by Amy Boyles
“I’m Dyon. Did Clothar tell you about me?”
I nodded hesitantly. There was no doubt I felt like running in the other direction. I’d had enough attention pointed at me, what with half of the people in the castle throwing me looks of sympathy and the other half giving me looks of restraint, as if I was in on the whole murder thing.
Given that, I still managed to push a genuine smile to my face. “Clothar said you love my clothes.”
“Oh, love is an understatement. Ever since he introduced us to your clothing, I’ve been a little obsessed.”
“Well, thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it. Drop me a line on my website, and I’ll pull something special for you. You know, once we get all this cleared up.”
She nodded. Dyon bit her lip. Her eyes shone, and I had the feeling she wanted to say something. “Did you want to speak to me?”
Her mouth twisted into a frown. “Yeah, I guess I need to tell you.”
I cocked my head. “Tell me what?” Dyon dipped her head toward a more private part of the gardens. “I’ll follow you.”
She led me down a path lush with pink hydrangeas, fragrant dwarf gardenias and hanging wisteria. “I should probably have gone to the policeman about this, but you know how we fairies are.”
“Mmm. I know, and believe me, I completely understand. I’ve had my own run-ins with him.”
Dyon nodded. I had the feeling I was supposed to encourage her, get her to talk freely. “But you can trust me. Whatever you have to say, I will keep close to my heart and not tell anyone.”
“You’ll probably want to talk about what I’ve got to tell you.”
“But if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”
“All right.” Dyon cleared her throat. After a moment she said, “I knew Angelique Kiln.”
My eyes flared. “You did? Tell me about her.”
Dyon shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her in years, actually. Not since her arrest.” She glanced at the ground. “But there may be certain things I can help you with.”
“Sure. Like what?”
Dyon cleared her throat. “I know that she resented Roman for capturing her. I know that she wanted to get back at him for what he had done—making sure she went to prison.”
I scoffed. “A prisoner mad they were caught breaking the law? Sorry, but I don’t have any sympathy.”
She shook her head fiercely. Her blonde bob curled up around her ears, framing her pixie-like face. “I’m not sympathetic, either. But I know she hated him, so if the opportunity presented itself where Angelique could’ve gotten her revenge, she would’ve done it. There are lots of people she’d worked for over the past few years.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure, but unless I know who they are, there’s no way for me to find out.”
Dyon bobbed her head as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t. The urge to gently poke her churned in my stomach.
“Dyon, do you have a way of knowing who Angelique worked for?”
Dyon clicked her teeth together for several seconds. “Maybe.”
My heart lurched into my throat. I clasped a hand around her wrist. “If you know of something that can help us, please let me know. I would owe you so much more than one piece of clothing.”
Dyon’s eyes flickered with light. “You mean like an entire wardrobe?”
I didn’t say that.
“Sure. Whatever you want. If it can clear Roman’s name. Please, anything that can help.”
Dyon pulled a small leather book from her pocket. “This is a list of many of the people Angelique worked for. It’s not comprehensive, but it’s a start.”
I itched to peel back the cover. “And whoever hired her must’ve known about Sheila somehow. Unless you think Angelique was aware of Sheila’s existence.”
Dyon smiled sadly. “I really don’t know. I knew Angelique hated Roman, but whatever deep knowledge she had about his life was killed when she was.”
She held out the book. I took it in my hand. Butterflies whirled in my stomach. I couldn’t wait to get somewhere private with it and crack the binding.
“Thank you.”
She nodded. Dyon brushed what looked like a tear from her cheek.
“I’m sorry if this pains you. You must’ve been close.” I gnawed the inside of my cheek for a moment. “I apologize that I didn’t think about that before. This must be hard.”
Dyon shrugged.
As I dug my fingers into the book, I studied the broken figure of the woman before me. The sadness overwhelming Dyon practically wafted off her. “But how do you know Angelique?”
Dyon sniffed. She traced a finger over the bottom of her nose before looking up at me and saying, “She was my sister.”
CHAPTER 12
“Wow,” Sera said. “Her sister? That’s way out of this world.”
“I know,” I said. I held the book out for her.
“What’s this?”
“A book with a load of Angelique’s contacts in it.”
Sera’s jaw dropped.
We stood in a bedroom in the castle. After my meeting with Dyon, I’d yanked my sister away from her enthralling game of croquet with promises that I would make her a new blue silk shirt if she followed.
Not that Sera needed any clothes, but she understood my hint.
“Why didn’t you show this to the grandmothers?” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding? Because they’ll probably announce it on some castle loudspeaker that we’re in possession of a list of possible suspects. Not a good idea when you want the element of surprise.”
“Point taken,” she said. “Have you opened it?”
I shook my head. “No. I was waiting for you.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
I peeled back the cover. The binding crackled and groaned as I revealed its secrets. The unlined pages held lots and lots of letters, but they didn’t make sense. They weren’t put together in words.
“It’s encrypted,” came a voice from the doorway.
