by Elle Adams
I expected her to ask Nathan, not that he was around to witness the latest debacle. Instead, she said, “Go with him, Blair. Take him to register with the pack. It’ll be good experience for you.”
Oh no. That meant another encounter with Callie’s father. The boss might be on my side for now, but what did she want to talk to me about? At least she seemed to think Blythe was as big an idiot as I did.
The werewolf looked even more downcast than I felt as we left the office.
“I got you into trouble, didn’t I?” he said.
“I got myself into trouble,” I said. “And you. What will they do to you when they find out?”
“Probably assign me to sound engineer duty.”
I winced. “Ow. Do you really have to be involved with the band at all?”
“No, but the beta is in charge of dealing out punishments, and he finds it amusing.”
I found it incredibly hard to believe Alissa had lasted long in a relationship with him. “You seem to know a lot about the pack, considering you’ve never been a member.”
“So do you. How’d you know what I was? You knew before she did.”
“Callie told me.”
I had barely a second’s warning before the ground surged towards my face. I managed to throw my hands out to break my fall and turned my boots on, but not before the impact tore through my knees and elbows. Ouch. So much for the levitating boots solving all my problems.
“Whoa.” He reached out a hand uncertainly. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I just felt light-headed.” I was glad Nathan wasn’t here to witness it this time, but I’d bet Blythe was watching from the window. “Come on. I need to get you to the pack. How do you register, exactly? Go to the leader?”
“Yes, but first I need to talk to Madame Grey. She’s the one who keeps the list of each paranormal in town.”
“A list? Why, to stop more normals wandering in?” Or to stop people from hiding their identities like he did? I didn’t dislike the leader of the witches, but the idea didn’t sit right with me. Nor did how easily he’d volunteered to give himself up.
“It’s tradition. There are so few of us left.”
“What, the werewolf population is dying out or something? How’d you end up hiding your identity, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Have you tried getting work as a werewolf? We lose all reason during the full moon. A lot of employers see it as a safety hazard. Since I was born outside of town and adopted by witches, I saw no reason to tell anyone.”
Adopted. “Is that common? I mean, being adopted by another paranormal group?” As opposed to humans?
“No,” he said. “Especially with werewolves. The pack is very family-oriented and I’d never feel like I belonged there.”
A knot formed in my chest. He wasn’t a bad guy. Or maybe it was the similarities between our own situations that made me want to trust him.
“So… your applications. You must have known you’d lose out against someone who had the proper qualifications?”
He hesitated before answering, “I guess. I didn’t know Mr Bayer was looking for an actual assistant and not just someone to clean up after him until I showed up for the interview.”
Lie. I almost stopped walking. Which part was a lie? That was one serious downside of my ability. “Really?” I asked, carefully. “So you must have spoken to the previous assistant…”
He nodded. My ability didn’t kick in, but maybe it only responded to words, not gestures.
“Well?” I prompted. “What happened in the interview? Was there a reason you chose him? Surely he’d have guessed you weren’t a wizard even if you didn’t have to actually use magic.”
“Yeah, he’s clever,” said Vaughn. “Okay. I admit it. I wanted to see his new spell.”
“New spell?” I echoed.
He dropped his gaze. “He didn’t talk about it, but some rumours got out that he was building a spell that blocks certain types of magic. His last assistant accidentally let it slip, and word made it back to me. I guess the prototype was lost after he died, but it was meant to be a shield spell.”
“From mind-reading?” I recalled hearing the same rumour. “Ah. Of course—that’d give you away.”
And it had. Blythe would have known what he was without having to read my mind, yet I’d bet she wouldn’t have volunteered that information. She probably knew everyone’s secrets in town, if she only needed to be in the same room as them to read their minds.
A suspicion took root inside me. “So did you see the spell?”
“Of course I didn’t,” he said. “I failed the interview.”
And now the spell has gone. He didn’t have it—surely Blythe would have told someone if he did, considering its potential dangers. I did not want to have a conversation with her after the downright murderous look she’d given me, but I’d know if she was lying.
Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t left the office at all. And not just because my knees and elbows were seriously starting to smart from where I’d fallen earlier.
We reached the coven’s meeting place. I relaxed a little when he walked ahead of me through the wide oak doors and Madame Grey was in the entrance hall, in conversation with a teenage witch. He wouldn’t try anything in front of her. But how to extricate myself and run back to the office? Pity I couldn’t teleport.
Perhaps Blythe was right after all. My attempting to defuse any situation somehow caused it to morph into a Lovecraftian Monster of a problem. Maybe Eldritch & Co had been aptly named.
“Yes?” she asked, spotting me. “Is there a problem?”
“I have someone here who’d like to register as a member of the local werewolf pack.” I indicated Vaughn.
The teenage girl squinted at him. “A new wolf? He looks a little old for a first-time shifter.”
He shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I missed the first cut-off point.”
