I glared at him from across the table. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
Can I do it, too? he asked. Ask the Nazi cheerleader.
Only if you refer to her by her name.
Oh, you mean the way you refer to Hazel as the crazed clown?
I huffed. “Marigold, Raoul would like to know whether he’s capable of psychometry, too?”
Marigold looked contemplatively at the raccoon. “Do you know what? I’m not entirely sure. He can read your thoughts of an object, of course, but I don’t know whether he can pick up the energy on his own.” She pushed the basket in his direction. “Why don’t you try? It can’t do any harm.”
Raoul placed one paw over his eyes and used the other paw to fish through the items in the basket. He pulled a chewed bone from the pile and tapped his claws against it.
Hey, I think I got a happy one. He stuck out his tongue at me. Take that, Saddy McSadness.
“He says his object is thoroughly depressing,” I said.
Marigold’s brow rose. “Really?”
I blew out a breath. “No. He says he feels happiness.”
“Well.” Marigold seemed to relax. “That makes more sense. Anything else?”
Raoul held the bone against his body. Contentment. Whoever owned this felt like he had a good, full life.
I repeated his words to Marigold and her lips curved into a smile. “I suppose it’s a shared gift after all. Open your eyes, Raoul.”
He took note of the bone. How about that? A dog?
“A dog?” I said aloud.
“That’s right,” Marigold said. “His name was, unimaginatively, Rover. He died of natural causes after a long and happy life.”
Yeah, I got that. Raoul looked at me. It felt weird to experience emotions that don’t belong to you or me.
You mean it felt weird to experience happiness and contentment.
He shot me a menacing look.
“One more round,” Marigold said. “Then I need to head off. It is Sunday, you know. I only do this because her ladyship requires it.”
Raoul snickered. Her ladyship. She’s talking about your uppity aunt.
“Yes, Raoul. I know perfectly well who she’s talking about.” I closed my eyes and reached forward. A cylindrical wooden object slid into my hand. I pushed aside the thoughts associated with the physical properties in order to access the energy. My chest tightened and I could hardly breathe from the onslaught of feelings. Emotions flooded me—good and bad. Fear, pain, happiness, desperation.
“What is it, Ember?” Marigold asked. “Do you see anything?”
I focused on my mind’s eye and an image of a woman appeared in shadow. She wasn’t blurry like previous images, but I still couldn’t see much of her—not even the color of her hair. The energy, on the other hand, was overwhelming.
“I see a woman,” I said. “I feel strength and power and disappointment.” I paused to catch my breath. “Any emotion you can name, I’m probably feeling it right now.”
“Fascinating,” Marigold whispered. “You may let go it now. Wouldn’t want to risk upsetting your aunt by shocking your system.”
I blinked open my eyes. “Am I right?”
Marigold shrugged. “I can only assume so. I didn’t bring this object with me. It was the wand that was left out, presumably from Marley’s birthday party.”
I gaped at the ancient wand. “Yes, it was a gift from Aunt Hyacinth.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” she said. “A lot of stories, in fact.”
I scrutinized the wand more closely. “More than I could have possibly imagined.”
Chapter Eleven
Deputy Bolan and I stood on the front step of Avonne and Stone’s beautiful brick house. Every flower and shrub seemed carefully chosen and the yard was landscaped within an inch of its life. I waited patiently for the leprechaun to knock, letting him take the lead so that he didn’t get his green panties in a twist. After an uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat.
“What’s the holdup, Deputy Bolan?” I asked.
His gaze shifted to the door. “There’s no doorbell.”
“And?” It took me another beat before I made the connection. “Oh!” He couldn’t reach the knocker on the door. “Allow me.” I gripped the brass ring and banged it against the door.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Deputy Bolan asked, his arms folded.
“I love knocking on doors,” I said. “Reminds me of trick-or-treating in my youth.”
“Liar.”
The door cracked open and Avonne’s pretty face appeared in the gap. “Ember, what a surprise.”