I twisted my head over my shoulder and saw Reid in the doorway. “What are you doing in here?”
She tossed the croquet mallet on the ground. “I wanted to know what y’all were up to, so I followed you.”
I scoffed. “You weren’t invited.”
Reid fluffed her burgundy curls. “I’m your sister. I’m always invited.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
“Yes, it is.”
“Okay, well, whatever. You’re saying it’s encrypted.”
Reid nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been reading a book about codes and such. That’s what this looks like. Until you break the code, you won’t know what the words actually say.”
“Thank you, brainiac,” I said. “That much I figured out on my own. Problem is, who am I going to get to break it? Pearbottom? Heck, no. He’ll keep the book and never tell me a thing.”
Reid tossed a knot of hair over her shoulder. “I can work on it.”
I glanced at Sera. She hid her mouth behind a hand. I wasn’t that subtle. I heaved out a huge laugh.
Reid planted her fists on her hips. “What’s so funny?”
“I hate to break it to you, baby sister, but you’re not exactly my first choice when it comes to cracking code.”
Reid narrowed her gaze. “Why not? There’s no reason why I can’t do this. I’m pretty sure my magical abilities move past being able to crochet jumpsuits for people.”
“And we’re all grateful for that,” Sera said in a low voice.
I smiled behind my hand.
“I heard that,” Reid said. “But seriously. Let me take a look at it. What harm could it do?”
I nibbled my fingernails. So, here was my dilemma. Did I give the book to Pearbottom, who more than likely has skilled folks who are able to decode—actual masters who’ve studied coding and could probably decipher the meaning within hours or even minutes?
Or did I hand it over to my sister, who’s read one book
but who’s right about her magic? What if crocheting isn’t the main thing she can do? What if she could use her magic to do something else? Like see patterns in what looks to be no more than nonsensical letters?
Honestly Pearbottom was probably the better choice in this one, but if I gave it to him, would he keep me clued in to what they learned?
Probably not.
I tightened my grip on the book. My gaze met Reid’s.
“I’ll use the grandmas to help me. With Grandma’s experience with the witch police, you never know what sort of information is locked inside that head of hers.”
“Please don’t say things that will make me run screaming from this room,” I said. “I’m afraid they’ll do something that will cause the book to burst into flames or something.”
Reid shook her head. “They know how serious the situation is.”
“Funny that they don’t act like it,” Sera said.
I agreed. I ran my thumb over the leather cover and handed it to Reid. “Here you go.”
“So what are you looking for exactly?” Reid said.
I tapped a finger to my lips. “I want to know any names in that book that stick out—particularly if any of the folks in that book are here at the castle. So basically a cross-reference.”
Reid quirked her lips. “What do you think I am, the police? I don’t know that I can do all that.”
I wrapped my arms around her and said, “You’ve got the grandmothers, remember? They’ll help however they can.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll get to work. Do you mind getting the grandmothers in here to help me?”
I smiled as I headed toward the door. “I’m steps ahead of you already. I’ll get them in here.”
Sera waved to me. “I’ll help with this if I can.”
“Thank you,” I said as I closed the door softly behind me.
I walked back toward the gardens. I rounded a turn and spied Helga dePlume standing in a copse of her supporters. Her gaze flickered to me, and she flashed me a devilish smile.
My stomach knotted as I neared her.
“Dylan Apel,” she said.
I waved. “Great to see you, Helga.”
Queen Witch of the North broke free of her circle and drifted to my side. “I was hoping we could have a chat.”
I pinched my brows together until they couldn’t pinch any more. “About what? About how you wish you could’ve stolen my magic months ago?”
That was true. Last time I encountered Helga, we made a deal that meant I would freely hand over my magic. It was a deal I almost had to keep. But lucky for me, Helga thought the castle was suffering from an outbreak of witch plague, so she packed up and left.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I thought about Helga running for her life, screaming the whole way out of the castle.
“That was a nasty trick you pulled on me last time we met,” she said.
“It was the only time we met.”
Helga’s fingers brushed my arm. Her fingers were like popsicles. Chill bumps washed up my forearm. I shivered.
I pushed open the door that led outside. Sunshine spilled onto my skin, warming my flesh. Thank goodness. If I hung around Helga long enough, I’d end up a frozen treat on a stick.
“I think you owe me an apology,” Helga said.
I shook my head. “Why would I owe you an apology?” I murmured.
I sped up, hoping Helga would go away. But she didn’t. The queen kept pace with me as I wound through the shrubs and trees.
“You owe me an apology for making me think there was a plague in Castle Witch.”
I stopped, turning to her. Anger fueled my words, making me feel like I was spitting venom more than I was the English language. “If anyone owes someone an apology, it’s you. You made me agree to hand my magic over to you, you accused Brock of murder, and you were an overall nasty person. Why would I ever apologize to you?”
Wow. Saying those things felt good. I didn’t know I held so much anger for her, but you know, when someone pushes the right buttons on me, I can spew out truths with the rest of them.
