by Blythe Baker
I agreed, but with a heavy heart. I’d grown used to Athena’s constant companionship, but she was right. There was no way that anyone would allow a fox where I was going, pet or not.
It was so warm that I turned on my air conditioning for the first time that year in my SUV. I dug through the glovebox until I found a pair of beat-up sunglasses with a scratch across the lens.
It took me longer than it would have by bike to reach downtown. The amount of traffic seemed to have increased overnight; the sheer number of guests checking in to Aunt Candace’s lodge were a clear enough picture of tourist season being underway. People were honking at one another, and every parking spot was full near the small shops down Main Street. Visitors walked by in their summer best, their hands laden with shopping bags and packages.
I continued on through downtown, passing by the church, which seemed to be having some sort of festival out on the lawn. I passed by the post office, where more visitors in their pastel shirts and sundresses passed in and out of the doors, sending things to loved ones back home, wherever that may have been.
The mortuary sat at the bottom of a hill, across the street from the veterinary clinic and a dentist’s office. A foreboding place to set up shop, it made everyone in town uneasy as they passed by the building. I’d heard from more than one person that it was as if they could sense death emanating from the walls themselves, but in truth, it may have just been the fact that it was run by the head of the town’s vampire clan.
I parked my SUV in one of the many open spaces. It didn’t look like business was very good that day, which meant there hadn’t been any more deaths.
But who knew what that might look like tomorrow? Or even an hour from now.
I made my way inside. The reception was a pleasant space, filled with fresh flowers, pretty blue paint on the wall, and windows along every wall. I assumed that most people who walked through the doors didn’t even see the décor. All they’d be able to think about was the recent death of someone they loved.
A man sat in a chair near the corner, his head bent, his shoulders completely still. For a moment, I thought maybe he was asleep. But every few seconds, I heard a sniff coming from him.
My heart ached for him. I wondered who he’d lost.
The woman behind the glass window in the reception area smiled at me, her blue eyes bright behind her retro style glasses. “Hi, there. What can I do for you?”
“Yes, hi,” I said. “I’m here to see Mr. Cain Blackburn?”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Oh…I’m sorry, is he expecting you?” she asked.
“Um, no,” I said sheepishly. “There was something important that I needed to discuss with him, and he’s the only one who can help me.”
The woman gave me a quizzical look before turning to the phone beside her. “Your name?” she asked.
“Marianne,” I said. “Marianne Huffler.”
She dialed a few numbers and pressed the receiver to her ear. “Hello, Mr. Blackburn? There’s someone here to see you. Mhmm. Marianne Huffler.”
I waited with baited breath as she searched my face, listening to whatever Mr. Blackburn was saying on the other end.
“Alright, sure. No problem. Thank you.” When she hung up, she gave me a curious smile. “Mr. Blackburn says that you’re welcome to come down and speak with him.”
“Okay, great. Thank you,” I said.
“Not sure what you did to deserve the honor, because Mr. Blackburn hardly ever accepts visitors,” she said.
I just smiled gratefully and hurried toward the door leading down into the mortuary below in the basement of the building.
It was dark and cool down the stairs. The walls were concrete, and while the reception had been welcoming and meant to put visitor’s minds at ease, the basement was no frills, all business, professional. The only things on the walls were regulations and legal documents, along with signs indicating what the rooms were. Offices, storage rooms, and labs. I tried not to look into the little windows of each door as I passed.
The small hairs on my neck were standing on end as I walked. The realization that I was surrounded by dead bodies was deeply unsettling. My heart was beating fast, and my throat was growing tight. Suddenly, I was starting to regret ever deciding to come down here in the first place.
“Excuse me, Miss,” came a voice behind me. “Are you lost? Or are you here to see someone?”
I spun around and saw a man, not Cain, in a lab coat, his dark eyes studying me behind his thick glasses.
I said, “I’m sorry, I’m looking for Cain Blackburn. He’s expecting me.”
The man’s eyes widened just like the receptionist’s. “Second door from the end on the right,” he said. He turned around, shaking his head.
The uneasy feeling grew as I approached the door.
It was closed when I reached it. I knocked on it with the back of my knuckles, forcing myself to take deep, even breaths. I tried not to think about breathing in the stench of death.
The door swung open, and there he stood. Cain Blackburn. Even dressed in simple slacks and a lab coat, he was as gorgeous as I remembered him being. Dark hair, brilliant green eyes, and a handsome smile that made my heart flutter in excitement, not fear.
“Marianne Huffler,” he said, an easy smile spreading across his face. “What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing into his office behind him. It was an uncluttered space. A modern glass and steel desk stood in the middle of the room. A long row of shelves filled the back wall, packed to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes. Two plush velvet armchairs sat in front of his desk. For being in the basement, it was warm and comforting. There were a lot of lights scattered across the space; on the desk, inside each shelf illuminating the books, and a floor lamp that looked more like something from space than a light fixture.
“Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning to one of the chairs. They were bright blue.
I sat down as he took his seat at his own desk. “Thank you very much,” I said.
“Now, what brings you all the way down here to see little old me?” he asked, a smirk hiking up his face.
“Well…” I said. Now that I was sitting here, ready to speak with him, I felt somewhat foolish. “I guess I had some questions for you.”
“Oh?” he asked, leaning forward, his smile growing wider. His teeth were so white, so perfect.
A chill ran down my spine.
“It wouldn’t be that you were wondering if I was free Friday night, would it?” he asked, chuckling. “Because I certainly am, and I’m rather fond of Italian food.”
I blinked at him. Was he…flirting?
My cheeks flushed as I looked down at my fingers knotted together in my lap. I was trying not to focus on the fact that a great deal of Italian cuisine had garlic in it…and that he had basically just insinuated a date with me. “Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me about Olivia Foster.”
His smile faltered somewhat, and his brow furrowed. “The woman who was found in the cemetery? Well, how in the world did you find out about her?”
I licked my lips, my cheeks growing redder. “I was the one who found her body.”
Cain lifted his chin and leaned back in his chair. He pressed the tips of his fingers together as he swiveled slowly back and forth, his eyes lifted to the ceiling in contemplation. “How very interesting,” he said. “You were also the one who discovered the body of that man in the fishing boat. What was his name? Cassidy?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Now you’ve got me curious. Why is it that your fate seems so closely linked with death?” Cain asked, his sharp green eyes shifting toward me.
It was such an unexpected question that I found myself without words. I just stared at him for a few seconds, my mind racing.
Was it because I was a faery? Did that somehow influence the things that were happening to me? Aunt Candace and Bliss made it seem like Faerywood Falls itself was responding to m
y return. But if that was the case, then why was so much evil rearing its head?
“I – I don’t know,” I said. That gaze…his eyes…it was almost as if he could see the secret that I carried. “I guess I’ve just been unlucky.”
Cain regarded me for a moment, as if trying to find the answer to an unspoken question. His face soon split into another half smile, though, and he leaned forward again. “Alright. I must admit, I rather like you, Marianne Huffler. I will tell you what you wish to know about the deceased Olivia Foster.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thank you. I guess what I really want to know is how she died. According to Sheriff Garland, the EMT’s said she died of natural causes. Likely a heart attack or something similar.”
Cain nodded. “Indeed. The death was declared to have been due to natural causes. The funeral date needed to be set, and no one seemed content to give me more time to analyze the corpse.”
My heart skipped a beat. “But you wanted more time?” I asked.
“Certainly,” he said. “Something was…different about this death. While I could find no external sources of harm, and truly, no internal injuries either, there was something about her face that told me there was a great deal more to this story…”
I leaned forward eagerly. “What do you mean?”
“Her face,” he said, moving his hand in front of his own features. “There was an expression of pure terror on her face. Some of my colleagues might argue that it was fear of death itself that caused that sort of reaction, but I’m not sure. She was found in a cemetery at night, all alone…and to be quite honest, she seemed dressed for some sort of outing. Hair was curled, makeup caked on her cheeks…She was feeling fine when she left home, that’s for certain. That explains little, of course. Heart attacks often happen when the person least expects…”
“I heard a scream,” I said, glancing toward the door to make sure no one was listening in. “Right before I found her. I was riding past the cemetery on my bike on my way home from work, and I heard a horrible, terrified sounding yell. That’s what drew me in there. It’s not like I take evening strolls through the headstones.”
Cain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “How very interesting. Yes, I was never informed of this crucial detail…”
“Why would Sheriff Garland want to hide that?” I asked.
“I’m not saying he hid it,” Cain said. “He could have very well thought it irrelevant.”
I admitted, “That’s basically what he said to me, too. He said maybe I heard a scream from someone else nearby.”
“This is very strange indeed,” Cain said, shaking his head. “I’ve never had such an unsettling feeling from a corpse before. But as soon as they brought Olivia Foster in here…”
He looked at me very intently all of a sudden. “I believe something dark is stirring in this sleepy town, Marianne Huffler. You must be wary of investigating these incidents any further. You might dig up more than you bargained for.”
As abruptly as the serious moment had come, it passed. He lifted a stack of papers from inside one of his drawers. “Now, thank you for coming down here, but I’m not at liberty to discuss these matters further,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my work.”
Still uneasy from his previous comments, I rose from my seat and headed toward the door. I felt his gaze on the back of my head as I stepped out into the hall. I glanced over my shoulder, and he’d looked away.
“Thank you for your time,” I said.
He flipped one of the pages, and it was suddenly as if I didn’t exist.
I wandered back down the hall and up the stairs into the reception area. The sunlight was bright in the room, and I squinted as I made my way toward the front doors.
But then I heard a voice. “Were you visiting Mr. Blackburn?”
