by Ruby Loren
Jesse turned to me once the detective was talking into his mobile. “I think I’m growing on him,” he told me with a wide smile.
2
The Poison Pen
Giving my statement to the police didn’t take long at all. The mystery surrounding what had befallen Helen Regal meant that there weren’t many questions to answer, because no one had thought of the right ones to ask yet. A mere half hour had passed before I’d been permitted to slink away and return to the shop. I’d also managed to leave before Jesse had finished with his own interview - which had been the day’s first victory.
I shut the door of the shop behind me and leaned on it for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on my back and the familiar smell of the jarred herbs filling my nose. There’s no place like home, I thought and opened my eyes.
A customer was standing inside the shop, waiting patiently for me to get away from the door. I obligingly moved sideways to let them out and discovered I was alone in the apothecary with Aunt Minerva.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked me, smiling pleasantly.
I bit my tongue to keep from answering that question snippily. There’d been quite a lot wrong ever since my Aunt Linda had been whisked away by a mysterious man in black, but I knew she just meant it in a general caring way.
“I was delivering tea to Helen Regal, but when I arrived, she was missing and there was blood everywhere. It’s like she was dragged off by a wild animal,” I said, hoping that sharing it with my aunt might make me feel a little less shaken by the experience.
“Oh dear! Did you find her?” Aunt Minerva’s face was a mask of concern.
I shook my head. “Not yet. There’s a… trail… leading into the forest. I’m sure the police will search for her. Perhaps it’s not as bad as it looked,” I added, trying to convince myself.
“Perhaps,” Minerva said, but I heard the pity in her voice. Even without seeing the scene or knowing anything more about it, she could sense what I also knew to be true. Whatever it was that had befallen Helen Regal, she hadn’t survived it.
“I didn’t finish my deliveries,” I said, suddenly realising I was still holding the bags I’d left the shop with this morning.
“Let me do it.” Aunt Minerva stepped out from behind the counter and unwrapped my fingers from the handles. I let them go, feeling like I was caught in a bad dream.
“A high priestess is supposed to protect her coven,” I said.
“A high priestess can only protect against problems she knows about. Did Helen speak to you about anything that might have indicated something like this was coming?”
I shook my head. Helen had mostly talked about which children had been getting on her nerves at school, or she’d been busy making sweeping statements without considering that she was offending others. Even though she’d had some annoying habits, I still couldn’t yet understand why someone - or something - had killed her.
“I’ll explain why the deliveries are a little late, don’t worry,” Minerva assured me.
I managed a thin smile. “You’ll be out all day once you start talking about it.”
“You’re probably right,” she answered, knowing that gossip was the lifeblood of Wormwood. Aunt Minerva hadn’t been back in town for long, but she’d lived here in the past, and according to her, not a lot had changed.
I let her go and went to fix myself some soothing chamomile and blackcurrant tea, before manning the counter. It was a quiet morning in the shop. I had no doubt it was only because word was yet to get out about what had happened to Helen Regal. Once my name was thrown around in conjunction with the case, the masses would descend, and the real interrogation would begin.
What would I tell them? I wondered, knowing better than to blab about details the police would undoubtedly want kept silent.
I knew that Sean Admiral didn’t exactly trust me, after the last police investigation had resulted in the entire population of Wormwood being convinced that vampires were the culprit. I hadn’t been the one to start the hysteria, but my shop had benefitted from an increase in business. If something similar were to happen again, I had no doubt that the detective would be round to give me a piece of his mind, pronto. He’d probably find the shop abandoned, because I’d be round Jesse’s house having a go at the real blabbermouth.
I sighed and traced the grain of the wood on the counter I was sitting behind. In these quiet moments between the daily dramas that unfolded around me, I tried to keep my mind still… but it was an impossible task. Too much had happened in the past month alone.
The most recent issue of the local interest magazine I published, Tales from Wormwood, had been my most popular yet. I’d had to add extra pages for all of the advertisers who’d wanted to feature their businesses in the magazine, and even though it was a free publication, copies had really flown off the shelves. The feedback had been great, too, with more townspeople coming into the shop to share their thoughts than ever before. I told myself that I was just reporting the news… but I still felt a little guilty that the reason the magazine had done so well was because of the lead article about Bridgette Spellsworth’s grisly murder. I reminded myself firmly that she’d been blackmailing three-quarters of the town, and then I felt a lot better.
My tea sales had also been going from strength to strength - largely because of Tristan’s continued business. He bought the tea blends on consignment to serve in his bakery. At first, I’d worried that I was using our fake boyfriend-girlfriend relationship to my advantage, but when the teas had started selling really well, I’d felt all of the self doubt that I was kidding myself about my tea being good evaporate.
Success in business was almost enough to take my mind off the far less successful supernatural side of my life. I’d recently scraped through my witch trial without any lasting injury or world-ending disasters, but while it had finally helped me to figure out how to use my magical gifts, I was no closer to working out why I was different. Spells didn’t work for me and my only party trick seemed to be pulling various weapons out of mid-air. I was seriously considering joining the circus.
