by Erin Johnson
He jerked his chin behind me. “Let’s take this to my chambers—I’d rather discuss it there.”
One of the witches lifted a vial of bubbling, acid-green liquid. “But—the latest cure?”
He didn’t even turn around, just lifted a long, thin hand. “Leave it.”
Princess Imogen/Viktor beamed, then sucked on her lips, and we all left the potions lair and splashed back down the tunnel. Francis winged overhead. My heart and mind raced as I tried to make sense of it all. Was I or was I not about to die?
We made it past the first bend in the tunnel and then Ludolf held up a hand and we stopped. Francis perched on a bit of protruding stone and we held still, listening. When it became clear we hadn’t been followed, Ludolf’s face disappeared, and an entirely different one took its place. A familiar one, but one I couldn’t quite place right away, until the prince and princess similarly dropped their disguises.
“Horace!” The princess threw her arms around the man’s neck and pulled him into a tight hug.
Ah. Horace. The international criminal and leader of the Badlands Army. And also, oddly, an ally of the royals and someone instrumental in bringing King Roch’s war crimes to light.
I recognized him from the old wanted posters and news articles, though he’d disappeared from the limelight for the past year or so. Apparently, his good deeds had earned him a sort of immunity—that and the fact that he was rumored to be so powerful, the kingdoms’ governments couldn’t capture him even if they wanted to.
Horace, pale, tall, and thin, though not skeletal like Ludolf, awkwardly patted the princess’s back.
Prince Harry smirked, and the men exchanged nods. The prince’s thick brows pinched together. “How?”
Francis dropped down, changing to human form in a cloud of black smoke. Horace acknowledged him with a nod. “Vampire.”
Francis looked down his long, hooked nose at him and narrowed his eyes, ringed in liner. “Criminal.”
Horace’s full lips quirked at that.
The princess pulled back to look at him and squealed. “When did you get to the island? Where have you been? How’d you know where to find us?” She beamed at him, then spun to face me. “This is Horace—he’s also a swallow like me and Hank. Horace, Jolene—Jolene, Horace.”
“Hey.” I waved a hand in greeting, and he blinked slowly. I guessed that was a greeting. The swallow part explained the convincing disguise… partly. I frowned. “How did you know what Ludolf Caterwaul looks like?”
Horace let out a heavy sigh and looked down his upturned nose at me. The man was either very handsome or very strange-looking—I couldn’t decide. “The villainous world is small in the kingdoms. Ludolf and I have crossed paths a few times.”
I frowned—sounded like there were some stories there.
“Speaking of our old friend Ludolf, anyone know where he is right now?”
We all shook our heads.
Horace blinked. “Then I propose we leave.” He turned to the princess. “I just arrived on the island. Your baking friends told me what you’d done, and I correctly assumed you’d need rescuing from destruction.”
“Aw.” Princess Imogen blew her bangs out of her eyes. “What a guy.” She playfully slugged Horace’s arm.
Prince Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “Yeah, as long as he’s on your side.”
I smirked.
A muscle in Horace’s sharp jaw twitched. “I suggest we leave before the reek of sewer permanently seeps into my clothes.” He tugged at the black blazer he wore—over a black tee, black jeans, and black boots. I could guess his favorite color.
The swallows donned their disguises again, Francis swirled into a bat, just in case, and we hightailed it out of the sewers to safety.
21
MISSING SNAKE
The next night, Peter, Daisy, and I headed up to the station at the top of Bijou Mer. Peter had gotten a call on his communication device that Russo had some evidence in Polly Pierre’s murder he wanted to show us.
The precinct sat on the palace grounds, divided from the castle by a thick patch of brambles and a moat. With paper coffee cups in hand, we hiked up through the cobblestone streets, over the bridges that spanned the canals, with the twinkling sea below reflecting the moon.
I caught Peter watching me out of the corner of my eye for the hundredth time and lowered my cup from my lips to shoot him a flat look. “Okay—spill it. What’s on your mind?”
