by Elle Adams
“There is a potion called moonbane which imitates the effects of the moon cycle on werewolves, but it usually wears off after a few hours.”
“Oh. It was longer than a few hours ago.” So much for that theory. “Is there another way?”
“If there is, it’s not my area. Sorry to say, potions and poisons are all I know about. Transformative spells are generally spellcraft-related.”
“Did you know Mr Bayer?” I asked.
“I did. It’s tragic, what happened to him.” His words rang with sincerity. “I already gave my statement to the police. He never bought our herbs… he preferred to grow his own. Those poisons are not something I stock on my shelves. I have enough people coming in trying to buy ways to curse their enemies as it is.”
My lie-sensor didn’t go off. He was telling the truth. “Okay. Just curious. Would a spellmaker know about spells that can trap someone in wolf form? Like the other one, Mr Ruther?”
“Maybe,” he said. “He and I haven’t spoken recently.”
“You know him?”
“Personally? No. We’ve passed one another on the street a few times. I heard he hired a new assistant and handed most of the work over to him, since he’s close to retirement, but other than that, I have no idea what he’s currently working on.”
If he’d hired an assistant, then he might have used Dritch & Co’s services. “Thank you,” I said.
After I hung up, I turned to Bethan. I’d been so absorbed in the call that I hadn’t registered her usual frantic style of juggling seven tasks at once. She looked up at me with a pen between her teeth and three others sticking out of her hair. “Any answers?”
“Not a potion,” I said, suddenly feeling bad for leaving her to hold the fort alone. “Did you or one of the others help Mr Ruther find an assistant six months ago?”
“I think Blythe handled that one.”
Of course she did. “Might you be able to get hold of the contact details?”
She tilted her head. “What are you scheming this time?”
“Spellmakers,” I said. “I spoke to the apothecary’s owner, and he claims that Callie wasn’t affected by a potion. That means it was a spell. Apparently, Mr Ruther’s assistant more or less runs the spellmaker’s place now.”
“And it has nothing to do with the murder.”
“No clue. If it did, it’d solve a few problems at once, right?”
“And possibly create new ones.” She tapped the mouse on her computer. “Head’s up, Lizzie—”
The printer growled and spat a sheet of paper directly at me. It hit me full in the face, nearly knocking me out of my seat. “Whoa. Someone’s in a mood.”
“Someone disapproves of whatever you’re scheming,” Lizzie said from the other side of the desk.
Ow. I retrieved the sheet of paper, rubbing my nose. How did one make it up with a printer? I’d always thought technology hated me, but this was on a whole new level. I checked the assistant’s number. Maybe I was better off calling him outside of work hours.
“Watch out,” Bethan muttered. “Boss incoming.”
I hid the printed sheet under the other files on the desk and casually turned to my emails instead. Not wanting to push my luck, I put my plans firmly in the back of my head as the door opened.
“Callie is back,” said Veronica, striding into the office. “We’ve put her on guard duty. To scare off any more intruders.”
“Has she spoken to anyone yet?” I asked.
“Apparently she doesn’t remember the attack,” she said. “I persuaded the pack—or more specifically, her father—to let her come back to work. She can identify the intruder if they decide to come in here again.”
Good idea. If I invited the candidates back in for another interview, then Callie might be able to identify her attacker. Assuming I could come up with a convincing excuse.
I tried calling the spellmaker during my lunch hour, but the calls went through to voicemail. If Mr Grant was right, the assistant was running the show, so maybe he’d answer his own phone instead. I had fifteen minutes of my lunch break remaining, so I’d better make them count. I dialled the assistant’s number and hoped Blythe hadn’t left such a terrible impression on the candidate that he never wanted to work with us again.
“Hello,” I said. “Is this Leopold, Mr Ruther’s assistant? I’m sorry to bother you. This is Blair, from Dritch & Co recruitment.”
