by Elle Adams
I’d long since given up hope of getting any closer to the person responsible for the curse, but the potion would surely wear off soon, along with my chance of doing any more snooping without being caught. I should be relieved to have the burden taken off my hands, and yet I still hadn’t actually managed to do anything useful. But how was I supposed to know someone—maybe the person responsible for the curse—would kill the man I was helping before I had the chance to get any results? I’d assumed they’d cursed the job because they didn’t want to kill the only wand-maker. I was wrong. At least, if it was the same person.
If the killer had struck because I was close to the truth, I’d partially caused his murder. I had to solve it.
Cold. Damp. My wings beat, but I was trapped… trapped in a confined space…
I jerked upright, blinking into the darkness as my door clicked open. I couldn’t have slept for long, because I was still transparent.
Someone came into the room. The outline of someone I couldn’t see. Either Nathan or an actual, genuine ghost. My heart rate kicked into gear.
“Please tell me I got the right cell,” Nathan’s voice said from somewhere to my right.
I jumped upright in relief. “Yes, you did. Are you breaking me out of jail?”
“No. I managed to convince Steve that there wasn’t enough evidence to hold you in here indefinitely. We should leave before he changes his mind.”
“I find it hard to believe anyone could convince Steve, to be honest. He has it in for me, even though with Mr Bayer, I caught the killer.” I stumbled on the way out the door and knocked into him sideways. “Ow. Sorry.”
“It was somewhat difficult to find you like this.”
I could imagine. There were no lights in here. I had to lean on Nathan at one point on the way out, and I couldn’t even appreciate the moment.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said, when we emerged from the jail, into the darkness. It must be the middle of the night by now. “I thought the potion was supposed to wear off tonight?”
“It is,” I said. “Sorry. I made a real mess of things.”
“You aren’t responsible,” he said, his voice gentle. “Steve shouldn’t have reacted the way he did.”
I shook my head, though he probably didn’t see it. “I was snooping around and got caught. It’s my own fault. I just wanted to see where the mice went. They might have seen who did it.”
“I can look for them,” he said. “I have permission to be near the crime scene. I think you did me a favour by turning me transparent, Blair. Otherwise I might have been the one on security duty when he was killed.”
I swallowed hard. Thinking about Nathan being hurt made me want to burst into hysterical tears.
He let me lean on him on the walk back, probably more to stop me falling into the mud than for comfort’s sake, but I appreciated it. When we reached the house, he paused.
“I hope you don’t blame yourself for this, Blair,” he said, his voice soft.
“I feel at least partly responsible,” I said. “I don’t know who might have done it. Maybe someone who was afraid I was close to solving the case—but the evidence all suggested he brought the curse on himself. Killing him wouldn’t achieve anything.”
“Brought it on himself?” he echoed.
I shook my head. “Never mind. It’s pretty much irrelevant now he’s dead. I think the person who put the curse on him was aiming at him and got his assistants instead. I hope they’re not stuck like that forever now.”
“They won’t be,” he said. “If he was the target, the curse should have been broken when he died. Steve sent the other gargoyles to search the area nearby after finding the body. He didn’t mention any mice.”
Wait. If the assistants were still stuck in rodent form, then maybe I’d been wrong all along and Mr Falconer hadn’t been the intended target of the curse. Snooping around his shop right now was out of the question, but I wished I knew for certain if the assistants had escaped or not.
I really hope so.
I tripped over the threshold to the house and rapped on the flat door, too tired to find my keys.
Alissa appeared a moment later. “Blair! I thought you were going to be stuck there overnight.”
“Got lucky.” I tripped past her into the flat, and collapsed onto the sofa. Sky wriggled out from underneath me with an indignant yowl. “Nice to see you, too.”
“He’s been howling all night,” Alissa said.
“No mice?”
“No mice. He seemed pretty distraught. I told you he was your familiar.”
“I can’t—I don’t think I’m ever getting a wand now.” I crawled into an upright position as Alissa leaned over and hugged me.
“It’s unjust, what happened to you. They shouldn’t have blamed you.”
I exhaled heavily. “I walked into a crime scene when I knew Steve the Gargoyle had it in for me. And I completely failed to save those apprentices or find out what Mr Falconer was hiding.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Alissa. “You did your best.”
“I was so sure Mr Falconer put the curse on the job himself to keep his secrets, or Ava was responsible. Maybe a bit of both. I mean, he annoyed so many people. Anyone might have killed him. There’s not even any proof that it’s connected to my investigation.”
“He died right as you were getting close to the answers,” she said. “I’d say that’s proof enough.”
“Not for Steve the Stony-Faced Gargoyle.”
She snorted. “Sorry, this isn’t funny in the slightest.”
I managed a smile. “I’ve gone from dealing with a bad-tempered wand-maker to a grumpy gargoyle. Not much of an improvement.”
“You don’t have to deal with him now you’re free,” she said. “Nobody will expect you to find Mr Falconer’s replacement. The witches are still discussing it.”
