by Amy Boyles
I nodded. “That would be wonderful.”
Gladiolas’s room had all the furnishings of a presidential suite, including sitting area. I nestled into a straight-backed chair, and she joined me. The room had a small fireplace with decorations above the stone mantle. I looked away, staring out at the balcony.
She magicked a coffee service and poured me a cup. I blew steam from the surface until I felt the drink was cooled. Though the caffeine didn’t help my racing heart and jittery nerves, it did offer the same comfort that wrapping myself in a warm blanket seemed to bring.
“Roman’s been arrested,” I finally said.
Gladiolas folded her hands in her lap. “I know. He and Pearbottom are at witch police headquarters.”
I wedged my fist into my thigh. “Who had them arrested and why? We just discovered that Never Forget is still missing.”
Not really. But according to them that’s what they had discovered.
The councilwoman shook her head. “It was Councilman Devlin. He called an emergency meeting and pushed that agenda forward.”
I scrunched up my face in disbelief. “Damon Devlin?”
She nodded.
“I forgot he’s a councilman,” I murmured.
She brushed her fingers over her face as if trying to smooth out the wrinkles. “Yes.”
“When did this happen?”
Gladiolas bit into a shortbread cookie she’d magicked with the coffee. “Earlier today.”
I raked my fingers over my scalp. “Why’s he doing this?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what Devlin’s plan is. I believe he wants to bring in new inspectors.”
I collapsed back in the chair. “This is horrible. Terrible.” Tears welled in my eyes. I stared at the cut squares of gray stone that lined the floor. “Roman can’t go to jail,” I whispered.
Gladiolas reached over and patted my knee. “It’ll be okay, Dylan. Everything will be fine.”
The words erupted from my mouth in a ball of fury. “You always help us. Why didn’t you stop them?”
Her eyes narrowed briefly. “Because Roman wanted to go.”
It was a punch to the stomach, hard and fast. My lips trembled as I said, “What?”
Gladiolas leveled her gaze on me. “He wanted to go. Roman wanted to be arrested.”
“Why?”
She tipped her head to one side. “Think, Dylan.”
I rubbed my temples. “Because Pearbottom is still holding Boo. If they solve the crime, then Pearbottom will dig through Boo’s brain, possibly causing him permanent brain damage. Having them in jail stalls the case.” I sighed, further deflating into the chair. “What a mess.”
“But it’s the mess Roman wanted. It keeps his father safe.”
I drummed my fingers on the chair’s arm, praying that a brilliant solution would hit me like a ton of bricks. “Can’t you help? Can’t you release both Boo and Roman?”
Gladiolas gave me a motherly smile. “You know, I see so much of myself in you.”
“Sorry,” I said instinctively. “I’m such a mess. You don’t seem like you’ve ever been a mess.”
She broke off a bite of cookie and popped it in her mouth. “You’d be surprised what I was like in my youth. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about your spirit, your drive. You give so much to those you care about, especially Roman. It’s almost too much, dear. You’ve got to save some energy for yourself. Roman is a man who can take better care of himself than most people. I know you want to help him, but often people must save themselves. There are times when thinking about yourself can be the single most important thing you do. Take care of you first; then you can help others. Because if you’re not strong, how can you offer strength that others need during difficult times? This is one of those times. Roman requires your strength, not your sympathy.”
Her words sank into me. “What if I could solve it all? Give the people the person who stole Never Forget and the murderer of Queen Catherine? That would wrap this whole thing up lickety-split.”
Gladiolas’s eyes widened. “That is a tall order.”
“I know, but it’s not untrue.”
Gladiolas leaned forward. “My dear, if you could solve Queen Catherine’s murder, the entire witching world would forever be in your debt.” She placed a hand over her heart. “I, for one, would make sure you receive a seat on the council.”
“Um, no thanks,” I said, rising. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” I stretched my arms over my head. “Thank you for talking to me. You look tired. Get some rest.”
Gladiolas hugged me. “I’m here anytime to talk.”
“Thank you.”
I walked back to my room. Thoughts swirled in my head. I knew who had stolen Never Forget, but had no proof. Of course, even if I did get proof, then that would mean Roman would be released from jail and Boo would be poked and prodded unless I could use that darn pact ring and figure out who committed those murders.
I turned the corner in a hallway and nearly bumped into Chasity.
“Dylan,” she said, reaching out to grab my hand. “I’m so excited that you’ve got the last place in the contest. Are you ready?”
I fingered the ends of my hair. An uncomfortable laugh drifted from my lips. “Hmm. Not really. I don’t have one clue about what I’m going to do.”
“You could make the entire room forget they were there.”
I stared at her. “What?”
She shivered. Chasity’s thick, curly hair rustled atop her shoulders. “It was just a thought.”
“See you tomorrow,” I said as she bounded away.
Chasity’s words swirled in my head. I had no idea what I was going to do, but whatever I did had to be good.
I needed to knock it out of the park, and at the same time I had a unique position. There had been so much chaos with Never Forget being stolen and all the drama with Roman that I’d lost track of what was really at stake—Master was here, in the castle.
