by Blythe Baker
I pushed open my door, and the music grew in volume.
I glanced around. No one was anywhere nearby.
It wasn’t just any music. The longer I listened, the more I realized it wasn’t an instrument or anything like that making the noise. It was a voice. A woman’s voice.
Something within me stirred as I approached the house. A sense of calm washed over me, but the peace wasn’t coming from inside me. It was like inhaling the fresh scent of lavender while strolling along the shore of the ocean, the waves lapping against the sand. Serenity like I’d never known caught hold of me.
I stopped walking and stared around.
That music…it wasn’t just singing. There was magic in it.
The song must have been some sort of spell.
I walked up the front steps of the house, and my eyes were drawn to the large bay window that overlooked the front garden and fountains. A gorgeous living room lay beyond, with windows on almost every wall. A woman stood in front of an easel, a paintbrush in her hand dancing smoothly across the nearly blank canvas in front of her.
The woman was rather captivating herself. She had thick blonde hair that was tied in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore a white blouse with puffed sleeves and slender blue trousers. She was barefoot, rocking back and forth as her lips formed words.
She was the one singing the spell.
Bliss had never told me anything about spell weavers that could sing their spells. The spell was strong, too. The music lured me in, and my heart within me never wanted to leave. I wished I could stay here on those steps for the rest of my life, just listening to her singing.
The woman standing at the easel turned her head in my direction, and her eyes widened as they fell on me.
Her singing stopped, and the calm washing over me in gentle waves snapped, and the whole world seemed to tumble back into my mind.
She scurried from the room, and soon all I could see was the lavish living space and the canvas.
Fear flooded through me, quickly replacing the calm. What in the world was I thinking, standing there like something out of a horror movie, staring inside this woman’s house?
The sound of locks at the door drew my gaze toward it. My heart skipped. What was she going to think of me?
The door swung inward, and the pretty faced woman appeared. She had stunningly bright eyes that were the color of sapphires. She didn’t look a day over thirty, yet supposedly, she’d just retired from working at city hall. Either she somehow managed to look incredible for her age, or she had retired very, very early.
And to my great surprise, she smiled at me.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said, leaning against the doorframe. “You heard me singing, didn’t you?”
I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question. It felt loaded. After a brief introspection, I realized that, as always, honesty was best. “Yes, I did,” I said. “I’m sorry that I surprised you, it’s just – ”
The woman’s smile widened. “You aren’t the first to wander up here to listen to me, and you won’t be the last,” she said with a small chuckle. “I guess I really need to think about closing the windows, don’t I?”
I wasn’t sure if she was actually asking me that until she stood a little straighter, giving me a more level look.
“So, what can I do for you? Did you just happen to walk by and get caught up in my singing? Or did you come here with a purpose?” she asked.
“I guess a little of both,” I said. “Are you Ruth Cunningham?”
“I am,” she said, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “How do you know my name?”
“I was at city hall yesterday, looking for something, and – ”
Ruth rolled her pretty eyes and sighed heavily. “Patricia…” she muttered.
“Sorry?” I asked.
Ruth shook her head. “Oh, the woman who took over my position. She’s a bit…well, ornery might be the nice way to put it.”
“That’s funny…” I said. “Because she basically said the same thing about you.”
Ruth folded her arms. “Patricia Thomas is a very hard woman to please. She never really forgave me for retiring as early as I did. She didn’t seem to understand that I was hoping to follow my true passion instead, which I’ve been devoting all my time to.”
“Oh,” I said. “Singing?”
Ruth laughed. It sounded like windchimes. “No, no…though I do love to sing. No, I wanted to pursue art. It’s always been so calming to me, and I want to be able to help everyone have something beautiful and soothing in their home, something that will inspire them, you know?”
I nodded. “That sounds lovely.”
Ruth unfolded her arms. “But that isn’t what you wanted, was it? Listen to me, going on about myself. I don’t believe I got your name,” she said.
“You didn’t,” I said. “My name is Marianne Huffler, and – ”
A sparkle of recognition flashed in Ruth’s deep blue eyes. “Marianne Huffler, hmm?” the woman repeated. “Are you the young woman who moved into town a few months back and has family that owns the Lodge overlooking the lake?”
“That’s me,” I said, somewhat relieved that she didn’t tie me back to any of the recent deaths that had happened. Something in her face told me she wasn’t telling me everything she knew, though.
“Well, Marianne Huffler, what can an old woman like me do for you?” she asked.
I held my tongue; old? How could she be old?
“Like I said, yesterday I was at city hall looking through the public records,” I said. “I’m trying to find information about my deceased biological parents.”
“Really?” Ruth asked. “Well, that all sounds very interesting. I take it you never knew them?”
I shook my head. “I don’t remember anything. I was adopted as an infant. And no one in my family knows who my real parents were. I have no names to go off or anything.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s got to be tough. But…why did you need to come and see me?” she asked.
