by Elle Adams
I reached the hospital and walked into a clean, wide entryway. It wasn’t hard to tell where Callie must be. A crowd had grown in a waiting room on my right, all blond and huge and… staring at me.
10
I backed away from the werewolves, and a withered hand rested on my arm. I jumped, looking sideways at the woman sitting in the only vacant seat. She leaned forwards and whispered in my ear, “I hear you’re a seer.”
Her eyes shone eagerly, making me want to back away. She looked a few sandwiches short of a picnic, to say the least. Her hair was a purple bird’s nest and looked like it hadn’t been washed in decades, and a wand stuck out from behind her ear. I really hoped she couldn’t cast spells using it from that angle.
“Not exactly,” I said carefully. I’d have to seriously revise everything that came into my head before speaking it aloud if I didn’t want a repeat of the bookshop incident.
“There was a witch who lived here once. I knew her,” she said. “Uncanny ability, being able to see the essence of a person without seeing their face.”
“Uh. I can’t… exactly…” How did she know I could do that? I hadn’t told her.
Thankfully, at that moment, Alissa came out of one of the rooms. “Blair?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on Callie. I heard her screaming from all the way down the road.”
“She’s fine. Just a little disorientated. Ava, you’re not supposed to be out of the ward.” She addressed the old seer, who gave me one last piercing look before shuffling away.
“Who’s she? A coven leader?”
“Retired,” she said. “Ignore everything she says. Old Ava lost her marbles before she lost her hair. She likes giving false prophecies to mess with people.”
“So the bird’s nest is a wig?”
“Yes, and the wand isn’t real, don’t worry. It’s made of plastic.”
A nurse poked her head out of the room, calling to Alissa. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, heading into the room again. Leaving me alone with the werewolves.
If not for my sixth sense telling me what they were, I might have mistaken them for one large, very handsome family. All were blond and Scandinavian-looking, and none were outwardly paranormal, but my sixth sense now snapped on without conscious thought. Uncanny was one way of putting it. Bloody terrifying was another. Some of those wolves looked even more intimidating than Steve the Gargoyle, and though they seemed to cover several generations, all were blond and looked about the same age. I’d never asked if werewolves aged, like vampires didn’t. I should have brought a handbook, but I’d never thought to search the bookshop for Paranormals for Dummies either. I doubted one existed. Either you were born into the world and knew it, or you weren’t. No middle ground.
I stiffened when one of the larger werewolves got to his feet, making his way towards me with determined strides. He was really, really tall, which hadn’t been obvious when he’d been sitting down, and I’d unintentionally backed myself into a corner when I’d walked away from Ava.
“You’re Callie’s co-worker?”
“Yes, I am.” There was no point in pretending otherwise, and not just because I didn’t fancy being acquainted with the floor tiles here. Even if the hospital was a more appropriate place than the bookshop. “Is she okay?”
“Don’t mock me,” he growled. “I heard you were there when she was attacked.”
“Attacked?” I echoed. “We don’t know if that’s what happened. She was at work alone and someone broke in. I guess she panicked.”
“She didn’t panic,” he said. “Someone forced her to shift, and even the expert healers can’t change her back.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Who did that to her?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She can’t seem to communicate it to us.”
He gave me an accusing stare. “She’s my daughter,” he said. “If she’s not turned back soon, then I might have to take action myself.”
He stalked away. I released the breath I’d been holding. To my intense relief, Alissa came out of the room again before any of the others could accost me.
“He seems friendly,” I said in a low voice.
“Oh, he normally is,” she said. “But shifters get pretty overprotective of family.”
I’d be angry if one of my family members had been turned into a wolf against their will, too. If I’d had family members, anyway. And maybe my nosiness had partly been responsible. But I hadn’t exactly intended to end up on the bad side of two of the scariest people in town.
Did the pack even know about the illegal werewolf? I didn’t want an innocent person to get into trouble if I’d misjudged the situation. And Vaughn’s hiding his true identity didn’t seem to have any connection with the murder or the break-in, as far as I knew.
“Can she really not turn back?” I asked.
“Apparently not,” she said. “I guess it must have been a really powerful spell. I’m leaving in ten minutes, anyway. I can meet you outside, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I walked out of the waiting room, wishing there was something I could do to help. Staying out of the werewolves’ way was the smartest move, but—
A dark-haired, pale man glided out of the room in front of me. He seemed to move on fast-forward, or the world seemed to slide out of his way—maybe a bit of both. And when he looked at me, my breath caught. His face was oddly waxen, his expression still, yet eerily handsome. He wore a black suit—to hide bloodstains—and couldn’t have looked more like a vampire if he’d walked right out of the blood donation section.
Wait. In fact, that was precisely where he’d walked out of. I hoped that meant he didn’t need any more fresh blood. Also, he was the same vampire I’d seen in the bookshop, so he’d clearly walked here while Nathan and I had been in the café.
Vincent, the guy in the shop had said his name was—and that he was the person to speak to if I wanted to know about town history.
“So you’re the new blood,” he said, eying me with interest.
