The sheriff drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “Hard to say at this point. I would have thought the situation with Fleur would’ve put anyone off, especially someone like Grover who probably knew Fleur.”
“Yeah, that’s what I think, too.” I paused. “Thanks for inviting me along again.” Neither of us mentioned the kiss in front of the cottage.
“Just makes my job easier when I don't have you running around questioning suspects without me."
I couldn't resist a smile. "And you know I will."
His gaze met mine. "That I do, Rose. That I do."
When the final bell rang, we left the car and stood on the sidewalk in front of the school. Marley was staying after school for a piano lesson with the middle school music teacher—a recent development—so I didn't need to worry about collecting her yet. I watched as dozens of students streamed through the open doorways.
"They all look so normal," I mused. Elves, trolls, pixies, fairies, goblins, even a young minotaur. I was already used to the sight of them.
Sheriff Nash cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Of course they all look normal."
I blushed. "I didn't mean it that way. I just can't believe how quickly my brain has accepted all this as reality."
The sheriff’s expression softened. "Maybe, deep down, you always knew you belonged in a place like this. You ever consider that?“
"If that's true, I was never aware of it. Normal to me was watching idiot humans weave in and out of traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike. Normal to me was watching kids in hoodies loiter outside of stores because they had nothing better to do."
Sheriff Nash grinned. "We have all that, too. But our idiot drivers have horns and our loitering kids might have wings. We’re not so different, Rose.”
I shot him an amused glance. "You and me? Is that what you were going to tack on to the end of that statement? You know how Aunt Hyacinth feels about werewolves and witches. They couldn’t be more different.”
"An abomination, I believe is what she said to my brother when he proposed to Linnea."
I watched a young werewolf lope across the front lawn, oblivious to the dreamy looks of the fairies that congregated by the parking lot. “What were you like as a kid?” I asked. “As cool as that guy?”
Sheriff Nash shook his head. “Much cooler.” He glanced at me. “I bet you were sixty kinds of trouble. And loud about it, too.”
“Nope, I was as good as gold,” I said. “Had my own halo and everything. Used to polish it every Friday night.”
“Because you were home alone?” he taunted me.
“I was with Karl, remember?” I said. I’d told the sheriff about Karl, my husband and Marley’s father. We’d met in school and married young. Too young. He died four years ago in a trucking accident.
“Ah, yes. Karl, your one and only.”
Thanks to some oversharing on my part, the sheriff knew that Karl had been my only sexual experience. I’d opted to remain celibate since his death, focusing instead on making ends meet and raising my daughter. It was only since moving to Starry Hollow and having the pressure taken off me slightly that I’d considered wading into the dating pool, and that was mostly due to Marley’s insistence.
"That's the friend we want,” Sheriff Nash said, nodding toward a slim teenager with shaggy hair and an oversized backpack.
I squinted. "No pointy ears or wings. What is he?"
"He's a druid," the sheriff said. "He’s got healing abilities."
"Is he related to Cephas?” I’d recently met Cephas, the town healer, when there was an outbreak of a disease that brought nightmares—and Trupti’s fruit paintings—to life.
"Aldo is his nephew," the sheriff said. "As far as I know, he has a decent reputation. No trouble in school or in the neighborhood. He and Grover were very tight."
"In that case, I'm surprised to see him at school today,” I said. “You would think he’d need time to work through his grief."
The sheriff looked at me. “He’s a teenaged boy. He’s probably trying to prove how tough he is by showing up and acting like it’s no big deal.”
“Because that’s what you would’ve done?” I queried.
"I probably would’ve shown up drunk, but I’d show.”
"Yoo-hoo,” I called, waving him over. "Aldo. Can we talk to you for a quick second?"
The sheriff glanced at me. "Yoo-hoo?”
I shrugged. "It's an expression."
“If you’re an owl.”
“No, that would be who-who,” I said.
Aldo approached us, his hands jammed into his pockets. He looked like a typical teenager, complete with a hoodie and flashy green sneakers.
“I guess you want to ask me about Grover,” Aldo mumbled.
The sheriff squinted at me. “Did you catch any of that, Rose? I don’t understand Mumblese.”
“Well, you speak it perfectly fine,” I countered. “Yes, Aldo. We’d like to talk to you about Grover. How are you holding up?”
Aldo blinked in surprise. “I figured you’d want to interrogate me or something.”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” the sheriff said, more gently than his usual gruff tone. “But, like Miss Rose, I’d like to know you’re doing okay first. This has got to be a tough time for you, losing a close friend.”
Aldo struggled to contain his emotions. “It hasn’t been awesome, that’s true.”
“Have you been able to talk to anyone about it?” I asked. “A counselor or maybe a family member?”
Aldo wiped his nose on his sleeve. “My Uncle Cephas. He’s good with stuff like this.”
“Yes, he’s a good choice,” I said. “He seems very compassionate.”
“Druids tend to be compassionate,” Aldo said. “We carry a lot of responsibility in the healing community.”
“Are you planning to train as a healer when you graduate?” the sheriff asked.
“Yep,” Aldo said. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. That’s why Uncle Cephas and I are so close.”