“Oh hello,” he said. My mind projected the image of a young man grinning at the phone. “I never did thank you properly for getting me the position. Wait—did you say Blythe?”
“No, Blair. I’m new,” I said. So she’d apparently been nice to at least one person. “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. We had an incident with a spell in our office, and…”
“And the man himself left his phone turned off. Tell me how I know.” He laughed.
“I don’t suppose you know how one would go about turning someone into a werewolf? I mean, someone who’s already a werewolf.” I really should have written a script before making the call.
“Oh, Callie.”
Did everyone know? Maybe my hopes that my notoriety as a newbie would fade were doomed to remain unfulfilled. “Yeah. It wasn’t a potion. We’ve worked that much out. I figured the resident spellmaker would know.”
“Hmm. They might have used a custom-made spell, but I’d be more inclined to say the caster was there in person and used a wand.”
“I don’t suppose there’s a way to track who cast a spell?” I asked.
“Not unless they left their wand behind.”
“Isn’t there a reverse spell?”
“If it was done with a wand, only the caster can reverse it,” he said.
No wonder the other werewolves were so ticked off. “She’s been stuck like that for two days and I think her dad wants to strangle me. Is there nothing I can do?”
“Let me help you,” he said, his tone changing entirely. “I heard you’re new to magic, right? I can give you some pointers. Would you like that?”
I might be oblivious at the best of times, but I knew when someone was flirting with me. I knew so little about the temperament of his employer that this seemed an innocent way to get information out of him. It wasn’t such a terrible thing to consider taking him up on his offer, right?
“Let me get back to you on that,” I said. “I just wondered, though—you applied to work for Mr Ruther six months ago. Did you apply to work for Mr Bayer as well?”
“No, his last assistant was still working for him at the time. Clare.”
Hmm. “Where is she now?”
“Now? Working at the Laughing Pixie. You know, the pub. Tell you what—want to meet there tomorrow night?”
I should say no. And yet. “Sure.”
His flirtatious smile was back. “I can meet you there.”
I looked at my phone, shaking my head and glad he couldn’t see my expression. At least meeting an overeager spellmaker apprentice for a date was slightly less hazardous than speaking to the werewolves’ grumpy leader or running into Steve the Gargoyle.
I returned to work. But today had reminded me that I hadn’t addressed the obvious and spoken to people who’d actually known the victim. The attack on the office had diverted my attention, and by now, I was thoroughly encroaching on the police’s territory. And yet—the spell on Callie was all but permanent. What if the killer targeted one of us next?
With the boss hovering over our shoulders all afternoon, we finished our work in record time. Feeling restless after an afternoon in the office, I walked the short distance to the shops, my thoughts churning. Before I knew it, my feet had carried me right up to Mr Bayer’s place again. I peered up at the interview room, wishing I had a spell to unlock doors or even levitate myself up to the top floor. Wings would come in handy. Would the rest of my powers appear as suddenly as my ability to sense lies, or was that the only magic I’d ever get? I stood on tip-toe, almost able to see inside… wait, there was a n
arrow alley between the shop and its neighbour, and the wooden door leading through was already open. I might get a better view from around the back.
Trespassing now? I ignored the warning voice in my head and slipped down the alley. The wooden door was unlocked, suggesting someone had already checked the back garden. I’ll just have a look.
I passed through the gate and peered over the low fence into the overgrown garden. The poisoned plant had come from in there, but I didn’t see anything but weeds. I’d looked the picture of the plant up in the basic witchcraft guide Alissa had loaned me. A large plant with pink-patterned leaves. I wouldn’t have a hope of identifying it amongst the tangled mass of weeds over the fence. Hadn’t he only died last week? Unless magical plants grew quicker than regular ones, the garden sure seemed to have grown out of hand quickly. Of course, he might have kept it that way deliberately to ward off potential trespassers.
