Magic & Monsters (Starry Hollow Witches Book 12)

by Annabel Chase

  I stopped walking and let my feet sink into the sand. “Alec, are you having some sort of immortal life crisis?”

  His attempt at light laughter didn’t fool me. “Is that how it sounds?”

  I decided to take Raoul’s advice and try to nudge us forward. “Yes. You’ve been immersing yourself in this new series and spending less time with me. You’re distracted. You’re more critical than usual.” I hadn’t intended to unleash my feelings, especially during a romantic walk on the beach, but the opportunity seemed ripe.

  His broad shoulders stiffened. “Everything is fine. I’m sorry you feel differently.”

  “It’s okay to be in a rut, or whatever it is. I just wish you would feel that you can talk to me about it.”

  “As I said, everything is fine. I’ve been spending time in this new book because I find joy there.”

  “And you’re not able to find joy here, in the real world with me?” A breeze whipped through my hair, blowing strands into my mouth. My hair was like a hydra. Every time I pulled one piece out of my mouth, two more strands blew in.

  “That’s not what I meant. Can we not do this, please?” He started walking back toward the Whitethorn and I hurried after him.

  “If protecting yourself continues to be your main priority, then I don’t see how we can ever have a fully functioning relationship.”

  Alec halted and gazed at me with the kind of intensity that made my body burn and my mind go blank.

  “You’re right, Ember,” he said, his voice barely audible over the crashing of the waves. “I need to do better or I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you.”

  Hope bloomed in my chest. “Then you’ll try therapy again? I’ll make sure to find someone…”

  He didn’t let me finish. “No, I’ve decided that’s not the right avenue for me. If I have trouble sharing myself with you, I don’t see how including a stranger in the mix will help matters.”

  “I’m not talking about some rando off the street.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ember.”

  Petals of hope shriveled and I hugged myself to keep from crying. “Then what do we do?”

  “There are plenty of books on the topic. I can choose the most relevant ones and simply implement their suggestions.”

  “You’ll just get lost in another book,” I said. “That’s not called communicating. That’s called reading.”

  Why had I listened to Raoul? Now we were arguing and the evening was ruined. This wasn’t what I wanted.

  Alec brushed the hair from my cheek. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed right now. I see no reason to add to your list of concerns.”

  “You and Marley are my main concerns.” I fought the urge to argue further. “If you want to dive into relationship research, then I’ll support you.”

  He tipped my chin up and brushed his lips against mine. “You needn’t worry, Ember. Whatever challenges we face, our love will sustain us.”

  I melted into the kiss and ignored the faint voice in my head, not Raoul’s this time, but my own. The voice that dared to ask the question I’d been unwilling to entertain—what if love wasn’t enough?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, I sailed into the office of Vox Populi wearing oversized sunglasses and a baseball hat.

  Bentley glanced up with a quizzical expression. “Being stalked by paparazzi again, Britney?”

  I walked over to my desk and set down my bag. “I had a late night.”

  “Apparently.”

  I removed the sunglasses. “I woke up feeling a little longer in the tooth than usual.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Old, Bentley.” I whipped off the hat. “It means old.”

  “Since when do you care about that?”

  I looked at him askance. “Since when don’t I care about that? I have an ego, you know.”

  “Right, and I thought that ego told you that you look amazing even in a potato sack and bright orange lipstick.”

  “You seem to have me confused with Hazel.” I settled in my chair beside him. “I think it’s these cosmetics company owners. Amanda made me feel like I need a face transplant and, this morning, I spotted two gray hairs at my scalp. If I leave them alone together too long, they’ll make babies.”

  “You’re worried about a couple of gray hairs?” Bentley scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like something to waste your energy on.”

  My gaze darted to the private office at the back of the room. “That’s because Meadow isn’t a vampire.”

  Bentley seemed to grasp my meaning. “You’re worried that your aging will bother your immortal boyfriend?”

  “It’s hard to know what he’s thinking half the time because he doesn’t talk about it, which leaves me to fill in the blanks on my own.” I booted up my computer and swiveled toward him. “I’m very good at filling in blanks with what’s in my head, Bentley.”

  “Sounds dangerous.” He offered a sympathetic look. “I wouldn’t worry, Ember. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and, trust me, I wish I didn’t. It’s the same way a lion looks at a gazelle.”

  I cocked my head. “Alec looks at me like he wants to hide in the tall grass of a savannah and pounce when I go to my watering hole?”

  “Something like that,” he mumbled.

  I noticed the Nash folder open on his desk. “How’s your research coming along? Any progress on the cold case?”

  Bentley held the folder protectively against his chest. “Why? Is your article done and you’ve come to claim mine?”

  “Relax. I’m not here to poach. In fact, I’m glad you’re taking an interest in it.”

  His brow lifted. “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re good at your job. What if you find something that gives the Nash family closure?” I wanted that for Granger and his mom—and even for Wyatt, that swaggering hormone.

  Relief flooded Bentley’s expression. “I’m glad to hear you say that because I may have made progress.”

