by Gina LaManna
Zin shrugged as if the two were interchangeable, but she seemed mildly appeased. “Well, with this stupid article, all of the Ranger and trainee schedules are being eaten up by bogus calls and paranoid people. Our free time is zilch for personal cases.”
Chills went down my spine. “Things are that bad?”
Zin raised a hand to her forehead. “You really didn’t do anything, huh?”
I shook my head. “I did know about the article—I have it here, in fact. I planned to publish it according to Peter’s wishes.”
“What do you think about its contents?”
I sat at the table, my hands encircling the Caffeine Cup as I passed the other to Gus. Zin stepped further into the room and plunked herself down opposite me.
“I think,” I began slowly, “that there are valid points to it, but—”
“It’s a fear-mongering piece of fiction that’s meant to terrify the islanders,” Zin said, poison in her voice. “We need people to stay calm. Not rise up in a panic.”
“It’s not fiction,” I corrected. “Not all of it. There’s danger in our world, and The Faction...” I trailed off. She was nearly a full-fledged Ranger. She knew the dangers. “I agree the timing was unfortunate, and the panic is certainly distracting.”
“I have one assignment left.” Zin’s voice turned into a thin, pained line. “My time is planned out for the next three days following up on calls about Peeping Toms and evil spells that don’t exist. I’ll spend all my time assuaging concerns about nothing, and my assignment will fall behind.”
“Ranger X will understand—this is part of your job, too. Surely he knows that and won’t hold back your initiation because you’ve been swamped.”
“I’m bound to complete this assignment. Magically,” Zin explained, shifting uneasily in her seat. “Not to mention, it’s important.”
The slight waver in her voice drew my attention. “What is it, Zin?”
“I can’t say, but I need to take care of it. I need to, Lily, for us.”
She seemed to be trying to tell me something with her gaze, but I couldn’t read her mind. Gus cleared his throat, warning us of his presence. Anything Zin said, he could hear too, and his meaning was clear: She shouldn’t get herself in trouble by spilling confidential information.
“I should be going.” Zin stood and gave me the slightest smile. “Sorry I barged in here, Lily, Gus.”
“Zin, wait. Can I ask a favor of you?”
“What is it?”
“I am the only person who had a copy of Peter’s article,” I said, my voice low and layered with meaning. “I didn’t publish it.”
The light flickered on behind Zin’s eyes. “Where’d you keep it stored?”
“My bedroom. I swear to you, I didn’t show anyone else.”
“I’ll look into it,” Zin assured me, battling back the uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for it. I’ll ask a few questions at the Wicked Weekly—someone will know.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “There has to be a logical explanation.”
“In the meantime,” Zin moved toward the door but stopped with a hand on the knob. “Stay alert, Lily.”
After Zin left, I turned to Gus. “That last part, the bit about staying alert—that wasn’t about the article. Do you think it had something to do with her assignment?”
Gus frowned. “She’s worried about something.”
“You think?” My sarcasm came on strong. “What did Ranger X assign to her?”
“If you want my opinion, you’ve got enough to worry about on your own. These Mixes ain’t gonna make themselves, and you’ve got a line of customers waiting already.”
I hadn’t heard the gathering at the bar outside, but sure enough, no less than seven folks were waiting for my attention.
“Those orders?” I pointed to the paper where Gus was listing out the ingredients we’d need to stock the shop. “Triple it.”
Chapter 2
I SPENT WHAT WAS LEFT of the morning, as well as the afternoon and early evening, slinging what Security Spells I had available over the counter. I took backorders for the rest, including a week’s worth of Long Isle Iced Tea. It’d take me forever to get ahead with how fast the vials were flying from the shelves.
I finally had to put up a sign that declared a handful of spells out of stock and unorderable until further notice. That didn’t do me any favors with the already antsy crowd.
I hadn’t seen X all day, nor had Zin returned. I figured they were busy, as we all were. Gus barely moved from the storeroom, hawking orders to suppliers and shuffling around the room with the vigor of someone half his age.
