She dropped the phone in my lap. “Try passing along the information first,” she said. “Zara, I’ve spent far too long trying to handle everything by myself. Don’t make the same mistakes I have. People work best when they work together. We ought to always take assistance when it is offered.”
“Bentley’s not back from his personal trip,” I explained as I scrolled through my list of phone contacts. “I’ll have to give my report to Detective Rose.” I wrinkled my nose. “I hope she’ll forgive me for waking her up at the crack of dawn.”
Zinnia watched me expectantly.
Detective Rose was breathing heavily when she answered.
“Bad dream?” I asked.
“Just got back from my morning run in the park.” Her breathing normalized to where I couldn’t hear it over our connection anymore. “What can I do for you, Zara?”
“Where do you live?”
“Near City Hall. Why?”
“And where do your parents live?”
“My mother runs a Bed and Breakfast in Wilvington.”
“In Ohio?”
“Wilvington with a V. You’re thinking of Wilmington. Wilvington is up the coast, past Westwyrd and before Karlington.”
“You grew up around here?”
“Uh...” There was a rustling and clinking on her end of the call.
I looked over at my aunt, who was waving her hand for me to get to the point.
“Never mind,” I said into the phone. “We can talk about that stuff later. I’m calling about the Blackstone case. I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I’ve gotten access to the victim’s memories, and I know what he was up to, more or less. The bad news is my aunt’s fresh out of poison-sucking parasites, so I don’t have the killer’s name yet, but I will.”
Zinnia whispered, “Ask her about the peppers. Do they know about the dosage? The frequency?”
“You don’t have to whisper,” I said to Zinnia. “Detective Rose knows you’re a witch.”
Zinnia whispered, “Yes, but it’s rude to interrupt someone’s phone call.”
“And yet here we are.”
Persephone Rose said, “What’s going on?” I heard the jingle of keys.
“A whole lotta stuff. Hang on.” I pushed the button for speaker mode, so Zinnia could participate directly.
Right then, the detective said, “I’m getting in my car. I’ll come over so you can tell me everything in person.”
“Sure, but I’m at my aunt’s house. Zinnia Riddle’s.”
“Gotcha. I have the address. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be straight over.”
Chapter 33
Detective Persephone Rose removed her rain poncho to reveal an athletic body in trendy sportswear. She looked sweaty, but she didn’t smell sweaty, which made me wonder if she’d lied to me. But who would lie about exercising? Besides every person, to their doctor and on their dating profiles, of course.
Persephone sat on the edge of a floral-patterned wingback chair and listened to us relay what had happened, from turning the Codex Niquitia into the Codex Harold J. Blackstone, to my brush with the poisoned pepper.
Her dark-brown ponytail swung from side to side sportily as she swiveled her attention between us.
When we’d finished our exposition, she thanked us for the information, then shared what they’d learned about the poison.
The pepper was called the Allursynthesix Red Pepper, and had been developed by Tansy Wick locally, at her greenhouse, before being sold to a chemical manufacturer, DuSanto Chemical. The genetically engineered peppers would be a “natural” source of the red dye known as Allura Red, a common compound used to color all kinds of products, from drinks to candies.
Unfortunately, a side effect of the red pepper’s change in chemical structure caused it to be both extremely delicious—tasting more like a ripe peach than a typical pepper—and highly toxic. Workers at the chemical factory that owned the strain of nightshade could barely handle the peppers without casualties, let alone extract the color as a stable salt.
Project Allursynthesix had been killed and buried at DuSanto Chemical, yet a few seeds had apparently stayed in circulation in Wisteria.
“We’ve been checking home gardens and greenhouses, but it’s a time-consuming process,” the detective said, her brown ponytail swinging sportily. “Now that we know that Bill Blackstone lied to us about being in town, it does open some investigation avenues we’d previously closed.”
I swung my fist cheerfully. “Go, teamwork.”
