“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.
The entire chorus sang a mash-up of Halloween favorites, and then it was time for the duet. Dominic took my hand as we stepped up to the microphone. To my relief, he stuck to the words of “Sally’s Song.” I was used to his breaking into random songs, but I didn’t think Ms. Clare would appreciate it.
There was a generous amount of applause after our songs, but Ms. Clare didn’t look happy. She was a perfectionist, so I wasn’t surprised when she made us gather around for a post-performance critique.
“Harmony, you were a little pitchy,” she said. “Again.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Harmony said. I was glad to see the criticism didn’t seem to faze her, though. She’d come dangerously close to dying the last time she’d tried to become the perfect singer.
“And Connor, you came in late during the first song,” she said.
I clung to Dominic’s hand, certain that I was next in line for Ms. Clare’s scolding. Instead, she actually cracked a smile and said, “Now go enjoy the party.”
Dominic gave me a kiss. “I’ve got to meet the rest of the band before we go on. See you in a bit.”
After he left, I found Raven. “Want to get something to eat?”
We got some cupcakes. “So did Dominic tell you about his latest prediction?” she asked.
I stopped mid-bite and stared at her. “No, he didn’t. What song did he sing?”
“‘Tears of a Clown,’” she said. “I was sure it was a clue. He acted all weird about it.”
Suddenly, it all made sense to me. There was no sign of Tashya, but there was a familiar clown making balloons into animal shapes. I noticed her eyes following me.
She had a tiny grin at the edge of her painted mouth. Her hands twisted and twisted and something bright gleamed on her finger. It was a ring. The one Tashya had lied about when she said Dominic gave it to her.
“I’m going to kick that clown’s butt,” I muttered.
“Just one problem, Jess,” Raven whispered. “Aren’t you afraid of clowns?”
“Not when it’s Dominic’s ex masquerading as one to cause problems,” I replied.
“Tashya? No way,” she said.
I marched over to Tashya the clown. “I know it was you,” I said. “Stop trying to freak me out. Dominic isn’t going to break up with me.”
The clown smirked at me. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“You’re pathetic,” I said. “You’re gorgeous and smart and obviously a really good acrobat, and instead of being proud of who you are, you just use those talents to hurt other people.”
“Nobody likes clowns,” she said. “Especially you.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t be so scared if you hadn’t been terrorizing me.”
She snorted. “Terrorizing? I didn’t even touch you.”
“But you did,” I said. “You carried me back to my room when I hit my head. What I don’t understand is why.”
“I don’t like you,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to kill you or anything.”
“Thank you for that,” I snorted.
“I’m over it anyway,” she said. “I won’t bother you again. My parents are picking me up tomorrow, so I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess it is.” I wouldn’t be sorry to see the last of her.
I wasn’t sure Tashya was telling the truth, but it was as close to an apology as I would get. And besides, I had a few other things to worry about, like catching the real killers.
I caught up with Dominic before he went onstage and told him what had happened with Tashya.
“Wow,” he said. “I never thought she’d go that far.”
I shrugged. “Love makes people do crazy things, I guess,” I said. “Are you sure you aren’t going to break up with me?”
He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sure.” His lips touched mine briefly and then he pulled away to stare into my eyes. “Are we okay?”
I gave him another kiss. “We’re more than okay.”
Chapter Twenty
After it got dark, the music started up and we went back to the grand ballroom for dancing. Side Effects May Vary was playing a set there. The tables were decorated with pumpkins carved into skeletal Day of the Dead faces. Lights danced on the black-and-white marble floor.
Tashya and Harmony made a beeline for a table near the band. Raven and I snagged a table across from them, and Eva and Evan wandered in and joined us. I looked around but I didn’t see Flo anywhere, which was unusual. She never missed one of her husband’s performances.
Side Effects May Vary took the stage. Dominic had changed out of his chorus-mandated black and white. His well-worn jeans and faded T-shirt didn’t detract from his good looks, and several girls in the audience eyed him like he was as delectable as Daisy’s cookies.
