by Erin Johnson
The wooden cabinet had several wide, deep drawers in the bottom with a lattice of small cubbies above it, all bursting with rolls of parchment. Ludolf had told me before that he knew which potion had been used to curse me and could work from that to create a cure. That told me that not only was he a stinking sea slug, but he must keep detailed records if he still knew which ingredients had been used to create the potion years ago.
I glanced to my left at the working women, but they paid me no attention. I considered some fib about Ludolf wanting me to check on some record or other, but they seemed so disinterested, I didn’t bother. The one nearest me, on the ladder, began to hum to herself. After a moment, the other two picked up the tune. Creepy—but I turned back to the wooden cabinet and yanked a heavy drawer open.
Manila file folders, hundreds of them, lined the drawer, each labeled with a name. My breath caught and I fished a random one out—Martin Scant. I opened the file and found several scraps of parchment with a list of ingredients—recipes.
Little notes had been added, suggesting four thumb whorls instead of three for the next try, two cups of spider juice instead of crushed insect wing. I flipped through a couple similar pages, then frowned and looked up. The three witches were humming louder, so that their raspy, almost childish, taunting song echoed around the chamber. My chest tightened with unease, but I’d come this far—no turning back now.
I looked back down and examined the inside of the folder itself. Dates, from the ’80s, had been scribbled down in a shaky black hand, followed by potion 1, potion 2, and potion 3. Further to the right of each entry were notes about the effects—no noted effect, beside the first one. Respiratory distress, beside the second. Finally—instant death beside the third.
My stomach clenched, and I blinked at the drawer, then the cubbies, stuffed to overflowing with records of potions tested on hundreds—no, thousands—of shifters like me. Icy dread washed over me. I’d hoped to locate records for the shifters trapped at the sanctuary, but Ludolf had been testing on so many of us—it would take days to pore through all of this.
“Find what you were looking for?” A quiet, tense, raspy voice startled me.
I lurched back, dropping the folder, and spun to face Ludolf.
33
HEXMAKERS' LAIR
Ludolf loomed in the doorway, his skeletal frame unnaturally still.
“I, uh—I got your summons and just wanted to look around but—”
With a flick of his wrist, the folder flew out of my hands and back into the drawer, which slammed shut. The three potion makers began to cackle and laugh, their voices echoing off the round stone walls. I suddenly realized their humming must’ve alerted him about me. Traitors.
He stepped slowly, deliberately toward me. “Why are you lying?” His voice was quiet but laced with danger. His pale, yellow-ringed, unblinking eyes fixed on mine. He’d caught me. There was no point in keeping up my flimsy act.
I lifted my chin and glared at him. “I know you sold all those shifters to the sanctuary—why? They’re your own people. How could you do this?”
He sighed and lowered his head, as though stalking me, his bony shoulders up in his ears. He continued to advance as I backed up. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you?”
The witches cackled louder, and I cringed.
Ludolf’s lip curled into an angry grin, his pupils contracted to tiny points of black. “Everything laid out in front of you, and you can’t even see it?” He cocked his head, a sharp, bird-like motion. “I want a cure, of course.”
I scoffed. “For what? All the curses you’ve created?”
The red light of the fire reflected off his face, casting his hooked nose and hollow eyes in sharp shadow. “For the ultimate curse—shifterism. It’s disgusting. A stain. A disease. It needs a cure.”
I nearly stumbled back into one of the stone tables but slid to the right toward the cauldron and the walk-in fireplace. “But… you’re the head of shifters. Are you even a shifter?” I glared at him. “Is that why no one’s ever seen you shift?”
The three old hags howled, unhinged. I really wished I’d just gone with Peter to the station—this had been a very bad idea.
In a whirl of blue-black smoke, Ludolf shifted into an enormous heron. His long neck rose out of his body, his yellow beak razor sharp, and one eye fixed on me. I was too surprised to speak. He was a shifter—yet found it disgusting? The enormous bird, taller than I was, advanced slowly, strangely graceful and menacing at the same time. I froze, too terrified to move.
