Hemlocked and Loaded

by Annabel Chase

  “Including his wife?” I asked.

  Catherine pretended to zip her lips. “He didn’t like to speak of her, only to say that he was forced to marry at a young age because of his title and that there was no love between them.”

  I could see where this was going. “But he wouldn’t leave the princess.”

  “Nor did he want to leave Elena. It was a hopeless situation, as these things often are.”

  That had to be the most sympathetic statement Catherine had ever uttered.

  “So what happened?” I prodded.

  “Kristoff couldn’t handle the guilt of loving another, so they decided to stop seeing each other so often,” she explained. “It was too difficult for both of them. They always left each meeting wanting more. So, instead, they made a pact to only see each other when the moon was full. They would meet for an hour in the woods with their bows and arrows in complete silence.”

  “They didn’t talk at all?”

  “Not a word. They decided it was best so that neither was tempted to say something too tender or affectionate. They only wanted to be in each other’s company and feel the love they shared.”

  “That seems unfair to Elena,” I said. “She never had the chance to meet anyone else because she was still in love with Kristoff. He should have let her go.”

  “But don’t you see? As limited as it was, that relationship was enough for her. She recognized that she’d never love anyone the way she loved Kristoff, so she decided that their connection was enough to sustain her in this world.”

  “But you told me before that she died alone,” I objected.

  “She died without a husband, but she wasn’t alone,” Catherine said. “She had love. She just didn’t have it in the socially acceptable way.”

  “During her time here, she knew someone loved her and she loved him,” I murmured. “And that was enough.”

  Catherine lifted my glass to her mouth and finished it without asking. Then she smacked her lips together and said, “Exactly.”

  "I hear congratulations are in order," Sheriff Astrid said. The blond Valkyrie strode into my office and stretched out in the chair in front of me. Her long legs reached the feet of my desk. "Dazzle me, Hart.”

  I flashed the ring. "Deacon did an amazing job. It’s exactly the way Daniel and I described it to him."

  "Let's hope your wedding is far less eventful than his last one."

  “I have every confidence ours will go off without a hitch." The more I said it, the more I hoped to convince myself. My life had a way of throwing one curveball after another. Bobbing and weaving seemed to be the key to my survival.

  "I call dibs on your bachelorette party," Astrid said. "Britta and I will plan a night for everyone to remember." She laughed. "Or possibly to forget, depending on how the night goes."

  “I’ll leave it in your capable hands," I said. "As long as there are no strippers." Did Spellbound even have strippers? I certainly hadn’t met any yet.

  A tapping on the windowpane grabbed our attention.

  “Sedgwick?” I squinted. No, it wasn’t my cantankerous owl.

  "That's the owl from my office," Astrid said, grimacing. "This can't be good news."

  I walked over to the window and opened it. I took the scrawled note from the owl’s foot and handed it to Astrid. It was so odd to have an owl fly off without a word. I’d definitely become accustomed to Sedgwick’s snappy comebacks.

  Astrid's brow creased. “Sweet Odin’s ravens. I’ve got to run. There’s a dead body over in the Enchanted Woods section of town.”

  Ugh. "Anything I can help with? I was just finishing up here for the evening."

  Astrid didn’t hesitate. “If you’re sure. It'll be faster than waiting for Britta. Besides, she's probably already down at the Horned Owl for the evening. Her idea of happy hour seems to encompass an entire evening.”

  “Can’t blame a girl for wanting to have fun,” I said. “Is she meeting Paisley there?”

  Astrid shrugged. “No clue. I can’t seem to keep up with my sister.”

  We drove in the sheriff’s jalopy to the Enchanted Woods. When we arrived in front of the house, I was startled to recognize the figure waiting on the front lawn.

  "What's Tomlin doing here?" I asked.

  “You know him?”

  “I’m defending him in a trespassing case,” I replied.

  As we crossed the front lawn, Tomlin seemed surprised to see me as well. “Miss Hart. Good evening, Sheriff.”

  “Are you the one that alerted my office?” Astrid asked.

