I looked over the heads of the raucous crowd, looking for my competent assistant. Suddenly, I spied her, just past the shoulders of Violet Mulberry and Verdantia Eyebright. I subtly shielded my eyes from the intense glow that haloed around Verdantia. The flaxen-haired, greengrocer already radiated a powerful, beatific aura. Members of The Fae usually did. But, ever since Portia Fearwyn had helped me whip up that little ointment to grant me The Sight? Back when Amber Crystal had popped into our little burg and wreaked magical havoc by way of killing Spithilda Roach?
Yeah. Now, it was like the Fourth of July in my eyeballs whenever I came across any living being that hailed from Mag Mell, that parallel world that was home to fairies, brownies, elves, and many other species of mischievous Fae.
And the other thing? Most Fae weren't particularly enthused to be readily identified by mere mortals. They kind of thrived on their ability to deceive humanity. Fairy glamours. Changelings. Mischievous pranks. These glamours and tricks couldn't work if the fairy-kind could be spotted. Consequently, countless stories existed that told of humans blinded by The Fae, if the latter believed they had come upon their “gift” by unlawful means.
Those gifts included recipes found in old grimoires inherited from your grandmother. Even if the person cooking up the recipe was someone as formidable as Portia Fearwyn. See? She might be an intimidating old hag, but Portia has certainly been worth her weight in gold with the periodic help she has given me. I looked at Verdantia again and winced. She was wa-a-a-y too bright. My eyes were streaming from the glare.
The naturally beautiful greengrocer was friendly enough, and not likely to poke my peepers out with an elderberry branch, but I had no interest in tempting fate.
“Obscura,” I whispered, passing my hand over my eyes. The spell, pulled reluctantly from memory, would act like a pair of magical sunglasses to dim Verdantia’s aura somewhat.
Bast, I'd lost sight of Millie again. Craning my neck, I spotted my Dubble-Bubble employee chatting animatedly with Reuben Thornheart, the shy, new delivery boy at the Glessie Gazette. Though he was able to nail your front porch with an expert flick of his wrist, Reuben was a front page disaster when it came to communicating with people. I wasn’t quite sure which was pinker – Millie’s hair or the flush in Reuben’s cheeks as he toed the floor in front of him, his eyes downcast in unabashed shyness.
I chuckled gently, and immediately I could have sworn I heard a muffled giggle coming from my handbag. I shook my head. It looked like someone besides the Sugar Dunes Least Terns needed some saving. I shouldered my way through the crowd to give the poor kid a hand. Maneuvering through the bodies was a tight squeeze, but I’ll admit, it warmed the cockles of my heart that so many of Glessie Isle’s citizens were this concerned about our environment and the plight of the endangered Least Tern and its habitat.
“Good riddance, if you ask me!” Violet Mulberry practically spat on the polished, honey-oak floor. Verdantia Eyebright did a subconscious little sidestep.
Okay. Maybe not everybody.
The hairdresser’s virulent outburst derailed me from my intended trajectory. Poor Reuben would have to wait.
“Oh, Violet! You can’t mean that!” I interjected, against Grammy Chimera’s sage advice on interrupting other folk’s conversations.
Don’t let your food get cold while you’re worrying about what’s on someone else’s plate.
Grammy’s familiar warning drifted through my mind. Sometimes it truly was like she was still with me.
And, sometimes, stupidly, I still failed miserably to heed her advice.
“You know this airstrip would endanger the terns and their habitat!” I pressed on.
Violet gave me a few vapid blinks. “What are you talking about Hattie? Endangering the terns? I was talking about risking the good reputations of esteemed stylists, such as yours truly!”
She held a dramatic backward palm to her forehead and sighed with great huffy effect.
This time, the snicker from my handbag was unmistakable. “Forget Bruce Willis. The Oscar goes to…”
I nearly yelped in surprise as Shade edged a nosey nose over the top of the bag. I knew I had heard something!
“Shade!” I shoved his head down amongst the tissues, and dog-eared romance novels and took several cautious steps to the corner. I leaned in to whisper tersely. “What are you doing in my purse?”