  I nearly leaped across the desk divider to wrench the folder from his hands. “What did you find?”

  He rolled his chair further away from me, creating a foot-long gap. “I’d rather not say yet. I just thought you’d be interested to know that I think there’s a real story here.”

  I smiled sweetly. “Come on, Bentley, old pal. Don’t keep a friend in suspense. Tell me what you learned.”

  “Why? So you can get drunk and confess it all to the sheriff? I don’t think so.” He shoved the folder partway down the front of his pants.

  “Clever choice. You know I have no interest in grabbing you there.”

  Bentley held out a hand to keep me at bay. “I promise I’ll tell you when I find something worth sharing. Right now, it’s just a step forward based on something small that I found.”

  I relaxed in my chair and turned back to my computer. “Fine. I won’t pester you…about that.”

  The front door opened and a figure peered inside. His shaggy brown hair was shoulder-length and he wore a sleeveless black shirt which showed off an owl tattoo. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

  “Hey, is this Vox Populi?”

  “Who wants to know?” I demanded.

  “Ember,” Bentley hissed under his breath. “That’s no way to greet a potential source.”

  “Source for what?” I whispered. “Which hair salons to avoid?”

  “Sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for Ember Rose.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, revealing a pointy tip. Never in a million years would I have pegged him for an elf.

  “Oh, that’s me.”

  He seemed relieved. “Awesome. Glad I found you. I’m Bruce Magill.”

  I stood to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. How can I help you?”

  “I’m a filmmaker. In fact, I was Winston York’s protege for years.”

  And then it hit me. I’d seen him with York in a photo on the wall of the workshop. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

>   He pressed his lips together. “Yeah, thanks. I always thought the old curmudgeon was going to live forever, you know. Such a pillar of our global community.”

  His words failed to register. I was too busy staring at his owl tattoo as the head twisted 180 degrees. Bentley must’ve noticed too because I heard his gasp of delight behind me.

  Bruce glanced at his bicep. “Cool, right? I had it done at this place called Spelling Ink. The witch there creates all sorts of awesome magical tattoos.”

  “Is that here in town?” Bentley asked. “I haven’t heard of it.”

  “No, I was making a short film in Spellbound. It’s this Pennsylvania town that had been under a curse…”

  My eyes popped. “I’ve been there. Alec…My editor and I went after the curse was broken to write a story about it.”

  His head bobbed with enthusiasm. “Pretty awesome place, right?”

  “I don’t think that tattoo parlor was there yet.” I watched the owl in wonder as it opened and closed its beak. “It doesn’t hoot?”

  “Begonia gave me the option of sound, but I chose a muted one,” Bruce said. “In my line of work, I often need silence or I scare off the subjects.”

  “Right. Your work.” His identity finally registered. “You’re the successor who was searching for the nest in the woods. You ran into Amanda M’Leigh.”

  “The cosmetics owner, right?” He fluffed his hair again. It seemed to me that his hair would be more of a distraction during filming than a hooting owl tattoo.

  “Yes. There are two of them in town trying to get to the tepen first,” I said.

  Bruce scowled. “Big business is the worst. They destroy our environment. Kill our creatures. All for a tidy profit.”

  A vague smile touched my lips. “You sound like Jarek Heidelberg.”

  “Well, except he goes one step further and thinks we interfere with the natural world,” Bruce said. “He lumps me into the same category as cosmetics and trophy hunters and that’s minotaur shit. I revere the creatures I track. I would never do anything to hurt them.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “What brings you here?”

  “I understand you took possession of Winston’s recording. The raw footage he’d shot before he died.”

  “Sorry, I’m no longer in possession of that.”

  He frowned. “Can you tell me where it is now? I want to be able to pick up where he left off.”

  “The sheriff has it.”

  Bruce scratched behind his ear. “Why would law enforcement want it?”

  “Just a formality,” I lied. “He died on Starry Hollow property so the sheriff holds on to any personal effects at the scene until the estate’s been settled.”

  “That should be easy enough. It was only he and his wife. They didn’t have any kids or close relations.”

  “I didn’t get the impression that Mabel would be interested in keeping it,” I said.

  “No, you’re right. She’ll probably let me have it. The only reason she might hesitate to release it is because it includes his final moments, at least that’s what I heard.”

  “I can’t imagine she’d want to watch that on a loop.” Bentley shuddered.

  “I certainly wouldn’t include that in my film,” Bruce said. “I’m not a monster. I’d just like the rest of it. Any footage of the tepen is extremely valuable, however limited.”

  “As I said, you’ll have to take that up with the sheriff. It’s literally out of my hands.” Why else would he want the footage other than to erase evidence of some kind?

  “What do you plan to do with it?” Bentley asked.

  “I’m going to pick up where Winston left off and complete the filming here. This is a huge opportunity and I don’t want to miss it.”

  I rested my chin on my knuckles and looked up at him. “But you weren’t working with York on this project.”

  Bruce hesitated. “No. He’d unexpectedly come out of retirement for the tepen, so he didn’t assemble his usual team.”

  “And you were no longer his usual team?” I pressed.