More like secretly registered as a wizard instead. It seemed awfully easy to register as something you weren’t. You’d think they’d be more careful, given the number of tests witches and wizards apparently had to do. Surely someone else would have run a search on his degree at the very least. Employers in the human world did. And for a position like an assistant spellmaker, you’d think they’d want to check if their candidates were actually qualified beforehand. Then again, that was Dritch & Co’s job…
My phone buzzed with a message, startling me—more because it hadn’t happened since I’d been here than anything else. The message was from Callie, and contained a jumble of letters that made no sense. Like a wolf paw hitting a phone.
“I have to get back to work.” I assumed that’s what Callie had tried to type—but why did I feel like I’d missed something vital? “Can you take it from here?”
I didn’t wait for her response. I left the building and broke into a jog. What if Callie was in trouble again? She’d known something, and was unable to tell anyone who her attacker was. And Vaughn’s story had far more holes than it should have.
Nathan was outside the office, and his gaze immediately went to my muddy feet. “Blair? What happened to you?”
“I was helping the werewolves. Is Callie okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
I breathed out. “She sent me a text message that was mostly gibberish. I thought she might have been attacked again.”
“Werewolves?” he asked, sounding wary. “What were you doing with them?”
“One of our clients wanted to register with the pack. I need to talk to—”
He frowned. “Wait, you invited the murder suspect back again? Did he do that to you?”
I followed his gaze, belatedly remembering my shredded knees. “That was an accident. None of the wolves attacked me, don’t worry. I left him with Madame Grey.” I glimpsed Blythe through the window. “Did Blythe do anything while I was gone?”
“Do anything?” he echoed. “Like what?”
“She’s had it in for me since the moment I stepped into the offi
ce. You’d think I put dead pigeons in the water tank or something. Know why?”
“No, but I did see her speaking to Veronica.”
My mouth went dry. “Right. I should go… report in.”
His hand briefly touched my arm. “Relax. I’m not blaming you. If anything, you’re handling the situation like a pro. But even the witches have trouble getting the werewolves under control.”
“And if they fail, they send you after them?”
He blinked. “If I’m needed, yes.”
“Are you slacking off out there?” Blythe called through the window.
“No,” I called back. “Don’t get all agitated. I’m on my way back in.”
Blythe laughed. “First I’ve heard. Don’t feel too sorry for her, Nathan. If you want the real truth, ask her why she can’t lie.”
He turned slowly to me, confusion furrowing his brow. “What was that about?”
“Noth—” Oh no. “She has it in for me. Like I said.”
“Truth,” he said. “You can tell if people are lying. Is that your gift? Is that why you took over the investigation?”
“It is, but that’s not the only reason.”
“So why wouldn’t you be able to lie?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m still trying to figure out my magic.”
“All right. It’s none of my business. I should get back to work.”
I couldn’t tell from his tone if he was annoyed with me. No—more like disappointed. I had nobody to blame but myself for not coming up with a decent cover story, much less accidentally antagonising the werewolves and probably making his life more difficult as well. And now Blythe had all but told him I was one of the misbehaving paranormals he’d probably come here to get away from.
I walked back into the building, past Callie, who let out a whining noise.
“I know the feeling,” I said to her. “Don’t worry. I’m going to try to fix this.”
At least the boss was still in her office, but the idea of facing Blythe was about as appealing as joining the High Fliers.
“Yeah, I know I look like hell warmed over,” I said to a startled-looking Bethan. “I don’t suppose you have a first-aid spell?”
“Did the wolf do that?”
“Nope, I tripped. Let’s never speak of it again.” I heard Blythe’s laughter, but tuned it out. “I’m going to clean up.”
I went into the toilets to compose myself. My reflection in the mirror above the sinks was a disaster. My hair was a tangled windswept mess, and there was mud all down my legs and on my shoes. Blythe’s smirk was the last straw. I made a mental note to look up how to hex someone you disliked and got about cleaning myself up.
Hex someone you dislike…
The words floated around my head and then halted in the forefront of my mind, along with the image of an open window.
Wait a moment.
I made my way back to my desk, where Bethan waited.
“I can fix your clothes.” She waved her wand, and my shredded knees repaired themselves.
“Thank you.” I returned to my seat. “Why did Callie text me, do you know?”
“She did? Maybe she put her paw on the phone by accident.”
I glanced up at Blythe, thinking carefully about anything except—hang on. The werewolf’s notes lay on the desk where I hadn’t put them away, and there was a detail I hadn’t noticed before.
He had passed the interview. Was that what he’d lied to me about?
“Something up?” asked Bethan.
“Is it possible for someone to use magic without using their own wand? Or to fake it?”
Bethan frowned. “Why?”
“Werewolf dude cheated on his entry exams,” I said. “He’s not a wizard but he got the qualifications somehow. Wouldn’t Mr Bayer have had him do a practical test?”
I knew I’d overlooked something.
She pursed her lips. “Yes. He’ll have had to prove he could cast certain spells.”
“So did he borrow someone’s wand, or…?”
“You can’t cast spells using someone else’s wand,” she said. “Maybe someone else did it… but they’d have to be in the room. Or outside, I guess… if there was a window open.”
