by Zoe Arden
"You need help?"
They were coming to her aid. Sirens wailed in the distance.
The assassin ran. It was not retreat; it was smart business. His target had been compromised. He would escape and survive to try again tomorrow. Next time, he would not fail.
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CHAPTER
ONE
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I woke up feeling groggy. The day before had left me unsettled. I knew the others felt the same way. The election in Mistmoor Point had been postponed. The date to hold it had yet to be determined. Tazzie Singer had been attacked. Mistmoor and Sweetland Cove were both in an uproar. Mayor Thomas had already declared that had anyone listened to him when he wanted to enact his Mayor-for-All Rule, none of this would have happened.
Aunt Eleanor and Trixie had told me they were going to bed at ten last night, but when I'd gone to use the bathroom at half past eleven, I'd heard them whispering in Eleanor's room.
"Do you really think someone tried to assassinate Tazzie Singer?" Eleanor asked.
"I have no idea why they would," Trixie replied. "Tazzie's never hurt a fly. What enemies could she possibly have?"
"Her husband had enemies and didn't even know it. Look what happened to him."
"Herbert was killed by a crazy witch, there's no accounting for crazy witches. You know that."
I'd stood listening at their door until Rocky caught me.
"Ava is eavesdropping," he said, the wolfhound's voice low. Not a growl, just deep and throaty.
"Ssh!" I said, flapping my hands at him. "I'm not eavesdropping, I'm just... sleepwalking. Yeah, I'm sleepwalking." I closed my eyes and put my hands out in front of me like a zombie, heading back to my bedroom. I ran smack into the wall and grunted.
Rocky followed me. Snowball was asleep on my bed, nestled up between my pillows. She was waiting for my return, a furry ball of snow. She lifted her head an inch off the mattress and looked at Rocky as I came in.
"Your mama must think Rocky is dumb," the wolfhound said and shook his head. I shut my door and an hour later when I opened it again, Rocky was still there. "Hi, Ava," he said cheerfully, wagging his tail. "Rocky is watching you. Rocky knows you like to trick on Eleanor."
I sighed. "All right, Rocky, you don't have to stand out here to keep an eye on me. Come inside, at least. You can lay on my bed."
Rocky didn't need asking twice. He jumped onto my bed and curled up at my feet. Snowball stretched out, yawning, and walked over to him. She plopped down beside him and curled up, digging her face into his thick gray fur.
I fell asleep and when I woke up, both of them were gone. I made my way downstairs, the smell of bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove.
"Morning," my dad said. "Coffee?"
"Definitely. I think I might need to stop by Coffee Cove later and get one of those Brass Monkeys Trixie's always ordering."
A Brass Monkey was, at its core, a vanilla latte, but it was also so much more. It came delivered in a two-liter coffee mug and it was frozen nearly solid. You had to let it thaw for five minutes just so you could drink it. It was Lucy Lockwood's invention. Trixie had challenged her to make something that could keep her up for twelve hours straight, and that's what Lucy had come up with.
Sheriff Knoxx knocked on our door just as my dad set a plate down in front of me. I was way behind with my mood extracts at the bakery and hoping to catch up this morning. I figured that with Colt in Mistmoor Point the whole day helping Sheriff Lincoln Maxwell, it would give me the opportunity that I needed. I could get a lot done.
"Hi, Zane," Eleanor said, smiling as he came in. She always smiled when he was around. Their wedding was just around the corner now, less than a month. I hoped this new predicament with Mistmoor's mayoral election didn't put a tarnish on their plans. Eleanor would be heartbroken if they had to postpone.
"Hi," he said, kissing her cheek and taking a seat at the table. He'd come such a long way from when I'd first met him. He used to be suspicious, sullen, moody. Now... well, he was still all those things, but he was also surprisingly happy a lot of the time. All because of Aunt Eleanor.
"Any luck with that assassin's list?" I asked him. He shook his head, his face scruffy for the first time since I could remember. He normally went clean shaven.
"Not yet. Lincoln Maxwell and I went over it with a microscope. No fingerprints, no hairs. Whoever dropped it knows how to cover their tracks."