More worrying than my magical mystery was the supernatural forces at work in Wormwood. Everyone, including the town’s mayor, seemed to be up to something.
I was still coming to terms with the fact that Hedge, my pet cat, had secretly been spying on me for Jesse. The small, quiet animal had been his familiar all along. After all had been revealed, I’d expected Hedge to go and live with Jesse, but Jesse had asked if I could keep looking after him. The cheek of it was beyond the pale.
The only reason I’d been forced to continue the arrangement was because when I’d taken Hedge to Jesse’s house, it had been boarded up. Now that he was back in town, I supposed I should try to return the traitor again. Honestly, it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. I fed Hedge and checked in on him when he deigned to be around. I even let him sit on my bed with Hemlock if he came in at night.
The initial outrage that he was Jesse’s stooge had faded when I’d realised that I wasn’t actually hiding any secrets that Hedge would have been able to report on. In any case, I’d rather have a cat peeping in through my window than Jesse himself.
Hemlock had been in a grump ever since I’d told him about Hedge. I suspected it was because he’d been every bit as fooled as I had… and he was secretly impressed by Hedge’s devious nature. On the plus side, Hemlock’s ridiculous magical eyelash extensions had fallen out, so he was back to looking like a normal cat. His Instagram account had been closed due to ‘suspected animal cruelty’, even though he’d claimed that they were natural. Far from becoming famous for his unique eyelashes, he was now painted online as a victim of the evils of social media.
I was just glad no one had traced the account back to my location. I still wasn’t sure where he’d got the phone from…
More alarming than a teenage cat acting up was the mysterious disappearance of my Aunt Linda. One month ago, a man from the Witch Council had arriv
ed in Wormwood and charged her with crimes against the Council. As far as I knew, her crime had been turning the entire Council into slime in order to avoid a misuse of magic charge. Aunt Linda had been whisked away, and not long after that, we’d been summoned to the Council’s court to answer for our roles as her co-conspirators.
At Aunt Minerva’s behest, I’d claimed to have no knowledge of my other aunt’s actions… and she’d claimed the same - her logic being that it was easier to help Linda from outside a prison cell. I hoped that it wasn’t Minerva’s way of cutting loose a sister who’d always been unpredictable. I wasn’t going to give up on my other aunt - no matter what magical laws she may, or may not, have broken. The way I’d been treated in that court room had more than convinced me that the Council were bad news and their transformation into slime probably hadn’t been a big change.
Since we’d been released, I’d pumped my Aunt Minerva for more information about what was happening and what we could do about it. I’d even reminded her of her magical promise to tell me the truth, but she’d revealed that such things have an expiry date. Without the presence of her impulsive sister, she wasn’t about to make that promise a second time. Something like that might have given rise to a lack of confidence in her integrity, but I believed that my aunt thought she was acting in my best interests.
The biggest mystery of all was how the Witch Council had become un-slimed. From Aunt Linda’s description of how she’d changed them and then sold them to unsuspecting children, thus beginning the slime craze many years ago, I couldn’t imagine how they’d ever been pieced back together. All I knew was that it was evidently true when people claimed that slime was nigh on indestructible. On a magical note, it was yet another thing I needed to ask my Aunt Minerva about.
I was still mooning over the past when my elbow brushed against something on the counter. I glanced down and discovered a letter with my name on the front that I hadn’t noticed before. Even though the white envelope looked professional with a printed name visible through a clear plastic window, there was no address, so I could only assume that either someone had left it with my aunt, or someone local had posted it through the door and she’d picked it up and forgotten to tell me. I examined it carefully, using witch sight to check if there was anything magical about the envelope or its contents. Experience had taught me that in a town like Wormwood, even something as innocuous as a letter could be used as a weapon.
Once I was sure that I wasn’t about to be cursed, I tore the paper open and pulled out the contents. A message made up of letters cut out of magazines stared right back at me. I breathed out, suddenly realising I’d held my breath as soon as I’d figured out what I was looking at.
I will reveal your father’s identity to everyone unless you stop printing your magazine. Keep your nose out of other people’s business!
- B
When I read the note, I was left in no doubt at all. The person who had written this letter to me had also written the one Jesse had found crumpled up at the scene of Helen Regal’s mysterious disappearance. I could be reading a message written by a murderer. And judging by this letter, they had it in for me, too.
I pulled out my phone and dialled Detective Sean Admiral’s number. The way things were going in this town, I should probably have him on speed dial.
It didn’t take him long to arrive at the shop. From his dishevelled appearance, I deduced he’d been tramping through Wormwood Forest, trying to follow the trail left by whatever had taken Helen. It was obvious from his expression that he hadn’t found anything.
“Show me the letter,” was all the greeting he gave me.
I handed it over for him to see.
He studied it in silence for a full thirty seconds. “Is there a reason why you wouldn’t want the identity of your father revealed?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know who my father is. Sure, I’d love to know before the town gossips, but in all honesty, I’d just like to know.”
