by Blythe Baker
But it only took me a few seconds to find what I was really looking for.
Harriet Bennet died at the age of forty-three, due to unknown causes.
I ruffled the newspaper, and read it again.
Unknown causes, huh? I thought. They don’t want to say that she was murdered.
If her obituary was out, it probably meant that her autopsy was done.
I chewed on my cheek. I wished that Cain was still speaking to me. If he was, I could just call him and get the answers I needed.
How had she been killed? What did it? Who did it? Did he already know? Did the family know, and just not want that information passed around?
This was going to rile up the group of people who had gone to that meeting. They’d take this as proof that something strange was happening, and likely be even more zealous than they were before. Harriet Bennet could have unknowingly become a martyr for her own cause.
I needed to find out what Cain knew, so I could try to nip this whole thing in the bud before it was too late.
“Hi, sweetheart.” It was Aunt Candace, and she sounded exhausted.
I turned around to smile at her, genuinely this time. “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Just fine,” Aunt Candace said as Mr. Terrance passed me the keys I’d asked for. “Another mishap?” she asked, her eyes falling on the keys.
“I got it, don’t worry,” I said, pocketing them.
My eyes drifted back toward the newspaper. If Cain wouldn’t be willing to talk to me…maybe he’d be willing to talk to someone else?
“Hey, Aunt Candace?” I asked. “Could you…help me with something?”
Aunt Candace looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “You’re using that tone Bliss always used when she was trying to be sweet, but when I knew she really just wanted something.” She folded her arms. “What is it? Did you want a pony? Or to stay up past your bedtime?”
I smirked, laughing a little. “No, nothing like that…but it might make you a little uncomfortable.”
I’d filled her in on everything about the Harriet Bennet murder since it happened. Since I told her basically everything beforehand, it only made sense that I could still talk to her, even if Bliss wasn’t around to give me advice, too.
“Like what?” she asked, her humor fading.
“Okay, it’s probably best if I just come out and ask you,” I said. I picked up the obituary newspaper page again, and pointed at Harriet Bennet’s picture. “Would you be willing to go down to the mortuary and talk to Cain Blackburn about her autopsy?”
Her face drained of color. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t know about all that…”
“Please?” I asked. “Cain refuses to speak with me. I’ve already tried, several times. But if you went down and asked him, he might be more willing to talk to you.”
“But what reason would I have for going down there?” she asked. “He knows that I’m your aunt. He’s going to see right through us.”
“Maybe,” I said. “And of course I don’t want you to lie or anything…did you have any sort of connection to Harriet? Or maybe someone in her family?” I asked.
Aunt Candace frowned, scratching her chin. “Not Harriet, no…but I guess I know her twin sister.”
“You do?” I asked.
“Not well, but we’ve done some business together,” Aunt Candace said. “She’s a professional painter. Very quiet, keeps to herself most of the time.”
“Good,” I said. “You could use your connection to her to talk to Cain.”
“But what am I going to say?” Aunt Candace asked, her eyes filled with worry. “What would that have to do with her sister’s death?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You’ll figure it out.”
After we argued for a few more minutes, she finally agreed, albeit grudgingly, and promised to go see him after she finished getting the last few rooms ready for the weekend.
Relieved, I went back to my own chores and tried to forget about Harriet Bennet.
That was hard to do, though. I heard guests mention her name throughout the rest of the day. One mentioned a funeral that was supposed to be held the next day. I’d already told myself I wouldn’t go; I’d been to too many, and they never helped me find the killer. If anything, funerals always pointed me in the wrong direction.
That, and since I’d been at the meeting she was found dead at, I figured it might be best to keep myself as distant from her and her death as possible. At least on the exterior.
It did amaze me, though, that so many people seemed to know who she was. I knew that some of the people who were talking about her were guests or visitors to Faerywood Falls. Was she just that well known?
“She had her hand in almost everything around town,” Mr. Terrance informed me as I glanced back at the obituary again later that afternoon. “And I do mean everything. She taught a pottery class, worked at a veterinary clinic, was a cashier at the grocery store, and even rented out a retail unit where she sold paintings and quilts.”
“Why did she keep changing jobs?” I asked. “Isn’t that a little weird?”
“She was quite eccentric herself,” Mr. Terrance said. “I don’t think she was ever satisfied with anything that she ever did. She was always looking for the next exciting opportunity.”
“I guess that explains why so many people knew her,” I said. “If she found her way into every social circle in town, I mean.”
“That’s precisely what she did,” Mr. Terrance said.
“Did you know her well?” I asked.
He seemed surprised by that question. “I went to school with her,” he said. “She and her sister were in the same grade as my brother.”
It surprised me to hear that he had family. Of course he did. He was a normal human being after all, right?
The jury was still out on that one.
“I’m a bit mixed on her death,” he said. “Of course I grieve for her family, but if I’m quite honest, I’m surprised that she lived as long as she did. I thought for certain I’d see her name in the obituaries after her short time owning a ziplining business through the mountains.”