Hearing that turn of phrase from a vampire was less than reassuring to say the least. “Yes, I am. I saw you at the bookshop. Why hang out in the history section if you lived through it all?”
“My memory isn’t what it used to be.”
He looked hardly older than me. “Er… how old are you?”
“Seven hundred and thirty.”
“Oh. Wow.”
He took a step forwards, making me aware of how freakishly still he’d been beforehand. “You have a familiar look.”
“You knew my family?”
“I’ve met a great deal of paranormals.”
He might have met all my ancestors from the fifteenth century for all I knew. “So you’ve been here since the town first started?”
“Yes, I have.”
Oh. Tossing caution aside, I asked, “So why is this place called Fairy Falls if there aren’t any fairies living here? Shouldn’t ‘not-fairy-falls’ be more appropriate?”
“Haven’t you heard the story yet?”
“You can probably assume I haven’t, considering I’m new here.”
“They say the fairies founded this town and used to live underneath the waterfall,” said the vampire. “But one day there was a storm, followed by a rockslide. When someone went to check on the fairies, they’d disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again.”
“That’s not an ending.”
“It’s an ending. Just not the type you perhaps expected.” He looked me up and down, and I suddenly remembered I was talking to a vampire and became conscious of my exposed neck. I wished I’d worn a turtleneck jumper instead.
“Thanks for the story,” I said, edging backwards. “I need to go and find…”
“Relax.” He reached out a hand. “I saw you talking to the werewolves, and I wanted to offer you a chance to ally with the vampires, in the interests of fairness.”
“Fairness?” I echoed.
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“As I said. Here’s my card.”
The card was blood red, with his name printed on it in an elaborate font. Oh no. What feud have I wandered into this time?
Thankfully, Alissa reappeared at that moment, and the vampire disappeared so swiftly that he left a blurred imprint on my eyelids. I breathed out.
“What’s that?” She indicated the card in my hand. “Oh no. Put it away before the wolves see.”
“Why is it always werewolves versus vampires?” I whispered to Alissa.
“Because they’re uncivilised,” said the vampire, reappearing around the corner.
Alissa mouthed vampires have enhanced hearing. Oops. Wow, he moved fast.
“As though drinking others’ blood is civilised,” said one of the werewolves, walking towards us. His jaw was clenched, and if he was that huge in human form, I dreaded to see what his wolf form looked like.
“If either of you start a fight here, I’m kicking you both out,” Alissa said, in ringing tones. In that moment, she sounded so much like her grandmother that it didn’t surprise me when the vampire dipped his head and vanished. The werewolf narrowed his eyes and backed away.
“Sorry about that,” said Alissa, as we walked out. “I should have warned you how bloody sensitive they are.”
“Who, the vampires or the werewolves?”
“The werewolves, mostly, considering how on edge they are about Callie. You don’t want to be on their bad side, but the vamps seem to think of you as a potential ally, since you’re new.”
“No thanks.” I’d prefer to stick with the witches. At least they didn’t look at me like I was a tasty snack. “Are there just werewolves? Or other weres?”
“Mostly. A few werefoxes, some werehedgehogs, but they hibernate most of the time.”
Right. “And werebadgers?”
“Them, too.”
And I thought I’d surpassed my quota of weirdness. “I don’t have to pick a side, right?”
“Not yet. It doesn’t matter too much. Most people respect the vamps, and the weres are friends with just about everyone.”
“But not each other.”
“Pretty much. Werewolves are temperamental, and protective of their families,” she said. “That’s why they’re so twitchy at the moment. As for the vampires… I wish you hadn’t run into him.”
“He did tell me some town history,” I said. “What was he here for, blood donations?”
“Yep. There are stringent laws about biting people without their consent.”
“Good,” I said.
“Did he tell you the story of the town?” she asked.
“He did.” If anything, I felt less satisfied than before. But really, what had I expected? Answers on my own history to fall out of the sky? Maybe my real parents had never come from this town at all. Maybe I’d been looking in the wrong place. “How’s the situation with Callie?”
“She’s being kept overnight. We’ve tried most cures, but we might have to look into bringing a specialist in.”
My heart sank. “I didn’t know it was permanent.” Nor did it seem a good omen that the wolves seemed to blame me for her situation.
“It shouldn’t be,” she said consolingly. “The wolves will make a huge song and dance about it, but they’ll get over it when she recovers. Until then, I’d stay away from them.”
“Wise advice.”
The following day brought a new list of potential clients, and no answers on the break-in. I’d spent the night tossing and turning and dreaming of wolves and vampires deciding whether or not to seduce or snack on me. Way too on the nose, subconscious.
I entered the office, and found Lizzie and Bethan standing over the coffee machine.
“I think I broke it,” said Lizzie.
“You’re only supposed to conjure up one motivational coffee at a time,” Bethan said.
“You’d need two if you had to deal with Mr Falconer.” She shuddered.
“Who’s Mr Falconer?” I asked.