We beckoned Aldo away from the group of teenagers that had assembled nearby. We didn’t want the conversation overheard by any gossiping students.
“Do you know any reason why Grover would’ve had vampire blood in his system?” the sheriff asked.
Aldo’s head snapped to attention. “Vamp blood? Are you for real?”
“We’re for real,” the sheriff replied.
Aldo frowned. “If he had vamp blood in his system when he died, shouldn’t he have become a vampire?”
“It’s not that simple, Aldo,” the sheriff said. “You’ll learn more about that when you study as a healer. We also found nightshade and wolfsbane in his system.”
Aldo coughed a response.
“I didn’t catch that,” the sheriff said.
Aldo’s expression grew pinched. “Those are poisons, right?”
“Yes, Aldo. They are deadly,” I said. “Grover must have suffered. If you know anything at all, now’s the time to spit it out.”
“He had an argument with one of our teachers recently,” Aldo said. “I saw the whole thing. She was pissed at him.”
“I thought Grover was a good student,” I said.
“It was something about a paper he turned in,” Aldo said. “I’ve never heard her talk like that to anyone before. She’s usually super nice.”
“What’s the teacher’s name?” the sheriff asked.
“Miss Cranshaw,” Aldo replied, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Maisie Cranshaw? The history teacher?” I asked.
“That’s right,” Aldo said. “She’s a pixie.”
I looked at the sheriff. “She has a sand sculpture in the competition. The castle.”
Sheriff Nash nodded. “Thanks for your input, Aldo.” He clapped the young druid on the back. “You keep talking to your uncle whenever you feel the need, you got it?”
“I will,” Aldo said. “Will you tell me when you know more about Grover?”
Chapter 7
Hyacinth Rose-Muldoon swept into the office in one of her usual kaftans. The bright yellow number she sported today was adorned with images of white, fluffy cat heads.
“They look like daffodils,” I said, inclining my head toward her kaftan.
“They most certainly do not,” my aunt objected. She tapped one of the cat faces on her chest. “They are quite clearly designed to look like Precious.”
“If you say so,” I mumbled.
My aunt stared down her nose at the broken pieces of Jimmy, the garden gnome that I’d placed on the desk in her office. “And what is this you’ve brought to me?”
“A favor,” I said. It occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t have insulted her kaftan first. “May I present Jimmy?” I gestured to the pieces like they were game show prizes to be won. “Can you do a spell that puts this garden gnome back together exactly as it was?”
Aunt Hyacinth peered at me. “It’s called glue, my dear. No magic required.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I said. “This is a very special gnome and I need it to be the same as it was. If I glue it, they’ll see the cracks and it will be awful.”
“Who are they?”
“The Maitlands,” I replied.
Recognition flickered in her eyes. “The family of the dead elf.”
“Yes. I broke the gnome and it turns out that Grover gave it to his mom for Mother’s Day.” I knew that would be a persuasive piece of information.
Sure enough, my aunt fixated on the gnome. “The boy’s last gift to his mother?”
“It was. She was devastated when I showed her what I’d done. I need to give it back in one real piece or I’ll have ruined this woman’s life. There has to be a spell, right?”
My aunt touched the pottery fragments. “Of course there is, darling. I’m a Rose, aren’t I?”
“Well, technically I’m a Rose, but I don’t know any spells for this.”
“In time, my dearest Ember,” my aunt said, and patted my cheek. “Why do you think I’m so intent on supplying you with the best teachers?” She paused. “Speaking of which, how are you progressing with your studies? Hazel says you have a strong resistance to runecraft. Why is that?”
Because Hazel is a crazed clown hell-bent on destroying me with the Big Book of Scribbles? “It’s not so much resistance as distracted by other things.”
Aunt Hyacinth regarded me carefully. “Distractions like Granger Nash?”
Here we go. “Distractions like covering Grover Maitland’s murder for Vox Populi, your newspaper.”
“I understand you’ve been spotted out with the sheriff several times now.” She plucked a fragment of Jimmy from the desk and pretended to study it in the sunlight. “I expected an update from you long before now.”
I swallowed hard. “An update? Why would you expect that? I’m not a spy.” On myself, no less.
She set the piece back in the pile and met my incredulous gaze. “I made it very clear to you how I feel about your romantic prospects. They should be limited to the Silver Moon coven. A wizard worthy of a descendant of the One True Witch. Wren would be an excellent match for you.”
I groaned inwardly. “And I made it clear to you that I’m a grown woman and I will date whomever I choose and I don’t need your permission to do it.”
Aunt Hyacinth tapped her coral-colored fingernails on the desk. “How badly do you want this gnome restored to his former glory?”
I sucked in a shocked breath. “You wouldn’t.”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect the family name,” she replied. “I thought you understood that.”
“Think of Dottie Maitland,” I begged. “This is the last remaining link to her son. What if this was from Florian?”
She cast a withering glance at the gnome. “If this monstrosity were from Florian, I would question his love for me.”
“Kinda missing the point,” I said.
Her shoulders relaxed. “Fine. I’ll restore this without any strings attached out of the kindness of my maternal heart.”