I stopped and looked. It was the man who was sitting in the corner with his head down. The one who’d been crying.
“Um…yes,” I said.
The man was looking up at me now. It was clear he’d seen better days. His brown eyes, swollen and red, were rimmed with tears. His clothes looked like he’d been wearing them for days. His dark beard, the same color as his hair, looked a little ragged, too.
A pained smile crawled up his face.
“He’s the one who did the autopsy on Liv. My wife,” he said.
My stomach flipped over. “Your wife…do you mean Olivia Foster?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. They finally let me see her today. Had to do the identifying and all that.” A distant look came over him, and it was like he was reliving that moment over and over in his mind.
My heart broke for the poor man. What a terrible last look at his wife. That’d be the memory he’d carry with him for the rest of his life.
“I’m waiting here for the funeral director,” he said. “We’re meeting to discuss whether or not we should have her cremated.”
The conversation was leaning toward the personal, and the little hairs on my arms stood on end.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just a lot to take in right now. I haven’t slept, I’ve hardly eaten…”
I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat. I had no idea what to say. No words could make him feel any better. And anything I’d try to say would just fall on deaf ears.
“I just don’t understand, you know?” he said, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “She was fine that whole day before…before they found her.” His lips pursed again and tight lines appeared near his eyes. “They said somebody found her just lying there in the middle of the cemetery. And my darling, my beautiful wife…all alone…and she just…”
“Sir, it’s alright,” said another voice. It was the receptionist. She’d come out from behind her glass wall to sit beside him. “Can I get you some tea or something? Maybe something to read?”
The man shook his head and then dropped it back into his hands.
The receptionist laid a hand on his shoulder and looked up at me. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll take care of him. You should go on ahead.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
I pushed my way out into the morning sun, feeling the warmth of the beams on my face.
Cain’s warning was ringing in my mind, but I knew I’d never be able to forget the devastation that Mr. Foster was experiencing.
I climbed into my SUV, my heart ripped to shreds.
It was like seeing him had reopened old wounds. I thought of Jacob back in my old town of Hillbilly Hollow, Missouri, and how I’d felt when I’d learned of his death. It was awful to lose the person you loved. And I hadn’t even been married to Jacob. I couldn’t imagine the depth of Mr. Foster’s pain, the suffering he was going through.
Cain may have been warning me to stay out of this investigation, but how could I leave Mr. Foster without answers?
I was going to discover the truth. For his sake. Even if he’d never be able to understand it, I was going to help him find the peace he’d need.
I swallowed hard as I started to drive away. If I knew anything, it was that Olivia Foster had not died from natural causes. Someone had killed her.
And I was going to find out who that was.
4
I found myself at the drive-thru at the local fast food place. A greasy burger and some salty French fries were apparently the only things that would ease my anxiety. I drove away with an additional large soda as well. I knew I’d probably regret it later, but I’d bike it off on the way into work tomorrow.
I ended up back at the cabin just before noon. Athena was stretched out on the front porch, her belly facing toward the sun streaming in onto the side of the porch.
More tourists arrived, she said, not even lifting her head to look at me as I walked up the front steps.
“I figured as much,” I said, glancing back down the dirt road along the lake toward the other cabins visible through the trees. They’d been empty since I moved in, but now there were rental cars par
ked out in front of them. “So much for our peace and quiet, right?”
Athena’s tail twitched in annoyance.
“You’re gonna have to be even more careful,” I said. “We might be out in the woods, but some of these city people might call animal control if they see a wild fox hanging out on the porch like you are.”
She lifted her head at that. And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do for fun, then? Stay inside all day when I don’t go with you? Live in your backpack?
“No,” I said. “But we need to be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
Athena rolled over onto her feet and stood, shaking her brilliant copper coat and tail. So what did you find out from the vampire? she asked.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Not as much as I would’ve liked, but he seemed to be on the same page as I was,” I said.
Athena padded past me into the cabin, and I closed the door behind us. He thinks she was murdered, too?
I nodded. “He told me that he isn’t sure exactly what happened, but he – ”
I was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Athena jumped at the sound and rushed across the tiny cabin, darting underneath the blankets on the bed.
I shook my head with a chuckle. All fierce and proud, but startled by the slightest surprise.
I pulled open the door and saw Mrs. Bickford, the woman who owned the cabin I was renting, standing on the other side.
“Good afternoon, missy,” she said with a broad smile. She was still wearing her bee-keeper’s hat, like always, her wispy hair peeking out from underneath it. “Glad to see you’re home.”
“Hi, Mrs. Bickford,” I said. “How are you doing today?”
“Just fine, thanks, just fine,” she said. “Poor old Jim’s complaining today. Says the weather’s turning lousy. Not that I can tell that, mind you. It’s not like he has anything to be sulky about, do you, Jim?” She glanced over her shoulder, down the steps. Then she nodded fervently. I knew she was nodding at the ghost of her late husband, even though nobody but her could see him.
