by Lily Luchesi
“That’s vicious,” Salem said as they walked down the halls.
“Now everyone is eyeing us, even Lynx and he’s the golden boy, as possible suspects,” Robert said. “Even Daphne is wondering who it could be.”
“Can’t blame her, really. After all, it had to be quite the advanced magician to cast a double spell like that. Someone whose power is admirable.”
Robert gave him a sideways glance. “You do realise I mean everyone in Clan Munro, right? Including you?”
“Daphne would never…”
“You were suspiciously missing and she noticed,” Robert interrupted. “What do you think she’s thinking? If she was wrong about you and everyone else in her life was right. It’s not even really her fault, when you think about it. Frasers are conditioned from birth to hate us, to think ill of us.”
Salem shook his head, trying to ignore how his hands were trembling and beginning to perspire. There is no possible way she would think I’d do such a thing. No way. “You’re wrong.”
Robert gave a half-hearted shrug. “Believe me or not, it’s your funeral, mate.”
“So, where were you?”
Salem looked up from his homework. He and Daphne were studying in the castle gardens after class a week after the incident with the apprentices.
“Where was I when?”
“That day, with the threat,” she clarified.
Salem was silent for a moment, recalling Robert’s warning. And indeed, Daphne had been a little reluctant around him ever since that happened. At first, he thought she was merely being kind to him in his grief after his mother’s passing, but now he knew better.
“Botany greenhouse. De-caterwauling the Deathday roses.” Caterwauls were thick caterpillar like insects as thick and round as a bratwurst with wiggling little stubby legs and a mouth almost as big as their heads, which they used to consume magical plants like a vacuum.
She looked up from her Coven History essay and didn’t say anything. “You never even really asked what happened.”
“Robert told me. You and Smith disarmed stabilis, and Lynx stopped the venom.” His skin broke out in goosebumps as he realised where this conversation was going. “Why are you bringing this up now?”
“Michael said…”
“I don’t give two bloody Peges what Smith says,” Salem interrupted. “It’s me, Daphne. You know me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I do. That’s why I ask.”
Salem felt his stomach fall somewhere around his knees. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you may very well have been in the Botany greenhouse. In fact, knowing you, you were. But…” She trailed off, twirling her fountain pen in her fingers.
“But what? Come on, finish your sentence.” He said that almost as a challenge, arms crossed over his chest.
She sat back and looked him in the eye, brave and defiant no matter what situation she was facing. It was part of the reason he loved her so much.
“But it’s too much, Salem. You stay late in one class, and I’m wondering if perhaps you wanted to murder a dozen apprentices at once. It’s not right. We’re supposed to be in a relationship!”
“And is that not what we’re in?” He ignored the way his fingertips seemed to go numb at her words.
“Relationships require trust,” she said. “And with what’s happening right now, my trust is limited. My own mind, my own heart, is playing tricks on me. And I can’t stay somewhere where I feel uncomfortable.”
Salem was trying to control his breathing. “I don’t understand. Daphne, we have loved each other almost since the moment we met.” He held up his hand, and his magic went to swirl around her hand. “We are connected somehow. How can you ever doubt me?”
She shook her head. “No, I … I went about this all wrong. Sal, it’s not who you are, it’s what you are.”
“A Munro,” he muttered.
She nodded. “Right now, being with you, being under scrutiny from my mother and everyone else, it’s too much. This can’t continue.”
Swallowing hard, Salem asked, “What can’t? Our relationship or your judgmental attitude?”
“Don’t be rude,” Daphne scolded.
Salem scoffed. “Me? Be rude? To the girl who’s telling me that she wants to break up because of a Clan I can’t help but be a part of?”
“It’s not that simple!” she cried. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to question everything about the person you love?”
“Yes, I do. Right now,” he replied.
Daphne put her face in her hands for a moment. When she looked up, her eyes were glittering with tears. “They were all right. Frasers and Munros were never meant to be together. It’s too hard.”
“So that’s it? After nearly eight years of friendship, you’re dropping me like last season’s dress robes?”
“Don’t make it sound so petty!”
“Oh, excuse me. I thought I should sink down to your level so you would understand.” Salem stood up, gathering his books in hands that refused to stop shaking. In fact, his whole body was shaking. “You know what, Daphne? As much as I love you, I stand by what I said to you that day. You really are nothing but a stuck up Fraser witch.”
With those parting words and a heart that felt as heavy as a boulder, Salem Sinclair walked away from the woman he loved, refusing to let her be the one to leave him.
Once he was safely in his room at the Quigley’s, he dropped his books and collapsed onto his bed, letting out a pained cry. His magic flew out from him, knocking books from their shelves and papers from his desk.
At this rate, he wasn’t sure he would have a heart left by the time graduation came.
Chapter 16
Salem felt ill when he woke the next morning and Martha noticed. Despite only being about six years older, she seemed much wiser than that. Immediately, she sat Salem down at the kitchen table, gave him a large mug of honey sweetened tea, and got the whole, painful story out of him.
