by Megan Marple
The outcome of all of this ultimately depended on who had the most to gain from Enoch’s death. But I can’t be worrying about all that when I know my brother is caught in the middle of it. That’s my main concern.
As we drove back to headquarters, neither of us were in the mood for much talking. I also wasn’t too keen on telling Fiona-Leigh the ugly truth about coming home empty-handed. To be honest, I was glad to have my own space to think again once we’d made it back to the car and Fiona-Leigh immediately passed out. I needed that car-ride home to simply take in everything from earlier.
“You look like you could use one of my famous Hazelwood Heavies. Extra heavy on the mead,” Oisín purred when we got home. “Or just straight mead if you’re feeling daring.” I shot him a dirty look.
Once Fiona-Leigh was safely in bed snoozing, I slumped into my own bed, exhausted from the day. There was already so much to process, but none of it seemed to lead me down the right track with Tristan. I was just as far from finding him as I’d been when Aunt Bedelia popped up in my living room.
Groaning, I pulled the covers up over my head in hopes that I’d only see the backs of my eyelids for the next eight hours, and not more nightmares about my missing brother. Maybe Oisín was right about taking up drinking.
16
I swore off Spell Haven for the day, instead opting to go out for dinner with Fiona-Leigh in hopes that we could talk more about everything non-magically related. Of course, when I brought the idea up to her, she was immediately suspicious.
“Is this the part where you tell me I’m actually not a human at all, that I’m part wood nymph or something weird? Because I don’t think I can handle another secret like that,” she said, raising a brow.
I snorted. “I see you’ve picked up a thing or two with visiting Erie. And no, it’s nothing like that. I just . . . need a break from all of that stuff.” The truth was that it’s been incredibly draining, being thrown back into the Other Realm after being gone for so long.
“Okay,” she replied, throwing her small woven backpack over her shoulder. “Where to?”
We ended up at one of our favorite usual haunts, a newer restaurant in downtown Midnight Pitch named The Cuckoo’s Nest. It was nice, talking about anything and everything that had nothing to do with the past week’s events.
Fiona-Leigh told me all about how Marina was competing in a local skateboarding competition against all boys. And I told her all about my latest photograph that my boss, G, had entered into a photo-journalism contest.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, hopping up.
“Bathroom?”
She just gave me a thumbs-up, and I laughed softly to myself. See? This wasn’t so bad. Magic didn’t have to take up all of our time and energy.
The waitress came by, pulling out a pad and a pen with flourish, and I gave her our order without even thinking much about it, still lost in my own thoughts. The thing I’d worried the most about pulling Fiona-Leigh into all this with me, was that we’d never get to go back to normal. That we’d be sucked back into Spell Haven with no chance of really living our lives the way we were used to. And I didn’t want that for her.
I snapped to when she returned. “The waitress should be back with our drinks in just a minute.”
And she was, bringing plates of food along with, surprisingly.
“Whoa,” I laughed, thanking her as she set the plates in front of us. “That was fast!”
“It’s a pretty dead night, so it’s no problem at all,” she shrugged with a smile. “Enjoy.”
The smell of my chicken was enough to make my mouth water, and I nearly dove right into it before pausing. Something felt off and sure enough, I glanced across the table to see Fiona-Leigh looking down at her plate, utter confusion on her face.
Recognition lit up inside me like a Christmas tree. Of course. How could I have totally forgotten?
My shoulders slumped. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I forgot,” I groaned as she slowly pushed the cheeseburger and fries away. “With everything that’s been going on lately, it completely slipped my mind when I ordered.”
I sighed.
“Okay. But now there’s a poor cow that’s going to waste. I’m sorry, but I just don’t see how you expect me to eat something was literally born and kept in horrible conditions for the sole purpose of ending up on some chipped dinner plate, shoved between a bun and drowned in ketchup just so I could have something to go with my fries. Nope. Sorry, but no.” She regarded said dinner plate with a disgusted frown and folded her flannel-covered arms across her chest. The resolve in her eyes wasn’t going anywhere.
It was all I could do not to smile and reach out and tuck a strand of her fine coppery hair behind her ear. But I knew better. Fiona-Leigh with her choppy bangs she’d just decided to cut herself this morning, and her sarcastic t-shirt that read, ‘I like books. You, not so much.” Fiona-Leigh with a complete galaxy of freckles on her face and that same defiant look in her dark blue eyes that I saw on my own face from time to time… She was not a little girl who needed me to tell her what’s what. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see how quickly she’d grasped the way the world works behind the scenes.
And as much as I loathe the smug look she gives me from time to time, I’m still proud as anything at her ability to stand up for what she believes in every time.
I sighed again as I stared down at my own plate of fried chicken that was just ready and waiting for me to dig into it. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. You can order something else and I’ll eat this delicious food, feel completely guilty about it the whole time, and then maybe we can discuss more meatless meal options at home.”
Her eyes flickered. “After some dairy-free fro-yo?”