“Because you can’t cast spells through solid objects,” I said, recalling Rita’s lesson. “But surely Mr Bayer would have noticed someone else in the room.
Unless the window was open.
Someone had helped him cheat. Someone with access to powerful magic. If it’d been one of the other candidates, they’d have had to be close by… and nobody aside from them had had access to the testing room. Maybe Mr Bayer had found out about the cheating and they’d killed him to cover it up.
I think we have a motive.
15
“I left him with Madame Grey,” I said to Bethan. “He won’t try anything with her, I wouldn’t think. He seemed so… genuine.”
I lifted Vaughn’s file aside. I’d been so sure. I should have just asked if he’d killed Mr Bayer, but he had an accomplice.
Maybe one who’d committed the murder to help him cover his tracks.
“It’s not just the werewolf thing,” Bethan said, tapping her computer keyboard. “He’s faked his way through a dozen other job trials, at least. He’s been paying someone to cover for him. Someone with magical abilities.”
“I thought so,” I said. “But—who?”
The printer spat a wad of paper at me. Through sheer luck, I actually caught it this time. According to the records, Vaughn had applied for two more positions in Fairy Falls and had passed the practical element of each interview with flying colours. His name appeared on multiple lists, but I could only find two jobs which had required a specific practical test which would have required him to use a wand.
“Bethan,” I said, “is it possible for you to find the list of the other candidates who applied for these two positions?” I held up the page to indicate the two highlighted examples. “There was a practical test involved both times.”
“On it.” Her hands skimmed the keyboard faster than I’d have thought any human could move. “It depends on the employer, but most wizards are wise to trickery. He must have worked with a highly adept spellcaster… but wow. They must have been really good.”
“Like Wilfred Bloom?” He was the most accomplished spellcaster of the remaining two interviewees, and the most likely not to care about the consequences of using magic on behalf of someone else.
Bethan paused in her typing. “Yes. He applied for the last job, too.” She turned to me. “Want to call him in again?”
I shook my head. “It’s too obvious. I’m missing something. Besides, the other employers are still alive and kicking.”
“Because they didn’t catch him?”
“No, they didn’t. But he’s… are you absolutely certain it’s not possible for someone to cast spells on behalf of someone else?”
“It might be, but he has a wand. He must have, otherwise they wouldn’t have let him into the interview.”
“I didn’t even consider that angle. Did he definitely have a real wand?”
“Apparently.” Bethan cast her gaze around and it landed on Lizzie. “Hey, Lizzie. How would one go about acquiring a black-market wand?”
Lizzie glanced up. “You couldn’t pay me to speak to the wand-maker again, but he’s the only person in the town who has the authority to sell a wand to someone.”
“That’s it,” said Bethan. “The wand-maker will know.”
“The one everyone hates?” I’d heard from multiple sources that the man was a notorious grump. But if anyone might be able to guess what’d gone down in the interview, he would. And she raised a good point—how had Vaughn acquired a wand? Maybe from his witch family, but the vast number of witchcraft laws would surely have got in the way at some point.
“Him,” said Bethan. “Better make it quick. The boss is in a mood.”
My heart sank. Veronica wanted to speak to me after work. Doub
tless she’d either had enough of my habit of causing chaos, or she knew I wasn’t a witch. Neither of those things would help me in any way with resolving this crime, and I was close. I knew it. The possible culprit was already in Madame Grey’s hands, and yet…
I dialled the wand-maker’s number. A male voice answered. My senses told me he was a wizard. No surprises there.
“Hello, it’s Blair from Eldritch & Co.”
“What do you want?” he growled.
“I was wondering… do you often sell wands to non-wizards? Or wizards?”
“Are you making fun of me? Wands are for wizards only.”
“Let me explain,” I hastened to add. “I’m new in town, and there’s been an incident involving someone cheating at an interview in which they may have either stolen someone else’s wand or used some kind of substitute. I wanted to know if it was possible.”
He growled. “Certainly not. If the wand doesn’t choose them, then it won’t work. No exceptions. We only sell to witches or wizards.”
“The person I’m talking about was an unqualified wizard. Unless… is it possible to cast spells on behalf of someone else?”
“Wait, aren’t you the unqualified detective who’s causing the police no end of hassle?”
Oh great. He would be friends with Steve the ever-grumpy gargoyle. I pushed on, trying to ignore the instinct that this was a monumentally terrible idea. “Then… have you ever sold a wand to Mr Vaughn Llewellyn?”
“Customer information is confidential.”
Of course it was. I needed to find out more about what’d gone down in the interview in order to work out if he’d cast the spells himself or if it’d been possible for someone else to interfere. You couldn’t cast spells through solid objects… so the window must have been open.
It was on the top floor. That’d make it tricky to aim. Unless the accomplice had levitated—
Levitate. Those boots were almost out of stock… and I’d seen Wilfred wearing them when he came into the office.
There were a million ways of doing a levitation charm. But not if you were casting spells on someone else’s behalf through the open window of an interview room at the same time. You could only cast one spell at once.