Helga flashed me a tight, fake smile. Her white hair was pulled up so high on her head, stretching her skin so tight that her cheekbones looked like they would pop right out of her flesh. “You owe me an apology because I am a queen.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Lady, I was queen at the time, too, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m not afraid of you, Helga. I’ve learned a lot about magic in the time I’ve been a witch, and you and your scare tactics don’t frighten me. In fact, I don’t even know what you’re doing here. This was supposed to be my wedding. A day I’m celebrating. Who invited you?”
Helga’s mouth twisted into a warped smile. “Let’s just say I like to watch disasters unfold around me. Especially to someone so deserving. Watch out for that.” Her gaze flickered to my arm. “You might be forced to do something horrible, like be honest.”
I glanced at my arm. Where she’d touched me, a small silver mark sat on my skin. I rubbed at it, but it wouldn’t move. It didn’t hurt, but I mean, who wants a weird-looking disc on their arm?
I raised my hand. “What’s this?” I said.
Helga cackled. “Ask your grandmother. I’m sure she’ll tell you.” Helga threw her head back so far in laughter that she choked on her guffaw.
“Watch out for postnasal drip,” I said. “It’ll get you every time.”
Helga sneered at me. Then she snapped her fingers and vanished in a plume of smoke.
I rubbed at my arm, but the stupid mark wouldn’t budge. Shaking my head, I crossed through the garden, rounding corners until I found my grandmothers. Milly still lay sunning herself while Grandma was humming. I groaned inwardly, wondering how the heck I had gotten stuck with this lot.
“What’s up, toots? I’m trying to get some sun here.”
I thrust out my arm. “Helga dePlume marked me.”
Grandma blinked at me. “A mark? Does it have horns and a tail?”
I shook my head. “No.”
She closed her eyes and nestled back into the chair. “Good. Then it can’t be that bad.”
“Can you at least look at it? I don’t trust her.”
“If I must.” Grandma pulled a blanket off her chest and sat up. She opened her palm. I displayed my arm.
Her voice fell when she said, “Oh.”
A knot of worry nudged my insides. “What does that mean?”
Grandma avoided eye contact with me; instead her gaze swirled around the garden. “Well, it means a lot of things. One thing it could mean is that it’s a very interesting mark.”
I dug my toe into the ground, unearthing a root. “Another thing it could mean is ‘holy crap, that’s an incredibly scary mark. I wish I’d never seen it’.”
Milly chuckled. “My guess is that’s the ticket.”
I shoved my arm under her nose. “You take a look.”
Milly took one look at it and laughed. “Oh.”
I clenched my fists. “Will both of you stop saying that and just tell me what it is?”
Hazel fluffed her fingers through her hair and said, “Fine. I’ll tell you. That mark means—”
A commotion broke out behind us. It sounded like men arguing.
I slapped my thighs. “Great. Just when I was about to find out what this thing means. Why does crap like this always have to happen?”
I paused. I had started to think that, but I hadn’t meant to say it. I shot Grandma a look.
She shrugged. “Come on, let’s see what’s going on.”
She tugged me from the garden before I could think on what I’d said, and we headed into the castle.
Boo Bane stood in the foyer, surrounded by witch police. “It was me. I did it. I killed the girl. I threw her from the window, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
His long beard touched the top of his navel, and his silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He looked like a tough motorcycle-riding vigilante, but inside he wa
s warm and soft as a kitten.
“He didn’t do it,” I said. “It wasn’t Boo.”
I said it loudly enough for Jonathan Pearbottom’s serpentine gaze to flicker toward me.
“He looks kinda like a snake. Has anyone ever noticed that?”
Grandma clamped a hand over my mouth.
What was wrong with me?
Boo strode forward, cutting off a few straggler officers that stood between him and Pearbottom. “I did it. Release my son right now, because I’m confessing to murder. You’re holding an innocent man. I insist you let him go.”
Pearbottom shook his head. “Nope. I’ll arrest you, but I’m keeping you both. Boo Bane,” he said, his eyes hard, “you can go to the dungeon and keep your son company. Cuff him, boys.”
CHAPTER 13
“Well, that’s a weird turn of events,” I said a few minutes later. We were back in the bedroom. Reid had the leather book on a table, and her nose was dug deep into it.
“Be careful,” I said. “Don’t break your brain with trying to decode that thing.”
Reid shot me a dark look. “I’m trying to help you. That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
I grimaced. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Ever since they arrested Boo, I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. I said something bad about Pearbottom, and if he’d heard me, I’m sure I would be in that dungeon with Roman and Boo right now.”
Grandma paced the room. Her long cardigan sailed behind her as if it floated on its own magical current. “What a conundrum. But how to use this to our advantage?”
“What are you talking about?” Sera said. She sat hunched on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone.
“I’m talking about the spell that’s been placed on Dylan.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was hoping you were talking about how to get Boo out of jail.”
Milly caned over to the window and glanced out. “Boo will get out when we figure out who killed Angelique. Because we know it wasn’t either one of them.”
