by Alice Bloome
They consisted mostly of Venus Stratton’s friends and teachers, and everyone I interviewed had only kind words to say about the victim. A genuinely nice person had been the general consensus, and none of them had been able to come up with a single individual that could’ve wished the victim harm.
So what now? What could this mean? What was I missing? Was Venus an angel for real or one who was just good at keeping her tarnished halo a secret?
The principal came to see me out following the last interview, and when she learned that I still had a few remaining names to cross off my list – Amy from Venus’ English class, Todd from P.E., the gym janitor, and a freshmen couple that Venus had tutored in the previous semester – Rica promised to give me a call as soon as they showed up in school.
A service car from the agency was already waiting at the parking lot when I came out, just as Paul promised it would be. I quickened my pace, and on my way I passed by a couple of students hanging up a banner for a popularity contest.
Mr. and Ms. Silver Mist High
Have you voted yet?
No doubt, it was something Venus Stratton would have easily won –
And that was when it hit me, with the words making up my victim’s oracle from Delphi’s flashing in my mind.
Death is the crown beauty wears.
Could someone have murdered Venus Stratton simply to prevent her from being crowned Ms. Silver Mist High? It seemed so shallow and preposterous a reason, but if there was one thing I had learned from working at CSI, then it was to never make any assumptions.
The sudden, shrill sound of my iPhone ringing yanked me out of my thoughts, and I quickly fished my phone out of my pocket. “Hello?”
“Agent Vavrin? I’m from the NSA. Dr. Ace asked me to call you about a lab test you requested for Case 1749-VS?”
“That’s my case,” I confirmed. “Were you able to identify the agent used for poisoning?”
“Yes, ma’am. A spell analysis on the asphodel toxin found in the victim’s body revealed the use of a potable instrument---”
“Are you saying she drank the poison?” I asked, stunned.
“The test results are conclusive on this, Agent Vavrin.”
Which explained why only one out of three persons in the same room had died of carbon monoxide poisoning, I realized.
“Furthermore, our results showed that the instrument in your victim’s case was lemonade, consumed approximately one hour prior to her death.”
Chapter Six
The familiar, sweet scent of Demeter’s irresistible baked goodies greeted me the moment I stepped inside of Demi’s Eternal Sweets. The goddess herself stood behind the bakery’s cash register, her frowning gaze focused on the running tally on its screen while her fingers jabbed the numeric keypad nonstop.
“I’ll be right with you, Agent Vavrin,” she said without looking up.
I almost stopped dead in my tracks. Brooms and sticks. Why was I even surprised that the goddess had the ability to detect a person’s presence without visual confirmation?
Another minute passed before Demeter appeared done with her current task. “Sorry about that,” she said with a rueful smile while pushing the cash drawer close. “There’s this tax thing that’s requiring me to go through old receipts, and it’s been getting on my nerves.” The goddess went around the counter, saying, “Judging by the look on your face, I’m assuming you’re here on official business?”
“I just have a few questions to ask.” And since half of the bakery’s tables were occupied, I asked, “Is there a private place for us to talk?”
With that, we proceeded to Demeter’s office, located opposite the kitchen. The room had a cozy, airy feel to it, with overhead wooden beams and shabby chic décor enhanced by magic – think rose and cherry blossom petals literally dancing in the air and strawberries and cherries you could pluck straight out of the wallpaper.
It was just so cute and, well, magical, that I couldn’t help but smile. This, I thought with a private little sigh, was what made my new life so amazing.
“Can I get you anything?” the hearth goddess asked graciously as we took our seats on her sofa, which was floral patterned like the rest of the bakery.
“I’m good, thanks.”
Demeter sighed. “Let’s get on with it then. This is about Venus Stratton, isn’t it?”
I was stunned. “Do you know her personally?”
“No, but it’s a small town. You know how word quickly gets around here.” She paused. “Which is why I also know congratulations are in order---”
“It is?” I asked, bemused.
The hearth goddess grinned. “You have started going out with Apollo, haven’t you?”
Brooms and sticks.
I had forgotten about Demeter and Paul both being Olympians.
“I had an inkling of that when you didn’t drop by for breakfast this morning,” Demeter shared, “and then Nix told me about the two of you coming in together at Panda’s.” The goddess’ voice turned sly as she added, “It’s got everyone at Mt. Olympus dying to meet Apollo’s mystery woman.”
And it just kept getting worse. I could only imagine what all those goddesses and demi-goddesses would think, once they saw how utterly mediocre I was.
“Especially since Zeus and Hera can’t have enough good words to say about you.”
I suppressed a groan. Great. This only meant that every immortal creature living in Mt. Olympus was bound for a massive disappointment once they realized Paul’s girlfriend was nothing but a Level 1 neophyte witch, and a self-made one to boot.
Deciding it was time to change the subject, I cleared my throat, saying, “So, umm…about Venus Stratton…”
“Oh yes---” Demeter winced at the reminder of my visit. “I’m sorry about going off topic. How can I help you?”
“Lab test results from NSA confirmed that Venus died of poisoning and---” I sent her an apologetic glance. “The results showed that a spell had been used to contain the poison in a potable instrument.”
