by Zoe Arden
She whipped her head around. Her gray bun stayed tightly in place, and I wondered how much hairspray she used or if it was some sort of spell.
"If I were you," she paused near Melbourne, "I'd start by questioning people. Starting with this creature. It was a full moon last night. The undead are particularly ravenous at that time."
Melbourne stood up. "Are you saying I killed Pennyweather?"
"If the tooth fits..." she huffed and walked out, leaving Melbourne and the rest of us staring after her.
"She's horrible," I whispered to Eleanor.
"She's also the head of the Witch's Council," Eleanor said. "If possible, it's best to stay on her good side. Too bad it's not possible."
Sheriff Knoxx set down the stapler he'd been holding. It was completely misshapen now and looked more like a hockey puck than a piece of office equipment. Sheriff Knoxx must be stronger than I’d realized.
"Sheriff," I said, deciding to be blunt. "Margaret is a dim-witch, but she's right about one thing. We need to be questioning people. Have you talked to Anastasia yet? About her following me?"
Only it wasn't just me anymore. It seemed like Anastasia was following my whole family.
"Yes, I talked to her."
"And?"
"And nothing. Anastasia doesn't know where Lucy is. And she said she's not following you. Or anyone," he added, anticipating my next question.
I expelled the air I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"But I've seen her at Whisper Crossing, outside the bakery, and even the library."
Melbourne let out a loud sob at the mention of the library.
"I'm sorry," Sheriff Knoxx said, trying to step around me to get to Melbourne.
"Sheriff, you may not realize this, but Anastasia gave Megan a book on hexes and how to use them."
"I know," he snapped. "Your aunt told me."
I shot a look to Eleanor, who kept her gaze steady. I didn't know why I was mad. Of course she'd told him about Megan. He was the sheriff. She probably would've told him even if they hadn't been dating.
"Look, if you're so eager to ask Anastasia some questions, why don't you ask her yourself?"
He finally got around me and made his way to Melbourne. Trixie was sitting in a chair near my father, who had fallen silent. His eyelids drooped shut.
How can he sleep through this? Sheriff Knoxx and I weren't exactly trying to keep our voices down. Even Trixie seemed out of it.
Fine. Maybe Sheriff Knoxx is right.
"If you want something done right," I muttered to myself as I pushed the exit door open, "you've got to do it yourself."
I was less than ten minutes away from Anastasia's place. One way or another, I'd get some answers.
* * *
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
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"Good afternoon," Anastasia said, welcoming me to The Alchemic Stone. Her smile dropped away when she looked up and realized it was me. "Oh. Ava."
Now that I was here, I didn't know what to say. Doubt gurgled in my stomach.
I wasn't imagining things, was I?
My dad liked to say that I'd seen one too many detective movies and was always finding clues in things that weren't really clues. One winter, when I was twelve, I'd informed my father that our landlady in New York was having an affair with the mailman. He'd asked me how I knew that. I'd replied that when the mailman had entered Mrs. Soffey's apartment one day, he was wearing one set of shoes. When he'd left, he was wearing a completely different set.
My father had laughed and told me I was imagining things. Until that night, when Mr. Soffey got home and wanted to know where his shoes were. Then all kinds of craziness had broken out. The next thing we knew, there was a blender-sized hole in our door. Apparently, Mrs. Soffey had been aiming the blender at her husband and missed.
I squared my shoulders.
"Hi, Anastasia." I gripped the bottom of my shirt, balling it up in my fist to hide my nerves. "I've got a few questions I'd like to ask, if you don't mind."
There. Professional yet polite.
Anastasia's eyes narrowed.
"Questions? What sorts of questions?"
"Nothing that should bother you unless you're guilty of kidnapping," I said. That sounded a bit less professional.
"If you're talking about Lucy Lockwood," she said, her mouth going thin, "then I have nothing to say."
"Because you don't want to incriminate yourself?"
"Because I don't know anything!" Anastasia snapped. Her shoulders hunched and for a moment she looked sad and broken. Not at all like the sure-footed woman who'd been following me. Or, at least, who I'd thought was following me.
"Will this persecution never end?" Anastasia asked, her voice heavy. She wasn't looking at me anymore; she was staring at the floor. "My daughter is serving time in Wormwood. Not me."
I didn't know whether Anastasia was being dramatic or if I'd overstepped some invisible line. I didn't want to hurt her; I just wanted the truth.
"Polly's magic has been stripped from her forever," Anastasia continued. "When she gets out, she won't even be able to make water freeze."
"I don't see what this has to do with anything."
"Don't you? I faced the inquisition at the Council on Magic and Human Affairs. I lost my powers for six months. I paid my dues. All I ever did was try to protect my daughter. Yet all anyone sees is a criminal."
"Anastasia, I'm... I'm sorry." Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't just asking her questions. I was making accusations. She was right. I was unfairly assigning blame to her because of her past. Because I knew that she had lied once. Still... it wasn't my imagination. Anastasia had been following me. Hadn't she?
I bit my bottom lip and tapped my foot. "So, you haven't been following me? Or my family?"
"Following you?" She laughed. "Of course not. Why should I?"