  “Yes. Seamus is my neighbor," the werelynx said, visibly upset. "I found him on the floor of the kitchen. He was still alive when I got here, but he couldn't speak. It was like all his muscles gave out." Tomlin squeezed his eyes closed, as though trying to block the image from his memory. “By the gods, it was awful.”

  “Can you show us where he is?” Astrid asked.

  We followed Tomlin inside the house to where the pixie lay on the floor. He was contorted, as though he’d lost control of his body. His wings were crushed and his eyes were still open, staring into the void.

  “Do you often come in and out of his house if he doesn’t answer the door?” Astrid asked.

  “No, but I was here earlier and had to run home,” Tomlin said. “When I came back to see how he liked his dinner, I found him on the floor.” His voice drifted off as the image resurfaced.

  “Is that typical for you?” I asked, perplexed. “To see how he enjoyed his dinner?”

  “No,” Tomlin said. “But I made the stew. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t awful. I’m still not very good at the whole cooking thing.”

  Astrid scrutinized the disheveled werelynx. “Why did you make dinner for your neighbor if you’re not good at it?”

  “He’s been teaching himself to cook,” I said, instinctively rising to my client’s defense.

  Tomlin raked a hand through his hair. “Seamus and I had argued recently. It was my peace offering. Dear gods, what if he choked on a carrot? What if this is my fault?”

  Astrid placed a comforting hand on the werelynx’s arm. “I know it’s hard, but try to stay focused, Tomlin. Tell me what the two of you argued about.”

  Tomlin glanced sadly at the pixie. “Does it matter now?”

  “It might,” Astrid said. “There’s a dead pixie on the floor and we need all the help we can get.”

  Tomlin swallowed hard. “It’s not murder if he choked on a carrot, right?”

  I needed to get him back on track. “Did he seem okay when you dropped off his dinner?”

  Tomlin nodded quickly, his eyes wide with fear. “Perfectly fine. We chatted and he thanked me for the stew. We joked about our bachelor lifestyles. How much we hated doing everything for ourselves.”

  “You didn’t see anyone else stop by the house?” Astrid asked.

  “No,” Tomlin replied, “but I wouldn’t necessarily hear anyone over here if I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Do you know if Seamus had problems with anyone else?” I asked. “Maybe someone he didn’t resolve an issue with over a pot of stew?”

  He snapped his fingers. “He mentioned that a buddy had loaned him money. Maxwell. There was some disagreement over payment.”

  “Maxwell? You mean the leprechaun that works at the Shamrock Casino?” Astrid asked.

  “You know him?” Tomlin asked.

  Astrid nodded. “He’s friendly with Britta, my sister. She spends a lot of time there.”

  “I’m surprised she and Phoebe don’t know each other better,” I remarked. Phoebe Minor was my friendly neighborhood harpy and she excelled at gambling almost as much as she excelled at belittling others. Hers was a true gift.

  The front door opened and Astrid’s team came in with a floating stretcher to take the pixie’s body away for an autopsy.

  “Be careful not to touch anything,” Astrid said firmly. “Don’t contaminate the scene.”

  “Should I go?” Tomlin as
ked, watching as his neighbor was lifted onto the hovering stretcher. When someone closed Seamus’s eyes, Tomlin winced.

  “Let’s talk outside,” Astrid said, and the three of us vacated the kitchen. She seemed to sense Tomlin’s discomfort as well. It couldn’t be easy for him. He’d just witnessed the death of his neighbor and friend.

  Once we were a reasonable distance from the house, Astrid fixed Tomlin with her hard stare. “Now tell us why you were arguing.”

  Tomlin made a halfhearted attempted to tuck in his shirt. “It was over a tree,” he said.

  “Which tree?” Astrid asked.

  Tomlin pointed upward. “The one we’re standing underneath.”

  Astrid and I both glanced skyward. The tree was fairly large with a thick trunk and dozens of leafy branches.

  “What’s wrong with the tree?” I asked. It seemed perfectly healthy.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” Tomlin said. “That’s the problem. It keeps growing, to the point where half the branches were hanging over the fence into my yard. The leaves were making a mess. I have enough mess in my life. I don’t want any that I’m not responsible for.”

