by Elle Adams
“Uh… I didn’t say.” Oh, no. I’d forgotten to be specific. “You didn’t put in the whole bottle, did you, Sky?”
He offered me the bottle with a muffled meow. I felt it. Lighter than before… but by more than two drops. Oops.
“Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous,” Alissa added. “She might be extra serene, but that’d be an improvement all around.”
I hope so.
8
I’d hoped for a restful night, but it was not to be. Aveline retired to bed upon her return to the house, leaving me with the hope that if the effects of the potion kicked in overnight, it wasn’t obvious that any outside force was responsible for changing her mood. Yet despite the silence, I tossed and turned so much that Sky climbed off the sofa, fed up with me dislodging him.
“Did I do the right thing?” I whispered to Sky.
“Miaow.” He yawned, then crossed the dark floor of Nina’s living room to the window.
Yawning, I moved to his side. The night was dark and gloomy, yet someone stood in the garden beneath the window.
Aveline.
I grabbed my shoes and shoved them on, then hurried downstairs as quietly as I could manage. Holding my breath, I eased open the back door and walked out onto the stretch of grass behind the house.
Aveline turned and smiled at me. “It’s a beautiful night.”
My mouth fell open. Wow, that potion worked well. Problem: she was supposed to be happily sleeping, not wandering around the garden when someone had been murdered not five feet away.
“Uh… I guess it is.” It was also cold and damp. “Grace died out here, Aveline. It’s not safe to wander outside until the killer is caught.”
“Grace will be fine.”
“Uh, not really. She’s dead.” I looked around. “I don’t think you should be alone out here.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
Yeah, but you lost the sceptre. She didn’t even have her wand out. Her hair hung loose, and her features looked much less harsh and beaky without the perpetual scowl on her face.
Maybe I’d made a mistake. The others were bound to notice the difference in her manner. I could only hope that their dislike of Aveline’s usual personality would prevent them from confronting Alissa or me about the potion.
“Please come back inside.” I wrapped my cold arms around myself, wishing I’d grabbed a jacket. “There’ll be plenty of time for you to take a walk outside during the day.”
“There is no time quite like the space between night and day,” she said. “It is a liminal time, a place of boundaries, especially at this time of year.”
“Because the veil between the worlds is thinner?” I asked, curiosity rising despite the lingering chill in the air. “Is it true that on Samhain, it’s possible to talk to the dead?”
“Yes, it is,” she said, not taking her eyes off the sky. “With a certain spell.”
“What spell?” The words escaped before I could reel them in. Stop it, Blair. Never mind talking to your mother—you have to get the Head Witch back into the house before someone notices she’s gone. Or before the murderer shows up.
She turned to me. “Not one a novice witch like yourself would know. Who do you wish to speak with?”
“My mother,” I said. “Tanith Wildflower.”
“Ah, Tanith,” she said, her eyes back on the sky. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone speak of her. Tanith, heir to the Wildflower Coven… the coven died out with her mother, in the end.”
Questions exploded in my mind like fireworks. “You knew her? When?”
“I thought I knew her,” she mused. “That is, until she was arrested for stealing the sceptre.”
My heart dropped somewhere below the earth. “Not that sceptre?”
“The very same.” She sounded sad, which was downright weird coming from someone who’d made my life a misery for the last week. “She pleaded guilty and handed it right back. Never confessed to why she did it.”
And then… and then she’d died. When the hunters had caught up to her. I knew the rest of the story. But I’d hoped they were in some way mistaken about her criminal ways. That she’d had good reason for what she did.
Aveline’s words carried the unmistakable ring of truth. There was no doubt.
I blinked tears from my eyes. “It makes no sense.”
Tanith Wildflower had taken her secrets with her to a place I couldn’t reach—unless I retrieved the same sceptre she’d tried to steal.
“If she had a reason for stealing it, she never gave one,” said the Head Witch. “She pleaded guilty and that was the end of it.”
“So was she released?” I asked. “Or did she run away? She must have done, because she met my dad and had a child.”
She adjusted her grip on the walking stick. “I understand why she threw the coven leadership away now. Maybe she planned to use the sceptre to protect you.”
“Against what?” My heart beat loudly in my chest. This is impossible. How can my mother have tried to steal something so powerful and dangerous? “Someone was chasing them. My dad, too. Who was it?”
She shook her head. “She never told us. Your grandmother’s heart was broken, you know… I don’t think she ever recovered.”
“What happened to the sceptre?”
“It was returned to its rightful owner,” she said. “Me.”
“My mum stole from you,” I said. “Is that why you don’t like me?”
“Don’t like you?” She paused. “Not at all. If anything, I see too much of her in you… you’re a disruptive force, Blair Wilkes.”
“I don’t mean to be,” I whispered, blinking hard. “I just want to live in peace and not have to deal with bodies turning up in my back garden.”
Her gaze went to the spot where Grace’s body had lain. I could swear traces of her pink hair dye clung to the dewy grass. “Grace would be angry that she died in such an undignified manner.”
“Well, she didn’t exactly choose where she died,” I said. “Um, Head Witch, if you don’t mind my asking… can you tell me which spell will let me speak to a ghost?”