But Grandma and I had used the pact ring on every single elite of the witching world. Could we have missed someone? We must’ve. There was no other explanation.
An idea started forming in my head. It was risky and it might not work and it would definitely put me in harm’s way, but I would never get this chance ever again. I had to get to the bottom of Catherine’s murder, and I knew exactly how to do it.
I strode back to my room quickly, managing to avoid several conversations with people who wanted to talk about what I was going to do for the contest. When I reached the room, I found Grandma in there, chatting it up with Sera and Reid. I rummaged through my pile of clothes, checking all the pockets.
“Lost something?” Grandma said.
I threw down a pair of jeans. “Have you seen the pact ring?”
She bobbed her head. “How could I with all that mess you’ve got there?”
I shot her a dark look.
The rings on her fingers jangled as she clutched the pearls around her neck. “Don’t take your anger out on me,” Grandma sniffed. “I haven’t seen it.”
Sera glanced up from the bed. Her knees were bent and her phone was propped on her thighs. “I think Reid found it and put it away in the dresser.”
“Great,” I said. I moved toward the dresser. I started to open it when the door banged open.
“Dylan,” Em said, rushing in.
Now what?
“What’s going on?”
“Clothar the Fairy King is downstairs. Fairyland was attacked. I tried questioning him, but he ain’t saying nothin’. Says there’s only one person he’ll talk to.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “That person—”
Em nodded. “Is you.”
TWENTY
Clothar threw his hands in the air when he saw me. “Dylan Apel!” He took my hand and kissed me on both cheeks. “You know, you really should be queen of this place. The one they’ve got now”—he waved in dismissal—“I can’t understand a word she says.”
I’d been led by Em’s councilors to the solarium. Clothar looked exactly as I’d left him in Fairyland. Shells had been woven into his long copper hair, and he wore simple yet elegantly cut clothes made of soft linen. I stopped myself from taking his shirt between my fingers and rubbing.
No, I didn’t.
“You like?” he said, pumping his eyebrows. “Feel as much as you want.” He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “There’s more where that came from.”
Not sure what that meant.
“What’s going on, Clothar?” I said. “And let me point out that I’m trying really hard not to be mad at you for abandoning me with the sprite queen. I barely made it out of her cavern of hell without having to marry her son.”
Last time I’d seen Clothar, we went for a walk in the moonlight. Don’t worry, there wasn’t anything even remotely romantic going on. He was showing me Fairyland at night. We came across some sprites, and they sucked me down into the earth.
They may have shrunken me as well. And I didn’t even drink from a cup that had Drink Me written on it.
He grimaced. “But you did make it out of the sprite queen’s lair.”
“That’s beside the point.”
He flashed me a dashing smile. “Anyway, I am here to see you.”
“About what exactly?”
Clothar paced in our corner of the room. “You know our kind and the witches, they do not get along. Can’t stand most of them.” He showed me some pearly whites. “Except for you. We love Dylan Apel and her clothes.”
“Thank you.” I forced myself not to smile at the thought of Clothar slipping into one of my dresses. Think I’m kidding? I most certainly am not. Clothar loves to wear my clothes. I have him to thank for my successful online business.
Clothar paused. “But it is under duress that I am here.”
“What’s going on?”
He crossed to me and sat down. “Fairyland has many secrets. Many secrets, Dylan Apel. We are fairies. We keep our secrets.”
“I get it.”
“But there are some secrets that are more widely known than others.”
“That’s not exactly what I’d call a secret, then, is it?”
Clothar laughed. “You, Dylan Apel, are hilarious. But you are correct. There are things we hide as fairies, particularly from the witches. Nasty bunch of people.”
“You know you’re talking to one.”
He gestured wildly. “Yes, but we love you, Dylan Apel. You are like one of our peeps.”
Got it. I’m a fairy peep. Good to know. “Okay,” I said slowly, not quite understanding what he meant.
“But one of the secrets we have is that we hold magical energy, magical life, so to speak. There is a cavern of magic where we, the fairies, go to rejuvenate ourselves, restore our bodies and become like new again.”
His words sank into my head. “Okay, so you have a store of energy.”
Clothar nodded. “This store can only be accessed by a few people. Attempts have been made in the past, attempts to break into it by outsiders, but it’s very difficult and few know the secret type of weapon that it takes to get in.”
“Okay, what does it take?”
Clothar licked his lips. “It takes magical Damascus steel to break the lock.”
Magical Damascus steel? “That’s very rare, right?”
He nodded. “There is very little of it left.” He waved his hand. “The witches called all of it back, years ago. It was part of our treaty agreement. So all Damascus steel is here, in Castle Witch.”
I shrugged. “Okay, but we’re not allowed to leave. No one is. There’s an active investigation.”
Clothar rose. He stretched like a peacock preening. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course. There are witch police watching for— Oh crap.”
Clothar’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Yes, Dylan Apel? Is there a hole in your Castle Witch?”
I pumped my hands, trying to calm myself. “Clothar, let me get this straight. You’re saying someone from Castle Witch broke into your Fairyland magical reserves and stole it?”