"Not as well as they might think," my dad said. "After all, they dropped a pretty important clue. What kind of professional assassin drops their hit list, anyway?"
Sheriff Knoxx grunted. "True, but Tazzie and the witnesses said it seemed like a robbery that took a wrong turn. He tried to grab her purse, told her to give up her money. That sort of thing."
"So, what makes you so sure it wasn't just that, then?" Trixie asked. "A simple robbery?"
"The list," Sheriff Knoxx repeated. "It doesn't make sense unless it's a hit."
He'd shown the list to us yesterday when Sheriff Maxwell came by from Mistmoor, asking for his help. Four names, all mayoral candidates.
1. Thaddeus Black $25,000
2. Tazzie Singer $20,000
3. Grayson Redfern $5,000
4. Amanda Hollyberry $5,000
On the back were the addresses of each of the four candidates and the date of the election. Had it gone as planned, Thaddeus Black was the predicted winner, though Tazzie was putting up a solid fight. As it was, the election had been postponed, the fear that the candidates were not safe gripping Mistmoor's public.
"If it hadn't been for that list," Sheriff Knoxx said, "Lincoln probably would have bought the robbery story. It was pure luck that he found it when he did, just lying in the dirt. Another few minutes and it probably would have blown away. None the wiser."
"How's Colt?" I asked.
Colt Hudson had gone with Sheriff Knoxx to Mistmoor. Lincoln didn't object since he felt he needed all the help he could get. I didn't object either, how could I? Colt was my boyfriend, not my husband. Even then I would never have told him not to go. Still, the sheriff had seen him more in the last two days than I had. I was a little jealous.
"Fine, worried about his dad. The sentencing is coming up. He wants to be there for it. His mom said she'd go if he can't make it."
"I can go, too," I said. Why hadn't I thought of that? Colt's dad had saved my life. The least I could do was be there for him when the Council on Magic and Human Affairs came back with their verdict. I was still sending good vibes Russell Hudson's way. He'd made some mistakes, sure, but I thought he'd already paid the price for them. Getting turned into a vampire was never easy.
"It won't help," Sheriff Knoxx said matter-of-factly. "It's not as though Dean Lampton is going to change his mind just because more people show up. Russell's strong, he can take it, whatever it is."
"You don't think it will be execution, do you?"
There'd been a lot of talk around town since Sweetland Cove residents discovered that there were rogue vampires in their midst. Melbourne was still hiding out in his house, unable to face the looks from the townspeople. Faking your death had a tendency to make people give you strange looks. Melbourne had wisely decided to leave his shop, Coffee Cove, in William Carney's capable hands for now. William had run it while Melbourne was gone, and he'd done a good job. Melbourne would return to it when he was ready.
"No," Sheriff Knoxx said, "I don't think execution is even on the table. If Colt's father hadn't saved your life, then maybe, but not now." His brow crinkled. "Technically, Russ didn't even kill anyone, Vlaski Ambrose did. He's the one who got Rachel Sessler and attacked Dean Lampton. I'm not sure that Russ actually did anything wrong, other than running with a bad crowd."
The doorbell rang and the sheriff shot an irritated glance in its direction, as if it whoever it was had rung it just to antagonize him. "Don't bother," he said, stopping me before I got up. "It's
Otis. I'm developing a sixth sense about him and that skunk of his."
"I think Tadpole is sweet," Eleanor said.
"Me, too," Trixie agreed, clinking her spoon against her cup.
My father and I remained silent on the issue. Sheriff Knoxx opened the door, holding his hand up, a flesh and blood stop sign. He was trying to prevent Otis from entering our home. Tadpole was perched on his shoulder. He looked eagerly around at our interior. His eyes spotted Snowball on the stairs. Snowy stopped, paused, and cocked her head to the side.
"Snowball does not recognize that species of cat," she said.
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
"Tadpole's not a cat, Snowy, he's a skunk."
Snowball shrugged and walked on to her food dish, disinterested in anything except her tuna.
Otis was hopping from one foot to the other, more nervous than usual. "Sheriff, a call just came in from Colt, I mean Detective Hudson. He said he tried reaching you on the radio but you didn't answer."