She tapped her cane on the grass with a squelching noise. “Find a written version of the spell and take it with you, if you wish to attempt it. Don’t try to conduct the spell from memory. Far too much potential for disaster. I believe Madame Grey owns the book… I saw it in her office.”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised to find I meant it. “I never knew my mother, and I only started learning about her when I moved here to Fairy Falls. Do people try to steal the sceptre often?”
“No,” she said. “It’s not a good thing that it was used to commit evil. I fear it may have some terrible side effects.”
She’s afraid? That wasn’t a good sign. It might be part of her personality flip, but either way…
The Head Witch turned back to the house. “I think I will return to bed.”
As she hobbled away from me, I remained still, my gaze on the pink-dyed patch of lawn where Grace’s body had been found in our otherwise peaceful garden.
Aveline’s answers had only left me with more questions. My mother… well, one thing was for certain, she wasn’t the culprit this time around. Dead people couldn’t steal things. She must have had good reason for taking the sceptre to begin with. But even Madame Grey hadn’t known my mother had stolen from the Head Witch—or she hadn’t mentioned it to me, anyway.
A shadow flitted overhead, and the pixie appeared in a swirl of glitter.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered. “Did you hear what Aveline told me? Does my dad have anything to add to his message?”
He’d told me so little to begin with, I doubted it. Did he even know about the Samhain ceremony and the regional witches visiting? Or the sceptre?
The pixie flew in circles, beckoning with a small hand. He wanted me to follow him. Well, I was already awake, with time to kill before work.
The little fairy flew towards
the back of the garden, over the fence, and down the darkened street until we drew closer to the route past the lake where the procession was due to march on Samhain. I switched to my fairy form to avoid the slippery paths as the grass turned to soggy marsh. At this rate, we’d have to swim through mud on Saturday rather than walking. I’d heard they’d once tried to conduct the ceremony on broomsticks only for a bunch of students to cause a pile-up, but the mud might be just as hazardous.
Despite the glitter falling from the pixie’s wings, he was getting hard to spot in the growing fog. I could barely even see my own hands in front of my face. What am I doing? Here I was on a wild pixie chase while the sceptre was missing, along with any chance I might have to talk to my dead mother—
I halted. Several human-shaped blurs appeared in the fog, too indistinct to make out. One of them held a long, thin stick. The sceptre?
I tripped headfirst over an unseen rock and landed in the mud. Spitting out a mouthful, I flew upright, searching in vain for the foggy shapes I was sure I’d seen. A female figure, carrying a sceptre…
No, it can’t be. I was just imagining things, thanks to Aveline’s revelations. Ghosts didn’t… okay, they did exist in the magical world, but that was no reason for my mother to choose now to appear.
That’s enough, Blair. Whatever I thought I’d seen, it wouldn’t solve any of the town’s problems. The sooner we found the sceptre, the better.
Once I’d gone back to the house to change out of my muddy clothes, Alissa, Nina and I went out for coffee at Charms & Caffeine before work. None of us had slept much, but I wanted to confide in someone before Aveline’s revelations caused me to do something reckless.
I ordered a huge extra-strength coffee, delivered by Lizzie’s sister Layla, the original creator of our office’s coffee machine.
“So you’re going to explain why you were covered in mud this morning?” asked Alissa. “Were you out walking in the fog?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “Aveline went wandering outside in the middle of the night and I wanted to make sure she didn’t get ambushed by the killer.”
Alissa raised an eyebrow. “Did you really?”
“You know she’s not… in her right mind at the moment.” I fidgeted. “We talked about my mother.”
Nina looked at me curiously. She didn’t know as much as Alissa did about my family history, but her involvement in Mrs Dailey’s trial had led to her picking up on some of the details. Everyone knew my dad was a fairy, at least. And if the hunters came back, I’d bet word would spread about my mum’s supposed criminal dealings. I’d decided to get ahead and tell everyone I knew before the rumours could get there first.
“The Head Witch knew her,” Alissa said. “Right?”
“I wouldn’t say they knew one another well. Aveline arrested her for stealing—well, for stealing the sceptre. Over two decades ago.”
Alissa choked on her coffee. “Are you sure?”
“She didn’t lie.” I slumped down in my seat. “I know we have more concerning things to worry about, but I can’t believe my mother was actually a thief.”
“Doesn’t mean she didn’t have her reasons,” said Alissa. “Maybe she wanted to use the sceptre against these enemies of hers.”
“I thought the same thing,” I admitted. “She and my grandmother were the last of their coven. So when her mother died, that was it. Nobody else survived who might know the truth.”
“Sorry, Blair,” Alissa said. “If it’s any consolation, most covens aren’t formed of people who are blood relations. You’re still a member of the Meadowsweet Coven if you want to be.”
A lump formed in my throat. Sometimes I thought I didn’t deserve a friend like Alissa.
“I know all about coven law,” added Nina. “It’s really not a problem to have you inducted into the Meadowsweet Coven formally when the time comes.”
I gave a grateful nod. Nina would understand some of my situation, because she and her mother had been kicked out of their own coven by Dr Summers, before her arrest, which had led them to set up her own coven from scratch.
