I focused my will on a nearby leaf and raised it off the ground until it was in front of her cheek, then I used it to gently slap her.
“A leaf,” Marigold said. “How clever. It felt like being kissed by the wind.”
“That wasn’t my intent.” The leaf drifted back to the ground.
“Does the sheriff know the source of the wolfsbane and nightshade?” Marigold asked.
“Not yet. I know he checked with the schools and the coven and no supplies were missing.” When I investigated the death of Fleur, the Maiden, I discovered that the schools kept certain poisons on hand for academic purposes, but they were almost impossible steal.
“Well, I think it’s very sweet that you’ve trusted me with insider info from your boyfriend,” Marigold said. “If I hear anything useful, I’ll be sure to pass it along.”
“The sheriff is not my boyfriend,” I snapped.
“Have you been on a date with him?” she asked.
I dug the toe of my shoe in the dirt. “I’ve been out with him. I don’t know if it constitutes a date.”
“Have you kissed him?” she asked.
I glared at her. “Now you’re just being nosy!”
Marigold laughed. “So I am. If you’re not going to share, then let’s get back to work, shall we? These acorns aren’t going to raise themselves.”
Chapter 13
I stood in the grocery section of the Wish Market, clutching a wicker basket. I knew I only needed to imagine a slug parfait in order to have one materialize in my basket. The problem was that my mind didn’t seem to want to cooperate. The image was sure to be disgusting, so my brain insisted on staging a rebellion.
“Come on, wimp,” I scolded myself. “I promised my familiar.”
In the next aisle over, I heard someone mention the name ‘Jordy.’ How many Jordys could there be in Starry Hollow? I poked my head around the corner to see a lithe nymph with a basket full of food. I waited until she put her phone away to intrude.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Are you Mrs. Hoskins?”
The older nymph gave me a curious look. “I am.”
I gave her my friendliest smile and hoped it didn’t come across as psychotic. “I met Jordy and your husband recently.”
“Then you were either at one of her games or the fields where they practice,” Mrs. Hoskins said. “Those are basically the two places they’re together outside of the house.”
“It was at one of her games,” I said. “She’s an amazing talent.”
“She really is,” Mrs. Hoskins said. “She has her father to thank for it. He was determined to shape her into an athlete from the moment she was born.”
“You didn’t object?” I asked. “Maybe you wanted to steer her in another direction?”
“There’s no stopping Bruce when he wants something,” she said. “He’s a force to be reckoned with.”
Hmm. Her tone suggested that maybe she minded after all. “You weren’t much of an athlete, I take it? Me neither. I trip over my own feet.” Or a ceramic garden gnome. Take your pick.
“I’m not a clumsy giant,” she said, “but I’d rather make something with my hands. I’m more of a creative type. That’s why I was so pleased when Jordy got an after school job at the ceramics place.”
I balked. “Sierra’s Ceramics?”
Mrs. Hoskins smiled. “Yes. Do you know it?”
“I do. I understand Sierra runs a tight ship.”
“Absolutely,” the nymph agreed. “It’s been ideal for us. Between athletics and school and work, there’s no time for Jordy to find trouble.” Her expression darkened. “Maybe things would have been different for Grover if he’d been as busy as our Jordy.”
“She’s an All-Star, right?” I asked.
Her mother beamed. "She was last year, so we’re hoping for it again this year. Bruce is determined to make sure she gets noticed by a university scout."
"Would that mean a scholarship?" I asked. I knew it was likely in the human world, but I wasn’t sure about the paranormal one.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “And it would make a huge difference to our finances. We wouldn’t need to choose between retirement and our daughter’s education.”
Yep, just like the human world.
“When does Jordy work at Sierra’s?” And how did she possibly have time to fit it all in? I thought I was reasonably organized and efficient, but Jordy put me to shame. I had to find a way to fit in exercise soon, so I could lose the ‘troll roll’ I developed around my midsection thanks to those excessive Sunday dinners.