By the time the moon inched onto the horizon and the waters around the island grew dark, my feet ached and my head pounded. Formulas for potions flitted randomly through my head, as if my brain had short circuited and all I could process were bits of ingredients here and there.
A pinch of thyme, a teaspoon of salt. Brew until bubbling. Cool until calm. Add Dust of the Devil—strain out the bits of pineapple pulp.
Finally, the closed sign appeared out front, and with a sigh of relief, I eased onto a chair behind the bar and let my shoulders slump forward. The six—seven?—Caffeine Cups had helped me through the rush, and now I was feeling the crash. Hard.
My eyes drooped, and I was just on the verge of either sleep or tears—hard to tell which—when footsteps sounded behind me.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” I called. “We open at ten tomorrow.”
“It’s me,” a soft, clipped voice said. “Sorry to bother you, Lily, but I thought...”
As the voice faded away, I looked up to find my aunt Trinket, Zin’s mother, inching toward me. She wore her usual smart clothes—a long, neat skirt with a white shirt and a sensible cardigan over her shoulders—but the look on her face was different. Softer around the edges, save for her eyes. Her gaze burned with intensity that would lead us to yet another argument.
“We’re out of it,” I told Trinket. “I’m sorry, but we’ve already discussed your wishes. My answer is still no—it’s simply too dangerous to continue.”
“Please, Lily, just once more.” Her bony fingers gripped my arm. “You must have faith. She’s trying to tell us something.”
I let her squeeze me, the slight pain in her grip a welcome jolt back to reality from my exhausting day at the counter. “I’ve already made my decision; I will not help you with this any longer.”
“She needs you!” Trinket’s voice grew shrill as she pleaded, until Gus peeked through the door to see who we had for company. “She needs you to help her.”
I shook my head at Gus, who thankfully eased back into the storeroom before Trinket could see him.
“Even if I wanted to take Long Isle Iced Tea again, I don’t have any, and I won’t for a few days at the very least. It’s been selling off the shelves,” I said, gesturing to the sign that declared Long Isle Iced Tea out of stock and unorderable. “I’ve never had so many backorders for one potion.”
“Surely you have some in your reserves.”
I turned, finally easing myself out of Trinket’s vice-like grip, and shook my head. “Nothing I will use for your purposes.”
Her eyes went dark, something like bloodlust appearing there. “Lily, you don’t understand—”
“I do understand,” I corrected her. “I’m simply telling you no.”
When Trinket and Mimsey had first presented me with the matching half to the necklace I’d worn since my birth, they’d explained the charm was a form of protection. It had come straight from the Order of the Heart, as started by the goddess Hecate herself. The inscription inside read Follow the Heart, though I’d never known its meaning until my aunts snapped the matching half in place. The heart had warmed and glowed, proving I belonged in the supernatural world.
I hadn’t thought much about the necklace during my time on The Isle—not until I’d returned from Wishery. However, on the night of Poppy’s birthday
party, the necklace had glowed in an entirely new way—bright blue, scathing hot to the touch. Since then, it hadn’t been the same. It’d flickered here and there, warmed for unknown reasons, as if something had upset it.
That had also been the night I’d taken Long Isle Iced Tea and turned into my mother for the first time. I couldn’t believe that was a coincidence. The potion had transformed me into a mere illusion of her, yet one that had disturbed Trinket. The potion had been created as a simple party trick, not a way to interact with the deceased, yet Trinket seemed to think otherwise.
Once Trinket had caught a glimpse of her dead sister, she’d craved more. Her eyes grew darker, wilder every time she asked for my assistance in seeing her again. At first, I’d agreed. I’d taken the potion once or twice more at her insistence, but eventually, I’d had to stop—for Trinket’s sake. The wait times in between incidents had grown shorter, and the thought of seeing her sister again had begun to drive Trinket mad.
“Trinket—go home to your children,” I told her. “Is Zin with them?”
