I choked and reached for the water bottle.

  “It’s curry, Rose. Did you think it would be sweet?” He set up York’s camera so that the screen faced us. “I thought we could review the footage again from beginning to end. See if we missed anything.”

  “Sounds like a boring way to spend lunch.”

  “Really? You’re not interested in the trials and tribulations of rare and endangered magical species?”

  “That’s more
of a Marley thing.”

  The sheriff took a bite of curry and regarded me thoughtfully.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Rose. I’m just trying to figure out what kind of shows you liked to watch back in the human world.”

  “I didn’t watch a lot of television. I was too busy working or looking after Marley.” And sometimes not having enough money to pay a cable bill.

  “Is that so different from your life now?”

  “I mean, my job and Marley are still my main priorities, but life is easier. Partly it’s because Marley’s older now and less anxious.”

  “You still seem to spend your days running through town with your hair on fire.”

  “Raoul and I are working on that.” I dipped the naan bread in the curry sauce and took a healthy bite.

  He chuckled. “The raccoon is helping you do what exactly?”

  “Manage my time. Hold myself accountable. Develop better strategies for my day.”

  He shook his head, still laughing. “I like that you’re open-minded enough to accept help from a woodland critter, but I’m not sure he’s the right fit.”

  “Raoul is my familiar. Who better to advise me and keep me on track than the animal that can read my mind?”

  His gaze lingered on me. “I think you’ve got more than one option there, but you do you.”

  My insides warmed and I knew it wasn’t from the curry. “What about the report on the cause of death?” I asked in an effort to get us back on track. “Do you have that information yet?”

  Sheriff Nash blinked back to reality. “Right. Cause of death.” He reached for a file on the opposite side of the table, away from the containers of food. “It was definitely poison, although it’s too rare to identify. We don’t have a match in our system.”

  “That fits with the tepen, except we know it wasn’t.”

  “Which means it was another rare poison that’s similar to the tepen’s.”

  I leaned my elbow on the table and rested my cheek against the palm of my hand. “I feel like all the suspects will have access to toxins we’ve never heard of.”

  “As well as enough knowledge of the tepen to match the two and camouflage what really happened.”

  “It’s lucky York was recording at the time he died or we never would’ve known he didn’t make contact with the tepen. We would’ve assumed he’d been stung.”

  The sheriff stared blankly at the frozen screen. “The problem is that I’ve watched this video multiple times now and at no point does anyone make physical contact with him, so how did the poison get into his system?”

  “If we can identify the poison that actually killed him, then maybe that will give us a clue. I mean, how many poisons can there be that replicate the effects of tepen poison?”

  “That won’t be easy to find. We don’t have access to the type of information that guys like York do. We’ve got to dig for it.”

  He hit the button to play the recording from the beginning. “Raw footage is as rough as it comes. Watching this makes me appreciate editors.”

  We watched as York fumbled with the camera and then restarted his introductory monologue multiple times. Once due to beachcombers in the background. A couple times because he tripped over his words.

  “You’ll see the activist in a minute.”

  I watched the screen intently. “Jarek?”

  “Their interaction is captured on the recording,” he said. “I mean, it doesn’t show anything that might’ve happened before or after, but the footage matches Jarek’s story.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I said. “The nymph seems like he uses leaves to gently remove ants from the sidewalk.”

  “True, but sometimes those guys are the worst offenders. Their anger drives them to commit violent acts that they’d never wish on the species they strive to protect.”

  I laughed when York whipped out the pepper spray and aimed it at the approaching nymph. “York was spry for a portly fellow.”

  “Years of crawling on the ground and twisting into small spaces will help with that.”

  I continued to watch the recording and shook my head at one point when the camera fell in the sand. “I know time was of the essence, but he should’ve taken five minutes to wrangle an assistant.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t get anyone on short notice.”

  Lionel Lattimer appeared on the screen and I groaned. “I hope it’s him.”

  The sheriff regarded me with interest. “Rooting against the vampire? That doesn’t sound like you, Rose.”

  “It’s nothing to do with his species and everything to do with the fact that he’s a jerk.” Unfortunately, the recording supported the story that Lattimer had told me at dinner.

  “Any idea who that is?” Sheriff Nash pointed to a figure hovering in the background, closer to the water. He looked small and spritely.

  “Lattimer mentioned an assistant traveling with him. Someone called Farley who used to be a petty thief. I think it might be him. He looks like he has beady eyes.”