“Wand-maker,” Lizzie said, tapping her wand against the coffee machine. “His assistants keep running off, if you ask me, but he won’t admit it. Anyway, everyone knows he’s an awful boss, so I had to listen to him complain for an hour yesterday about how nobody appreciates good wand-work these days.” She turned to me. “His wands are special, but don’t tell him that… he already thinks he’s amazing anyway.”
“So I have that to look forward to.” Or not. Did fairies even get wands? “Is Callie still stuck as a wolf?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Bethan said. “She woke up, but was groggy and wouldn’t talk to anyone.”
“Or growl at them. Not that it isn’t serious,” I hastened to add. “Will she talk to the pack? Or is there a way to understand werewolf speak?”
“Not if she won’t talk,” Bethan said. “The werewolves are furious.”
“Her father cornered me last night,” I admitted. “He seems to blame me for it. But I don’t know what kind of spells can turn someone into a wolf.”
“He blames you?” Lizzie tapped the coffee machine again. Several paper cups materialised, one after another, and a jet of coffee shot across the room, splattering the wall. “Oh no.”
Blythe’s head popped up from behind the computer. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing the coffee machine.” Lizzie swore under her breath. “It’s easily confused.”
“Didn’t you make it?” said Bethan, shaking her head. “Honestly. Blair, I wouldn’t touch it.”
“Wasn’t planning to.” I’d have to get my motivational boost somewhere else. “If the pack decides we’re to blame for Callie’s situation, shouldn’t we be looking into cures for whatever spell the intruder used on her? Wait, weren’t there traces in the reception area?” I cast my mind back to when we’d tidied up after Callie had overturned the desk. All we’d found was spilled coffee and paperwork.
Spilled coffee. The poison that had killed Mr Bayer came to mind, and a shiver ran down my arms. I didn’t know the paranormal world well enough to make an educated guess on whether something similar had occurred this time, but it did remind me that I hadn’t really thought much about the cause of his death.
Bethan waved her wand at the spilled coffee on the wall and it vanished. “Honestly. Techno-magic is useful, but temperamental… how’s your call list today?”
“Surprisingly light,” I said, picking up the papers. “My inbox isn’t, but would the boss object if I made a non-work-related call? I was thinking of speaking to a spell expert who might know what spell was used on Callie. If the pack hasn’t done so already.”
“We make calls that aren’t on the list all the time,” said Bethan. “Anyway, what do you think Veronica spent yesterday doing? She’s incredibly vexed about the break-in.”
“Do you think one of the people we questioned did it?” I asked. “Probably not the last guy, and he outright said he never murdered Mr Bayer either. Unless my lie detector is faulty. But I’m kind of lost on how it’s possible to turn someone into a wolf. The wizard might have been able to do it, but Vaughn has more of a motive.”
“Maybe he did it to stop her from giving him away.”
“Makes sense, but he must have guessed I knew,” I said. “Also, he’s terrible at magic. So unless he used a potion… is that possible?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shifter change forms against their will before,” Bethan said. “Unfortunately, in a place of magic, there are rather a lot of spells that can cause someone’s nature to change, or transformations. And the fact that she’s so far been unable to communicate her plight makes it tricky for us. No traces were left in the office.”
“So—is it permanent?” My heart lurched.
“No, but it depends if there’s a counter spell or not.” She tapped her pen against the desk. “She was already a werewolf beforehand, so regular transformation spells wouldn’t do a thing. Maybe a spell that encouraged her to return to her true nature, or something
like that. It might be trickier to reverse that type of spell, but not impossible.”
What would have happened if the witness hadn’t been a werewolf? Would the intruder have done worse? It was starting to look like none of the suspects had a real motive, except perhaps the other werewolf. I still had my doubts. We were missing several clues, whether the intruder had been trying to sabotage the investigation or just scare us.
Either way, I doubted Steve the Gargoyle would go out of his way to help with this end of the investigation. And I had a plan of action of sorts. If it was a potion that’d turned Callie into a wolf, the owner of the local apothecary might be able to steer me in the right direction. I had a few questions to ask about the nature of magical poisons. Including, perhaps, how Mr Bayer had died.
11
One phone call later put me through to Mr Grant, the owner of the local apothecary. I’d debated speaking to the other spellmaker first, but that’d be a little too obvious. It might be an idea to learn more about poisons first, too.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m Blair, from Dritch & Co.”
“The new girl.”
Even he knew who I was? “Yeah, that’s me.”
My mind conjured up an image of a friendly-looking man with greying hair at his temples. I’d have to be careful with my cover story and little white lies this time if I didn’t want to fall on my face again. Unless I took the phone call while lying on the floor, but somehow I doubted that would escape the boss’s attention.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“One of my co-workers is a werewolf, and got stuck in wolf form,” I told him. “At first we thought she shifted by accident, but now we suspect someone did it on purpose. Since we didn’t find traces of a spell, I wondered if there’s a potion or charm which can do that to a person.”
“Is this about the girl? Callie?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “We’re getting pretty concerned. Since I’m not acquainted with the pack, I thought someone who has experience with those types of potions might be able to help.”