“You remember Deputy Bolan from Rollins Manor,” I said. I moved aside so that she could get a better view of the leprechaun. “We’d like to talk to you about your grandmother, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” She widened the gap and we stepped inside the house. The interior was as organized and tasteful as the outside. “The children are at school, so I was taking the opportunity to work on my designs.” She walked toward an open room to the right of the foyer where a conference room-length table was pushed against the wall.
“Designs for what?” I asked.
“I’ve been hoping to start a clothing line,” she said. “Stone spends so much of his time at work. Now that the kids are in school full-time, I need a focus of my own. I can only serve on the board of so many charitable organizations before it all feels the same.”
I glanced at the table where dozens of sketches were spread out in a neat row. “These are gorgeous,” I said. They were dress designs in varying lengths and styles.
“Do you really think so?” Avonne sat in the chair at the table and picked up the nearest sketch. “Fashion is my passion. I even like that as a company tagline.”
“It’s good,” I said. “You should be proud of these.”
Avonne frowned. “I wish my family agreed with you. They would rather mock me than support me.”
“Really?” I said. “That’s a shame.”
Avonne leaned her chin on the open palm of her hand. “I suppose I’m being overly dramatic. They just don’t approve of a clothing line. They think it doesn’t fit with our family’s image.”
“By ‘they,’ do you mean your grandmother?” I asked.
She looked up at me and smiled. “Basically. I asked for seed money to start the business and she refused.”
Deputy Bolan and I exchanged glances. At least she was being forthcoming about that fact. Of course, she was probably smart enough to realize that we already knew and it was the reason for our visit.
“She thought the Rollins-Mahoney clan was too fancy for a clothing line?” the deputy asked. “Because a clothing line sounds fancy to me.”
Avonne tapped the paper in front of her. “It’s not that simple. We’re a wealthy family, Deputy Bolan. We don’t have jobs in the traditional sense. Stone is enough of an anomaly, but he’s excused because he married into our family rather than being born into it.”
“Your grandmother didn’t want you to have careers?” I asked.
“She had very specific ideas about what we could and could not do with our lives,” Avonne said. “After our parents died, she became even more adamant. Apparently, she’d advised against the yacht and they’d bought it anyway.” She stared at the drawing of the dress in front of her. “I think she secretly blamed herself for their deaths, for not putting her foot down about the yacht, and took her guilt out on the rest of us.”
“That must have been difficult,” I said.
“Yes, it was,” Avonne said. “I was told who I was permitted to marry, which organizations I was allowed to join, which friends I could have.” A single tear dripped from cheek to the paper, creating a smudge on the image of the dress.
“Did you ever speak to your grandmother about your discontent?” Deputy Bolan asked.
Avonne snorted. “I tried many times, but Grandmother was extremely stubborn.”
“
But you chose Stone, didn’t you?” I asked. I didn’t get the sense that she’d been forced to marry him.
“Oh, absolutely,” Avonne said. “I was fortunate that Grandmother approved, or we could have ended up like my sister and Weston.” She clucked her tongue. “What a mess that whole thing was.”
“And you don’t like mess, do you?” I asked. The state of her house alone was indicative of that.
“Definitely not,” Avonne replied.
“So what happens now that your grandmother is dead?” the deputy asked. “Will you be able to use your inheritance to fund your new business?”
“Yes, my share will easily fund the business,” she said.
“Did you know that before the reading of the will?” I asked.
“I knew that I would inherit,” Avonne said. “I’ve always been a good girl and caved to Grandmother’s demands, not like Lacey.”
So Hattie refused to fund her granddaughter’s business, and Avonne knew she’d inherit enough money from the estate to cover her startup costs. I smelled a strong motive.
“I understand you had breakfast alone with your grandmother the morning of her party,” I said.
“Yes.” She exhaled softly. “The last time I’ll ever spend alone with her. It seems surreal.”