“I wouldn’t have thought there’d be no backup plan. Even with all the apprentices turning into mice, surely someone would have noticed that there wasn’t anyone else who had the same training.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt Madame Grey will have come up with something. We just have to wait to find out.”
And hope the new person didn’t meet the same fate.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “Madame Grey told me that your exam’s been postponed until Saturday, in light of your arrest. She sent Nathan to set you free.”
“She did?” So he hadn’t even come to rescue me of his own accord. I didn’t even have the energy to be mildly disappointed. At least I’d get another shot at the exam, if I pulled myself together.
I rubbed a hand over my forehead. A hand I could suddenly see.
Alissa’ eyes widened. “Hey! The potion wore off.”
“Yay.” I mimed a celebratory dance. “I can’t even get out of work tomorrow, then. Heaven knows what the boss will have to say.”
12
“I’m glad it was him,” was the first thing the boss said the following morning.
Bethan spat out a mouthful of coffee. “Excuse me?”
Veronica said. “Of all the clients to lose, I liked him the least.”
Why did you have to push me to help him? I shut down the thought before I accidentally said it aloud. I’d hardly slept, and not being transparent only caused my total mess of an appearance to be more obvious to everyone. I’d kind of hoped the boss would take pity on me and reduce my workload, but the looming pile of everything I’d not dealt with this week rivalled Bethan’s overly messy desk.
“That’s not a polite thing to say about a dead person,” Bethan said.
“Especially the only wand-maker,” I added. “Have you—and Madame Grey—come up with a contingency plan yet?”
“No,” she said, tersely. “The idiotic man has locked up his shop so nobody can get into it.”
“But—” I cut off as she left the office. “But that means nobody can get at the wands.”
So much for at least getting a wand out of this m
ess.
“I’m sure Madame Grey will think of something,” Bethan said consolingly.
“Did the boss really just say that?” said Lena, who looked on the brink of handing in her notice. “Do clients normally die on the job?”
There was an awkward pause in which the other two did their best not to look at me, and I did my best to look… nowhere. “Nope,” Lizzie said. “I have good news, though—I fixed the printer.”
The printer made a coughing noise and spat a wad of paper at Bethan. She looked down at it. “It’s purple.”
“It’s an improvement,” Lizzie insisted.
I looked down at my own paper. My headache had subsided for now, courtesy of a mug of motivational coffee, but the looming spectre of Mr Falconer’s death hung heavily over all of us.
One advantage to his death: I wasn’t the only person prying into his history to see who might have been the one to bump him off. The murderer plainly hadn’t thought too hard about that. Or hadn’t cared. Throughout the day, theories flew wildly around the office whenever anyone got a spare moment—outlandish tales of illicit affairs and secret relationships, even a love child or two.
“It’s because they haven’t found a will yet,” said Bethan. “Nobody knows who will get his wand collection. Common sense says they’ll donate it to the academy, or maybe just have someone else in charge of the shop so people can order their wands same as usual. There’s enough supplies for a while, at least.”
“When they figure out how to get in,” I pointed out. “What if someone isn’t compatible with any of the wands at all?”
She shook his head. “No clue. I don’t know how they’re going to divide up the rest of his possessions, considering he had no family.”
“No apprentice either,” added Lizzie. “That’s not our job, thankfully. Veronica might be insensitive, but at least she removed us from the case. None of us are qualified to find an actual wand-maker.”
Nope. Definitely not. But with the academy set to inherit his entire wand collection, it was time to talk to Helen again.
Since the big event was tomorrow, I expected to find Helen in the park setting up the finishing touches on the stage, and I wasn’t disappointed.
“Blair!” She waved at me from behind a row of chairs she’d been levitating. “Changed your mind after all?”
“Er, sorry. My exam’s been moved to tomorrow instead. And I’ve had… a week.” I probably looked as bad as I sounded.
“I heard,” she said, sympathy spreading across her face. “I knew you were innocent and they wouldn’t keep you locked up for long.”
“Like I said, I was doing a job for Mr Falconer,” I said. “I don’t understand why anyone would kill him. He was the only wand-maker.”
She nodded, lowering the chairs with a flick of her wand. “It’s a bad situation all around. I’m not yet sure how we’re going to handle things at the academy, but we should have enough wands to last us through the next year, at least.”
“I thought you were set to inherit the lot,” I said to her. “I’ll be getting one if I pass the exam, but nobody can get into the shop. That’s why I wondered. But I’m curious… he really wasn’t well-liked. Do you have an idea about who might have done it?”
She shook her head. “Why, are you investigating again? There isn’t anyone who wouldn’t have revenged themselves on him given the chance. He’s—he was—possibly the least popular of our residents.”
“I didn’t know there was a list.”
She lowered her wand. “Not a list… no, that was a joke, right?” Her smile came back, but it looked false. “It’s just, you know, he’s lived here long enough to have met generations of witches and wizards.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m surprised he never trained anyone else,” I said. “Unless… there used to be other wand-makers, right?”
The Wormwood Coven. What with the upheaval of his death, I hadn’t thought to ask anyone about the coven who supposedly funded the town’s wand supplies. But asking anyone that might involve giving away that I’d broken into Madame Grey’s office.