Persephone blinked at me. Her eyes were big and brown, like the Blackstone twins’, but hers often looked sad, drooping at the corners. Her round face looked especially pale that day, though her cheeks were rosy. Were they rosy from jogging, or from lying about jogging? I wouldn’t know, unless I cast a spell, and I wasn’t supposed to do things like that. I’d promised Bentley I’d be “nice” to Ms. Rose, whatever that meant.
Persephone continued talking about their efforts to trace the remaining seeds.
I looked over at Zinnia, expecting her to be yawning from the all-nighter. Zinnia’s hazel eyes were as bright as ever. If anything, she seemed transfixed by the young detective. She stared at Persephone Rose with wide-eyed wonder, as though Persephone Rose was a whole new type of floral wallpaper.
Seeing my aunt look at another woman with that level of interest made me feel irrationally jealous. I felt like a toddler, grasping around for something to do for attention—good or bad.
I kicked the coffee table. “Oops,” I said.
Zinnia’s focus didn’t stray from the fresh-faced, non-sweat-stinky detective.
“Arrrrrr,” I said, yawning theatrically. “Look at the time!”
“Tea?” Zinnia offered sweetly. “I have every kind you can imagine, plus a few you can’t.”
Persephone looked at me.
I shook my head.
Persephone looked back at Zinnia. “I really should be going. There’s a lot to do with my partner out of town. Thank you so much for your help.”
I jumped to my feet and showed her to the door. “Solve this case already, will ya?”
“I’m trying,” she said.
We stepped out the front door into the cool morning. The rain was drizzly.
Persephone stepped beyond the overhang of the porch roof, stopped on the pathway, and turned to look back at me. “I really am trying,” she repeated, staring up at me with her big, brown eyes. I almost felt bad.
“Try harder,” I said. “This town is going to be overrun with ghost hunters, lookie-loos, and national news crews if we don’t tidy things up.”
“I know that, Zara.” She hit my name with a hard tone, and her expression changed to annoyance. It was the first time I’d seen her perturbed. Was it something I said?
I threw her attitude right back. “I’m glad you know that, Persephone.”
She snorted. “You don’t have to tell me my job. I know my job. I’ve studied a long time to get to where I am. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices.” She waved her hand, chopping through the drizzly rain. “You have no idea.”
“Same here,” I tossed back. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
She put her hands on her hips. The rain was only drizzling, but it was effectively soaking her trendy athletic gear. She wasn’t wearing her rain poncho, because I’d forgotten to hand it to her when I’d shoved her out the door.
We stared at each other. She said nothing.
I said, “You forgot your poncho.”
“I know,” she said, glaring at me. “I need my keys. They’re in the pocket.”
The world tilted a little. I was still woozy from the vision and the near-poisoning. Why were Persephone and I seemingly at war with each other? I couldn’t shake the sensation I was missing something—something that was right in front of my nose.
“I’ll get your poncho,” I growled.
“That would be nice,” she said, also growling, though her growl was much better than mi
ne. It was more like my daughter’s fox growl.
I stomped into the house, grabbed the poncho, tossed it out the front door at her, then came back inside the house without another word.
When I returned to the living room, my aunt was staring at me.
“I detect a little tension between the two of you,” she said.
“You think?”
“Yes,” she said carefully. “I do.”
“I’m not jealous of her working side-by-side with Bentley,” I said. “It’s not that.”
“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t that.”
I rubbed my face with both hands. “I’m just tired,” I said. “Do you have any special tea that will replace eight hours of sleep so I can work today?”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t like the side effects.”
“Is it worse than Zeronnaise?”
She nodded vehemently.
“Pass,” I said. “I’ll be fine.” I picked up my purse and slung it on my shoulder. I didn’t even feel tired, despite what I’d said to my aunt.
“Rest up when you can.” She walked me to the door, giving me the usual warnings that I should be careful, and notify her if I had any side effects from the poison or even from the extraction of such.