“Patricia? The one who took over your position? She told me to talk to you because some of the death records were missing,” I said.
Ruth leaned slightly away from me, her smile faltering somewhat. “Missing? That’s impossible. I created an impeccable system so that we wouldn’t lose anything else – ”
“They were stolen,” I said. “Ripped right out of the bindings where the physical copies were kept, and then those same records had been deleted off the digital records.”
A flicker of concern passed over her face, but she quickly smoothed it over, her gaze becoming unreadable. “How old were these records?” she asked.
“Almost thirty years old,” I said.
“Well, then it could have been due to many different reasons,” Ruth said. “I wouldn’t necessarily jump the gun and say they were stolen. It could have been age, or when the files were moved, the book could have been dropped. Who knows? I am not in control of all the people who work there, at least not any longer.”
“Yes, but Patricia said that only someone with really high access could have deleted those records,” I said. “Which is why she sent me to you. Do you know of anyone who might have had something to hide, or a reason to delete a public record like that?”
Ruth’s gaze darted back and forth, and down to her feet. “No, I can’t say that I do,” she said. Her warmth had disappeared almost entirely.
My skin prickled. Had I said too much?
“But I will tell you this,” Ruth said, dropping her voice somewhat. “Faerywood Falls is a strange place. I wouldn’t…go digging too deep into the history, if I were you.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Ruth pursed her lips together and seemed to consider her next words carefully. She leaned in toward me. “Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie…especially if they are dangerous.”
A shiver passed down my spine.
Ruth’s eyes widened, and she gave me a look
that told me I shouldn’t ask any more questions, but that I shouldn’t take her words lightly, either. “I’m sorry about the records,” she said. “But it is highly unlikely that those records in particular were for your parents.”
“I know…” I said.
“Unless they were the sort of people who had dealings with those of….shall we say, less than savory ways of living,” she said.
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, honestly.”
She nodded. “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“It’s alright,” I said with a smile and a nod. “Thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome,” Ruth said. “And remember what I said, alright? Don’t go digging up the past. It doesn’t like to be disturbed.”
I nodded. “Duly noted.” I smiled. “And you really do have a lovely singing voice.”
She smiled at that. “Yes, I know…and it gets me in trouble far too often.”
As I drove home, I rolled over Ruth’s words in my head. She seemed somewhat shifty when it came to our discussion about the missing records, but her insistence that I stop trying to explore the past was what I kept returning to.
There was fear in her gaze when she’d said that. It was a warning, no doubt about it. But just like with Cain Blackburn, and with Dr. Valerio, she didn’t say what she was trying to warn me about. It was almost like she suspected that someone was watching us, or listening in on our conversation.
That thought sent a shiver through my whole body.
“She didn’t mess with those records…” I said to myself. “How would that benefit someone like her in any way?”
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she might have just been pretending to not know about the records that were missing. Maybe it was a government confidentiality thing; since she didn’t technically work there anymore, maybe it was a big no-no for her to have any dealings with any of the behind the scenes things.
I frowned. There had to be more to it than that. She was Gifted somehow, and a lot of powerful Gifted people had warned me to be careful about digging around in things I didn’t understand.
If Cain Blackburn was right, and there was something dark encroaching on Faerywood Falls, than many others probably knew it as well. Did my return to Faerywood Falls, and being a faery, have anything to do with it?
I was really starting to believe that there were no such things as coincidences. Especially when I seemed to be surrounded by them.
4
Thoughts of Faerywood Fall’s history were wiped from my mind when I returned home and ran into Mrs. Bickford.
“Glad I caught you,” she said, walking over to my yard as I hopped out of my car. “Did you happen to catch the local news today?”
“No, I haven’t really been home much today,” I said. “Why?”
“It seems there’s been another attack in the forest,” she said, her words heavy. “Another hunter. They found him dead less than two miles from here, just yesterday. They said it looked like some kind of animal got him.” She adjusted her bee-keepers hat and looked to her other side. “No, Jim, she knows not to go wandering the forest at night. Don’t you, dear?”
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes flicking in the direction that I knew the late Mr. Bickford’s ghost was, even though I couldn’t see him. “How many is that? Attacks, I mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mrs. Bickford said. “All I know is that it’s too many. That sheriff is going to need to start sending out patrols at night to find whatever beast it is that’s doing this.”
I knew of someone else who was in charge of patrols at night.
Dr. Valerio.
Athena decided to accompany me on this trip, saying that she didn’t want to miss any more of the fun. We drove the short distance outside of town until Dr. Valerio’s estate appeared on one of the low hills.
I’d forgotten how spectacular the view of the mountains was from his home. Or maybe I had never seen it, since my eyes were always so drawn to the enormous log cabin that the doctor had constructed for himself.
It was also just as lovely during the day as it was at night.
Are you sure you want to be fully involved in all of this? Athena asked as we came to a stop in his driveway.
“I’m not getting fully involved,” I said. “I wanted to ask Dr. Lucan about it anyways, because of the wolf medallion around the victim’s neck.”