I gaped at him, and noticed the smirk on his face as he turned away. I wondered how serious he was being.
As I finished cleaning up the spilled flood from the family in 3A, I thought over the fact that there was still one major group of Gifted I hadn’t spoken with about Harriet’s death. A group I probably should have gone to see sooner.
The shape shifters.
I hadn’t really seen Lucan much since that morning when he came to tell me that he and his wolves had found Delilah and had gotten the book back from her. Everything had seemed perfectly fine then. I was sure that everything was normal between us.
But he hadn’t reached out to me since then. When I’d talked to him, he seemed distant.
When I called to ask if it was alright for me to come by after he got home from the bank, he seemed civil and short. Uneasiness filled me as I left the Lodge just before dark, wondering what exactly I’d be finding when I got there.
The roads were busier than usual, but with all the guests staying at the Lodge, I wasn’t surprised. Halloween was only a few days away, and a lot of people were having parties and shops were having sales in town.
My heart was beating faster as I got closer to Lucan’s estate. It was the same way that I felt whenever I was about to see him; a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
He was a powerful man in Faerywood Falls, not to mention the fact that he had an incredible gift, as well. It still amazed me that he was interested in me in the least. Sometimes, more often than not, I would convince myself that what I interpreted as interest was actually more likely friendly concern.
I hopped out of my car and walked to the front door.
I was only partially surprised when I recognized the face on the other side of the door, but I was surprised about just whose face it was.
As the door swung inward, I blinked a few times. There
wasn’t anyone there.
“Hi, Marianne!”
I looked down, hearing a small voice, and found myself staring at the face of Nico, Lucan’s young son. He still had the round cheeks of a child, but his limbs were starting to become long and gangly, like a dog that hadn’t yet grown into its giant paws.
“Hi, Nico,” I said, smiling at him. “I’m surprised to see you answering the door.”
“Gian is fixing some of the wires in the wall over there,” Nico said, pointing somewhere behind him. “He asked me to wait for you here and take you up to Daddy.”
“That sounds good to me,” I said.
Nico beamed at me and turned on his heel, heading back into the house.
I closed the door and followed after him.
“So, how are you doing, Nico?” I asked as we turned down a hall that I’d never been down before.
“Good,” Nico said in the same automatic tone that all children had. “I caught a butterfly earlier. Dad made me let it go, though.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “What kind of butterfly?”
“I don’t know, it was nice, though. Orange wings with a black head. It was really fast, too. But Dad says that I’m turning into a really good hunter.”
“That’s good to hear,” I said.
He looked up at me. “Daddy says that you’ve been busy, and that’s why you haven’t come back here in a while.”
I hesitated, looking at the back of Nico’s head as he strolled down the carpeted hall. “Oh, well…yeah, I guess I have been kind of busy.”
“I like when you come over,” Nico said. “Daddy is happy when you’re here.”
I blushed. “Well I’m happy when I’m here, too.”
Nico veered through a door on the left. “Hi, Dad,” he said. “Marianne’s here!”
My heart skipped as I stepped into the room.
I found myself in a room absolutely filled with beautiful walnut bookshelves. It was huge, two stories tall, and my footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as I stepped inside.
“Ah, good afternoon, Marianne,” came Lucan’s voice from behind one of the shelves.
I walked around the shelf and found myself mere inches from Lucan, who was also starting around the corner.
My face flooded with color, being as close to him as I was.
We both took a deliberate step back from one another.
“Sorry,” I said automatically, ducking my eyes away from him.
“No, I should apologize,” he said. He cleared his throat.
I looked up at him, my heart twisted in my chest.
He was wearing a plain white button-up, with the top two buttons undone. Behind him, I saw a dark charcoal suit coat draped over the back of a chair that matched the trousers he wore. It was obvious he’d just gotten home from work.
“I’m sorry to bother you at home like this,” I said, suddenly feeling ashamed that I’d been so thoughtless about him and his evening. “I appreciate you giving me a chance to talk to you, though.”
“It’s not a problem,” Lucan said with a smile.
I noticed, though, that the smile was a little more restrained than usual.
“Why don’t you come sit down here?” he asked. “I’ll send for some tea for us.”
“Sure,” I said.
I followed him over to a round table and took the seat beside him.
Looking up at him, I caught a tightness in his face that made me uneasy.
“Nico, could you go and fetch Thomas for me?” he asked.
Nico beamed and hurried around the shelves, and I soon heard his little footsteps running down the hall, fading into the distance.
Lucan pulled a book toward himself, passing me a brief glance before opening its thick, leather cover. “So what can I help you with?” he asked, perusing the front page.
“Well…I was wondering if you could help me with something,” I said, staring at the side of his face. “Did you hear about the meeting the Ungifted had?”
“Yes,” Lucan said, flipping to a page toward the back of the book. “I did. I also heard that you attended.” He looked up at me. “Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said, almost turning into a puddle beneath his golden gaze. “It was a real surprise. They are becoming a lot more suspicious of us, and they are beginning to read the signs.”