Sheriff Knoxx pulled the radio from his belt and pushed the button. The static that usually rolled out of it was non-existent.
"Warthogs," he muttered, "it must be broken. Maybe the batteries..."
"SHERIFF!" Otis yelled. His voice, generally soft spoken, actually filled the room. I'd never heard him so loud. Everyone stopped talking. Otis finally busted past Sheriff Knoxx and started pacing in our kitchen.
"I'm sorry, but I think you're all gonna want to hear this," Otis breathed. Tadpole nudged his nose against Otis’ cheek, urging him to get on with it. "Colt says you need to get back to Mistmoor right away, Sheriff. They found a body."
"A body?" I asked, looking at my aunts. My dad's hand paused on the coffee pot.
"That's right. A dead body," Otis continued, as if we hadn't understood.
"Otis, whose body is it?" Sheriff Knoxx asked.
"That's the thing, Sheriff. It's yours!"
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CHAPTER
TWO
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Sheriff Knoxx pinched his face up like he didn't understand what Otis had just told him. I wasn't sure I'd heard right either.
"My body?" Sheriff Knoxx asked. Otis nodded. The sheriff was clearly having trouble wrapping his head around that. We all were.
"I don't understand, Otis. How can it be my body? I'm right here."
Eleanor's face went pale. She jumped from her chair and grabbed hold of Sheriff Knoxx as if he were a balloon about to float away.
"Don't worry," he told her. "I assure you, I'm not dead." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. That didn't stop her from hugging him so tight he started to turn blue.
"It's a sign," she said. "A bad omen."
"Eleanor, we're getting married in less than a month and nothing is going to happen to me. All right? I promise."
Eleanor only gripped him tighter, until he turned a dangerous shade of purple. "If anything happens to you—"
"It won't."
"But if it does... I'm going with you. To Mistmoor."
"Eleanor, this is police business."
"I don't care. I'm going." She ran out the door and got into his police cruiser before he could stop her. His shoulders hunched forward; he knew when he'd been beaten. "All right," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "She wins."
"You better get used to it if you're getting married," my dad told him. "You might not know it yet, but your wife is never wrong. The faster you learn that, the happier you'll be."
Trixie and my dad didn't like the idea of Eleanor going to Mistmoor alone. It wasn't that long ago that Mistmoor had threatened to go to war with Sweetland Cove, all because of some obscure, ancient rule that Sweetland's own Mayor Thomas had found in some old law books.
The general consensus in town was that Mayor Thomas had been drunk on power, wanting to rule over all of Heavenly Haven, not just Sweetland Cove. It had taken the last-minute intervention of Dean Lampton to settle things between us but tensions were still high. Mistmoor didn't trust us, not that they ever had. We didn't trust them, not that we ever would. Mayor Thomas had suffered the loss of some popularity points since then. No one had wanted to go to war. The fact that he was willing to do so just for his own personal gain left Sweetland Cove unsettled.
The whole thing was enough of a mess that Trixie and my father didn't automatically object when I suggested I go with Eleanor. Sheriff Knoxx would be busy working the case and Eleanor was in a fragile state. Eleanor protested that she would be fine, but in the end, I convinced her that two sets of eyes were better than one. I could help her figure things out. I bet that once we got down there, we'd see that the whole thing was a huge mix-up. No way did the body look like Sheriff Knoxx. Not exactly.
Sheriff Knoxx groaned when I told him I was going, too. "Just make sure you two stay out of trouble. In fact, just sit in the car when we get there. I'll leave the radio on for you."
It was a spring day; then again, every day on Heavenly Haven was like spring. When we got to Mistmoor, Eleanor and I promptly opened our doors. Sheriff Knoxx's chest heaved but he said nothing. Two women against one man? He was never going to win that battle.
The body had washed up on Mistmoor Beach. It lay sprawled on the sand about a hundred yards ahead of us. I could see the hair, the hard-set chin, the sheriff's uniform. From the distance, it was Sheriff Knoxx's spitting image. Eleanor stumbled. Sheriff Knoxx caught her before she could fall. I saw her face, pale and worn. It matched the sheriff's.