“At the mew-ment? Mmmph! Trying to get comfortable, but it ain't happening! Seriously though, boss. I needed a little Shawty downtime. Miss. Poof might have misinterpreted my gentlemanly side when I helped a particular Calico cutie cross the street.” He nudged a furry paw across a fresh scratch to the side of his nose and shrugged. “Dames.”
I rolled my eyes. Shade was trying to turn over a new leaf when it came to his social life, but if you think it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks? Try showing a cat!
“Well, just keep it quiet, will ya? Animals are not allowed anywhere near Town Hall! You know that. Not since Dilwyn Werelamb’s phoenix nearly burned the whole place down.”
Shade cocked his furry, black head. “During the blue ribbon judging at the town fair?”
I nodded. “During the blue ribbon judging at the town fair. When the phoenix went up in flames? Do you remember how many Unawakened minds had to be wiped that day?”
“Are you kidding? Poor Eclipse had to take a week’s vacation just to recover! But, snigger,” Shade chuckled. “When Mayor Fog’s toupee caught fire, and he stuck his head in Verdantia’s pickle barrel? He smelled like a kosher dill for a month! It was incredibly a-MEW-sing!”
“A-mew-sing or not, I don’t want to pay a fine, so zip it, Chuckles.” With that, I pushed my mischievous kitty's head back into the bag, and casually strolled back to Violet and Verdantia, a firm grip keeping the top of my purse closed. I offered the ladies a weak smile and shrugged. Acting as if it was perfectly reasonable to hold a conversation in a quiet corner with one’s accessories.
“I just realized my handbag clashed with my shoes,” I offered by way of an explanation. “What’s a gal to do?”
Violet's eyes darted from my footwear and rested, not on my handbag, but, instead, my hair. She sniffed the air in unguarded disdain at what she believed to be a travesty of style. I ignored her glare.
“Now, what were you saying, Violet? I’m not sure I understand. How can endangered birds ruffle the reputation of a hairstylist?”
“Well, there was that period in the eighties with Flock of Seagulls,” my purse mumbled. I gave it a solid whack.
“Mmmph!”
Verdantia chuckled, but if Violet was aware of Shade’s disembodied remark, she passed up an opportunity to comment and leaped, instead, on the chance to talk about her favorite subject; hair.
“It’s that dreadful Millicent Pond!” Violet moaned. “It’s bad enough she chopped her hair to bits, but did she have to sport such a deplorable dye job? That green! My gracious, she looked like a walking head of broccoli! I certainly didn’t want any of my clients thinking that I was responsible for such an atrocious style! Thank heavens she won’t be railing at the cameras in anymore televised protests. You know those things are broadcast Isles-wide.”
“Wait, Millicent’s emerald hair isn’t from your color line at the salon?” I only questioned her to be polite. To show an interest, as it were.
“Goddess, no!” Violet was appalled at my inference. “Before this green mess, I had treated her to a most fantabulous shade of ‘Limpid Lagoon.’ Which was beautiful. It caught the light just as a rock pool would. I can’t imagine what made her over-color that with her current vomitus shade.” Violet looked like she might faint.
If good news traveled fast, it appeared that bad news traveled at the speed of light. Apparently, reports of Millicent’s death had already reached the ears of Cathedral’s neighboring isles. On second thought, with her sister living in Chalice, now that I think about it, Violet was probably one of the first to know.
“Did Millicent say
anything when you gave her her last color treatment?” I pressed. “Anything out of the ordinary?” I highly doubted that Ms. Pond would share any pertinent info with our overly dramatic stylist, but I had to ask.
“No, nothing that I can remember.” Violet mused. “She had some maps with her.” She scratched her chin in thought.
“Maps?”
“Oh, they weren’t real maps. They were fairy-tale maps. Completely childlike in their rendering. Millicent’s new hobby.” Violet looked satisfied that she knew something of the late Lady Pond.
My shoulders slumped. I was hoping for more than just learning about the eco-warrior’s penchant for arts and crafts.