  Bruce puffed out his impressive chest. “Not anymore. I was his successor. When he retired, he made me his heir apparent.”

  “Huh. Strange that no one’s mentioned you.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I’ve been writing an article about York for the paper and your name hasn’t come up.”

  “What was your relationship like with York?” Bentley asked, scooting his chair closer to me. “He always struck me as a genteel intellectual.”

  Bruce grunted. “Sure. That sounds good.”

  “You don’t agree?” Bentley sounded aggrieved.

  “Never meet your heroes, Bentley,” I advised.

  “Look, don’t quote me on this because I don’t like to speak ill of the dead and I owe the guy a debt of gratitude for my career…”

  “But,” I prompted. There was definitely a huge BUT coming and I was eager to hear it.

  “But the tepen should’ve been my big break,” Bruce continued. “Winston wasn’t supposed to come out of retirement. Ever. When he put away his camera, he promised he was done for good.”

  “But he couldn’t resist the lure of the tepen,” I said.

  “I can hardly blame him,” Bentley added. “York probably waited his whole life for an opportunity like this one.”

  “So have I!” Bruce’s eyes blazed with anger. “I finally get my big break and he tried to take it away from me. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me too. It could totally make my career and help me establish a following. I thought it would be easy once Winston left, but it wasn’t.”

  “It takes time,” I said. “I’m sure York wasn’t a household name when he first started.”

  Bruce balled his hands into fists. “Except I’m not just starting out. I bided my time for years, waiting to come out from behind Winston’s shadow. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I thought it would be a seamless transition and instead I’ve spent the past year feeling like I was some newbie starting from scratch.”

  “There’s still time,” Bentley said. “No one’s found the tepen or its nest yet.”

  “Exactly,” Bruce said. “If I can be the one to capture the event, I can make a name for myself.”

  “Sounds like you’re pretty desperate,” I said. Desperate enough to kill his former boss to make it happen?

  “This has been my whole life’s focus.” Bruce sighed. “I mean, everyone thinks I lack Winston’s…” He flicked a gaze at Bentley. “How did you put it—genteel intellectualism? Whatever that is, I don’t have it.”

  “Not the way you look, no,” I agreed.

  Bruce’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

  I rolled my chair backward a few inches. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it. You have a different appeal. That’s all. Winston York was like the kindly old professor with a dusty tome tucked under his arm. You’re like…” I flung a hand in his direction. “Adam Levine in the 70’s.”

  Bruce and Bentley exchanged confused glances.

  “My point is that your style is different from York’s and so you’re bound to attract different audiences,” I continued.

  “But we do the same job. I’m as dedicated to bringing attention to rare supernatural creatures as Winston ever was. They’re the blood in my veins.” He held out his arm as though I might catch a glimpse of tiny supernatural critters.

  “Look, I’m not passing any judgment. You’re probably the most interesting elf I’ve ever met.”

  Bentley made a disgruntled noise behind me.

  “Did you know that I was the one who actually tracked the location of the gamora in South Africa?” Bruce asked. “That ended up being one of Winston’s most famous segments and it wouldn’t have happened without me. But who got the credit? Oh, that’s right. Winston York.” He straightened and pretended to adjust an invisible bow tie. “I’m Winston and the public adores me be
cause they think I have some kind of magical connection to rare species when, in fact, I relied on others to do my work for me and took all the glory.”

  “I guess you would say you’re pretty bitter,” I said. Maybe bitter and desperate enough to make sure York would never come out of retirement again. Bruce would certainly have the knowledge and access required to poison York in a way that looked reminiscent of the tepen.

  “I’m sad about his death, okay? It’s not like I wished him any ill will. He was my mentor. What happened is a tragedy.”

  “Did you at least see him one last time when you arrived in town?” I asked.

  “Of course. I couldn’t possibly come to Starry Hollow and not see him.”

  I leveled a gaze at him. “But you came because you heard about the tepen sighting, right? You were probably surprised to learn that he was dusting off his camera.”

  Bruce hung his head. “I admit, when I stopped by his house, I was surprised and disappointed when Mabel said he was out doing prep work. She didn’t seem pleased about it either.”

  I bit back a smile. “No, she definitely wasn’t.”

  “I found Winston at the beach,” Bruce said. “He’d discovered tepen tracks in the sand and was trying to figure out which direction it went.”

  “And how would you characterize your conversation with him? Was it cordial? Friendly?”

  “Friendly enough.”

  A thought occurred to me. “You’re not in any of the footage. Why wasn’t he filming when you saw him?”

  “He hadn’t fully charged his camera,” Bruce said with a laugh. “A rookie mistake, but understandable since he hadn’t intended to use it.”

  “Did you see him alone?” I asked. “Was anyone with him?”

  Bruce stroked his chin. “Not with him, but there was a family there watching him. They had two little kids who were interested in what Winston was doing. He made them keep a respectful distance so they didn’t disturb the area, but they were determined little suckers.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “They were there when I arrived and still there when I left.”

  “And that’s the only time you saw York?” I asked.