by Lauren Quick
“Just some thoughts,” he said. “It’s good. Really good. You’ve got potential.”
“Do you really think so?” Her heart raced and her fingers itched to unroll the parchment and see what he wrote.
“Yep. I wouldn’t have come out here if I didn’t.”
She’d invited him inside. Back in those days her house was not the tidy and cozy place it was now. With her mother gone and her sisters living in different places, Clover had let the place go. Every surface seemed to be covered with scraps of parchment scribbled with notes. Parchment rolls littered the floor, as did mugs of cold tea, laundry, both clean and dirty, and books stacked high and low.
“Nice place you have here,” he said.
“Sorry, I didn’t know I’d have a guest.” She cringed at the state of her home.
“No worries,” he added and sat at the kitchen table, brushing old toast crumbs out of the way before setting down the novel. “How long have you been a word witch?”
“A what?”
“You know. A word witch, a story spinner.” He raised a brow. “It’s kind of obvious from the looks of this place that you get a little lost in your own world when you work. Am I right?”
Something clicked inside her. He was right. Lately all she could do was think about her new idea for a love story, Spellbinders. It had taken over her life piece by piece, like she was living in a dream world. “Is it that bad around here?”
“A little. But nothing that can’t be managed.”
“Not by me. When my mind takes off on the chase of a story line, it’s all I can think about for days at a time. Trust me, it’s not pretty.” She ran her hand through her tangled hair.
“Sounds cool. Your persuasion needs to be nurtured or it will fade. Magic that’s neglected will shrivel and die. You should keep writing, but you might want to get some help around the house, too.”
“Now that’s the truth. How come you know so much about story magic?”
“My parents were into it. They loved stories. My mom wrote plays and my dad was an actor.” There was a small flicker of light in his eyes that quickly died.
“Cool. So you grew up in story worlds.” But she couldn’t get much out of him about them so she changed the subject. “Why don’t you show me your ideas, and I’ll make us some lunch?”
They’d dug into a couple of peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches and talked all afternoon. Within a few weeks they had become fast friends and Derek stayed on as her assistant, leaving his part-time job at the bookstore.
Derek was a great manager, but there was a mystery to him, a past deeply buried. She never pushed him to talk about his parents or his upbringing, their sudden death leaving a hole in him, making it impossible for him to return to his old life. He’d told her moving to the Meadowlands and starting over was the best thing that had happened to him. Working for her gave him direction, a purpose. Her stories connected him to his upbringing. In fact, it was his idea for her to create the alter ego, Cassandra Reason. He said it would be like she was playing a part. She remembered the day and what he said, “If life’s too much for you, then be someone else. That’s what I did.”
She always wondered what part of himself he left behind. He had that look in his eyes tonight—the mysterious young wizard who’d drifted into her life, wounded and raw.
“Are you coming with me tonight to Oliver Yearling’s vigil?” Clover asked, bringing her mind back to the present. She didn’t want to push him.
“No. It’s not my thing.” He shook his head. “I’ve got some stuff I want to get done.”
Clover wandered through the aisles of The Potion Garden, admiring the beautiful potion bottles and equally interesting contents. Laugh Riot and Chocolate Rush were two new potions Clover noticed on the shelf. Her sister had a playful side, and it showed in her magical concoctions. With her arms loaded down with potion bottles, Pepper, Vivi’s assistant, refilled the stock. Her auburn bob was freshly cut and she wore a pair of green-rimmed glasses that framed her bright eyes. She was one of the few witches who knew Clover’s secret identity.
While Clover filled her sister in on all the details of her day, Vivi pulled the cashbox from under the counter, and with a wave of her wand she locked the box filled with the day’s gold count. Her hair was pulled up into a swirling mass on top of her head. Vivi ran the potion shop but her real persuasion was prophecy. The three sisters had made a pact not to ask her to look into their future, but at a time like this, Clover was a little tempted to ask Vivi to tell her anything about what might happen in the days to come.
“Maybe a hint or a vibe?” Clover leaned her hip against the counter. “A tiny clue.”
“The future is like clay. It’s still in progress. It’s pliable. Let it play out. Try this instead. It’s a new potion,” Vivi said and handed her a sparkling green glass bottle. The tag around the bottle’s neck read: Take a breather. “It tastes like a gulp of fresh air.”
Clover took the bottle and lovingly squeezed her sister’s hand. “Thanks. I need it. I just wish I’d been able to do more to find out what really happened to Oliver. The pieces are all scattered. I don’t know whom to focus on.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do tomorrow with the warrant?” Vivi asked.
“I’m going to let the sheriff into my closet and let him poke around my skeletons.” Clover tried to make light of the situation. “I don’t see any choice. I’m no closer to knowing who killed Oliver Yearling, and if I know Juniper, she’ll be at my house bright and early tomorrow morning with the warrant clutched in her fist.”
“Do you want me to be there for moral support?” Vivi gave her a concerned smile.
“Don’t you have to work?”
“Yes, but I’ll take off in a heartbeat. Just say the word. I’m sure Pepper wouldn’t mind opening the shop tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Pepper said, sliding a cardigan over her sundress and waving her wand, extinguishing the illuma lights in the back room.