He pressed his lips together and looked away. “Nothing.”
Daisy, who trotted ahead of us, glanced over her shoulder and let out a quiet growl. Lie.
I nudged him until he looked at me, a little sheepish, then raised my brows. “Peter?”
He huffed. “Fine. I’m worried about you, okay? You can’t just—” He spluttered, waving his coffee cup hand about. “—wander into the sewers with a bunch of strangers like that. What if Ludolf had actually caught you?” His brows pinched together, his eyes pleading. “I’d never see you again, just like that.”
I let out a heavy sigh, and my shoulders slumped. I edged closer and slid an arm around his trim waist, snuggling against his side. “Aw.” I grinned up at him, batting my lashes. “You just care about me.”
He raised his brows and shook his head, lips pursed. “I’m not being cute. I’m upset.”
I smirked and tipped my head from side to side. “Well, the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
He huffed again, and I sobered up. “Look, yes, they were strangers, but they were the snakin’ prince and princess, for sand’s sake.” I raised my brows. “Two powerful shifters and their vampire bodyguard—I was in good company.”
Peter didn’t say anything, but his expression softened a little as we continued to climb the winding streets. I snuggled closer to his side. “Plus, even if Ludolf caught me and the worst happened, you’d still see me again.”
He frowned down at me, confused.
“I’d definitely haunt you. Chase off all your future potential girlfriends.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head again. “Not funny. I was seriously worried about you.”
“Okay, okay.” I lifted my chin and shot him an earnest look. “Honestly, it was a calculated risk. And that was probably the safest I’ve been going down there to see Ludolf.”
He raised his brows and nodded.
“And I promise not to go down there again if I can help it. Not until we catch that sea slug and throw him behind bars.”
Peter breathed out a sigh. “Good. Thank you.”
I gave him a small smile. “Plus, I may have played it a little fast and loose in the past, but I have a lot of good things to live for now. I’m not going to risk that.”
He hugged me tighter to his side.
“Though.” I held up a finger. “Just to be clear, I worry about you too, you know. I was down in the sewers, but you and Daisy were breaking up a potential riot and chasing down criminals—like you do every night.” I raised my brows at him. “We both have dangerous lines of work—we’re gonna be a little worried sometimes.”
He grinned at me. “True.” Then he bent and kissed the top of my head. We neared the top of the mountain, bats circling overhead across the moon, then entered through the main gates. The white baking tent loomed ahead, with the white walls of the palace reflecting the moonlight behind it.
“Want to pop in and see how the cures are coming along?”
We made our way across the grassy lawn and were shown into the infirmary by a palace servant. Although the rows and rows of beds with their crisp white sheets lay empty, the healers, clad in bright white smocks, still moved carefully, a hush over the place. The big windows let in lots of moonlight, and a few wooden tables covered in candelabras lit the space in warm, golden light. I sniffed—the place smelled clean, of tea tree, mint, and beeswax.
We headed down the center aisle toward the tables. Princess Imogen, Prince Harry, and a few of their baking friends sat among the healers. I s
mirked as we neared the quiet hustle and bustle. Well, most of the beds were empty.
I crossed my arms and raised a brow at Will, who lounged on one, hands behind his head, ankles crossed. Two empty cocktail glasses rested on the end table beside him, and as I stood there staring at him, a palace servant hurried up and set down another glass topped with sliced kiwi. “Your usual, sir.”
Will peeled an eye open as the servant bowed away and caught sight of me and Peter. He lifted one hand and twiddled his fingers in greeting.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get too used to the VIP treatment—you only get to stay here temporarily, remember?”
He scoffed and grabbed the drink, moving the straw to his lips. “Listen, sister, I was born VIP, remember?” He lifted a saucy, bushy brow, and I wasn’t sure if he was just being full of himself or referencing the fact that he’d been born and raised in the upper tiers of society. Knowing Will, probably both.
“Uh-huh.” I cocked a hip. “It’s alarming that you’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and already have a ‘usual’ cocktail.”