17
It was like running around in circles. Drumming my fingers on the large desk in Uncle Gardner’s office, I sat back and listened to him and Gentry go over the latest bit of intelligence that had come in about Enoch’s case. None of it made much of a difference, and to be honest, it just sounded like they were comparing facts and figures to me. Who cared if Enoch’s neighbor who lives above the next shop over, happened to see a ghost floating around her kitchen the day after his murder?
It wasn’t Enoch’s ghost, mind you, but her dead aunt’s—coming back to hunt down an old portrait hanging in the neighbor’s home. As if that had anything at all to do with what was important.
What it did do though, was remind me of something I’d been completely neglecting lately. “Um, sir? I know I’m supposed to be sticking here today so that Gentry and I can conduct the next interview, but I have my job to think about. Back home?”
They both stopped talking at once and looked down at me, Uncle Gardner’s brow furrowing. “Your job?” he repeated.
What did he think I did all day, sit around twiddling my thumbs until money grew out of the tiny tree in my front yard? I took a deep breath because the last thing I felt like doing was explaining my current job to my former Shadow Hands superior. “Yes. I work at a newspaper. I’m the head photographer. You know, I take pictures with a camera.” I held up my hands to resemble a rectangle with a viewfinder, looking at them through my fingers.
Neither of them looked too amused.
“I’m . . . Not sure how to tell my boss that I’m suddenly needed in a magical realm to locate my lost brother.”
Uncle Gardner scratched at the thick beard on his chin, regarding me thoughtfully. “No need to worry about it. I’ll handle it. I just need Arinda’s assistance.”
“Who’s she?” I asked, trying to recall if I was supposed to remember her or not.
“Arinda Kadir. She’s the Shadow Hand Head Secretary. She’ll see to it that your employer is informed.”
Uh-oh. I didn’t like the ominous sound of that.
Finishing up the unhelpful lack of information, Uncle Gardner finally dismissed Gentry and me. Outside of the office, Fiona-Leigh was seated with an ancient-looking, dark-leather bound copy of Beginnings of Ma
gic and You.
I nudged her leg with my foot. “Is that any good?”
“It’s pretty interesting. Apparently it used to be totally acceptable to dance outside naked, on the full moon after your eighteenth birthday. Did you know that?” She cocked an eyebrow up at me.
Coughing, I quickly shook my head, trying to laugh it off. “No idea. And I’m sure that if I did know that, I would have done it alone, in the privacy of my own property, and certainly not on a dare by my older cousins.”
“Are you ready?” Gentry interrupted, his hands behind his back.
Just then, Aunt Bedelia came hurrying down the hallway, her tanned skin unusually flushed. “I’m so sorry Gwennie, dear. I was fixing up the last bit of a customer’s order of Good Luck Muck. He’s getting ready for his divorce hearing tonight, you know.” She looked between me and Fiona-Leigh and clapped her hands together. “It looks like I’m just in time—wonderful! I have something fun planned for us back at the manor, sweet girl.”
Tucking the book away into her woven backpack, Fiona-Leigh huffed. “I don’t get why everyone thinks I need a babysitter.”
I frowned at her. “Watch it. We have things to do, and I thought you’d like the company. You should be grateful that Aunt Bee is taking the time to spend with you, not rude. She has the Apothecarium to run, too. Thank you for the help by the way,” I turned to my aunt, smiling. “I didn’t like the idea of leaving her back home all alone without knowing how long I’d be here.”
Throwing her arm around Fiona-Leigh’s shoulder, Aunt Bedelia returned the smile. “Any time, dear.”
18
Our stop for the day wound up being a tavern in town that Tristan was known for frequenting.
“Harm’s Charm,” I read the words splashed across the front window of the place. “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before.”
“Used to be an old parchment mill before some guy bought it and turned it into a bar,” Gentry said, yanking the door open. “After you.”
The inside of the tavern was dark and smoky, the air thick enough that you could probably hack at it with a good knife if you wanted. I wrinkled my nose. Now would be a perfect time to have a gas mask on hand.
The bar itself wasn’t anything extraordinary with its wooden bar-top and black stools. I was more transfixed by the weird maze-like sets of stairs that went up the far side of the tavern, crisscrossing with several different flights of steps that each took you to a different level of the tavern. Each level seemed to have a landing and a single door. Some people were peering down at the tavern patrons, laughing, casually sloshing and spilling their drinks all over the place without much thought. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought we’d just walked into a very oddly-constructed saloon in the Old West.
Gentry must have caught me looking up, because he pulled at me to follow him over to the first available seats at the bar. “Come on. No need to waste half the day worrying about what those fools are up to, carrying on with the creatures of the night.”
As I sat down next to him I couldn’t help but glance back up one last time. This time I noticed the variety of people up there, including vampires with their fangs easily distinguishing them from the others.
It was impossible to remember how many times I’d read a book where the human’s version of witches was incredibly skewed. As homo-potentias, we witches are the closest thing to the homo-sapiens, just a single chromosome off from the rest of the world. But we were almost always lumped in with everything that was considered ‘other.’
I shrugged, looking back down at him. “Aren’t we all technically creatures of the night, though?”