A weight lifted off her shoulders. “I could use the sisterly support.” Clover snuck behind the counter and gave Vivi a hug. “Have you talked to Lance lately?”
“No, he’s busy with multiple cases and we decided not to talk about the warrant until it was all over. It’s better for our relationship that way.”
“Probably a good idea. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk about when he sees inside my closet. I just hope he keeps his word and keeps quiet.” Clover’s stomach twisted into knots when she thought about tomorrow and all of Everland finding out who she really was.
“Me, too. I’m sure he’ll try.”
Pepper hurried up behind them to get in on the conversation. “Not likely. You know the gossip patrol. Witches always find out.”
“Where’s Derek? I was hoping to see him tonight,” Vivi said as she closed up the shop behind them and activated the security ward.
“He wasn’t feeling up to it. Said he had a few things to do tonight and that he’d see me in the morning. We haven’t been able to work since all this started and he’s going a little stir-crazy.”
“A night off will do him some good,” Vivi said.
Main Street was buzzing with energy. Illuma lights glowed, and the shops were bustling. Nocturnal beings that they were, witches and wizards loved the nighttime hours, and the vigil had brought out the masses, like magical moths to the flame.
Vigils weren’t common. When witches and wizards passed away they were typically burned and their ashes scattered. Burials were rare, unless the Witch Council entombed the body for reverence like they did for the founding witch of Everland, Hazel. Memorials were usually private, arranged and attended by family members. On the contrary, the vigil for Oliver Yearling had been organized by a group of witches in town who were distressed about his murder a
nd wanted to bring the community together. Clover thought it was a good idea, as did many others, indicated by the crowd already gathered around the circle at the end of the street.
A small chorus of witches wearing long black robes sang a soothing song. Witches and wizards held their wands with the tips illuminated, creating a haunting stillness. Through the crowd Clover saw Bradley Adams chatting with Hildie Treetorn under the awning of The Brewery Tavern. Though it seemed pointless now, Clover still wanted to find out why he hated the labyrinth so much. Unfortunately the direct approach wasn’t going to work. Who in the world of witchy gossip could she ask?
Clover glanced at Pepper, catching her eye. “What’s that look for?” Pepper asked as she adjusted her glasses.
“What do you know about Bradley Adams and the labyrinth?”
“Why are you asking me?” The glowing tip of her wand cast a shadow over her face.
“Because you’ve got your finger on the pulse of the witching community. You know things no one else does.” Clover wiggled her eyebrows.
“Are you calling me a gossip?” Pepper’s voice rose with mock astonishment.
“Maybe I am. Would you deny it if I did?”
“No, not one bit. It’s a bad habit, but I can’t help myself. I’m addicted to other witches’ business.”
“Do you know anything about Bradley?” Clover asked with a hot flush to her cheeks. He was extremely cute, not to mention that a single wizard with broad shoulders was really hard to find in the Meadowlands. Having a crush on a murder suspect was a new low and no way was she telling Vivi or Pepper.
Pepper’s lips curled up into a grin. “Not much personally. He’s single. Moved out to the Meadowlands to start his own brewery. He seems like a nice wizard. Is there anything specific about him you want to know that might help me narrow down the details?”
“I was talking to him the other day at the tavern and he mentioned he wanted the labyrinth shut down. He seemed to really hate it. I was wondering why.”
“Not sure, but I know a witch who knows his sister, Noelle. All I know about her is that she hates gardens, plants, and anything growing wild and natural.”
Strange, Clover thought.
“I hope Noelle doesn’t live in the Meadowlands. It’s kind of hard to avoid wildlife out there,” Vivi said, strolling up beside them.
“Nope. She lives in Stargazer City. Let’s go find my friend. She’s sure to have the scoop.”
It didn’t take long for them to find Pepper’s friend, Crystal Crown, reporter for Witch World Daily. The witch got paid handsomely to snoop around and dig up dirt. Clover grabbed Pepper’s arm before they reached their destination.
“Are you kidding me? We can’t talk to her.”
“Why not? And she’s watching us, so play it cool.”
“She’s like a weasel when it comes to news and gossip, and in case you’ve forgotten I’ve got things to hide,” Clover said through gritted teeth.
“Big things to hide,” Vivi added. “I’ve never trusted her. She tried to do a story on us a few years back. The Mayhem Sisters: Trouble in their wake. Is there truth to the rumors? Can you believe it? We said no, but she sends us notes every year, trying to get us to chat with her.”
Pepper stopped and turned to Clover. “Where do you two think the best dirt comes from? It comes from witches who aren’t afraid or ashamed of getting a little dirty. Now do you want to know or not?”
Clover twisted up her lips. “Yes, of course. Let’s just keep it low-key. I don’t want her getting suspicious.”
“I’ll make our digging seem harmless. Don’t worry. Follow me.”
Crystal’s smile was a mile wide of red lipstick and bright white teeth. It was both kind and ferocious in one swipe. “Well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She was sitting at a black wrought-iron table and chair outside of Have Your Cake Tea Shop, sipping a cup of tea. A thick black book—her infamous journal—and a thin bone-white wand rested on the table. The witch was known for buying and selling secrets and that book contained them all.