“Thank you.”
My aunt closed her eyes and focused her will.
“No wand?” I queried.
She opened one steely eye and focused it on me. “Not for a witch of my ability. Now hush, my dear.” The eye shut and she held her hands over the broken gnome. She uttered a few Latin phrases I couldn’t quite make out. Sparks shot from her fingertips and I took a self-preserving step backward.
The pieces began to whirl in the air like they were caught in the vortex of a tornado. They moved toward each other and fused together. Finally, Jimmy the garden gnome appeared on the desk as though he’d never been kicked across the concrete.
“Thank you so much,” I said, and reached for the gnome. My hand knocked against his hat and tipped it over, spilling the contents. Wait, what contents? I lifted the clear bags from where they’d fallen on the desk. “What are these?”
My aunt’s eyes widened. “Put it down. Now.”
I dropped the bags onto the desk. “What’s wrong? Did the spell go sideways?”
She blew air from her nostrils. “No, my spell did not go sideways. I am not an amateur. Those bags contain deadly substances.”
I blinked at the bags on the desk. “Like drugs?”
“Deadly as in poisonous.” She pointed to the first bag. “That’s nightshade.”
My breathing hitched. “And let me guess. The other one is wolfsbane.”
She gave me an admiring glance. “Well done, Ember. Someone is teaching you, it seems.”
“The autopsy report found nightshade and wolfsbane in Grover’s system. I don’t understand where these bags came from. They weren’t in there before.”
My aunt clasped her hands together. “They were at some point. My magic was not a simple repair spell. I used a combination of spells, one which involved an element of time travel.”
“Time travel,” I repeated.
“We can’t use it on living creatures,” she explained. “Only objects. I restored the gnome to his former glory by plucking it out of another moment in time.”
“And that moment in time happened to involve deadly plants,” I said.
“Apparently so.”
I set the hat back on Jimmy and scooped him off the desk. “I’ll take him to the Maitlands, and then I’ll bring these bags to the sheriff.”
“Just take care with the bags,” my aunt advised. “I wouldn’t want you to accidentally expose yourself to these substances. Even skin contact can be problematic.”
“So sweet that you care,” I said.
“Of course I care,” she snapped.
Her motivation was plain. “Because I’m a Rose?”
She appraised me coolly. “Can you think of a better reason?”
I entered the library and waved to Delphine Winter behind the desk. The librarian also happened to be a member of the coven and one of Marley’s favorite paranormals. No surprise that my daughter gravitated to the woman with superior book knowledge.
“Nice to see you, Ember,” the librarian said. “Where’s my favorite customer?”
“She’s having dinner with her cousins tonight,” I replied. Bryn and Marley were thick as thieves and Linnea enjoyed having Marley over to act as a buffer between Bryn and Hudson.
“Are you picking up books for her?” Delphine asked. “I don’t remember seeing any on reserve.”
“No, I’m not here for Marley,” I said. “I’ve got another project in mind.”
“Will I see you at the coven meeting this month?” Delphine asked.
“You’re going?” I inquired. Delphine wasn’t the most involved Silver Moon witch. She tended to keep to herself, preferring books to paranormal interaction.
“I decided to make more of an effort,” she said, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “Do you think Florian will be there?”
Ah. Now it made sense. “Of course. His mo
ther would hex his butt if he skipped a meeting. She takes coven business very seriously.”
Delphine nodded solemnly. “As she should.”
“If you do decide to show up,” I said, lowering my voice, “maybe dab on a little gloss. Florian has a thing for shiny lips.” I wasn’t sure if that would be enough to grab my cousin’s ever-shifting attention, but it was a start.
Delphine lit up like a Christmas tree. “Thanks for the tip.”
I continued through the library lobby and headed upstairs. I didn't bother to look for Maisie in the fiction section. Based on our conversation at the beach, I knew where to find her. Sure enough, I recognized her iridescent wings as she browsed titles on the top shelf of the history section.
"Maisie?" I called.
From the next row over, a voice shushed me. "Too loud," someone said in a stage whisper.
Modulating the volume of my voice was not my specialty.
"Hello there," Maisie said, appearing to recognize me. "You’re the reporter, right?"
I felt a surge of pride at the mention of my job title. Most days I still expected to be cursed at, spit on, or chased, such was my previous life as a repo agent.
"Yes,” I replied. “Ember Rose."
Maisie drifted to the floor, a thick book in her hand. "Doing a little research?"
"Yes, but not the same kind you’re doing. I'm here to talk to you about Grover."
Her expression clouded over. “Poor Grover. Such a tragedy. He was a nice young elf. He was a student in my American history class, you know.”
"That's actually why I'm here," I said. "I understand you argued with Grover recently. Can you tell me what that was about?"
Maisie stared at me. “Who told you that? I don’t want that printed in the paper. The whole incident is particularly awful now that he’s dead.”
"I'm not looking to report on it,” I said. “I only want to piece together Grover's last few days. It's my understanding that he was a good, quiet kid, so I was surprised to hear he'd argued with one of his teachers, especially when I heard it was you. It seems out of character."
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