There was a snort that most assuredly came from Gentry, even though I found it hard to believe the man had a sense of humor to begin with. “Yes, but these are creatures of very specific nights when one might be feeling lonely and in need of some company . . .”
I blinked. The realization washed over me at once, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Or was that the loud people above us actually dripping their drinks down my back? “Oh. Oh, I see. Right. I definitely already knew that.”
Gentry cocked an eyebrow at me. “Did you?”
I turned and hastily pounded the bar top, desperate to change the subject. “Hello? Is the owner back there somewhere?”
“Watch it. I wouldn’t get on this guy’s bad side if I were you . . .” Gentry whispered, nodding toward the other end of the bar just as the door from the kitchen swung open.
A hulking figure seemed to storm through the door that I only just realized was much taller than the average doorway—the figure’s massive head alone, enough to warrant the difference. Anyone else would’ve seen a giant bull’s head complete with sharp horns on either side, set on a massive pair of dark, hairy shoulders that tapered down to the body of an extremely buff human man with skin the color of the mahogany bar top. Me? All I could see was an old friend.
“Arcas?” I gasped, nearly slipping off the edge of my stool.
Despite the noise of the bar, my wavering voice was enough to get his attention, and the minotaur’s great head turned until his dark eyes were focused on me. Then came the grin that many would probably find terrifying, while I found it totally adorable.
“Gwen!” his trench-deep voice reverberated through the entire room as he made his way over to us. “It’s been a minute!”
He walked around until he was standing in front of me and scooped me up in an instant, squeezing me lightly even with his huge arms. I buried my head into his chest, laughing.
“It’s been way too long,” I mumbled as I pulled away.
Someone cleared their throat and I looked over my shoulder to see Gentry looking both mildly shocked and irritated, his eyes narrowed at the both of us.
“I take it you two know each other?”
Arcas gently placed me back on my stool, clapping a hand the size of a ham hock on my shoulder. “Why, you her boyfriend or somethin’?”
This time I snorted, my cheeks burning as I tried to explain. “No, no, nothing like that at all. We’re working a case. Or, well, I’m looking for my brother and he’s here because my uncle said so. But enough about all that! How have you been?”
Arcas still looked at Gentry with suspicion in his eyes but shrugged. “Pretty good. Bought this place and fixed it up a while back. I needed to have something to do to occupy my time.”
I nodded. It made sense that he did that because a minotaur with nothing to do but kill time was a dangerous creature indeed. It didn’t help that Arcas had been abandoned on the front steps of the town hall when he was only a baby. The town didn’t have any orphanage or anything in place since everyone mainly belonged to family somewhere. When the town came together to figure out what to do with the only minotaur Spell Haven had seen in centuries, it was agreed that instead of leaving him in Amaranth Forest to fend for himself, someone would adopt him into their family. Luckily for Arcas, a local witch family took him in not long after Tristan was born. And since they just so happened to be some of our closest neighbors, Arcas and I had known each other for most of our lives.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you,” I said, the reality of why I was here in the first place settling back in. “This whole thing with Tristan . . .”
“Yeah. I heard about that. Sorry, Gwen,” he rumbled. “The whole situation is messed up.”
Gentry leaned forward, his hands splayed across his knees. “We have information that says Tristan came to your bar pretty often. Is that true?”
I could tell Arcas was not about to go into detail with Gentry, so I held up my finger to him and pulled Gentry away from the bar until we were near the first steps of the staircase. “Let me handle this one, okay? Arcas and I go way back. We’ve been friends forever. He doesn’t like strangers, so chances are he won’t say much with you around.”
Gentry huffed. “I’d say he sounds pretty bull-headed, but that would just be ridiculous. Fine. I’ll
go wait outside. Just don’t take too long.”
“I’ll take however long I need to take, actually.” I flipped my braid back over my shoulder and turned back toward Arcas, slightly irritated. I knew I should be getting used to Gentry and his irritating demeanor, but he had a habit of being just enough of a jerk to really get under my skin, without it being enough for me to complain to Uncle Gardner about. Not that I would ever do that, of course.
“So. Tristan? Did he come here a lot?” I asked Arcas once I was seated again.
He’d walked back around to the other side, and was now filling a martini glass with a viscous, dark red liquid, sliding it over to the ghostly pale woman beside me. She smiled and slid him what looked like a piece of paper along with a couple of smaller bills for the drink. I shook my head as he took the paper and balled it up, tossing it over his shoulder and depositing the money into his pocket.
“I see you’re still knockin’ them dead every which way you turn,” I chuckled. “Some things never change.”
Arcas folded his massive arms across his chest, looking at me as if it were nothing. “Another day, another dollar. They always come in here looking for the wrong thing from me. I don’t have time to entertain no one like that. I’ve got bills to pay. As much as I’d like it to, the bar can’t run itself.” His gaze turned upward. “And someone has to be here, just in case.”
I ignored the temptation to ask him about what exactly was going on up there.
“But to answer you, yeah. Tristan was here a couple of times a week, usually. At least for a while.”
My heart skipped. We hadn’t had much luck in the way of finding my brother just yet and at this point it felt like any little thing might help. “For a while? When did he stop coming by so much?”