I looked past the plants towards the back window of the shop, but saw nothing. If the garden had been in this state last week, nobody could have easily sneaked in the back way. That meant the killer had come in from the front, or had already been there. Which I’d suspected already, but if they’d poisoned him with his own plants, they’d have needed access to the garden, right?
I moved right up to the fence, looking for pink-veined leaves, and jumped violently when a pair of teeth snapped inches from my face. A man-sized plant that alarmingly resembled a Venus flytrap leaned over the fence, its mouth big enough to swallow a person.
I backed away, spotting identical plants growing around the outskirts of the garden.
Okay. They definitely didn’t go in the back way, then. Or climb the fence, either. I backed carefully down the alley. This is a bad idea.
There was a blinding flare of light, followed by a muffled explosion—and the ground gave way. A startled scream escaped me as stone became mud and kept sliding, a deep trench forming in the earth where the alley had been. My feet skidded uncontrollably—right towards the gaping mouths of the monstrous plants.
I’m going to die.
I threw up my hands.
My feet stopped skidding as my feet abruptly left the ground. I gasped, my body trembling, my vision blurring. Was I flying?
I blinked, my vision clearing. I stood at the entrance to the alley, my feet firmly on solid ground once again. An odd tingling passed over my shoulder blades. I released a breath, staring at the alley. The trench in the earth had entirely disappeared, and the alley looked exactly the same as before. But I was certain I’d been seconds from being swallowed up by a troop of deadly Venus flytraps. They were still there, long feelers drooping over the fence, heads moving as though they could sense my presence. Intelligent killer plants. And to think everyone had labelled Mr Bayer as kindly and well-mannered. Deadly plants were just the trick to keeping people’s hands off his property, but they didn’t give me any more answers about the murder.
Speaking of murder… I was ninety percent certain that someone had tried to kill me. I’d used some kind of magic, yet if not for the mud splattering my clothes, I’d have thought I’d imagined the whole thing. What did I do?
I backed out of the alley and all but ran home, my thoughts spinning. My memory was a blur, but I was so sure I’d—flown.
As I unlocked the door with shaking hands, Alissa gasped from behind me. “What happened to you?”
“Long story. I need a shower.” I walked into the hall, kicking off my muddied shoes. I wouldn’t be able to wear them for work tomorrow in that state, but that was the least of my worries. “Sorry—I’m dripping mud everywhere.”
“The kobolds will handle it,” she said, dropping off her bag. “What did you do, go for a swim in the lake?”
I explained the situation, while she fed the cat. Roald eyed me suspiciously as though he could smell angry killer plants on me.
“You went to Mr Bayer’s garden?”
“I know it was a stupid idea,” I said, running a hand through my tangled hair. “I hardly expected someone to booby trap the place.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a spell. Maybe one of Mr Bayer’s own. Dangerous, though. You could get arrested for that if someone innocent got caught in the spell. I wouldn’t have thought it was his type of thing.”
I shook my head. “It was set up to stop me from getting into the garden. But those killer plants were enough of a deterrent of their own. I was looking for the poisonous leaves—but the person who killed him must have got them out of the garden, right?”
“Maybe he did it himself,” she said, frowning. “But you have a good point. Have you told the police?”
“The gargoyle bit my head off the last time he caught me near there,” I said. “I shouldn’t have gone, I know.”
“You used magic, though?”
“I have no idea what I did. Maybe I flew.” I ran a hand over my shoulder blades, but they were definitely human. Not a wing in sight.
Her eyes rounded with understanding. “Wow. You should tell Madame Grey… I know you don’t want to get into trouble, but this should be reported. You might have died.”
“I know, but Steve has it in for me, and he’ll know I wasn’t there by coincidence.”
She ran her teeth over her lower lip. “I know, but if you end up getting hurt, and we didn’t tell anyone…”
“Steve will probably say it’s my own fault anyway. I shouldn’t have gone nosing around there in the first place. Anyway, I need to get this mud off me.”