“This is a new song I wrote for my girlfriend, Jessica,” he said. He started to sing, but a horrified look came over his face as Alice Cooper’s “Welcome to My Nightmare” came out of his mouth instead.
One of the groupie types sitting near me started to laugh, and the sound soon echoed around the room. But I knew Dominic wasn’t trying to insult me. It was a clue.
Dominic’s voice trailed off. “Let’s try that again,” he said sheepishly. He gave me an apologetic look, but I just smiled at him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jensen Kenton at the buffet table, his plate piled high with treats. That was when I realized that the song was a warning about him.
It dawned on me that there’d been a clue in the trunk of Mr. Kenton’s car. Natalie had said the killer would need personal items from the victims to perform black magic. What I thought had been a lost-and-found box had been items Mr. Kenton had stolen in order to weave his spell.
I rushed away to search for Daisy, and found her sitting next to Ryan at a table with her sisters and their boyfriends. I sat and explained to them what I’d seen.
“We have to capture him,” Daisy said. “And then we have to destroy those paintings.”
“I’m on it, but it sounds like something I need to run by the Nightshade City Council,” Ryan said. “Nicholas, do you know where your dad is?”
“He was standing by the desserts the last time I saw him,” Nicholas said. “I’ll go with you. We can at least ask Mr. Kenton some questions, right?”
Ryan nodded. “Let’s go.”
After they left, Daisy explained. “Mr. Bone and the city council are in charge of regulating paranormal activities for Nightshade. But don’t worry, Ryan will get the okay to destroy every painting.”
Sean and Samantha joined us. “I thought you guys weren’t going to make it,” I said.
“I know,” Sean said. “But Sam is feeling a lot better and she wanted to see everyone.”
It made me a little nervous that my entire family was here. “We survived Sean’s Grad Night,” I muttered. “We can survive this.”
A shadow crossed Samantha’s face. Why had I mentioned Grad Night? Her father killed someone that night.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” I said. “I didn’t mean to . . .” But she was already gone.
Daisy’s phone jingled and she checked it. “That’s not good,” she said. “Ryan just sent me a text. Mr. Kenton has vanished. They’re heading to the art exhibit now to look for him and to—take care of the paintings.”
Flo finally came in and ambled over to where we were sitting. She had dressed for the occasion with a brand new T-shirt that said BOO! and a pair of jeans.
The band started up again, but then Jeff Cool stomped off in the middle of the set.
“What’s wrong now?”
Raven came over. “Dom started to sing an Iggy Pop song and Jeff lost it.”
“What song?” Andy asked.
“‘Little Doll,’” Raven said. “By the Stooges.”
“It’s a clue,” I told Flo in a whisper. “A doll.”
“Do you think it has something to do with Katie’s dollhouse?” she asked.
“No, not that. The marionettes. Mr. Martin,” I said. We both turned toward the art teacher, who was standing across the room with a marionette dancing in his hands, its eyes sparkling.
“Ugh,” Raven said. “Puppets.”
“They found a string like the ones Mr. Martin uses at the scene of the shop teacher’s murder,” I said. “Puppet string.” Mr. Martin saw our suspicious expressions and threw the marionette he’d been holding, then bolted for the door.
Poppy and her boyfriend, Liam, were holding hands, but she dropped Liam’s hand and rushed over to us. “What was that?”
“Stop him!” I shouted. Flo ran to overtake Mr. Martin and took a swing at him, but he ducked. He sidestepped her and made a run for the door, but didn’t get far before one of Andy’s martial arts stars whizzed by his head. Clamping an arm around Flo’s neck, Mr. Martin dragged her with him.
An angry mob of my friends and family was behind him.
Poppy’s psychic power was telekinesis. “Is there any way you can stop him?” I yelled to her.
She nodded. A few seconds later, a marionette flew into the air and hit Mr. Martin. He let go of Flo and kept running.