It took only a few seconds for Demeter’s immortal mind to comprehend what I was saying. “Oh, River of Lethe.” The other woman’s voice was a horrified whisper. “It’s the lemonade, isn’t it?”
I pretty much had free rein over the bakery after that, with the hearth goddess so outraged by what she perceived was a defilation of her sacred workplace. A crew of NSA technicians came in at my request, and they dusted the whole place for fingerprints and any other forensic evidence that could be linked to Venus Stratton. I made a copy of surveillance footage on the day of Venus’ visit and emailed it to Lana. Hopefully, tech support would find something helpful in it.
After, I asked Demeter for a list of her employees and anyone else who had access to her kitchen, and the goddess provided this with a mere snap of her fingers.
“I know agency protocol requires you to submit a request through the proper channels before you can interview an Olympian,” Demeter added, “but I’m officially waiving my right to due process. You may interview me whenever you wish.”
I started to thank her when a name on the list caught my attention, and I frowned.
Amy Wilson, 16, kitchen trainee.
I took my notebook out and flipped to the page where the five remaining individuals I had to interview at Silver Mist High was listed down.
Gotcha.
Amy Wilson was the same name as the student who had English with the victim – and hadn’t shown up in school since Venus’ murder.
It took only two minutes for She-Ra to provide me with the current address of Demi’s sixteen-year-old kitchen trainee, and less than half an hour later, I was already parking my car a few doors down the Wilsons’ two-story home.
After ringing the doorbell, I stepped back to wait. At the back of my mind, I had this idea that Amy would be someone like Venus. If she were, then it would support my growing suspicion that the killer I was hunting down might be targeting the local high school’s most popular girls – and
therefore the ones also likely to win Ms. Silver Mist High.
But when the door opened, the girl standing in front of me was nothing like Venus. Plain and shy looking, she had long dark hair that hid much of her face and clothes that emphasized the worst of her plump figure: an overly large shirt matched with a shapeless wool skirt that fell all the way to her ankles.
“Hi. Is this the residence of Annabelle Wilson?”
“Are you with the police?”
“That’s right. I’m…Deputy Blair Vavrin.” The words came out a little awkwardly since I still wasn’t used to introducing myself as a police officer.
“Annabelle’s my mother.”
“Then you must be Amy.”
She nodded. “This is about Venus, isn’t it?”
I did a quick scan on the girl as she led me in to the living room, and my wand displayed its reading after a moment.
TYPE: HUMAN
ASSOCIATION: NONE
STATUS: NOT SAFE
Amy offered to get refreshments, but I shook my head with a smile. “Are either of your parents around?”
“My mom’s at work. She generally comes back around seven.”
“And your father?”
“Never met him,” Amy answered matter-of-factly. “He bolted even before my mom gave birth to me.”
I winced. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s no big deal.” Amy adjusted the pair of eyeglasses sitting on her nose. “Do you really work for the police?”
“I really do,” I lied. “I am not, however, allowed to interview you without your parent or legal guardian’s permission---”
“You can ask me anything about Venus,” she said soberly. “It’s not like we were close or anything. And besides – it’s all over Facebook now.” Anxiety flickered in her eyes as she started chewing on her lip. “They say someone killed her.”
“No official statement has been released about the manner of her death yet.”
“But you’re not saying her death’s natural,” Amy challenged.
“Because I’m not allowed to make any statements.”
“Did you really interview all those kids at school?”
“I was actually supposed to interview you, too,” I said lightly, “since you shared English with Venus.”
Amy made a face. “Don’t tell anyone in school, but I’ve had stomach issues the past three days.”
“Stomach issues?”
“The gross kind, if you know what I mean. My mom thinks I’m suffering from food poisoning.”
The last word almost had my jaw dropping. “I see.” Thoughts raced in my mind. Was it possible that Amy had been a victim of poisoning as well? But if she were – why would someone want to kill Venus and Amy? What was the missing link between them?
After giving Amy my calling card and telling her I’d be coming back the next day, I saw myself out and did my best to resist the urge not to run inside my car. But the moment I was behind the wheel, I didn’t waste a single second.
“Hey, She-Ra?”
“Hello, Blair. What may I do for you?” my virtual assistant immediately asked.
“I’d like you to send an email to Lana.”
“I’m on it. What is the subject of your email?”
“Surveillance footage, please check immediately.”
“And for your message?”
“NSA results show that my victim died of poisoning, stored magically in the glass of lemonade she ordered from Demi’s. Could you check the footage and tell me if you find anything out of the ordinary with the brewing process? That’s the end of the message.”
“Will that be all?”
“Attach the video with file name Demi’s and all the notes I made regarding Case 1749-VS. That’s it.”
“I understand.” After a moment, She-Ra added, “I am sending it now.”
“Thanks, She-Ra.”
My phone started ringing just as I reached home and pulled over in front of my house, and as soon as I answered the call, Lana’s soft, brisk voice immediately came on the line. “My team’s done reviewing the footage.”
“That’s unbelievably quick,” I exclaimed, impressed.