"She works weekends there,” her mother said. “We limited her to weekends so as not to interfere with her school or athletic schedule. If I had my way, she wouldn't work at all, but her father insisted. He thinks establishing a work ethic at a young age is important and he knew Sierra would be a real taskmaster.”
“He knows Sierra?” I inquired.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Hoskins said. “They’ve been friends for years. Sierra’s not exactly my brand of brew, but you can’t argue with her success.”
"Sounds like Jordy is destined for success, too,” I said. And I suddenly felt painfully inadequate as a mother.
"I hope so because I want her to get to choose the life she wants,” her mother said. “But, honestly, I worry a job adds stress that she doesn't need. Plenty of time for stress when you're older."
"So true," I replied. “Speaking of which, what are your thoughts on Grover? Is there a chance he was into something he shouldn’t have been in order to ease stress?” Something that resulted in out-of-body experiences? “He seemed to be struggling with schoolwork in recent weeks.”
Mrs. Hoskins pressed her hand to her mouth in an effort to stifle a cry. “That poor family. Every time I think about it, I want to dissolve. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. I reached out to them, but they seem to want to keep to themselves right now.”
“Are you close with them?” I asked.
“Not really,” she replied. “They’re nice enough, but the kids are pretty independent. It isn’t like when they’re little and you need to befriend the parents. And the Maitlands always seem so busy with their jobs. I’d say Bruce spent more time with Grover than his parents did. He loves hanging out with Jordy and her friends.” She gave a tolerant smile. “Takes him back to his glory days, I suspect.”
I silently agreed. I got the impression from the game that Bruce was living vicariously through his daughter.
“How would you characterize Jordy’s relationship with Grover?” I asked. “Any romance there?”
Mrs. Hoskins gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Who can tell with teenagers? If there was anything romantic between them, she’d never let on. Not to me anyway. Maybe to her dad, although he’s never mentioned it. That group is so tight, it's hard to tell."
I felt a pang of envy. I would have liked a group of friends like that in high school, so loyal and tight-knit. My father discouraged close friendships with others, which I used to resent. Now that I’d discovered my true heritage, however, I understood that he was trying to protect me.
"How does Jordy seem to be coping with Grover’s death?” I asked.
"Definitely sad, as you’d expect," she said. "I've had a hard time getting her out of bed in the morning, which is usually not a problem for us. Jordy always takes care of herself, but there’s definitely been a backslide in maturity. She hasn't been eating as much either. Her father commented on it last night, which is why I’m here now.” She held up the basket. “Buying her favorite foods. Bruce threatened to take away her phone if she didn’t eat.”
Yikes. Talk about control issues.
"Does she see anyone at school? Maybe a grief counselor?" I asked.
"I know she’s talked to Mrs. Bass—that's her counselor at school. I wish she would talk to us, but you know you can't force a conversation with a teenager. You may as well try to force a shark to walk on land."
"I appreciate your time, Mrs. Hoskins,”
I said. "I think as long as you keep letting Jordy know you’re available to talk, that's the best you can do." That was what I tried to do with Marley, although at this point I had no trouble getting Marley to talk. It was the teenage years I worried about, though. Marley could easily become Jordy if I didn’t stay vigilant.
“That’s the plan,” she replied. “It was nice chatting with you." The nymph turned her attention back to the shelves of exotic foods and I made a beeline for the exit. The slug parfait would have to wait. I couldn’t even pretend to be sad about it.
Sierra’s Ceramics was a factory-style building, located in the northwest section of town. Before I managed to reach the main entrance, two trolls approached me. They wore matching blue uniforms with silver badges. Rent-a-Troll.
"This is private property," the troll on the left snarled. "You should head back out to the main road, then make a left if you want to go into town."
I shook my head. "No, I'm in the right place. I'm here to see Sierra."
"Do you have an appointment?" the second troll asked. "I don't have anyone on the schedule."
“This lady works for the newspaper. You should let her through." The mumbling voice was oddly familiar.
"Hello, Aldo,” I said, as the druid appeared beside me. "Do you work here, too?"