"Ava, would stay here with your aunt?"
I wanted to get a better look but Eleanor was shaking. "Okay," I agreed. My mind was already busy, thinking, analyzing. If there was a professional assassin in Mistmoor, why was he here? Had someone hired him or was he acting on his own?
Colt was walking around in circles, talking to Lincoln as he examined the body from all angles. This was the same beach where Snowball had found me once upon a time. I kept waiting for Colt to see me, but he was too engrossed in his work. When Sheriff Knoxx approached, he finally looked up. The sheriff said something to him and Colt looked in our direction. I smiled and waved.
He smiled back, but it was grim. He came toward me as Sheriff Knoxx stepped in to take his place.
The first thing Colt said was, "It's not him. The body, I mean, it's not Sheriff Knoxx."
"I kind of figured that out," I said.
He nodded toward Eleanor, who was sitting in the sand with her knees to her chest. She was resting her head on the tops of her knees and only shot Colt a cursory glance.
"It's an omen," she said.
"Yeah," Colt scoffed, "an omen that we have a professional killer on our hands."
"A professional? Are you talking about the assassin who attacked Tazzie Singer?"
"That's right."
Now Colt had Eleanor's attention. She stood up, brushing the sand off her emerald green skirt. "What does Sheriff Knoxx's body double have to do with a professional assassin? You think they're connected? Is it the same man who attacked Tazzie Singer?"
"I can't get into all that right now, just trust me when I tell you—Ava? Ava, where are you going?"
I was walking toward the shoreline, toward the body. Beach patrons had been cleared off the sand. Normally there were surfers, tourists, you name it, walking idly around. Not now. On either side of the beach, piles of rocks jutted up, creating lookouts.
"Ava, stop. Come back here. You can't get that close; this is a crime scene." Colt was chasing after me. Eleanor shrugged and decided she might as well join us.
Sheriff Knoxx scowled at me, then Colt. "I thought I told you to keep them away. I don't want Eleanor seeing this."
"I tried. Eleanor's your fiancée, if she doesn't listen to you, she's not gonna listen to me."
I stared at the body. Eleanor looked, looked away, looked back. The clothes were wet; he'd clearly been dragged from the water recently.
&nbs
p; "Wow, he really does look just like you," I muttered. "It's uncanny." I bent down for a closer look. Eleanor finally had enough, though. She stepped away, toward the water, and looked out over the sea.
"Wait a second," I said. "The face. His nose." I reached out one hand and Colt pushed it away.
"Ava! Don't touch the body." I was clearly frustrating Colt. It had been two days since we'd seen each other and what I really wanted was to get him alone. To hold him and kiss him and tell him how good he looked, his light brown hair shining like dark gold under the sun.
"Sorry," I said. "But his nose. What's wrong with his nose?"
Lincoln was wearing gloves. He leaned over the body with something that looked like a giant pair of tweezers and pulled on it. Sheriff Knoxx's large, Redknapp nose peeled back just under the left nostril, exposing a much smaller Grecian nose beneath it.
"It's a fake!" I exclaimed.
"A very good fake," said Lincoln, examining it closer. "Good catch. I suspect that once we get him back to the hospital and Dr. Wallace starts digging around, we'll find that the rest of him is just as fake."
"What does it mean?" I asked.
Eleanor had crept closer. Now that she had visual confirmation that the man before us was different from Sheriff Knoxx in crucial ways, she seemed a lot calmer.
"Not sure yet," Colt said, "but the man who attacked Tazzie Singer was also dressed in some sort of disguise. She said he looked a lot like Dr. Wallace, except with glasses."
"Dr. Wallace?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes, but it wasn't him," Lincoln quickly said. "He was at the hospital. We already checked."
"Could it just be a coincidence?" I asked.
"She swore that his glasses were fake and was pretty sure that his nose was, too."
"You think this is the same man, just in a different disguise?"
Lincoln looked out over the sea. "It's too early to say." When he looked back, his mouth was set in a thin, hard line. "Look, the two of you really shouldn't be here. Why don't you go by Cakes and Creations? I'm sure Felicity would love to say hi."