I was about to leave when I thought of something minor I’d heard in Harry’s memory.
“Zinnia,” I said slowly.
“Yes?”
“When I was in Harry’s memory, and they were first talking about Rhys Quarry’s daughter, I got the feeling they were talking about someone else. Someone who wasn’t me.” I stared into her eyes, which were suspiciously fixed in place, and not flicking back and forth the way people’s eyes normally did. “Would you happen to know anything about that? Any other children my father has sired?”
My aunt answered firmly and calmly, as though she’d been preparing for this question for a long time. “My word is my bond,” Zinnia said. “I promised Rhys I would not tell you.”
“What?” I took two steps back. My fishing expedition had caught something? “When did you make the bond? Those things don’t last forever. It can’t still be active. You haven’t even seen him in months. Unless you’ve seen him recently?”
Her nostrils flared. She didn’t blink. “A good witch is not bound to her word by magic alone.”
“Fine,” I said, exhaling my disappointment heavily. “I guess I should be glad you have integrity, even though this whole secret sibling thing is a serious bummer for me. I always figured my father had other kids, but I never cared until now. How many are there?”
She pressed her lips together.
“Fine.” I turned to leave. “I’ll call Rhys and let him have it with both barrels. Maybe he can help us with Harry. I’ll get to the bottom of this myself.”
I headed toward the door.
“Wait,” she said.
I turned to face her, feeling hopeful.
She seemed to be fighting an internal battle. “What do other people do to track down their family members? People who do not have access to magic?”
I shrugged. “They hire a private investigator, I guess.”
She struck her finger in the air. “That’s it! You should hire someone.” She glanced at the closed front door. “What about that young woman? She seems smart and capable.”
“You think Persephone Rose is going to take a private eye job on the side? For me?”
Zinnia nodded to one side. “One could certainly ask.”
“One could probably do it herself with less hassle and sass.” I frowned. “Besides, I don’t like owing people favors.”
“You are your father’s daughter. He prefers having people in debt to him.”
I muttered, “My father’s daughter.” I shook my head, then pointed to the door. “Get outta here,” I said with mock anger.
“We’re in my house.”
“I know.”
I looked up at the foyer ceiling, at the painting of a lush flower garden. The overhead mural had always given me the dizzying feeling I was suspended upside down in the air, looking down. Given how recently I had been hanging upside down, the effect was doubly nauseating.
As I reached for the door handle, I thanked my aunt for helping me nearly kill myself yet again and then saving me from the brink of death. She acted like it was no big deal.
I stepped outside and groaned as I realized my car was still at the library, dead in the parking lot.
There was a jingle of keys behind me.
“I’ll give you a lift,” Zinnia said.
“You’re the best!” I hugged her so hard, I nearly knocked both of us over.
“Ow,” she said. Classic Zinnia.
Chapter 34
Tuesday
Coffee Break
Wisteria Public Library
“I always dreamed of opening a quaint little coffee shop,” Frank Wonder said.
He was refilling a silver carafe with cream in the staff room, which had become Coffee Preparation Headquarters.
He continued, “I just had no idea it would happen right inside our library.”
“You never know how dreams will come true,” Kathy Carmichael said.
She was tallying up stacks of cash. Our earnings from the Goblin Hordes had been increasing daily. As the foot traffic grew, so did their coffee consumption. The ghost afficionados were enthralled by the rich, toasty flavors of Dreamland Coffee’s dark and medium roast blends. They had been posting about the special Library Coffee on their message boards and private forums, attracting the attention of coffee afficionados.
“I got a quote on the cots,” Kathy said nonchalantly to Frank. “After the rental fees and the linen service, we should break even after two weeks, assuming we limit the overnight guests to a dozen. But if we increase to maximum capacity, we could be in profit by the third day.”