“And you?” he asked at the end. “Will you and Pat be kicking me out due to mass suspicion?” He knew his voice had a hard edge on it, and he didn’t care.
Martha tisked. “Don’t be daft, dear boy. I have bandaged your skinned knees when I was still a student. You’re no more evil than I am.”
Salem gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you. Believe it or not, that makes me feel a bit better.”
He just wished that he knew what to do. He wanted Daphne back. His magic wanted her back. It was as if it was trying to escape and go find her ever since the previous afternoon.
All because of the one thing I cannot control, he thought. He put his head in his arms and felt that Martha patted his shoulder.
“There, dear. You know, they say that love, true love, lasts beyond anything Earthly. You and Daphne, you’re soulmates. And nothing, I mean nothing, can change that.”
“Great,” Salem muttered. “That just means I will never heal from this.”
“No. It means that she will find her way back to you again.” She let his shoulder go and tossed his light spring cloak to him. “Now, no ward of mine will stay in and sulk. Go out, see your friend Robert. Go to the library. Just don’t stay here and wallow. It isn’t healthy.”
Salem grabbed the cloak and said, “You will be a wonderful mum someday, Martha.”
She chuckled. “I’m glad you think so. Because you will be the first to know except for Pat: I’m pregnant. It’s going to be a boy. We’ve chosen the name Edward.”
Salem gave her a small smile. “Congratulations. I mean it.” He turned then and heeded her advice, walking toward Robert’s house to see if he was available for a library trip. When he got halfway there, there was a scream in the distance. He paused, wondering if he should turn back, continue on, or see who was possibly in need of help.
Conscience won out, and he made a quick turn in the direction of the scream. On the way there, he ran into Robert.
“Did you hear that?” Robert aske
d.
Salem nodded. “It came from up that way, almost where you came from. Where were you headed, anyway?”
“To see you. Taking a shortcut. You?”
“Same. Come on.” Salem led Robert down the paved street, and something in his heart told him what had happened. The same thing that had brought this wave of Darkness in the first place: there had been another murder.
A young boy was crying in the street. “Help! Someone help!”
A woman came out of the house, spotted Salem and Robert, and said, “Please, alert the castle! My sister has been murdered!”
The two boys looked at each other, Robert seeming more surprised than Salem felt.
“All right, we’ll go get help. Can you tell us what happened first?” Robert asked, gaining his composure quickly.
The woman shook her head. “My son and I only just arrived. When Fedelia didn’t respond to our knocks, I let myself in and … she was dead. At least, I think it’s her.”
“You think? You don’t know your own sister?” Salem asked.
“Normally I would … but the thing in there is nothing but a decayed monster wearing her robes!” With that, the woman burst into tears again. Salem felt like an arse for being so insensitive.
“All right. Wait here, try to remain calm,” he said futilely. “We will be right back.”
Salem and Robert turned away, and Salem thought that the past twenty four hours had not gone at all like he would have expected them to. A breakup, and then a murder. Certainly not your typical weekend.
“Usually imputresco leaves the deceased at least partially recognisable. So if it was cast, it had to be cast last night,” Robert surmised. “Which means every single member of Clan Munro had better have an alibi.”
“Where were you?” Salem asked.
“My guardian sent me to get some groceries,” he replied. “And you?”
“Home.” Salem looked down at his boots as they walked.
“Uh-oh, what happened?” Robert asked.
Taking a breath, Salem recounted the horrible and sudden breakup the day before. “I bet she’ll be relieved even more now. No more creepy Munro fling to drag down her good name.”
“Wait,” Robert said, placing his hand on Salem’s arm to make him stay still. “Are you telling me that, after you had a public breakup with Daphne, you have no alibi for where you were except for the Quigleys?”
Salem nodded, wondering where Robert was going with this.
“Mate, I hate to tell you, but you just might be undesirable number one once word gets out.”
Robert had been right. Once the decayed body of Fedelia Tremont had been officially discovered and declared dead by imputresco, Clan Munro had become suspects. Everyone watched Salem wherever he went the rest of the weekend, making him feel like he was under a microscope.
When Salem and Robert got to the castle the Monday after the murder, they spotted a small crowd gathered before the front steps. There were about fifty people there, mostly students, some adults. At the top of the steps were Edelstone, Donahue, and a young woman Salem had never seen before. She was fairly tall and broadly built, like a woman of the 1950s. Her hair was darker than his, and her skin looked like snow. She wore a sharp black suit and it looked like she was carrying a gun under the jacket.
“What’s happening?” he asked someone nearby, who merely glared at him and turned away.
Well, bugger you very much, he thought. The crowd began to grow, and in a few minutes, it looked as if most of the Coven was gathered outside the castle. Edelstone stepped forward and began to speak.
“Hello, my fellow magicians. You must all be here wondering what our current guests are doing inside the Coven,” he began, gesturing to the dark haired woman. By his words, Salem assumed she wasn’t the only stranger around. “Yesterday, as you must all know by now, we had an apprentice murdered under our very noses. As this is the closest the murders have come to the Coven, we felt that we must inform the Paranormal Investigative Division.”