He frowned. “Interesting,” was all he said.
I shot him a look that said I wasn’t satisfied with that.
He gave me a stonewalling look back, but I was getting to know the serious man in front of me, and I knew when he wasn’t telling me something.
3
Sidekicks and Sleuths
“You aren’t surprised that I have this letter. That means the one we found around Helen’s house wasn’t the first. This has happened before.” It was half a guess, but I said it with enough certainty that the detective’s expression flickered.
He caved in. “Fine. This is not something I want shared beyond these walls. I don’t want anyone to panic, especially when…”
“…when someone who was sent a letter just like this one disappeared, leaving a violent trail of death in her wake,” I finished for him. I received a glare for my trouble.
“There have been quite a few letters received over the past few weeks. The first, to my knowledge, was sent to Elliot Hex. He made me swear not to reveal its contents to anyone else. Don’t even try,” he added.
I nodded. “I’m guessing it was a threat to reveal something sensitive and then an action he needed to undertake to avoid the big reveal?” I was actually impressed that a proud magician like Elliot had gone to the authorities instead of attempting to work his own justice.
“Correct. Suffice to say, he didn’t carry out the request and instead brought it to me. However, I can’t be sure that there aren’t others who’ve had similar letters and have decided to comply. Until today, I was ready to put them down as being written by a kook - someone who was guessing at truths in the hopes of upsetting the person they sent the letters to. But now…” His mouth twisted with frustration. “The letters don’t even always seem to be correct. Take the one you’ve been sent as an example. Do a lot of people around here know that you aren’t aware of the identity of your father?”
“Sure. I’ve even asked around about it since my mum passed away. I’ve wanted to know the truth for years.”
The detective inclined his head. “Then, don’t you think it strange that the letter writer used their alleged knowledge of his identity as a threat towards you? To me, it says that they don’t actually know much about all their targets.”
“But do they hold the information they claim to?” I countered. My eyes returned to the piece of paper with its cut out letters. “Both notes were signed ‘B’.”
“I think it’s someone using Bridgette Spellsworth’s blackmail legacy to frighten others,” Sean contributed.
“It does look that way,” I concurred, before narrowing my eyes in thought. The detective looked back at me with the same expression on his face. I knew we were both wondering if the mystery letter writer had discovered all of the information Bridgette had used to blackmail her ‘clients’.
When you were playing a game as dangerous as blackmail, it was practically a given that in the event of your unexpected death or disappearance, everything you had on the people you were extorting would become public. It was a failsafe intended to put anyone off doing anything rash. The question was, had Bridgette arranged for someone to receive all of the information she’d collected over the years, and were they now going after her victims? Or was it all just a ruse designed to scare people?
“I suppose we can’t be sure of anything,” I surmised.
The detective nodded. “It does remain unclear, but you know what they say… there’s no smoke without fire.”
I looked sideways at him and he had the good grace to look guilty. I was starting to think that the Witchwood police officer was spending far too much time in gossipy Wormwood.
“I hope you find Helen,” I said, sparing his blushes by changing the subject.
“I hope so, too,” Sean replied, but his voice was grim. We both knew he wasn’t going to find her alive. “I spoke to her partner. He’s gone to collect their daughter. I wish I could give them more certainty and a better idea of what happened, but…” he trailed off and shook his
head.
“No one saw anything. Sarah May sat outside the house all morning, but she says everything was normal. Daryl left for work and a while later, you came along with your delivery. Somewhere in-between those times, Helen was taken.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You’ll get to the bottom of it soon,” I told him, feeling a sudden certainty that it was true. If recent events were anything to go by, all of Wormwood’s secrets were rising to the surface. That meant that whatever had happened to Helen Regal was not going to stay quiet for long. Someone knew where she was and what had happened to her… and that someone wasn’t going to be able to keep it secret forever.
“I’m sure I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but everything we discussed is confidential and not to be told to anyone else. This is an active investigation,” he warned me, but I thought there was a note of warmth in his voice.
The apothecary door opened. We both turned to see who had come in. My fake boyfriend, Tristan, stood in the doorway with a concerned look on his face. “I came to see how you were, Hazel. I heard about…” He cleared his throat and inclined his head towards the detective. “Sorry if I’m intruding.”
“Not at all. I was just asking Hazel some follow up questions. I must be returning to the investigation,” Sean said, in a far more brusque manner than he had when he’d spoken to me just moments before. I was starting to think that the detective might be warming to me as a confidant. I only hoped I wouldn’t betray that trust.
Tristan watched Detective Admiral walk out the door before he turned to me. “I heard all about what happened. Is it true that a wild animal broke into the Hex and Regal family’s house and took Helen?”
“How do you know what happened? The police have barely arrived at the scene,” I said and then bit my tongue. The bakery was a focal point for gossip. It was no wonder that the owner knew. I only hoped that no one assumed I was the one who’d told and possibly compromised an investigation. I wondered who had loose lips and landed on a likely suspect…