I had just walked into this conversation, as I was running late despite getting a ride from my aunt. We had dropped by my house for a clothing change, where we’d been distracted by Ribbons and his usual wyvern antics. Then Boa had climbed into Zinnia’s lap, and Zinnia hadn’t wanted to disturb the furball’s mid-morning nap because she looked “so happy.” I’d phoned the head librarian about my tardiness, and she had assured me I could take as much time as I needed, since she had “everything covered.”
Now I’d found out that having “everything covered” meant turning the library into some sort of spooky Bed and Breakfast.
“We’ll need a maid,” Frank said. “I’m not putting all the chocolates on the pillows by myself.”
Kathy squealed and clapped her hands. “Chocolates on the pillows! I love it when places do that.”
They scarcely noticed my entrance.
I rapped my knuckles on the table top. “Excuse me. Am I in the right place? I thought this was a library.”
Kathy turned my way. “Zara! You look different. What happened to your mouth? It looks bigger than usual.”
Frank snickered and gave me a triple eyebrow-raise. Kathy thought my mouth was big? We’d both seen how big Kathy’s sprite mouth could be when opened fully. It was a bit rich for her to be saying my mouth was big.
Frank continued staring at me, his eyes narrowing. He rubbed his crooked jaw. “Uh, Zara? I don’t mean to alarm you, but is your mouth actually cursed, or did you encounter a hive of bees on your way in?”
I opened the kitchen cupboard and looked at myself in the cupboard-door-mounted mirror we used for teeth-spinach checks.
My heart sunk. My mouth really was bigger than usual. I looked like one of those reality TV housewives who considered wine a food group and got filler injections the way I bought cute summer tops at thrift stores—by the dozen.
“Oh, no,” I said, trying to look away from my puffy, extra-wide lips but unable to. “My aunt said something like this might happen. It’s a delayed reaction that takes a few hours.”
Frank and Kathy looked stunned and horrified, but also curious.
Kathy paused counting
coffee donation money and asked, “A reaction to what?”
“The Peptyx Tapewyrm,” I said, rubbing my stomach.
Both of them recoiled visibly.
“Don’t worry. My aunt got it all out of me,” I assured them, waving a hand. “It was a big feller, too. Eight pounds, two ounces.”
Frank gagged. “That’s more than I weigh.” He added, “In flamingo form.”
“It’s more than what Zoey weighed when she made her taxi seat debut.”
Frank grimaced. “Which end did it come out of?”
“My mouth,” I said, horrified.
Kathy nodded slowly. “Peptyx Tapewyrm,” she mused. “I’ve heard of those. They absorb antinutrients and other poisons.” Her eyes widened and she gasped. “You were poisoned?”
“Yes and no.”
I glanced out the door that led to the circulation desk. Nomi and the other staff members were handling things, so I closed the door and began explaining to my supernatural coworkers what had happened.
The increased size of my mouth wasn’t so much a side effect as an intended effect of the poison-sucking parasite. If a witch were to be poisoned, that witch would want extra spellwork capacity for exacting revenge. My lips were bigger, but only because my entire mouth was bigger. The Peptyx Tapewyrm exuded an enzyme that temporarily increased tongue size along with mouth size. This increased the strength of casting with the Witch Tongue.
“Like steroids,” I said. “But for magic.”
“Sort of a partial shift,” Frank said. “I haven’t got the hang of that myself.”
“Seems risky to me,” Kathy said. “A mouth can be bigger on the inside without giving itself away on the outside.”
“Maybe for sprites,” I said. “Not for normal humans.”
Kathy clutched her hands to her chest. “Zara! How could you?”
Frank patted her on the shoulder. “She didn’t mean anything by it. We’re all humans here. Witches tend to be insensitive about other people’s powers.”
“I only meant...” I waved a hand and bowed my head. “Frank’s right. Either we’re all normal or none of us are normal.”
“Hmm,” Kathy said. “I don’t know if I would call myself normal.”
Wishful Wisteria (Wisteria Witches Mysteries - Daybreak Book 3) Page 19