She nodded. “I know you have a way to bring her back to me.”
“She’s gone, and we cannot bring her back. This is becoming unhealthy. Not to mention, it doesn’t work,” I explained, straining for patience. We’d had this conversation nearly a hundred times over the past few weeks. “Overuse of the potion is dangerous. I won’t risk it for either of us.”
Trinket eased back, her hands retreating to her sides. “You don’t want to see her? You don’t want to know what happened to her?”
“She’s my mother!” I stood, the stress, the anger, getting the better of me. “Of course I want to know what happened to her, but that doesn’t mean we can bring her back. She’s gone—we can’t let our lives go to waste looking for a figment of our imagination. It was me underneath that potion, not her, and I’m sorry I can’t change that.”
Trinket seemed startled back to reality, which made her next whispery phrase all the more potent. “Your necklace glowing on the beach—that wasn’t an illusion. We both saw it. We both watched it turn to light. I’m sure you felt it.”
“She’s not coming back,” I murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Trinket turned on her heel, having the sense of mind to look ashamed, and stumbled toward the exit. Pausing on the edge of light and dark, her face half shadowed as she looked to me, she appeared ready to say something.
However, the words never made it out. Her eyes grew in size as she stared at my neck with such intensity it gave me a start. I was so distracted by Trinket that I didn’t feel the warmth until I glanced down and saw the heart around my neck gleaming a bright, crystalline shade of blue.
“I knew it,” Trinket whispered. “You must listen, Lily.”
“It’s nothing.” I clasped the locket, warm to the touch, and tucked it inside my shirt. “It does that on occasion. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“How long has it been doing this? Did it happen before that night, before you changed into her?”
I didn’t answer. There wasn’t an answer that would banish Trinket’s theory back to where it belonged—out of sight and out of mind.
Trinket stumbled toward me, her feet clumsy and her hands clammy as they found mine. She’d crossed the room in seconds. Still holding me, she collapsed to her knees, her voice raspy. “You must, Lily, please!”
“No! She’s gone, Trinket!”
Trinket clasped tighter. Her chest heaved with rasps and her eyes sparked with desperation. “My sister—it’s my fault, I should have told someone about Lucian...”
“It’s not your fault.” I struggled to pull my aunt’s hands from my body, but her sheer will was enough to overpower me. “Trinket, you’re hurting me.”
At this, she retracted her hands as if licked by flames. She stood, her gaze unseeing as she stared, alarmed and distracted. Her lip trembled, but no tears fell.
“Why?” I managed. “Why is this so important to you? Nothing is going to bring her back.”
“She was murdered.” Trinket’s whole body trembled this time, on the verge of convulsing. “You know as well as I do that it wasn’t a mugging gone wrong. Your mother was a powerful witch—her death was no accident.”
“Trinket, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back away.” Gus appeared livid at the door. “That’s your niece you’re bruising. Get off her.”
I hadn’t realized it, but Trinket had reached for me, her nails like talons digging into my arm and leaving red indentions on my skin. I could see them as I ran a hand over the locket, which had since returned to its normal shade and temperature. There’d be bruises tomorrow, almost certainly.
“You know I’m right,” Trinket whispered on the verge of a hiss. “You feel it, too.”
Before I could respond, Trinket turned, hobbled toward the darkness, then fled into it.
When I recovered from my surprise, I could hear my breath rasping double time.
“Don’t say a word about this,” I told Gus. “To anyone.”
“She’s not well. Mimsey or Hettie need to know.”
“This is not their business,” I said, still rattled from the encounter. “Not yet.”
“She all but attacked you.”
“This is between Trinket and me,” I said with finality. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Gus.”
As I trudged upstairs, I grudgingly acknowledged my appreciation for the soft clattering of vials and beakers downstairs. Chairs scraped against the floor and thunks of the cane signaled Gus’s continued labors into the night. Mimsey might be upset at his long hours, but I couldn’t bear to send him home; I needed the company. Even distant company.