  I walked over to the adjoining fence and peered up at the tree. “There are branches missing on this side.”

  Tomlin lowered his head. “That’s because I took the liberty of trimming them.”

  “Trimmed them?” Astrid repeated. “You cut them off completely.”

  Tomlin turned beet red. “I asked him repeatedly to trim them so they weren’t encroaching on my property, but he refused,” he explained. “I was forced to take matters into my own hands.”

  “Did he say why?” I asked. It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn the tree was incredibly rare and protected under an environmental ordinance. Spellbound was full of bureaucratic red tape.

  “Because his mother planted the tree and she’s gone now, so he didn’t want to change it,” Tomlin said. “He and his brother grew up playing under this tree. Apparently, it was like I decimated his happy childhood memories.”

  Astrid rubbed her chin. “I can see why he was upset over it.”

  “Me, too,” I replied. “Emotional attachments can be quite strong, even to trees.”

  “When he initially refused, I thought he was being stubborn. Afterward, when he explained his feelings, I understood,” Tomlin said. “By then it was too late, though. Boy, was he upset when he saw those missing branches.” Tomlin shook his head. “I’d never seen him like that. Seamus was always so easygoing.”

  I didn’t blame the pixie. Seamus had a strong attachment to the tree because of his dead mother. I wasn’t prone to anger either, but even I would’ve been upset over such a violation.

  “When did you mend fences?” I asked. “Today when you brought over dinner?”

  Tomlin placed a steadying hand on the trunk of the tree. He still seemed distraught over Seamus, which was completely understandable.

  “No,” he said. “We talked a few days ago after not speaking for a week. That’s why the stew was a peace offering. We’d both had time to reflect.”

  “Is that what happened when you cut down the branches?” Astrid asked. “He stopped talking to you?”

  Tomlin dug a toe in the dirt. “Not exactly. He yelled at me first, but I locked the door and wouldn’t let him in the house. I wasn’t sure what he would do. His head looked ready to explode and his wings were fluttering angrily.” He shook his head. “You don’t want to see a pixie when he’s pissed.”

  “Then you probably shouldn’t cut down his tree branches,” Astrid remarked.

  “I was sorry, okay?” Tomlin blurted out. “We got into a small war with each other. He would leave rotten eggs on my front porch and hide them so I had to find them in order to get rid of them.”

  Astrid stifled a laugh. “Very mature.”

  Tomlin shrugged. “This is what happens when two guys who aren’t fighters get into a tussle.”

  “Did you escalate matters after the rotten eggs?” I asked.

  Tomlin pursed his lips. “I may have replaced his pixie dust with ground coffee.”

  “Not very magical,” Astrid murmured.

  “Coffee?” I said. “It is for me.”

  Beads of sweat appeared on Tomlin’s forehead. “The bottom line is we resolved the dispute. Everything was fine. Tonight was meant to seal the deal.”

  Astrid watched as her team drove off with the pixie’s body. “I hate to say it, Tomlin, but the only thing tonight sealed was his fate.”

  Chapter 5

  After a morning of academy classes, I waltzed into the future home of Begonia’s business, Spelled Ink. Thanks to an academy assignment, Begonia discovered a talent for magical tattoos that she decided to monetize. Her boyfriend, the sexy vampire Demetrius Hunt, surprised her by agreeing to bankroll the business.

  Begonia and Demetrius stood in the middle of the empty room, discussing plans for the interior with a leggy blonde. Instinctively, I glanced at Demetrius to see if his gaze stayed where it belonged and I was relieved to see that it did. Even better, he looked at Begonia with a mixture of adoration and respect. Like Daniel, his womanizing days seemed to be over.

  “Emma, you’re here,” Begonia said happily. “I’d like you to meet our interior designer, Hayley.”

  When Hayley turned toward me, I nearly had to shut my eyes. Talk about blinded by beauty.

  “You’re a muse,” I said. There was no doubt in my mind. “I thought Thalia was the only one in town.” Thalia was Dr. Hall’s therapist archenemy.