“Did the two of you get along?” the deputy asked. “Any arguments that morning?”
“Nobody got along with Grandmother,” Avonne said. “Not really. She was too ornery. I did try to please her, though. For better or worse, it’s in my nature to be a pleaser.” She offered a sad smile. “My husband accuses me of it all the time. He wants me to please him, of course, but he’s not so keen on everyone else.”
“You must’ve resented Hattie for not letting you pursue your dream,” I said.
Avonne picked up a pencil and began a fresh sketch. “Maybe at first, but I got over it. Having Stone has been a blessing. He keeps me grounded and Grandmother liked him well enough, which made my life easier. It bumped me up the pecking order anyway.”
“Above Lacey, I guess,” I said.
“Yes, and Ella,” Avonne replied. “Not Fitz, though. He was Grandmother’s favorite. I swore that was the reason he refused to get involved in a serious relationship. He worried too much about losing her approval if Grandmother disliked the woman.”
“If you and Fitz were favored over Ella, why does Ella get the house?” I asked.
Avonne appeared unconcerned. “Neither of us wanted the house, but Ella’s more than happy to take it on. Personally, my memories of growing up there aren’t full of rainbows and unicorns. Anyway, it’s expensive to maintain, as you can imagine.”
“Can you think of anyone with a reason to kill your grandmother?” Deputy Bolan asked.
Avonne shrugged. “Anyone she ever met?” She laughed bitterly. “Like I said, nobody got along with Grandmother. Of course, that doesn’t generally lead to murder, so it’s hard to say.”
“Thanks for your help, Avonne,” I said. “Best of luck with your design business. If it means anything, I’d totally wear one of those dresses.”
Avonne beamed at me. “Thank you, Ember. Actually, it means everything to me.”
Marley and I sat in the office of Rhys Meridien, awaiting our appointment. I had no idea what to expect from Marigold’s suggested therapist. Marley had been eager to come and see whether the druid could help unlock the magic she was still convinced she possessed. I was of two minds. Mostly, I didn’t want to make matters worse by dragging out the inevitable.
The door to Rhys’s office opened and my mouth dropped open. “Lacey?” The morgen was quickly followed by Weston. It didn’t escape my notice that they were holding hands.
Lacey’s cheeks colored. “Ember! I didn’t expect to see anyone I know here.”
I didn’t know how to respond. It seemed rude to ask probing questions about the exes’ relationship.
Weston squeezed her hand. “Now that the old windbag is out of our lives, Lacey and I have decided to give us another shot. The only way Lacey would agree was if I went to couples counseling.” He smiled at her. “So here we are.”
“I guess Grandmother’s death isn’t all doom and gloom,” Lacey said. “I’ll have a nice inheritance and my husband back.” She inclined her head. “How’s the investigation coming along anyway? I can’t get my money until the murderer is caught.”
“You’d have to ask the sheriff,” I said. As far as I knew, Lacey was still on the shortlist. After all, she was the only one with a version of the accelerant in her possession.
“Miss Rose?” A man’s head poked into the waiting area. “Ready when you are.”
Marley and I rose to our feet. “Good luck with everything, Lacey,” I said.
“Thanks.” She eyed Weston. “I’m sure I need it.”
Marley and I entered the druid’s office and I began to inspect the diplomas on the wall. Rhys Meridien was a certified healer, as well as a certified counselor.
“I heal the mind and the body,” Rhys said, as though reading my mind. “A holistic approach.”
Marley and I squished together on the settee, while Rhys sat across from us in a wingback chair. He reminded me of Santa Claus, with white hair and a fluffy white beard to match. His round stomach suggested lots of pot roasts and very little exercise.
“What’s my role here?” I asked. “Do I sit as an active participant? Lurk awkwardly in the background?”
The therapist looked at Marley. “That’s up to you. You call the shots in this room, Marley.”