“I wish I could say it’s because of our skills,” my friend said wryly, “but the truth is, it’s simply a slow day here at tech support.”
“Please tell me you found something important for my case?” I stepped out of the car as I spoke and slammed the driver door shut.
“Well, that depends. If you were hoping I found anything anomalous with the brewing process – it’s unfortunately a no with that one. There were two hearth witches assigned to brewing the lemonade. Everything was aboveboard, and they did the whole thing in full view of the camera.”
My shoulders slumped in disappointment. “So the footage won’t be of any help?”
“I didn’t say that, did I?” Lana said smugly.
I perked up, thinking that I finally had good news coming my way.
“My team analyzed every frame in the footage, magnified everything, and that’s when we realized that what does show evidence of tampering is the cauldron used for the brewing process.”
Details of a previous case involving Demi’s Eternal Sweets flashed in my mind as soon as I heard Lana’s words. Wasn’t there something just last week or so about a missing cauldron?
“CSI lab rats could probably tell you more if you can get that cauldron analyzed,” Lana was saying.
“I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow. This is a huge help to my case, Lana. Thanks.” Minutes after the call, I remained rooted to my spot, my thoughts lost in the possible connection between the two cases. In the human world, what Lana was suggesting was impossible – but in my world?
The sound of a car pulling up behind me interrupted my thoughts, and my heart skipped a beat when I realized it could only be one person. Paul had texted me earlier about coming over with takeout for dinner, and ---
“Err – maybe I’m missing something here, but is there some reason why you won’t turn around to look at me?”
The voice was all male – smooth and urbane, underscored by faint amusement, and definitely did not belong to Paul.
A tall, black-haired gentleman grinned at me as I whirled around in shock. “Jason!”
The man shook his head in mock disappointment. “Let me guess,” he said dryly. “You forgot about tonight – again. Didn’t you?”
Before I could say another word, both of us heard the distinct sound of another vehicle rumbling to a stop behind Jason’s sports car, and I gulped involuntarily.
This…was going to be awkward.
Countless excuses started popping in my head as I tried to figure out a way to explain Jason’s presence without sounding defensive and guilty. But then the driver’s door opened, and the moment I saw Paul come out, all thoughts were forgotten.
My heart raced at the mere sight of him, and when his powerful, long-legged stride had the truth god reaching me in moments, I forgot about Jason standing right next to me, forgot about Mrs. Murray undoubtedly watching all of this unfold from behind her curtains with glee – I forgot about everything except the fact that this man before me was, well, mine.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
The endearment still hadn’t lost its magic, making my knees knock against each other, and when Paul’s golden head bent down, I could only close my eyes for his kiss. It was a mere brush of his lips against mine, soft and tender, but it was still enough to make my toes curl.
Gaea help me, I couldn’t help thinking as Paul finally straightened and curved one possessive arm around my waist. This crazy bout of infatuation was getting more embarrassing by the second. Maybe there was a spell I could use to keep possession of my wits whenever the truth god –
“What are you doing here?”
Paul’s curt voice sliced through my thoughts, and my gaze flew up to his in bemusement. “What do you mean what am I doing here? This is my home---”
“I believe I’m the on
e he’s asking, Blair.”
Jason’s drawl coincided with the flash of exasperation in Paul’s hazel gaze, and it was only then that I noticed the tension brimming between the two men. Jason’s usual air of easygoing tolerance was nowhere to be found while Paul’s blue eyes, which normally gleamed with good-natured humor, blazed with anger.
“This is going to be a dumb question, but do you two know each other?”
“We do,” Jason answered with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “For ages, actually.”
Right, right, right.
If you’re smart, Blair Vavrin, you’re going to leave it at that.
But in the end, I heard myself blurt out, “Why do I have a feeling you mean that literally?” Jason didn’t answer right away, but when I saw the way Paul’s jaw clenched, I knew I already had my answer.
Glancing back at my friend, I said wryly, “You’re not human either, are you?”
Chapter Seven
Jason had been nice enough to take a rain check on the “friendly” dinner date we were supposed to have tonight, but not so nice that he didn’t deliberately steal a kiss on my cheek before driving away.
As for Paul –
The man had the patience of a saint. Or maybe he was just as cunning as a devil, and he knew his ability to pleasantly ignore the elephant in the room would silently drive me insane. By the time we emptied our Chinese takeout boxes and the most awkward dinner of my life finally came to an end, I realized that I just was not the type to sweep things under the rug.
After throwing the cardboard boxes and chopsticks into the trash bin under the sink, I marched back into the living room, ready to do battle. We both knew something was wrong, but surely he knew me well enough to realize that I wasn’t cheating on him? I was not that kind of girl, and if –
“Aaah!”
One firm yank had me toppling down to his lap with a gasp, and before I could even figure out what he was planning, Paul’s mouth had already swooped down to cover mine in a deep, breathtaking kiss.
When he finally lifted his head, I could only gaze up at him, weak, dazed, and just a tiniest bit panicky. Was it normal for kisses to always feel this good? Or was this my curse fate because I was stupid enough to fall for a god?