“Mhmm,” Lucan said distractedly. His eyes were scanning along the page filled with microscopic text.
“That wasn’t the worst part, though,” I said. “Someone was killed.”
He did look up at that. “Really?”
I nodded. “Harriet Bennet,” I said.
Lucan straightened, his eyebrows knitting together. “I’d heard that she’d died. But you’re saying she was killed?”
“I think so. There was no evidence that she took her own life,” I said. “We found her out behind the old saw mill where she decided to have her meeting.”
“Interesting…” he said, scratching his chin.
“Do you know anything about it?” I asked.
He closed the book and rose to his feet. “No,” he said, his back turned to me.
I furrowed my brows, staring at the back of his head. “How come I don’t believe you?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” Lucan said, sliding the large tome back onto the shelf he must have pulled it down from. “But this really isn’t something I can be concerned about right now. I have a lot on my plate between work and things going on here. I’m sorry, Marianne, but this is something I think you’ll have to work out on your own.”
My chest tightened somewhat, and I swallowed hard. “Oh…okay,” I said.
He froze suddenly, his hand halfway to another shelf above his head. Slowly, he turned around and looked at me. “There is something I should warn you about, though…” he said in a low voice. “There is a presence in the woods…something I can’t quite put my finger on. You should watch yourself.”
With a small twinge of annoyance, I watched as he turned back to the shelf. And where were those honeyed words where he told me that he’d protect me? Now I had to watch myself? Why was he being so distant all of a sudden?
“What kind of presence?” I asked.
“It’s…something unnatural,” he said vaguely. “Whatever it is, it’s been tracking the wolves in my pack. One of them was attacked and barely survived with his life.”
“But he doesn’t know what attacked him?” I asked in disbelief.
“Marianne, this place is filled with unknown magic. All that he knew was that he was attacked by some fierce and shadowy creature,” Lucan said, a tone of frustration in his voice.
“I wonder if it’s the same thing that attacked and killed Old Scar-Face…” I said quietly.
“He’s dead?” Lucan asked.
“Yeah. I found him on a walk the other night, his body filled with silver-tipped arrows,” I said.
Lucan scratched his chin, and paced around the table. “It’s possible that it’s the same creature, but the methods certainly sound different. The creature that attacked William didn’t use arrows…only its bare hands.”
“Hands?” I asked. “I thought you said that he didn’t know what it was that attacked him.”
“That’s the only hint we have,” Lucan said.
“So is it human?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “Perhaps this creature snuck up on poor Miss Bennet and killed her.”
I doubted it, but I wasn’t willing to throw any theory out yet.
I looked up at Lucan, who had his back turned to me again. “Is everything okay?” I asked. “You’re hardly looking at me.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder, but turned away just as quickly. “I’m sorry. As I said, I just…have a great deal on my mind.” He sounded exhausted, and his shoulders were tense and stiff.
“Like what?” I asked as gently as I could.
For a moment, I thought he would open up. “It’s nothing,” he said eventually.
“Really, it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”
I stayed for a cup of tea with Lucan and Nico, but noticed that Lucan and I both spent most of that time talking with Nico instead of with one another, and when I left, he told me that he was too busy and had Nico walk me down to the door.
“Hey, Nico?” I asked as we made our way across the expansive foyer toward the door. “Is everything okay with your Dad?”
“I think so,” Nico said. “He’s been kinda sad lately, though. I think it’s because you haven’t been here as much.”
“I see…” I said. “Well, please tell him I said thank you again for the tea, okay?”
“Okay!” Nico said.
As I pulled my keys from my pocket, I stared up at the large house, my eyes falling on a glowing window. I figured it must have been the library where Lucan was.
Was I imagining the distance between us? Was he just distracted, and not trying to ignore me like it felt like he was doing?
I had no idea.
I slid into my SUV and turned on the engine, pulling my seatbelt on.
The only thing that had changed between us was that he’d learned the truth about me. He had learned I was a faery.
That couldn’t have been the reason for his distance…could it?
My heart was heavy as I drove.
Well…at the very least, he still trusted me enough to share some information…even if he wasn’t telling me everything that he knows.
I swallowed hard. That was something, wasn’t it?
That was enough…right?
9
I couldn’t quite reconcile myself with how Lucan had been treating me. He was always so intentional when we spoke; polite, he always made eye contact with me whenever I spoke. Tonight, though, he seemed way more interested in those books he was going through.
I grimaced as I drove through the dark. He said he was busy dealing with other things, but he wouldn’t tell me what those things were. I wasn’t really sure why, but for some reason, his desire to keep all that from me hurt. He was always so forthcoming with information that this just seemed…out of character for him.
Get a hold of yourself, I scolded myself. You’re being ridiculous. He talked to you, didn’t he? If he really didn’t want to, he would’ve said he was busy and I wouldn’t have gone over in the first place.