He shook the shaggy hair from his eyes. "Yeah, after school and on Saturdays. Are you here because of your story on Grover?”
“Yes,” I said, and suddenly remembered Lotus’s comment about Grover getting a part-time job when school started. Duh. Of course he worked with his friends. That also explained the Mother’s Day gifts.
Aldo fixed his attention on the trolls. “Let us through, guys. Sierra will want to talk to her.”
To my amazement, one of the trolls deactivated the ward and they stepped aside for us to pass.
Once we were inside, I turned to Aldo. “Thanks. I thought they were going to chase me back to my car.”
He offered a shy smile. “They’re harmless. I've been working here for over a year, so I know them pretty well. Sierra hired them after an incident with a stalker. Some goblin from a dating site tracked her down here. She's been a little paranoid ever since.”
Who could blame her? It wasn't easy being a single woman in any town, paranormal or human.
Aldo led me down a long, narrow corridor to a lonely office tucked away from the rest of the rooms. He pressed his palm flat against the door and said his name. The door clicked open. My attention was drawn straight to a large woman sitting on an exercise ball. She wore a headset and seemed to be in mid-conversation. She held up a cautionary finger when she saw us.
"Absolutely not, Edgar," Sierra snapped. “The waybill says the fourteenth, so that's when I expect delivery." She paused to listen. "Since when do I give a flying unicorn about sick children? I have a business to run here. I don't need excuses. I need results." She flicked off the headset and tossed it aside with a groan of disgust. "I don't know what ever happened to the sanctity of agreements. Everyone seems to want the world to cater to their problems." She seemed to register my presence for the first time. "Who are you?"
I stepped forward. "Ember Rose. I'm a reporter for Vox Populi."
Sierra glanced sharply at Aldo. "Why in Odin’s name are you escorting a reporter through my building? Have you had a brain aneurysm that your uncle couldn’t cure?”
"He didn't know I was coming," I said, feeling the need to defend the young druid. "We happened to meet at the entrance. I was hoping to talk to you about Grover Maitland.”
Sierra rolled the ball forward with her bottom and busied herself at her desk. "Great kid. Tragic death. What do you want to know?”
Phew, and I thought I was tough. I looked at Aldo over my shoulder. “For one thing, I didn't realize you hired so many teenagers from school.”
“Not all of us work the same shifts,” Aldo said. “And only my crew works on Saturdays.”
Sierra silenced him with a harsh look that did not escape my attention.
“Aldo, why don't you get to work and leave me with Miss Rose?" Sierra said, adopting a sweeter tone.
“Sure," he said. He seemed to realize that he might have stepped out of line. "I'll even do some painting." He smiled at me. "Sierra knows how much I hate painting."
"What's to hate?" Sierra snapped. "We use magic here. It's not like it's labor intensive."
His face reddened and he backtracked out of the office, mumbling a quick goodbye before disappearing into the corridor.
"It can't be easy, dealing with teenagers every day,” I said. “I have a hard time understanding them. Makes me feel old.”
"I'm sorry if I seemed to be silencing him," she said. "Between you and me, I pay these kids under the table, so I try not to draw attention to the fact that they work here. I want these kids to save their money, not pay taxes on it.”
“And I suppose your business saves money, too.” Because Sierra made it perfectly clear a moment ago that she didn’t give a flying unicorn about kids, sick or otherwise.
Sierra eyed me with a laser focus. “Stop giving off that judgmental vibe. You can’t tell me the coven doesn’t cut corners to save a few coins.”
“I’m not privy to the coven’s finances,” I replied. “How did you know I was a witch?”
“Because I’m not a moron,” Sierra shot back. “Valkyries can sniff out a witch a mile away. One of our many gifts.”
So she was a valkyrie. Glad I didn’t need to ask. I got the sense she’d be offended by my ignorance.
“And I hear a head for business is one of your other gifts,” I said.
“Valkyries have a certain reputation to uphold,” she conceded.
“And what reputation is that?”