"I don't know. That's what I was going to ask you."
"Ava, I promise you. I'm not following anyone."
I frowned. She sounded so convincing.
"What about the hex book you gave to Megan?"
"It wasn't a hex book. It was a gag hex book. They're made to look like real hexes but all they do is stupid stuff. Like make people sprout bunny ears or turn their teeth to corn. And nothing lasts more than twenty-four hours."
I didn't see anything particularly funny about making people sprout bunny ears. If it was some kind of gag book, then it was in poor taste.
"And Whisper Crossing? You told me to go there. To find Lucy."
Her face froze.
"I never said it was to find Lucy," she said, selecting her words carefully.
"Well? Why then? What did you want me to find there if it wasn't Lucy?"
"I... had a vision," she said at last.
"A vision?"
My ears perked up. Even if Anastasia was a liar, she was also an accomplished psychic. Of that, I had no doubt. My aunts told me it was the pixie in her. It aided in her abilities to see things others couldn't. Even witches.
"What kind of vision?"
"I saw something at Whisper Crossing. Something unusual."
"Lucy?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm not entirely sure. It was almost as if whatever it was I saw was trying to block me."
"Block you?" I asked, alarmed. For something to block Anastasia, it would have to be very powerful. "What could do something like that?"
"I'm not entirely sure."
A sudden hum erupted all around us, making my ears hurt. The door to the store had opened and a fierce wind whipped around a young couple who were trying to come inside.
"Ugh!" the woman squealed, her arms flailing in the tornado-like funnel that had formed around her.
The man she was with reached for her but got caught in a funnel of his own.
A moment later, they were both pushed outside the store, as if an unseen force had
rejected them.
"Humans," Anastasia said.
I'd been coming here for so long now that I'd all but forgotten about the protective measures The Alchemic Stone had taken to keep humans out. They had to. When you sold magical stones, gems, plants, and herbs—some of them poisonous—you had to be very careful who you let inside.
Whatever wasn't tied down inside the shop seemed to have gone flying all over the place. Papers and bottles were strewn all over the floor. I bent down to help Anastasia pick things up when something caught my eye. A book lay flat open on the floor. Only it was no ordinary book. I could see long, loopy handwriting covering each page.
I picked it up and flipped to the front.
Property of Polly Peacock.
Oh, my roses. Polly's diary.
I opened to a random page and began to read.
I finally met that new witch everyone's going on about. I don't see what's so special about her. She seems like a dim-witch to me.
"What are you doing?" Anastasia's voice cut across the air. "Give me that!" She snatched the diary out of my hands so fast I dropped all the other things I'd collected. A vial of something pink and liquid crashed to the floor and went flying everywhere.
"I'm sorry," I said.
Anastasia was still holding the diary in her hand. She tossed it on the counter and quickly grabbed a rag.
"That was wildebeest extract! Don't breathe it in or there will be nothing I can do for at least forty-eight hours. You'll have to sleep outside if that happens. Wildebeests are notorious for not being potty-trained."
"Wait, you mean that stuff actually turns you into a wildebeest?"
"Sssh!" Anastasia snapped and took a deep breath before dropping to the ground and cleaning the pink liquid. I held my breath, too, wanting to get out of here before I transformed into some kind of giant... what the heck was a wildebeest anyhow?
Note to self: Find out what a wildebeest is and make sure you do everything possible to avoid becoming one.
The diary was still open on the counter where Anastasia had dropped it. I craned my neck, trying to see what else was in it.
Tomorrow... that evil brat will be unleashed...
Anastasia's hand slammed onto the counter, shutting the book for good. She glared at me and carried the book to a cabinet behind the counter. She unlocked the cabinet with a key she had on a chain around her neck, then locked it back up.
She let out her breath. "You can breathe now. You can also go. Oh, and Ava?"
I wiped away a bead of sweat that had started to trickle down my face during the wildebeest situation.
"If I were you, I'd be careful where you go poking your nose. You're liable to put it in the wrong fire one of these days, and then you'll be scarred forever."
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY
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"Morning," I grumbled, taking a seat around the kitchen table.
Trixie soundlessly poured me a cup of coffee. I drank it even though it was cold. Last night had been bad. I'd dreamed of being chased again. Something dark had been following me through the ocean of black water I'd been treading in. I'd awoken drenched in sweat with only a vague memory of the thing that had been trying to get me.
"Morning," Eleanor mumbled. She didn't sound much more awake than I was. I looked around the kitchen and realized none of us were particularly awake today.
"Didn't anyone sleep last night?" I asked.
"Rocky slept very well," Rocky said, yawning as he rolled over onto his belly.
Eleanor eyed him wearily but gave him a little pat just the same.
"Oh, I'll perk up later," Trixie said.
I looked at her as she poured herself another cup of cold coffee. I did a double take. I'd completely missed what Trixie was wearing this morning. Jeans. And a t-shirt. No bright purple tights or neon green blouses so bright you could see them from space. She looked... normal.
"Did anyone leave anything in my room last night?" my dad suddenly asked.
I looked at my aunts. We all shrugged and shook our heads.
"Like what?" I asked him.