“My arse,” Robert hissed. “What about our former guardian?”
Edelstone was still speaking. “It is normally Coven policy to not admit anyone without any magical abilities or who is not willing to learn them. However, due to the severity of the current situation, we were advised to allow in one non-magic person.”
Meaning you were forced without anyone taking no for an answer, Salem mentally corrected.
Edelstone nodded to the woman, who stepped up and began to speak. Her voice was low and melodic with an American accent. Just in the way she stood, she commanded more attention and respect than Edelstone ever had as King.
“My name is Angelica Cross. Some of you may have heard of me. For those who have not, I am the founder of the PID, and I still run all of the operations in America. Once Director Mahon Quinn here in the United Kingdom called and told me what was happening, I hopped on the first flight I could and came here. I believe that the Coven is under attack. A slow, stealthy attack, but one nonetheless.
“And while the local PID and its magical liaisons are extremely talented, I felt that I should be here to spearhead the hunt for whomever is murdering innocent apprentices.
“We will remain until the culprit, or culprits, are apprehended. I realise my presence here might not be pleasurable for all of you, but I hope you understand that the safety of the Coven means much more than the presence of a vampire in your midst.”
Vampire? Salem thought, shocked. How is she out in the daytime?
“If you’re a vamp, how are you out and not frying?” Of course, only one Coven member could be so crude: Caelum Lynx. He was nearby with Draven and Michael.
Angelica gave a withering glare. “I never said I was taking questions. But to answer, I am a vamplet. I am half human, which means I can go out in daylight, amongst other things. Now, if my species is no longer being brought into question, allow me to continue.
“Your day to day lives will go on as usual. PID agents in plainclothes — all magical except for myself, I assure you — will discreetly investigate the murders of both Fedelia Tremont and Rylie Stanton.”
At that, both Edelstone and Donahue’s eyes became wide as saucers. They had assumed that no one knew about Miss Stanton. How Angelica knew was beyond Salem’s comprehension, but he was filled with dark glee. They thought they could get away with sweeping a murder under the rug and had been publicly proven wrong.
The way Robert was smiling next to him, Salem knew that his friend was feeling just as gleeful about the current turn of events as he was.
“I will be available in limited quantities of time to answer any questions that might come up. However, I must insist that you do not interfere with this investigation. The PID has a one hundred percent success rate for a reason: we know what we are doing, and we do it well.”
She stepped back then, her expression plainly showing that she would not take any questioning of her procedures. If Salem was being honest with himself, he had no desire to try and question what she was doing in the Coven. He knew he was powerful, but he could also see that if anyone tried to defy Angelica, they would wind up in the nearest coffin.
“Creepy, huh?” Robert whispered. “I hate vampires.”
Salem had never had an opinion on the species, never having met one until Draven. “I don’t particularly care or not care for them,” he replied. “But I agree, she is a bit on the unnerving side.”
The doors of the castle opened then, and the students were allowed to go to their classes. No one seemed to be paying much attention to their lessons, however. The arrival of the mysterious PID had gotten everyone all worked up, Salem included. What if their interfering meant that they might cause unrest in the Coven? Or worse, cause whomever was doing the killing to increase in frequency?
The day seemed to drag on forever until the final bell rang, signalling the end of classes for that day. Salem gathered his books and asked Robert, “Want to come study at the Quigleys’ with me?”
Robert made a face. “Not a big fan of either of them, actually. How about we go to Cristal’s Cafe instead?”
Salem shook his head. That was where all the popular kids, like Caelum and Michael and Daphne, hung out. It would be absolute stupidity for him to go there.
It turned out, he didn’t need to make up an excuse as to why he didn’t want to go. Mrs. Donahue approached him in the hall.
“Mr. Sinclair, please come with me.” Her tone plainly stated that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Rain check?” Robert said half-heartedly.
Salem nodded and turned to follow Donahue. “Ma’am, what is this about?” he asked as he followed her up the stairs to where the Elders had their offices.
Donahue didn’t answer him, merely knocked on a large oaken door. There was no name on this one, and Salem didn’t know to whom the office belonged.
“Enter,” a woman called.
“I brought the boy as you asked, Miss,” Donahue said. Turning to Salem, she said, “Go on.”
Salem walked past her and into the room. Seated at a large desk was the vamplet, Angelica Cross. She gestured for him to sit. He did, but not willingly.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
“Salem Sinclair,” he replied. “Why did you ask to see me?”
She made a note on a piece of parchment. “I did not ask to see you, specifically. I requested certain Coven members with very particular requirements. You were the first person Frieda Donahue thought of.” She flipped open a file filled with parchment. Student files. His name was scrawled on the side of this one. “You’re eighteen years old and work as an apprentice at Piper’s Potion Shoppe?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me. I am not one of your Elders. Miss Cross will do,” she corrected tersely. “And last semester, before the summer, you were found in the potions lab here, with a substance that could have been deadly had it been added to said potion?”