“Fierce,” she replied. “Whether that’s in war or business. There’s no war raging at the moment, so I choose to use my skills in business.”
“So tell me about Grover. Was he any trouble?”
“Never once,” Sierra replied.
“And the others? Are they any trouble?”
Sierra snorted. “Look at me, Miss Rose. Do you think for one second those kids would be trouble for me?”
Nope. Not a chance. “Have to ask,” I said with an apologetic smile.
“They’re all good, hardworking kids,” Sierra said. “I wouldn’t hire any losers. It’s not my style. This is a business, not a charity.”
How could I ask about the bags of deadly plants that Aunt Hyacinth’s spell revealed? I didn’t want the valkyrie to pummel me with that exercise ball. On the other hand, I couldn’t let some Norse warrior intimidate me. I had my Jersey pride to consider. I swallowed my apprehension and plowed ahead.
“Have you ever caught any of the teenagers with drugs or any type of illegal substance?” I asked.
Sierra’s eyes widened. “On my property? I’d never jeopardize the company like that. I’ve put too much time and energy building this into a successful business.”
I decided to keep pushing. “Do you have any knowledge of their involvement with illegal substances outside of work hours?”
Sierra gave me an appraising look. “No, I have no knowledge of that. They’re an intense bunch, that’s for sure, especially Jordy Hoskins, but they’re good kids.”
“And you’re friends with Jordy’s dad, right?”
She snorted again. “That’s why I understand her intensity. Her dad is wired exactly the same way. He can be a challenging paranormal to deal with.”
Wow. There was the cauldron calling the kettle black, as Hazel liked to say.
“You don’t think he pushes her too hard?” I asked.
Sierra shrugged. “Not my meadow. Not my unicorn.”
Right. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“Sure thing. Next time, though, make an appointment or I’ll have my trolls toss you out. Reporter or not, I take trespassing very seriously here. I’m sure you don’t want the sheriff coming down hard on you.”
My throat tightened. Didn
’t I?
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
Sierra hit a buzzer. “Wait here and my trolls will escort you out. Wouldn’t want you getting lost.”
Or something else getting found.
As I left quietly nestled between the Rent-a-Trolls, I had no doubt I hadn’t seen the last of Sierra’s Ceramics. I wasn’t sure what the connection was, but I was determined to find out.
Chapter 14
In the office the next day, the first thing I noticed about my vampire boss was the absence of his usual three-piece suit. Alec was always impeccably dressed, but today he wore jeans and a formfitting black T-shirt. He looked like a walking advertisement for procreation. He may as well have worn a shirt with a skull and crossbones and the words ‘jump my bones’ emblazoned across the front. Even his hair was in casual mode. Instead of slicked-back blond locks, he went product-free and let his natural waves tousle, or whatever waves did.
“Are you on an undercover assignment?” Tanya asked. The fairy office manager gaped at Alec like she’d never seen him before. Not that I blamed her. I was fairly certain I was gaping, too. Even Bentley seemed floored.
“No, I leave the undercover assignments to the sheriff’s office.” Alec chuckled and I noticed a dimple flash in his left cheek. Since when did Alec have a dimple? Then it hit me. The dimple wasn’t new. It was the extent of the smile that was new.
“You look great, boss,” Bentley said. “Very casual.”
Alec patted Bentley’s cheek. “There’s a good lad. Such a great attitude.”
Bentley beamed and the tips of his pointed ears burned crimson. “You were both out yesterday. Tanya and I thought maybe you came down with food poisoning at the Sunday dinner.”
“I meant to come in, but I got sidetracked,” I said. “I’m going to type up my notes now.”
“I got sidetracked, too,” Alec said. “I stayed in my pajamas the whole day and watched movies.”
Bentley laughed, assuming it was a joke, but Alec’s expression didn’t change.
“Thank you for reminding me about the wonderful Sunday dinner, Bentley,” Alec said, and offered me a peck on the cheek. “Ember, your aunt is a perfect hostess. I had such a lovely time. Not that I expected anything less.”
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