I showered, soaping gently over the fingernail marks from Trinket which stung just a bit where she’d broken skin. I left the locket on, even as the water burned over my shoulders. Something pulled me to leave it across my collar, to never undo the clasp my aunts had fastened behind my neck on that first day so long ago—back in the bar where I’d learned of my destiny as a witch and had begun the rest of my life.
History quickly played out in the back of my mind as I washed my hair, then quicker still as the timeline in my memories grew nearer the present. Eventually, I flicked the water off and stepped into the steamy room, wrapping the towel around my body.
As I selected a soft nightgown from my self-populating closet and curled into bed, I couldn’t seem to disconnect the memory reel. Trinket’s bottomless gaze haunted me and each thought of X sent my stomach winding in knots. I’d give anything for him to be here next to me, but I knew that was impossible. Judging by his silence today and Zin’s concern, the Rangers were swamped. He’d probably work through the night.
Which reminded me of the article. Rolling over, I pulled open my drawer and scanned the dirty scrap of paper I’d tucked underneath my socks. How could someone possibly have gotten at this note without my knowing? I’d kept it a secret from very nearly everyone. I hadn’t felt the need to lock the article in the safe because nobody knew of it in the first place.
Correction: I’d thought nobody had known about it. I’d also thought nobody had cared enough to steal it. I’d been wrong on both counts, and not only had it hurt the island as a whole, it’d hurt me on a personal level. Very personal. My relationship with X was already in new territory, what with the balancing act between marriage and love and life together. We didn’t need the additional tension, not now.
With a rush of frustration, I slammed the drawer shut and flopped back into bed. No use protecting the article now that it was out there for all to read. My thoughts on the matter flipped back to Zin, and I wondered if she’d have any luck uncovering the identity of the thief with her inquiry into Wicked Weekly headquarters.
That’s if she had time to follow up on my worries while dealing with the article’s fallout and her latest assignment—one I was dying to be let in on, though I wouldn’t hold my breath. Like everyone else, she had her own crosses to bear.
Which
left me with the biggest outstanding question of all: When would Liam return with news?
As I fell asleep, I felt as if the storm was closing in on me. I might be in the eye of it now, the deceptive calm, the swirling mess of hot and cold fronts that left me frustrated and anxious, but it wouldn’t last forever. I ached with the anticipation of it all, knowing the pressure was building, squeezing, tightening the noose.
Sooner or later, the storm would break.
When it did, I would be ready.
Chapter 3
WOMAN’S KNICKERS IN A TWIST
...over stolen laundry.
Late yesterday evening/early this morning, Betty Baumgarten’s bottoms were swiped right off the clothesline in a surprising twist of events. Betty, who’s been living on this island for sixty-four years, has never seen anything like it. All of her clothes—poof!—gone.
“It’s unfortunate, really,” she says in an exclusive quote to Wicked Weekly reporter Dawn Dingum. “I stitched that dress out of my husband’s old shirts. I’d really like it back. The undies—those, they can keep. I was buying new ones for my birthday anyway.”
There are no leads to the theft of Betty’s bottoms at the time of printing.
ALL TOMATOES STOLEN FROM SUPERMARKET IN ROTTEN DEVELOPMENT...
In another random event early this morning, all of the tomatoes—every last cherry tomato—was taken from Magic Market. The store’s produce section was wiped clean, and as of publication, there are no leads as to who needs a supermarket’s worth of the vegetable.
With any leads, please get in touch with Wicked Weekly reporter Lulu Beluga.
BUBBLE, BUBBLE, TOIL AND TROUBLE...
Someone has dumped gallons of dish soap onto the Lower Bridge. As of publication, efforts to remove the coating of soap across the bridge have been unsuccessful, as each washing only irritates the sudsing and brings more bubbles to the surface. Please avoid using the Lower Bridge until mid-morning when it will be cleared by Magical Maintenance.