“Anyway, the reason Aveline is so talkative is that the potion worked a little too well,” I added. “She’s actually being nice, so chances are, someone will realise I’m responsible for her change in personality.”
“Oops,” said Alissa. “The potion isn’t harmful. I’ve used a variation on patients before. Okay, it’s usually to stop werewolves from eating the other patients…”
I grinned and sipped my coffee. “Pretty much the same thing. As for the mud, I decided to go for a walk in the hills after Aveline went to bed.”
“You decided to go out in this ghastly fog, even though you have to do the same in Samhain rehearsals every other day?” Alissa shook her head. “That’s not all, is it? I know you’re freaked out about something, Blair.”
She knew me too well. “I think I’m losing my mind, but I saw… a ghost.” I looked down at my coffee mug. “She vanished when I got up close, but I could have sworn she was holding the sceptre.”
A moment passed. I risked a look up at the others, hoping they didn’t think I was losing it.
“You believe me?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” Alissa said. “They do say the veil between the worlds is thin this time of year. It’s not the first story I’ve heard.”
“Likewise,” added Nina.
“In the normal world, everyone would think I was nuts. But I guess ghosts aren’t that weird over here.” Even after living in Fairy Falls for almost six months, running into the ghost of my dead mother struck me as too far-fetched.
Given the fog, it might have been any old ghost. What had Aveline said? That the sceptre being missing at Samhain might have side effects?
I think we’re in even more trouble than I thought.
9
Callie wasn’t in the reception area when I arrived at work. A strange man in a business suit stood in her place, staring around the room with an expression of confusion. My paranormal-sensing powers told me he was a wizard, but not why he was here. His suit looked clean, but there was something oddly… shiny about him.
“Uh, excuse me, can I help you?” I asked. “We’re not open yet…”
“Who’s there?” Lizzie walked out of the office, her brows rising at the sight of the stranger. “Did you want to hire us? I don’t remember arranging an appointment.”
“My name is Simon,” he said. “I live here. This isn’t an office.”
“Um, I think you’ve got the wrong house,” I said. “This office belongs to Dritch & Co. We’re a recruitment firm. Nobody lives here. Except possibly upstairs…” I looked at Lizzie. “Right?”
She nodded. “Yes, there’s a tenant upstairs, but this is the reception area.”
“We open at nine,” I added. “I’m Blair.”
He held out a hand to shake and it went right through mine. Now I knew what was odd about him… he was dead.
“You’re a ghost.” I looked at Lizzie. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Yes.” She backed towards the office door. “That explains it. Uh, Veronica isn’t in yet. Simon, can you stay put?”
At that moment, the door slid open and Callie and Rob walked into the reception area. Neither of them gave the newcomer a second’s glance.
“Hey, Blair, Lizzie,” said Callie, walking straight through the ghost as though he wasn’t there. Her brow scrunched up as my jaw dropped. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a ghost.” I pointed to Simon, who looked utterly outraged that anyone had had the gall to walk through him. “He says he lived here…”
Callie blinked at me in bafflement. “What are you talking about?”
“Can only witches see ghosts, by any chance?” I asked Lizzie.
“Yes,” said Lizzie. “Blair’s right, Callie. He’s standing right there, by the way.”
“Really?” Rob looked where she pointed. “Hi, there.”
“Are you mocking me?�
�� said the man. “I’m not a ghost.”
He turned around and walked through the wall into the office. His loud exclamations drifted out of the door.
“We’re being haunted?” asked Callie. “Who is he?”
“Someone who used to live here, apparently,” I said. “When did Veronica turn this place into an office? I think there might have been a door over there.” I pointed towards where he’d disappeared, from which disappointed sounds ensued, suggesting he was not impressed with the setup of our office.
“Ask Bethan,” said Lizzie. “I’ve only worked here for four years.”
There was a crash from inside the office. “Ghosts can’t touch anything, can they?”
“They aren’t supposed to be able to.” Lizzie hurried into the office—through the door, not the wall—and halted beside the four desks grouped in the centre. A noise that sounded like a cross between a rattle and a hiss came from the printer.
Rob walked into the room behind us. “Is the ghost still in here?”
“I am not a ghost,” snarled Simon, who stood in the middle of the desk, an expression of outrage on his face.
The printer contributed by making another loud growling noise. Lizzie winced. “I think the printer knows there’s someone in here who shouldn’t be.”
“The printer can see him and I can’t?” said Rob. “That’s unfair.”
“You’re all completely mad,” said Simon. “This is my house! What is this mess?”
“Hey, it’s not that bad,” I said. “Rob’s tidied the place since he started working here.”
Okay, the four desks were still covered with heaps of documents, the printer in the corner threw occasional temper tantrums and the coffee machine looked like it had arrived from the future, but Lizzie’s technological creations worked wonders. I’d be a little freaked out if I saw them in my house without explanation, but why had a ghost who’d evidently been buried a long time chosen to show up now?
Lizzie turned on her computer. “Don’t worry, we’ll deal with this. Um, ghosts aren’t really my area, though.”