  The sheriff wore an amused expression. “Rose, you can barely see his head, let alone whether his eyes are beady.”

  “Trust me, they’re beady. Call it woman’s intuition. It comes from years of dodging guys before they get close enough to make conversation.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He shifted his attention back to the frozen figure on the screen. “A criminal history makes him worth a conversation, even if you’ve ruled out Lionel himself.”

  “Honestly, a guy like Lionel could stand to spend a night or two in jail purely for an attitude adjustment.” I scraped the last of the curry off my plate and finished the water. “Thanks for lunch. I wasn’t expecting to be fed.”

  “It’s the least I can do. Your time is valuable and you don’t have to give me any of it.”

  I shrugged. “I consider it my civic duty.”

  His smile faded. “Right. Your duty.” He stood and began to clean up the containers. “Any interest in finding this Farley?”

  “You want to go together?”

  “Sure. Why not? He might have something useful for your article.”

  I highly doubted it, but I was curious to see what the assistant had to say about his pompous boss. “Any suggestions on how to find him? For all we know, he’s somewhere near Bolan in the woods right now.”

  Sheriff Nash frowned. “I have an idea. Come with me.” We left the conference room and entered his office where his fingers flew across the keyboard. “If he has a criminal history, he might have a tracker.”

  “You mean like a LoJack for ex-cons?”

  “I don’t know what that is, but sure.” He scanned the screen. “Looks like our friend Farley is a spriggan.”

  “Isn’t that a violation of his human rights?”

  His brow lifted. “Being a spriggan? It’s not like he can help his species.”

  “No, keeping electronic tabs on criminals after they’ve served their time.”

  The sheriff kept his eyes on the screen. “Not human, Rose, remember?”

  “Does he have a violent history?” I asked, now wondering how smart it was to be charging after him.

  “No, just an extensive record involving theft and minor assault.” He smacked his hands on either side of the keyboard. “Got him.”

  “You can track him right now?” Law enforcement LoJack took stalking to a whole new level.

  “Yep. He’s not in the woods, which I’m guessing is where he should be right now.”

  “No? Then where is he?”

  His mouth split into a satisfied grin. “How about a nice pint of ale to wash down your curry?”

  Sheriff Nash and I parked in the lot of his favorite watering hole, The Wishing Well.

  “I wonder if Lattimer knows his assistant is burying himself in beer instead of dirt,” I said.

  “He wouldn’t have access to the tracking device,” the sheriff said. “It’s for law enforcement use only.”

  We exited the car and
started toward the tavern. “You underestimate Lattimer’s reach. He’s got money and he’s not afraid to use it.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know. Rhymes with myosin.” He shot me a pointed look.

  “Myosin? Are you making up words to rhyme with Hyacinth?”

  He looked aggrieved as we entered the tavern. “It’s not made up. It’s the name of the protein in your muscle.”

  I spotted Farley alone in a booth, nursing a pint. He seemed to sense the presence of law enforcement because he immediately tried to slip out of the booth undetected.

  “Too late, friend,” Sheriff Nash said, blocking his path.

  Farley backed up to his booth and reluctantly returned to his seat. “I haven’t done anything.”

  We slid into the padded seat across from him. “As it happens, that’s one of my questions,” I said. “Why haven’t you done anything when you’re supposed to be tracking the tepen?”

  Farley rubbed a thumb along the outside of his glass. “Lionel is a pain in the ass, but I don’t think he hired you two to harass me into working.”

  “We don’t work for Lattimer,” Sheriff Nash said. He tapped his badge. “I think this speaks for itself.”

  Farley barked a laugh. “You think he doesn’t bribe law enforcement on the regular? He has a whole budget for that.”

  “And presumably he has a budget for his assistant,” I said, “which begs the question—why are you here when the tepen is somewhere out there?”

  The spriggan examined us closely. “You swear you don’t work for him?”

  I held up my hands. “I’m a reporter and, to be honest, I would never work for someone like Lattimer.”

  Farley’s gaze flicked to the sheriff. “And you? What do you care whether I’m tracking the tepen?”

  “Got a request to make sure you were staying out of trouble,” the sheriff lied smoothly. “Are you?”

  The spriggan was quiet a moment, probably deciding whether to come clean. “Fine. I’ll confess. I’m playing for both sides.”