“Before I was born,” Helen responded. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”
Sincerity permeated her words. Helen didn’t know any more than I did, and I should really stop poking further. I ought to be celebrating not being transparent, not mourning the death of a man who’d driven me out of my mind for a week. Well, not mourning him, but his victims. Reportedly, Ava’s granddaughter remained jailed, and knowing Steve was looking for an excuse to lock me up again, I didn’t dare plead her case.
No… the person to talk to was someone I should have asked from the start: Madame Grey.
I hadn’t seen or spoken to Madame Grey since my accidental transparency, but by now, the spell would have worn off Sammi. I guessed the same was true for Nathan, but I didn’t know where he spent his days. Possibly, he was still dealing with Steve the Gargoyle. I wasn’t at all keen for another chat with the chief of police, so I made for the witches’ headquarters instead.
The good news: the place was no longer transparent. The bad news: the moment I walked inside, I nearly collided with Madame Grey herself.
The leading witch gave me a stern look. “Blair. Good to see you’re more substantial this time.”
“Is Sammi okay?”
“If you mean to ask if the spell wore off, it did. You actually did a good job with that particular potion, if it wasn’t what you planned to make. I have a feeling you’re going to need training in moderation.”
I hesitated. “Er… will I be able to get a wand? I heard nobody can get into the shop.”
“The coven keeps their own supply,” she said. “I think we’ll be able to deal with it.”
Not the reaction I’d expected. “I thought he was the only wand-maker, and the academy was inheriting all the wands.”
“Who told you that?”
“There were a bunch of rumours flying around at work,” I said vaguely. She didn’t know about my transparent tryst into her office, and I had no intention of enlightening her on the subject. “But—I was working for him, when he died, and I feel like they’ve locked up the wrong people.”
“What makes you think that?”
I paused before saying, “He told me not to tell anyone, but I guess it doesn’t matter now he’s dead. His apprentices keep falling under a spell. A curse. I was close to figuring out who did it when he died.”
Her brows rose. “Where are these apprentices?”
I told her the short version of the story. “They were all turned into mice. He had a cage in his shop, but obviously I haven’t been in the place since before he died, and it’s locked. I don’t know if they’re still there. I’m not sure what he was doing when they killed him—or who did it. But the mice might know.” I’d never, in my previous life, thought I’d be saying that with a straight face.
Madame Grey began to walk in the direction of her office. “I assumed there was an issue with his apprentices, but he decided against telling the covens.”
“Yeah, he really didn’t want me to tell you,” I said. “What I don’t understand is what someone would have to gain from this. Killing the only wand-maker. What’s the backup plan? The academy—a friend I have who works there, she seems to think that it’ll work out and someone else will take over. But I thought everyone else quit.”
“How did you know that?”
“Vincent told me,” I said. “The elder vampire. He said he didn’t remember it well, but that the former coven who used to make wands had some kind of an accident that caused them to lose their memories.”
“He would be correct,” she said. “But it was no accident. The coven decided to erase their memories of the craft on purpose, or so we believe. In any case, one day they knew, and the next, they didn’t.”
My jaw hung loose. “They did it deliberately? And Mr Falconer was the only one left?”
“Not at the time. The others died off, gradually, until only
he remained. Unfortunately, the others had not spread the knowledge beyond their own covens, which leaves us with our present dilemma.”
My heart dropped. “You don’t have a replacement. Right?”
“As of the present moment—no. If I were you, Blair, I’d concentrate on studying for your exam tomorrow. Leave the investigation to the police.”
“But—Ava. Her granddaughter’s been arrested. She’s innocent. I—"
“Blair, you have a good heart. Your mother was the same.”
My heart seized. Did she have to bring up my family? I’d tried so hard, and yet everywhere I looked, chaos seemed to erupt. And I’d hoped so hard that I’d be heading to Mr Falconer’s shop this weekend to pick out my wand after beating the curse.
Speaking of wands… Madame Grey’s was in her upper pocket, where she usually kept it. I couldn’t help noticing it was branded silver. Like the one in the window display.
“Your wand,” I said. “It’s different to the others. I mean, to the ones in his shop.”
She frowned. “Naturally. He wasn’t a wand-maker when I was younger.”
The wand had been made before he’d taken over the business. So another wand-maker must have been responsible.
“Are there big differences between the newer wands and the older ones?” I asked. “I imagine the safety constraints are stricter, like the broomsticks.”
“You aren’t wrong. You can do all sorts of things with an older wand that it’s not possible to do with the newer models,” she said. “There’s a reason you can’t cast spells through solid objects, or put a spell on someone’s wand. It used to be possible to do that, but the number of accidents was appalling, so that rule was brought in quite some time ago.”
“How many of the rules were Mr Falconer responsible for?” I didn’t picture him being particularly concerned with safety.
“None of them. It was up to the covens. But I’d advise you to forget about the man, and the curse. It’s sad that you were so closely involved with him before his death, but if there is a curse, then doubtless his death will have taken care of it.”