It took half an hour of scrubbing to get the mud off and my nails were a disaster, not to mention my hair. Clean and relatively dry, I headed back into the living room to find Alissa had made me a mug of a witch remedy designed to calm the body and mind. I sipped the spiced drink, sighing as the warmth went right to the tips of my toes. It’d been years since I’d spent any substantial amount of time with my other friends since they’d all paired off. It was nice to just enjoy one another’s company.
“You don’t have to talk about the case now,” she said. “But I’d like to know how you ended up in that alley to begin with. You learned something new, right?”
I briefly explained today’s phone calls.
“So Callie is stuck like that indefinitely?”
“Until we find who put the spell on her,” I said. “We’re still at a dead end with that one. I guess the only option left is to talk to the other werewolves, if she’s coherent enough for them to understand. But considering their leader seems to hate me…”
“There are others,” said Alissa, petting Roald. “Not all of them would blame you. I think only the leader of the pack does, and that’s because Callie’s his daughter. There’s the pack beta…”
“But…?” I prompted.
“But he’s my ex.” She grimaced. “I don’t mind going with you to the New Moon. It’s the most popular hangout for weres, and he’ll be there tomorrow night, for certain. All the weres like to go there to blow off steam, and you haven’t met the other shifters yet.”
“Are you sure?” I said. “I’m supposed to be meeting Leopold at the Laughing Pixie tomorrow, too.”
“Wait, the apothecary’s assistant?”
“Leopold? Yeah, he offered to introduce me to Mr Bayer’s former assistant.”
Her brows rose. “On a date?”
“No. Well, maybe he thinks it is. It’s the quickest way to get information.” It’d be even better if I had any skill whatsoever in the flirtation department.
She grinned. “Fair warning, that co-worker of yours is telling everyone about seeing you on a date with Nathan yesterday. You didn’t mention that.”
I groaned, heat creeping up my neck. “It wasn’t a date. I was checking out the bookshop. How did she even know that? Wait, don’t tell me. She’s been riffling through people’s thoughts again.” Specifically, mine. Shouldn’t there be a law against that? It sounded like the paranormal world was strongly regulated, so it made little sense for someone to walk around with the ability to pull someone’s t
houghts out of their head whenever they wanted to.
“She wasn’t the only witness,” said Alissa. “The description specifically involved the word ‘swooning’.”
I groaned again. “Not even close. Turns out I can’t lie without falling over now.”
She blinked. “You—can’t lie at all?”
“As of yesterday, apparently,” I said. “Which is going to prove problematic at work considering the boss doesn’t know I’m a fairy and neither does half the town.”
Veronica had been on the warpath today, which had made me reluctant to start anything. According to Bethan, she’d worked on upping security at our workplace. You’d think a retired paranormal hunter would be enough, though. What type of magic was he hiding? It was none of my business, whether we’d gone to a popular coffee date hangout or not. He was cute, but probably unavailable. It didn’t sound like he had a girlfriend at least, and he had insisted on paying for my drink. But so had a dozen people on my first night.
“Hmm,” she said. “I’ve never heard of a spell stopping someone from lying before, but I can’t say I’m an expert on fairies. I probably wouldn’t draw attention to it, not with the rumours about Callie.”
“Let me guess: Blythe is blaming that one on me, too.”
“You’ve got it. Sorry. If it’s any consolation, she’ll have forgotten once the whole case is cleared up, and so will everyone else.”
“Not soon enough. I’m pretty sure at least a dozen people saw me running back here covered in mud.”
“At least you didn’t run into Nathan again.”
“Don’t even. I doubt anyone would have tried to kill me with the town’s resident paranormal hunter around anyway.”
That thought sobered me up. I’d had a close call, not to mention I’d left a muddy trail all the way down the high street. I hoped it didn’t mean the killer could follow me home. Not that I’d actually seen anyone else near the place—but who’d set up the trap?
The killer had covered their tracks. Maybe what I needed was a more direct approach after all. It wasn’t like I had no paranormal powers of my own.