He smacked his lips and primly replaced the drink on the end table. “Jealousy isn’t a good look for you, Jolene.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, by the way, thank you for asking. I made it out of the sewers alive.”
He rolled his eyes and swept a giant hand toward the prince and princess. They gathered around the tables beside the healers, poring over bubbling potions and spell books. I spotted some of the scrolls and files we’d stolen from Ludolf’s the night before. “They filled me in, obviously.”
We left Will to enjoy his lounging and made our way over to the prince and princess. Heidi hopped down from one of the stools, the gray sloth in her arms.
“You did it!” She shifted the sloth to her hip and hugged me with her free arm, then hugged Peter and ruffled the fur on Daisy’s head. I quirked a brow—how come Heidi got to pet her?
She bounced on her heels, her long black hair in a high ponytail on top of her head. “It’s so great here. All the other animals—sorry, shifters—are in the conservatory. They love all the plants.”
I smiled back. “You’re getting used to the royal treatment too, huh?”
She scoffed. “I’m just happy to stay out of my parents’ house for a little longer.”
She joined us as we made our way to the prince and princess. Princess Imogen beamed when she spotted us. “Jolene!”
Her little flame, Iggy, burned in his lantern on the table in front of her and the prince. He peeked out at me. “So on a scale of one to ten, how terrible was her acting last night?”
I smirked in spite of myself, remembering the princess’s ridiculous jerks as she tried to imitate Viktor. In fairness to her, she’d never actually seen or met the man… though I wasn’t convinced that would’ve helped.
Iggy cackled. “I’ll take that as a ten.”
Princess Imogen shot him a flat look, then turned back to me, looking satisfied with herself. “I did great—it was a real team effort, huh, Jolene?”
She clearly expected me to agree with her. I cleared my throat and fiddled with the corner of a piece of parchment. “Mm-hmm.”
Daisy glanced over her shoulder at me and growled as Prince Harry scratched behind her ears. Liar.
The princess frowned. “What does that mean?”
I waved it off—this was clearly a no-win situation for me. “How’s the potion-making going?”
The prince nodded, his eyes alight. “Slow, even with the files we managed to take, but we’re making good progress. The healers expect some breakthroughs in the next few days.”
Peter nodded. “I imagine some potions take time to brew.”
The prince lifted a palm. “Exactly.”
“Sorry.” I shot Peter a sheepish grin, then made introductions.
“Nice to meet you, Officer Flint.” The princess winked at me and mouthed, “He’s cute.”
Iggy thumbed a flaming hand at her. “Captain Subtlety over here.”
I grinned up at Peter and sucked on my lips. It was true—he was pretty cute.
Peter shot the prince a concerned look. “Any news about Sam Snakeman?”
The prince and princess exchanged downcast looks, and the prince shook his head. Apparently Amelia and Kenta had been wallpapering the island in “missing pet snake” posters, but they hadn’t had any leads yet.
“Well, not any real leads,” Iggy piped up from the lantern with a devious grin.
The prince blushed, and the princess made a face, then spoke out of the side of her mouth. “We’ve received quite a few notices from men who claim to have the snake we’re looking for.”
Peter lifted a quizzical brow.
“Imogen—why are there so many snakes out there with only one eye?” Iggy blinked innocently at her until she shook her head and he devolved into cackles.
Peter’s face turned bright red. “Oh. Oh, no.”
The princess nodded seriously. “You always underestimate how gross the public is.” She shrugged.
We thanked them again for all their help and then headed over to the police station. It felt good to know Will, Heidi, and all the shifters were safe and that cures were on the way.
I just hoped it’d be soon enough to stop Ludolf before he hurt me or the people I cared about. After I’d foiled his goon’s attempt to hurt Sam during the rally and then broken into his potions lair and stolen his files, I was pretty sure the mob boss of the shifters would be gunning for me.
22
POLICE STATION
The police station, normally busy, was downright chaotic. I chalked it up to the recent near riot, assassination attempt on Sam Snakeman, and, of course, the murder of Polly Pierre at the royal baking competition.