“Violet,” Verdantia’s voice tinkled like the clear peal of a wind chime; the melodic voice of reason. “Going back to your frustration about Millicent’s current hair-do. I’m sure she chose that color to demonstrate her affinity for nature. She was such a strong advocate for environmental causes and rights of the underprivileged. Like those poor, overworked Rock Grumlins.”
“You're telling me you can't fight for the rights of others and have style at the same time?" Violet harumphed. "That green thatch on our Lady Pond's head just so happened to be from the Florid Lights range. EVERYONE on the Coven Isles knows I carry that line of colors. They'll think I was the one responsible for that hot Shamrock mess!" She folded her arms tightly across her chest, but her strident voice became more of a whisper. “Maybe if she’d come to see me about her hair, she’d have made more headway. I'd have prettied up the package a bit. More flies with honey. And speaking of honey's.”
Violet’s voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper. “I hear Ravena Valley is making a grand spectacle. Grieving over the loss of her green-haired lover, and all.”
“Ravena Valley?” I questioned. “Who is that?”
Violet’s eyes lit up. If there was one thing she liked more than hair, it was gossip.
“Only one of the most prominent scientific minds in the entire Coven Isles… and Millicent’s life partner. I could have sworn she was around here somewhere. Anyway, I suppose it was a natural match. An environmental activist and a brilliant eco-scientist. Although, I hear there was trouble in paradise.”
You’d think someone with eight cats would remember the old adage. But, curiosity got the better of me.
“What kind of trouble?” I asked, interest piqued to almost gossip-loving levels.
“Rumor has it that while the conservative Ravena agreed with Millicent on principle for most of her crusades, she didn’t always agree with her partner’s methods. Like going skyclad to protest Cathedral’s treatment of the Rock Grumlins?”
“Millicent? Naked as a jaybird? Yikes! Talk about needing an Oblivascatur spell!” Shade mumbled. I nudged my bag, yet again.
Violet gave a snort and continued. “Millicent argued the sheer shock value drew needed attention to whatever cause she was currently championing. ‘The Naked Truth’ she called it. Only last week she flaunted that truth down Main Street in Chalice on a busy Saturday morning. Anyway, I hear Ravena broke things off with Millicent because of that particular campaign. It’s not stopping Ravena from calling for Governor Shields’ head on a platter, though.”
“Governor Shields?” I straightened my shoulders a bit and subconsciously smoothed out my hair. “Why is she going after him?”
“Well, you heard how Millicent died, right?” Violet murmured.
The vivid memory of Millicent’s charred remains lying, smoking, on the beach rippled a cold shiver through me. It was a painful sight to forget. But, I didn’t think Maude Dulgrey, the medical examiner, had released an official cause of death. Violet, however, seemed to have a definitive idea of Millicent’s deadly dispatch.
“She was struck by lightning,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And Ravena is insisting that it’s Gideon Shields’ fault. Says the government in Chalice should have had Crystal Beach posted as a hazard.”
“But, it is posted,” I replied.
“As a swimming hazard. But, Ravena’s insisting that the prolific remnants of black diamond deposits make Crystal Beach a lightning magnet and dangerous for anyone who goes walking on it when a storm is nearby.”
I pursed my lips. There was a storm brewing in the distance when her body was found. And, I had been on that beach, too. And so had David…and Gideon.
Another shiver coursed through me.
“If you ask me, it’s another argument in favor of mining all the black diamond from that blasted isle. If BD really is an electric conductor, then Cathedral isn't exactly a safe place to live. Prone to the storms where the Mages meets the Crystal, whipped up by the Crow Vortices?" She clucked, referring to the where the two seas of the Coven Isles clashed against one another, and to the unstable weather environments surrounding Crow, further North of Cathedral. We all fell silent, but just then the front door to the packed building swung open. Gideon Shields strode elegantly into Town Hall, a stunningly striking woman on his arm.
Speaking of dangerous attraction…
Violet’s voice tapered off. Her jaw fell slack. In fact, a quiet wave of hush rolled through the whole of Town Hall, as the entire crowd abandoned their excited babblings to appraise the utterly beautiful couple that breezed into the packed chambers.