"Nothing important. I just thought that maybe one of you girls had been tidying up in there or something."
I opened my mouth to ask more but Snowball came bounding into the room, the only one bouncing with energy.
"Snowball is here to report," she said, rubbing her head against my ankles. "Anastasia Peacock is in her shop. She has been there all morning, except for two hours when she went to Coffee Cove. She stared at Megan Lockwood and drank much coffee. Snowball found a cookie. Snowball likes cookies now."
She zipped around the room and jumped three feet onto the counter like she was jumping three inches.
"What kind of cookies did you eat, Snowy?"
"Peanut butter and more butter."
I groaned. Whatever she'd eaten, it was making her hyper.
Note to self: keep Snowball away from sugar.
"Why is Snowball giving you reports on Anastasia Peacock?" Eleanor asked.
"Because I asked her to."
Trixie suddenly jumped up from the table. "This coffee is cold!" she cried as if she'd only just discovered it. She pointed her finger at it and muttered an incantation until steam began to come out of the pot.
"I don't trust Anastasia," I told them. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on her."
"Snowball is good at keeping eyes," Snowball said before zipping out into the hallway. She came running back into the kitchen at full speed and slid on the tile, only stopping when she hit the wall. I got up from my chair and picked her up, rubbing her head where she'd bumped it.
Snowy licked my palm.
"Tootsie is with Anastasia now. He will report later."
"Tootsie!" Trixie and Eleanor cried together.
"Do you mean to tell me you've got my familiar involved with this?" Trixie asked.
"Rocky helps, too," Snowball volunteered.
Eleanor glared at me.
"What?" I asked defensively. "Is it really such a terrible idea?"
My aunts frowned but my dad cleared his throat and said, "Couldn't hurt anything." My aunts turned their glare on him now.
"Why does Anastasia have no familiar?" Snowball asked.
"Because she's part pixie," I told her, rubbing her chin as I sat back at the table with her. "Pixies don't have familiars. Only witches and warlocks. It's possible the witch in her might find one someday, but very unlikely."
Snowball seemed satisfied with my answer. She jumped off my lap and curled up next to Rocky, who draped one giant gray paw protectively over her.
"You should come to the bakery with us today," Eleanor said. "You need to get your mind off of everything."
I had to admit, thinking about something other than Lucy and Pennyweather might be nice. Sheriff Knoxx had called last night and confirmed that no one had seen Pennyweather since she left the library the evening before. Her house had been a shambles, just as Melbourne had reported, but there was no sign of foul play. She had simply vanished.
"Maybe I will," I told Eleanor. "Just for a bit, though. I need to try again with the goblins."
"You're not going back there!" Trixie cried.
"I have to. Pennyweather's gone now, too. Who's going to be next?"
Eleanor sighed but said nothing. My father sat silently by.
"You want to come to the bakery, too, Dad?"
"No. Thanks. I think I'll stay here and take a nap."
"If those nightmares bother you again, Eli, you come down to the bakery," Eleanor said. "I'll set up that cot in back for you again."
"Nightmares?" I asked, frowning.
"It's nothing," he said.
Rocky started snoring just then, and we all laughed.
"At least someone's sleeping well," Eleanor said.
I kissed my dad's cheek before leaving and made a mental note
to work on a new dream extract before everyone in my family went crazy from lack of sleep.
The bakery was packed, as usual. The tourists had thinned out over the last couple days but the ones who were still here were hooked on Eleanor's chocolate fudge depression killers. Everyone who ate them walked away happier than they had been in ages. And they all thought it was because they were on some sort of sugar high.
I didn't want to deal with all those people just now, so I sat on my stool in the back and fiddled with a new dream extract. By noon, I thought I'd gotten it, but when my sleep-inducing blueberry cupcakes came out of the oven burned, I had to start over.
"Why isn't this working?" I muttered to myself. I threw everything in the trash and grabbed a fresh vial. I pulled a pinch of Fluffernutter root from a mason jar and added it to the vial. Then a dash of tanzanite powder Eleanor had picked up for me a few months back. I swirled it around until the whole thing turned a dark blue, then poured it into a bowl of strawberry batter.
"Looks okay," I said, watching it closely. The batter went from pink to black to pink again. "Ready for the oven."
I scooped equal portions of the batter out into the muffin tins and set the timer for fifteen minutes. Five minutes later, flames were fighting their way out of the oven and the fire alarm was blasting my eardrums.
"What in the witching world is going on back here?" Eleanor asked, running through the swing door. It swung back a little too hard and slapped Eleanor's butt, sending her sprawling on the ground.
I paused in my battle against the flames to help her up, but that was a mistake. The flames seized their opportunity and flew toward the counter.
"Aaah!" Eleanor screamed. "Retwa connuncublus!" A cloud formed in the ceiling above the oven. It thundered loudly before raining down onto the oven, extinguishing the flames in seconds.
"Goodness," Eleanor said as the cloud disappeared. "That was a close one." She wiped her forehead and gazed around the room. I blushed as she took in the piles of burned brownies and discarded cupcakes. I had a pile of overbaked cookies stacked so high that they almost touched the ceiling.