Oh, he’s Dr. Lucan now, is he? Athena asked, a playful glint in her eyes.
I rolled my eyes and got out of the car.
We walked up to the front door together. Athena’s nose was in the air, sniffing for anything out of the ordinary.
Which is hard to detect, really, since this whole place smells like wolf breath, she said indignantly.
I knocked on the enormous front door and stepped back. I didn’t feel bad about making a house call since Dr. Valerio hadn’t given me his number yet.
The idea of something so ordinary as the exchange of cell phone numbers with a man like Dr. Valerio made my cheeks flush. It didn’t seem like something like that could ever be possible. Not in this reality.
The door was pulled open a moment later, and a young woman dressed in a dirty white shirt and jeans was standing on the other side. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Hi. My name is Marianne Huffler, and I’m…acquainted with Dr. Valerio. I was wondering if he was home?” I asked.
The young woman shifted a bucket filled with cleaning supplies and bright yellow rubber gloves to her other hand. I noticed a smudge of dirt on her tan skin, and she smelled strongly of pine cleaning products. “No, I’m sorry, he’s not at the house,” she said. “He left a while ago. Said he had something to take care of. Was he expecting you?”
“No,” I said. “I just had something important to ask him.”
“Well, maybe I can help you,” the girl said brightly, brushing some of her dark hair from her sweating forehead. “I work for Dr. Valerio.”
“No, that’s alright,” I said with a smile. “I really think it’s something I need to ask him.”
“Oh…” the girl said, disappointed. “Well, I’ll tell him you dropped by. What did you say your name was?”
“Marianne,” I said. “Marianne Huffler.”
“Got it,” the girl said with a sharp nod. “I won’t forget…I hope.” With one last smile, she shut the door behind herself.
That must be one of Dr. Valerio’s new werewolves, Athena said. Didn’t you tell me he has the younger ones help with chores and the like around the house to build discipline?
“Yeah,” I said. “She did seem sort of puppy-ish, didn’t she? Too bad she didn’t know where Dr. Valerio was…”
Maybe he’s back at the bank in town, Athena said.
“Yeah, but I can’t go and bother him there,” I said. “At least here, we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone who isn’t Gifted overhearing us, you know?”
Fair enough, Athena said.
“And I won’t be able to come back tomorrow, because I have to go to work,” I said. I sighed, turning and looking out over Dr. Valerio’s sprawling grounds. While the Blackburns had tennis courts and Olympic-sized pools in their yard, Dr. Valerio seemed to appreciate wide, open spaces instead.
So what should we do, then? Athena asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess there’s not much we can do. Although…” my eyes fell along the outside of the house. The edge of the yard was surrounded by trees, but the side yard was open and empty…as if wide enough for some dogs to stretch their legs.
What if Dr. Valerio had come home to relax, but the girl who answered the door hadn’t known it? She didn’t seem like she would be completely aware of what he was doing. How would she know if he’d come and gone, especially if she’d been so busy cleaning up the house?
What are you thinking? Athena asked me.
“I just want to take a little peek around the place,” I said. “Maybe Dr. Valerio is here. And I don’t know when I’ll
get another chance to come all the way out here to talk to him.”
You’re making excuses for yourself…Athena said.
“Come on, let’s do it quick before anyone sees us,” I said.
The tiny hairs on my neck were standing up straight as my feet sunk into the squishy grass of the front yard. Everything was so immaculately kept that I wondered if I’d get in trouble for wandering along on the lawn like I was, but I really wanted to find Dr. Valerio. He’d understand, right? If I were to bump into him, saying I was looking for him…
It was the truth, after all. I really was looking for him, and I really did want to talk to him.
The desire to stare into those honey-colored eyes was just an added bonus.
We came around the outside of the house, and the forest dipped down to reveal a breathtaking view of the mountains in the distance. Their snowy peaks almost seemed pink in the late afternoon sunshine.
The backyard boasted an impressive pool that was surrounded in soft, smooth stones. It looked more like a pond than a pool, with little fountains bubbling merrily along the outside where grasses grew and lily pads floated.
I saw the outside of the glass domed observatory where we’d eaten dinner awhile back. It was built to capture the western setting sun so perfectly. It was probably filled with light for most of the day.
A small shed stood off to the side of the house, tucked out of sight of the observatory. The door was wide open, and as we approached, I could smell the faintest hint of sawdust.
“Maybe he’s in there,” I said, glancing over toward the shed.
Now you’re just being nosy…Athena said, but there was a small note of affection in her tone.
“Maybe a little…” I said as I walked toward it. “I’m curious about how someone like him lives.”
The shed was, in fact, more of a woodworking shop. Large band saws stood along one wall, and stacks of raw, untreated wood were arranged on a set of metal shelves. A half-finished bookshelf was laid out across a workbench in the center of the shed, and the floor was covered in a layer of fine sawdust.
It smelled heavenly inside.