Flo was madder than ever. She picked up Eva’s Vincent Price puppet and hurled it at Mr. Martin’s head. He went down with the blow, then scrambled up again, but Dominic put out a long, gorgeous leg and tripped him. Mr. Martin went sprawling, and Dominic grabbed him by his collar and hauled him to his feet.
Raven snatched up the other marionettes and moved them out of reach. Daisy yanked some of the string off the marionettes and used it to tie up Mr. Martin. As soon as he was out of commission, I went looking for Chief Wells. I didn’t want to take any chances.
“Where’s the chief?” I asked Bianca, the Wilder’s Restaurant hostess.
“I already called her,” Bianca said. “She was outside in her patrol car.”
As soon as Lola Wells arrived, she cuffed Mr. Martin and read him his rights.
I was glad Daisy and the other viragoes had been around to help me. Maybe I’d been wrong and Mr. Martin, not Jensen Kenton, was responsible for all the murders.
An hour later, the festivities seemed to be back on track. Connor’s band, Magic and Moonlight, was playing a set, and Dominic pulled me onto the dance floor during a slow song. I put my head on his shoulder and relaxed.
A few songs later, there was a tap on my shoulder.
“Have you seen my grandmother?” Elise Wilder asked.
“She was talking to Jensen Kenton earlier,” I said. “But I haven’t seen her lately.”
Elise’s eyes glowed red and I took a step back. “I think there’s something wrong.”
“I’ll help you look for her,” I volunteered.
Chapter Twenty-One
We searched the mansion, but didn’t find Mrs. Wilder.
“Has anything unusual been happening to your grandmother lately?” I asked when I saw how agitated Elise was.
“She’s been having bad dreams,” she said simply.
“She didn’t happen to buy a painting from Jenson Kenton, did she?”
“She didn’t buy one,” Elise said slowly. “But he gave her one. It’s hanging in the restaurant. She took it because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but Grandmother said she didn’t want it in the private areas of the house. It gave her the creeps.”
We raced to the restaurant, where the painting was hanging next to the front desk. It depicted a werewolf drowning in liquid silver. I looked around for something to destroy it with, and, after several crucial seconds ticked by, found a letter opener and slit the canvas apart. Then I yanked the frame off the wall and stomped the painting into pieces.
There was no silver anywhere at the Wilder estate. Silver. Werewolves. I was beginning to understand the problem.
“I hope it worked,” Elise said. Then she raised her head and sniffed the air. “I smell blood,” she said. She ran faster than I’d ever seen a girl in heels run.
I jogged after her and caught up to her in an isolated area of the garden. Her grandmother sat in a white wicker chair. At first it looked like she’d simply fallen asleep, but Mrs. Wilder was dead. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth. A cup of tea had spilled onto the ground and had stained the earth.
Elise started to howl. It was a long, mournful cry that seconds later echoed throughout the estate.
One by one, they came. Elise’s boyfriend, Bane Paxton, came first and took her into his arms as she sobbed onto his shoulder.
Bane’s brother, Wolfgang, was the next to arrive, and then their parents. More and more people appeared, and each took up the mournful howl. I realized I was surrounded by a werewolf pack. Ryan Mendez stepped forward and closed the circle. I saw Daisy and her sisters standing in the shadows. I wanted to join them, but I was trapped inside the ring of werewolves. I wasn’t scared though.
Bianca came, but stood just outside the circle. She was silent, but her fingers had lengthened into claws.
The desolate cries grew louder until they welled into one unified shriek. Answering howls came from distant points all around us.
When it stopped, I stepped closer to Mrs. Wilder, and Bane let out a low growl.
“It’s all right, Bane,” Elise said.
I bent down to look at the teacup. I knew enough not to touch it. There was a strange powder at the bottom.
“Ground-up silver,” Nicholas Bone said. I hadn’t even heard him approach.
Ryan was behind him. “We got to all the paintings that were left,” he told us. “But some are unaccounted for.”
“Like which ones?”