Edna, the station manager, sat at the front desk with one finger pressed to the communication device in her ear. She was shaking her head and snapping her fingers at a young officer. The cop finally turned around, and Edna mouthed, with her bright pink lips, “Records! Records!”
The officer’s eyes widened, and she turned around and headed in the correct direction as Edna slumped back into her seat. She shuffled stacks of papers while talking to the person on the other end of the device.
“Yes, I understand, ma’am, but we’re short-staffed right now. Yes, even the police can be short-staffed, and we simply can’t help your grandson get his hand out of the cookie jar. Try an unsticking spell.”
She yanked the device out of her ear and looked up at us, exasperated. “Go away.” Her eyes widened behind her purple cat glasses as she took us in. “Oh! Peter, doll, Jolene, toots.” She leaned over to ruffle the fur on Daisy’s head. “And my little puppy pumpkin!” She blew out a breath. “It’s been absolutely nuts, a real sinkhole tonight. Please tell me no one else has died.”
Peter grinned. “Anything we can help with, Edna?”
She reached over and patted his cheek, her fingers stacked with gaudy rings and the bangles at her wrist jangling. “You’re such a doll. No— Oh!” She pointed behind her. “Russo’s waiting for you in evidence.”
Peter nodded. “Thanks, Edna.”
I winked at her. “Good luck.”
Daisy reluctantly peeled herself away from Edna’s pets and trotted along beside us as we ducked under flying stacks of paperwork and threaded between the metal desks and bustling cops to the evidence room. Normally, a mustached cop sat outside the evidence locker, but tonight just a clipboard with a sign-in sheet sat at his empty desk.
I raised my brows. “Guess it’s all hands on deck, huh?”
Peter nodded, signed us in, and then we stepped through the spelled gate to the shelves littered with evidence. We snaked through until we spotted Russo, the tall rookie cop. He pushed his square glasses up his nose and grinned, waving us over.
We said our hellos, and Peter planted his hand on the table. “Alright, what’s this evidence you have for us?”
Russo rubbed his palms together, eyes eager. A cardboar
d box sat on the table in front of him. “First, did you hear about Frank Hemlock?”
I squinted, the name ringing a bell…. “Oh!” I frowned. “The bossy dude from the baking competition?”
Russo nodded and absentmindedly scratched Daisy’s head. Her black nose twitched as she sniffed his pants leg. “Yep. He got his team kicked out for cheating.”
I smirked and leaned closer. “Ooh, do tell.” This sounded juicy—it was possible Madeline L’Orange was rubbing off on me.
Russo licked his lips and splayed his palms. “Get this—he was sprinkling seasonings on other teams’ bakes that made the food taste bad.”
Peter folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Some people….”
I scoffed. “So if he was sprinkling seasonings on others’ bakes, then maybe he could’ve sprinkled a little poison into Polly’s tea?”
Russo raised his brows and nodded, but Peter tipped his head to the side, looking less convinced. “I don’t know—if you killed someone, why draw further suspicion to yourself by cheating? And getting caught?”
I leaned into one hip. “Good point.” I lifted a palm. “Besides, he told us he didn’t kill Polly, and Daisy confirmed.” I lifted a brow as I looked at the tawny fur ball. “And we all know Daisy’s always right.”
She glanced my way and wagged her tail. True.
I narrowed my eyes—I’d have sworn she somehow understood me.
Peter looked down at the cardboard box on the table between us and Russo. “So about this evidence…?”
“Right!” Russo yanked the lid off and pulled out a red leather purse with gold details. Cute—but not my style. “This is Tonya Pierre’s purse.”
I pictured the shorter brunette sister and could see it fitting her retro style. Russo, hands gloved, reached inside. “Remember, we confiscated all the contestants’ personal belongings? It’s taken us some time to catalogue it all, but this evening, I found this.” He withdrew a square of parchment and unfolded it, then slid it across the table for us to read.