Pepper took the lead. “I was telling the girls you were the witch to come to when they needed the lowdown on a wizard.”
“Really? Well, you’re right about that.” Crystal eyed Clover and Vivi up and down. “Have a seat. What can I help you ladies with?” She waved at the waitress, who placed three cups in front of them. Crystal poured the tea from the pot already on the table. “Ask away. I’ve got a few minutes before the show begins. I mean, vigil. Poor Oliver. Tragedy, really.”
“Are you covering the story for Witch World Daily?” Vivi asked.
“Yes and no. I’m doing a puff piece on him for the paper, but there’s more to this story than meets the eye. I can always tell. The police are keeping their mouths shut. That’s what you get with a tight-lipped sheriff’s department. No one wants to talk off the record.” Her nails were painted inky black and sharp as daggers.
“They’re smart that way,” Vivi said and Clover elbowed her. “I mean, they’re a professional group.”
Pepper cleared her throat. “We were actually hoping you might have some details about a wizard, Bradley Adams. Clover’s thinking of making a move and wants to know if there is anything to worry about.”
Clover choked on her tea. “What?” She was not—okay, maybe a little—but Pepper didn’t know that. Was this her idea of making the probe seem harmless? “Right. Just want to make sure,” she said, going along with the ruse.
“Of course. You’re probably a little nervous, seeing as you don’t date much.” The toothy smile reappeared. Crystal’s bangs were heavy and covered her eyebrows like she was peering under a hedge. Clover wondered how she could even see.
“She dates enough,” Vivi said coming to her sister’s defense.
But unless Clover counted the wizard librarian she dated many months ago, she had to admit Crystal was right. But this wasn’t about her dating. It was about motive.
“I want to make sure he’s a good wizard. I’ve been burned in the past by guys I thought I knew, but didn’t,” Clover said.
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“What’s the deal with his sister?” Clover asked, getting right to the point.
“Oh, her. Odd duck that one, lives in the city. Her persuasion is magical force fields. She works for a security firm. Interesting that you ask.” Crystal narrowed her gaze at Clover. “Years ago Noelle, had a bad run in with Oliver Yearling at his annual labyrinth crawl. Her persuasion and his illusions didn’t match up. She got hurt pretty badly by one of his spells.”
“Hurt? How?” Clover asked.
“Burned, I think. Maybe a little backfire, too. I’m not a hundred percent on those details, so don’t quote me. All I know is that she was in the healer’s ward for a while, wrapped in bandages for miles.”
“Sounds serious,” Pepper said. “Was she okay?”
“Eventually. I see her sometimes in the city. It took months to heal the scars.”
Now Clover knew why Bradley was so angry. “I always thought the labyrinth was safe. Why didn’t anyone hear about this? There were never any reports in the paper,” Clover said.
“From what I remember it was a busy news cycle and the story ended up getting killed. Not sure why exactly. I was covering bigger stories than the labyrinth back then.” Crystal arched her perfectly plucked brow. “Is it a coincidence that you’re interested in her now?”
Clover felt herself start to sweat, perhaps drinking tea on a summer night wasn’t a good idea, either that or Crystal’s stare was getting to her. “Anything else I should know about Bradley?”
Crystal opened her black book of secrets, peered inside, and whispered a few spells, causing the pages to flip. “Nothing major. He has a bit of a temper, very defensive of his siste
r, but that could be a good thing. He’s protective. Good business. Never been arrested. He’s not on any of my wizards of interest list.”
“Thanks for your help,” Pepper said.
“Got any good dirt on Oliver Yearling and who killed him?” Clover’s heart jumped at her own brazenness. Tonight she was feeling bold as brass.
“Why do you think I’m here? This story is hot.” Crystal eyed Clover. “Would you like to make a statement? Give me a quote for my article. Word is that the whole thing might be an accident. Is that true?”
“I guess since you helped me, it’s only fair.” Clover thought about what she should say.
“Tell me the truth,” Crystal said. “What do you really think about Oliver’s death? Was it suicide or something more devious?” The newsy witch was practically salivating.
Might as well start telling the truth. “It was no accident or suicide. My opinion is that Oliver Yearling was murdered in cold blood at my solstice party,” Clover said.
Crystal glowed. “That’s what I’m looking for.” The pages of the black book fluttered and ink magically flowed from Crystal’s bony wand. Emboldened she said, “I’ve been dying to write about you sisters for years. Maybe one day you’ll let me tell your story.” She smiled, coyly.
“Maybe,” Vivi said.
Fat chance, Clover thought but she really needed to get some of that red lipstick.
They excused themselves and joined the vigil. Vivi stopped her. “Do you really believe what you just said?” Vivi asked. “And if so, why tell Crystal? The less you tell her, the better. Unless you want your face on the morning paper.”
“The more I think about it, the more I think that Oliver was murdered. Maybe I need to start telling the truth and stop hiding.” Tomorrow her life was going to change in ways she wasn’t going to even try and imagine.