Ryan cleared his throat. “One titled Silver.”
Elise growled, her eyes glowing a fierce red. “We must find this painter Jensen Kenton.”
“Elise, don’t,” Daisy said.
But she was already gone.
“If he’s the murderer, he has something of Mrs. Wilder’s on him,” I said. “We need to find Jensen before Elise does.”
“Let’s split up,” Ryan said. “Daisy and I will take the third floor. Bane, go with Jessica and check the second floor.”
“He’s probably long gone,” Daisy said.
“I hope for his sake he is,” Bane said grimly. “Elise will rip him apart.”
We found Jensen hiding in the kitchen.
“Pretty smart,” Bane said. “All the food smells mask his scent.”
“Pretty guilty, I’d say,” I replied.
“A wolf just tried to eat me,” Jensen said in a trembling voice. “Help me.”
I saw a lace handkerchief sticking out of his pocket. The one that Mrs. Wilder had mentioned missing earlier.
“Why did you murder Mrs. Wilder? She was a good person.”
“Good person?” he snorted. “Like that matters.”
Elise reappeared in the doorway. “It matters to me,” she snarled, and her jaw elongated as her teeth grew longer and sharper.
I started to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Bane stopped me. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Not now.”
“You’re an artist,” I said to Jensen. “Why would you kill anyone?”
“I wasn’t an artist,” he said. “I used to be an artist. A bad one. But black magic changed all that. I found a new outlet for my . . . creative impulses.”
“You’re right, you’re not an artist,” I said. “You’re just evil.”
The chief of police and Deputy Denton arrived, which probably saved Jensen’s life.
“We’ll take it from here,” Chief Wells said. “Thanks, Daisy and Jessica.”
“But Chief, he killed my grandmother!” Elise said.
“All the more reason to let the law deal with him,” she replied.
After a pause, Elise nodded. “Make sure the city council knows what happened.”
Chief Wells read Jensen his rights and then cuffed him before the deputy led him away.
“Thank you all for your help tonight,” the chief said t
o us. “But there are a few things I don’t understand. Why would a high school art teacher kill anyone?”
“Mrs. Lincoln was his aunt,” I said. “And Mr. Martin killed her for an inheritance.”
“But she died with a look of horror on her face, just like the nightmare victims,” Daisy said. “That confused us for a little while. Until we realized that she must have been truly aghast that her nephew was trying to kill her. Mrs. Lincoln didn’t make a big deal about it, but she was worth a lot of money and Javier Martin was her only heir.”
“What about Mr. Bellows, the shop teacher?” Chief Wells asked.
“Mr. Martin must have killed him, too,” I said. “He used the wood shop at school to carve his diabolical puppets. Then he used the gemstones he stole from his aunt’s jewelry for his marionettes. The shop teacher must have realized he was covering up his crime.”
“We should be able to match the string found at the crime scene with the string Mr. Martin used for his puppets,” the chief said.
“He must have been desperate for money,” I said.
“Or he was just crazy,” Daisy replied.
“One doesn’t cancel the other out,” Chief Wells said drily.
Dominic wrapped his arms around me. “Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Mrs. Wilder . . .” I didn’t finish my sentence because I realized Bane and Elise were standing next to him.
“I heard. I’m so sorry, Elise,” Dominic told her.
“I know my grandmother wasn’t a young woman,” she replied. “But I can’t believe she’s been murdered.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t make it in time to save her,” I said.
“You tried, Jessica,” she said. Mrs. Wilder had been a lovely, gracious person who was a legend in Nightshade. I wondered what would happen to Wilder’s Restaurant, and, more importantly, to Elise.
Lily and Balthazar Merriweather rushed up.
“Where is she?” Lily asked. “Where is my sister?”
Daisy stepped forward. “I have some bad news. Mrs. Wilder is dead.”
My head was spinning. How on earth could Mrs. Wilder and Lily Merriweather be sisters? Mrs. Wilder had been in her eighties and Lily couldn’t be much older than Flo.
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