He crossed to the fireplace and admired himself in the mirror above the mantel. “Dylan Apel, you have such a way with words. Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. Someone from here came to my house and stole the chicken from my refrigerator.”
“What?”
“Isn’t that a saying?”
I shook my head. “Nowhere is that a saying.”
He shrugged. “Sounds good anyway.” He flicked his hands. “That is what I came to tell you. Someone broke in and stole the magic.”
“When did this happen?”
“A few hours ago.”
“While it was still daylight?”
He nodded. “They were very bold, this thief.”
I rubbed a worry line from my head. “What do you want?”
“I want their head,” he said without blinking. “This is the magic pool of my people. We need this. Whoever is responsible will be brought to justice. I need you and your mate to find that person and deliver them to me.”
I decided to omit the fact that Roman, my mate, was currently incarcerated. “And what will you do to them when you get them?”
Clothar focused his gaze on me. Chills swept down my spine. “I will take my magic back, one strip of skin at a time.”
Once that cozy little conversation was over, Clothar left, but he expected me to find the culprit. I didn’t mention that I didn’t exactly have a degree in criminology or anything. I wasn’t the most skilled person to find the thief, but I nodded and smiled and told him I’d do the best I possibly could.
First things first. I found Em outside the solarium, waiting for me.
She tapped a sandaled foot on the stone floor. “What the heck did he want?”
I explained everything. Her eyes widened with each sentence. When the story was over, Em shivered. I wasn’t sure if it was from the crime or from the fact that Clothar said he would skin the criminal in order to get his magic back.
“Em, you can find out if anyone left the castle in the past day, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but Roman and Pearbottom are monitorin’ that.”
“Em,” I said slowly. “Roman and Pearbottom are gone. Is the veil or any other way to leave the castle being watched?”
She tugged her teeth over her bottom lip. “Do you think this was intentional?”
I pulled her into a corner. “What I know is that Clothar is convinced whoever did it came from here. Our chief police officers, the only two people monitoring the comings and goings of folks, are currently under arrest. What I know is that this all looks very bad.”
Em’s face flushed. “I’ll find out and let you know.”
“Wake me up if you have to.”
She nodded and left.
The queen’s councilors shuffled off behind her, mumbling as they went. I glanced down at my watch. It was getting late. The castle was quiet and probably nearly everyone was in bed, but there was someone I needed to talk to. I hoped she was still up.
“Nan, I need you to tell me everything you can about magical Damascus steel.”
I found Nan in her room. She’d been getting ready for bed. Nan had her hair up in rollers, and she was wearing a floral housecoat.
“Let me get dressed,” she said. By dressed, she meant strapping on her brand-new sword. “Let’s go to the library. The answers will be there. Oh, Dylan, I live for this stuff. So glad to help you.”
The heavy odor of old things assaulted me when Nan opened the library door. My sinuses immediately closed up. Great. I hadn’t brought my nasal spray to stop any congestion. I guess if it got bad enough, I could get Grandma to fix me.
“The castle archivists cataloged everything about that,” Nan said, snapping on the light.
Her housecoat swept the floor as she walked. She moved to a row of bookcases and ran her finger along the spines of the tomes. S
he mumbled the titles aloud as she searched for the perfect one.
“Stained Glass Windows, Names of Horses, Toadstools and Fungi…ah, there’s that sucker.” Nan heaved a book from the shelf. “A History of Weaponry.” She patted the book. “This will have all the answers.”
She drifted over to a reading table and laid the book spine down. Nan cracked it open and started flipping pages.
“It was at least fifty years ago that the pact was made to eliminate all the magical Damascus steel.”
My eyebrows shot up at that. “Eliminate?”
“Hmm mmm,” she said. “From what I know, we’re allowed a certain amount, but most of the steel was destroyed. It was the only way to keep the peace between the fairies and the witches. You know they don’t like us, right? Bunch of pests if you ask me. Those fairies are a fickle group.”
“Tell me about it,” I murmured. “So how much can we keep?”
Nan scanned the page. “Not very much. Only a small amount is kept raw, and I just used the last bit to make this beauty here.”
“So is there a list of all the Damascus steel that was left and what happened to it?” I said.
Nan frowned. She flipped through the pages. “Here. Here’s what happened. It says that throughout the witching world all the Damascus steel was collected. Most of it was destroyed but a small percentage was allowed to stay. Some of the weapons—these were very old—were allowed to remain.”
“Like what, for instance?”
“Two dueling swords. Supposedly they came over from Irish witches.”
“Where are they now?”
She scanned the page, running one stubby finger over the vellum. “They wrote down their location. See?”
My gaze swept over the words. Blood froze in my veins. I stumbled back a step. “No. That can’t be.”
Nan nodded. “This book is accurate. If that’s where it says they are, that’s where they are. Do you need some help fighting, Dylan?” She tapped the sword. “This baby is ready to taste some blood, anytime, anywhere.”
Fog clouded my brain. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. My tongue thickened as my heart raged against my ribs, sending my blood pressure shooting way up. I already felt the beginnings of a headache pulsing in my forehead.