I wagged a finger. “As long as they’re not Jell-O shots.” My cheeks flamed. “Sorry, that’s a human world reference and not appropriate for children.” I had no idea how to behave in a therapist’s office. I felt completely out of my depth.
“You don’t need to be nervous, Miss Rose,” the therapist said. “You aren’t on trial. We’re simply having a conversation.”
I fidgeted in my seat. “I’m not nervous.”
“I’m the anxious one,” Marley said. “Mom is always cool and collected…unless she’s cooking. Or driving. Or….”
“Okay, thank you, Marley,” I said.
The therapist bit back a smile. “What makes you believe you’re the anxious one, Marley?”
“Because Mom always says so,” she replied.
My jaw hit the floor. “Based on this little thing called evidence.”
The therapist folded his hands on the hill that doubled as his stomach. “What kind of evidence, Miss Rose?”
“Where do I start? Her mind races all the time with every possible bad outcome to a situation. She always had to sleep with me until we moved here,” I said. “She still comes into my room in the middle of the night sometimes.”
The therapist glanced at Marley. “Is this accurate?”
Marley hedged slightly. “Yes.”
“She doesn’t like heights,” I said. “I took her broomstick riding and I thought she was going to leave scars around my abdomen.”
“Heights are a common fear, Miss Rose.” He shifted his attention back to Marley. “When did you start co-sleeping with your mother?”
“After my dad died.”
“I see.” The therapist jotted down a few notes. “And his death was unexpected?”
“Yes, he…” I began to explain, but the therapist held up a hand. “This is the part where you lurk awkwardly in the background.”
“Sure. I can do that.” I pretended to zip my lip.
“He died in an accident,” Marley said. “After that, I was afraid of losing my mom, too, so I wanted to be as close to her as possible when she was around.”
My heart melted. “Marley….”
The therapist gave me a pointed look and I snapped my mouth shut.
“And what made you feel comfortable enough to scale back the number of nights you slept in her bed?” he asked.
Marley plucked a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. “I don’t know. I guess when our cousins came to rescue us in our a
partment. They were so confident…fierce.” She smiled. “I started to feel safe in Starry Hollow, like nothing bad could happen to us because we’re magical and powerful—or, at least, my family is.”
“You know that’s an illusion, though, right?” he asked.
“Um, excuse me?” I said. “Aren’t we supposed to encourage the whole feeling safe thing? Can we please not talk her out of it?”
The therapist chuckled. “What’s your job, Miss Rose?”
“She’s a reporter for Vox Populi,” Marley said. I felt a surge of affection upon hearing the note of pride in her voice. What I did mattered to her. It was both heartening and a bit scary, that sense of responsibility.
“Let’s come to an understanding right from then start,” the therapist said. “I won’t tell you how to write your articles for the paper and you don’t tell me how to conduct my therapy sessions. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled. Apparently, I was not as good at awkwardly lurking as I believed.
“And how have you settled into school?” he asked. “Have you made friends? Grades are good?”
“Yes, but I’d really like to attend the Black Cloak Academy,” she said. “That only happens if I come into my magic, though. That’s a requirement to go there.”
“And why is this so important to you?” he asked. “Your mother didn’t attend there, did she?”
I suppressed a laugh. My life would have turned out much differently if I’d lived in Starry Hollow with full knowledge of my heritage. I would never have met Karl and Marley would never have been born. I shuddered to think about it.
“I’m a Rose,” Marley said. “Roses attend the Black Cloak Academy.”
“Your cousins, Bryn and Hudson,” the therapist began, “they are Roses, are they not?”
Marley pulled harder on the loose thread. “Yes.”
“But they don’t attend there, do they?”
“No, because their werewolf genes were dominant,” Marley said.
“What do you think will happen if you become a witch?” he asked. “Will your life be better somehow?”
“Of course!” Her whole face lit up. “Magic makes everything better. If I have magic, I’ll be able to handle scary situations. If my mom had had magic years ago, instead of it being suppressed, maybe she could have saved my dad.”
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