  “She’s definitely not the only one.” Hayley flipped her corn-silk hair over her shoulder. “I don’t do therapy, though. My focus is on interior design. That’s my calling in life.” She bestowed a megawatt smile upon Begonia. “And creating beautiful body art just might be Begonia’s.”

  My friend beamed like she’d been granted eternal youth. “Markos has worked with Hayley on other projects,” Begonia said. Markos was the most successful architect in town as well as its only minotaur. “He’s the one that suggested her services.”

  “I ran into Markos at Petals last week,” Demetrius explained. “When I told him about Spelled Ink, he thought Hayley would be perfect for the job.”

  “You and Markos were both in Petals?” I queried.

  Demetrius flashed a smile, revealing his impressive fangs. “I stopped by to pick up flowers for Begonia, and Markos happened to be there choosing flowers for his office manager for Administrative Assistant Appreciation Day.”

  Gulp. There was a day when I was supposed to show Althea I appreciated her? Part of me was surprised she didn’t make a fuss about it. As usual, I was clueless.

  “But she’s his office manager, not his assistant,” Begonia pointed out.

  Demetrius shrugged. “Maybe he wanted an excuse to buy her flowers. Have you seen Beatrice? It’s easy to understand.”

  Beatrice, I sighed inwardly. The pretty witch was no fan of mine. She was convinced Markos still had a thing for me, despite my relationship with Daniel. The visit to Petals was encouraging, though. It suggested that maybe Markos had finally moved on.

  “You should hear Hayley’s vision for my office,” Begonia said. “I can hardly wait to see the results.”

  “I’m sure it’s going to be wonderful,” I said.

  “It will be, thanks to Demetrius,” Begonia said, casting a shy look at her fanged paramour.

  “Not all thanks to me,” the vampire replied. “If it weren’t for your talent, this whole endeavor would be pointless.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and Begonia’s cheeks burned crimson. Stars and stones, they were the sweetest couple I’d ever seen. We definitely ended up with the right partners, not that I had any doubt.

  “How long until you’re operational?” I asked.

  “It will be a while,” Begonia said. “I want everything to be perfect before we start bringing in customers. Best foot forward, right?”

  “Right,” I agreed. “And you’ve got to get
to work designing more magical tattoos.”

  “I’ll be first in line,” Hayley said. “I absolutely fell in love with the idea. The designs are exquisite.”

  “Hayley’s given me more ideas for tattoos,” Begonia added. “She’s a fountain of creativity.”

  Hayley winked. “That’s a muse for you. Always infusing others with ideas.”

  “What an amazing skill,” I said. Drop-dead gorgeous with the ability to inspire and help others achieve their dreams. If I could choose to be any paranormal, a muse seemed like a pretty good deal to me.

  “Everyone has the potential to act as a muse for another,” Hayley said. “It’s simply a matter of giving that much of yourself to another. To share insight and true thoughts can make one vulnerable. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “Sounds like a relationship,” I said.

  “It is a very special kind of relationship,” Hayley said. “Built on absolute trust.”

  A smile touched my lips. “So Daniel could be my muse?”

  “Very likely. And you could be his,” Hayley replied.

  Begonia wrapped her arms around Demetrius’s firm waist. “Dem is definitely mine. If it weren’t for him, I never would have taken Spelled Ink this far.”

  He hugged her tightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. This venture would have happened with or without me. As much as I’d love to take credit for inspiring you, Spelled Ink is entirely your creation.”

  Begonia grew flushed. “It is, isn’t it?”

  Demetrius gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Do you know I don’t think I’ve ever had a partnership with a woman before? All the years I’ve been undead…It’s shameful, really.”

  “Not to me,” Begonia said. “I’m glad I was the first.”

  “While we’re on the subject of partnerships,” Demetrius said, “when can Begonia and I take you and Daniel out for dinner? We want to celebrate the happy occasion.”

  My brain went into overdrive searching for an excuse. I knew Daniel wouldn’t be enthusiastic to spend an evening out with the vampire. He tolerated Demetrius for my sake, but he preferred to keep the hotness at arm’s length.