The woman stood near to six feet. Her long, hair waterfalled in a shimmering blue-black swath over her alabaster shoulders and down her back. The simple, yet remarkably elegant cobalt dress she wore clung suggestively to a distinctly feminine figure, curving seductively in all the right places, and pooled nearly to the floor. But, the shapely, prominently toned muscles that flexed as she moved hinted at a subtle strength that quite possibly could have rivaled almost half of the men in the room.
And the way half the men ogled her? She might have need of it. She may as well have been on the menu at Napoleon Bone-Apart’s, Gless Inlet’s local rib joint. I was hard pressed to blame them. Her face? A sculptor’s dream. A perfect visage chiseled from exquisite marble. But, the stoic expression on her face was equally as cold as the smooth rock. Her almond-shaped eyes were brimming with blue ice. The statuesque muses lips were pressed together in unsmiling reticence. Her high cheekbones?
Sharp enough to cut.
Her chilly features still didn’t stop every creature of the male persuasion from staring, slack-jawed, in unabashed awe at her inarguable beauty. I might have readily expected a few disapproving slaps on the head for the ogling gents in the room from their significant others. Except, the ladies were otherwise occupied, soaking up calories from their own eye candy. The Eye candy that was supposed to be taking me out on a dinner date. Not sashaying into a Town Hall meeting with a Miss Universe contestant on his arm. An exasperated, air-filled sigh motor-boated my lips.
Gideon Shields was every bit as handsome as I had remembered from our first meeting over Millicent’s dead body.
Crispy, dead body.
I winced. Maybe I really should start reconsidering just where I dipped my toe into the dating pool. Could have a lot to do with my floundering romantic life. Though, I suppose if I were going to drown, there weren’t many guys as handsome as the governor of Cathedral Isle available to give me mouth-to-mouth.
He held out eager hands, warm ones if memory served, and cheerily pumped the arms of the men in the crowd. His caramel locks sprung buoyantly around his head like a golden halo as they caught the warm light from the nautical-themed lantern fixtures that matched the antique maritime maps on the walls of the building. His amber eyes twinkled merrily as he grinned easily through the throng, headed toward Under-Mayor Grimsbane and the podium.
“Sigh,” Violet gushed. “That man is pure poetry in motion.”
While I nodded in agreement, I was more than a bit confused. “Yes, but what is he doing here?”
“How about I go find out?” Shade purred, nosing up again over the edge of my purse and hitting the floorboards with a quiet thud before I could stop him.
“No! Shade!” I whisper-hissed
after him, but he was already a jet black streak weaving through the feet of the crowd.
I took a fast step toward my meddling mouser, only to find David Trew blocking my path.
“Hattie,” CPI Trew began, his voice husky and breathless. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t just a touch over sexy. “I need you.”
My heart skipped about five beats. Even Violet swooned a little.
I’ve always said David underestimates his own appeal. And that new, sexy little shock of white through his hair? Well, it dialed up the yummy notch to the point where, now, other ladies besides me were starting to sit up and take notice.
David was still remarkably obtuse when it came to translating the subtleties of the opposite sex, though. In fact, maybe if he’d made more than the smattering of vague romantic overtures toward me in the past five years, I might not have even glanced at Gideon Shields. No matter how handsome the governor of Cathedral might be.
Verdantia just smiled graciously. She caught Violet by her elbows and set her to rights, directing the starry-eyed beautician towards the other side of the room.
“Violet and I will take our leave, now, Hattie. It really was a shame to hear about poor Millicent, no matter how brash she may have been. Perhaps if she had been more careful, she’d still be around. It’s a funny little thing. She, of all people, had such a healthy respect for the…power of nature. Lightning. Tsk. Such a shame. I do hope you get to the bottom of things. Well, a pleasure as always, Chief Trew.”
As the fairy grocer wafted away with Violet in tow, my brow twisted in a curious little knot. “The bottom of things? What do you suppose that means?”
“That Verdantia knows a bit more than she’s letting on,” David offered. “And, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, Ha….”
The Black Diamond Curse (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 4) Page 5