He changed back just as suddenly and adjusted the cuffs of his dark blue suit. “Do you know how herons kill their prey, Jolene?”
I couldn’t speak. It was as though my feet were rooted to the dirt floor.
He inched closer, his thin lips curled back. “We peck the eyes out first, blinding them, disabling them, and we then swallow them whole. I’ve disabled you, Jolene—you cannot shift, you cannot do magic. I have you, and when I’m finished with you, I will swallow you up, bones and all.”
My legs buckled, and I lurched out, grabbing the nearest table to steady myself.
His nostrils flared as though he might be sick. “I hardly shift, because it’s disgusting. Wouldn’t it be better if shifters just didn’t exist at all?” He let out a frustrated growl. “I want the cure for all of us, so we don’t have to live in the sewers, so we can be accepted by the rest of society.”
I straightened my spine. So that’s what this was about. He was still trying to be accepted by the upper tier of King Roch’s cronies. He’d not only helped spread the old king’s discriminatory propaganda, but he’d bought into it himself. I found myself oddly pitying him—what self-loathing he must live with.
I shook my head. “Being a shifter isn’t something that can be cured—it’s who we are.”
Anger flared in his eyes. He raised his hand, and the old women cackled. A glass vial full of bubbling purple liquid flew off a nearby table and crashed into my arm. The glass shattered and tinkled to the ground by my feet, the liquid inside burning my arm.
I yelped, and the women laughed harder. A few blisters rose on my skin, but I didn’t have time to react before he magically threw another vial of potion on me, followed by another and another. I backed up, arms raised overhead in an attempt to shield myself, potions freezing my skin, then burning, then making me light-headed and woozy. I staggered back, nearly falling over.
“Not that one!”
I lowered my arms and glimpsed the pot of boiling liquid flying toward me.
The old woman spoke up again. “She’ll die! Bones will shrivel, skin dissolve.”
I thought I might be sick. Then again, I was probably going to be dead soon, so what was a little vomit? The pot stopped midair, sizzling red goop spilling over the side and hissing where it landed on the ground. The pot hovered in front of me, a murderous glint in Ludolf’s eyes as he seemed to debate whether he should finish me off.
I gulped, my throat tight. “Don’t kill me.”
His voice croaked. “Why?”
I thought of all those files in the cabinet. Why had he kept me alive this long? My chest heaved, but I forced myself to stand tall. “If you do, you’ll never discover why I got stuck in human form. I’m unique, right?”
He watched me, very still, for several long moments, then smirked. “Well, at least you’re not completely daft. Yes. In all my testing, you’re the first to get trapped in human form without the ability to shift—the rest got stuck in animal form.”
That answered one of my questions. “Instead of killing those people, you decided to make a few bucks by selling them to the Magical Animal Sanctuary.”
Ludolf splayed his long, bony hands. “I am a businessman. Why pass up an opportunity?”
I shrugged. “So—with me you found a ‘cure’ to shifterism, right?”
He shook his head slightly. “I want to be normal, like those who walk above us. It’s true you can no longer shift, but you can
’t do magic either.”
So that’s why he was still testing on me, why he was fascinated by my condition. He was hoping to figure out a way to lose the ability to shift without losing his magic. Anger burned inside me. I had a strong feeling that the two were inextricably linked—that he was on a fool’s errand that had caused him to kill hundreds, maybe thousands of shifters over the years in this macabre pursuit.
He waved a hand. “Go.”
I held very still, not believing. “Just—go?”
He smirked. “Why not? What are you going to do? My associates and I own the judges, the police, the government officials at every tier on this island. I have goons on every corner. Everyone can be bought. Move against me, and you and your boyfriend and even his charming little dog will disappear like everyone else who’s crossed me. And by the way—I’ll be keeping a much closer eye on you, so be careful, Jolene….”
I waited only long enough for my legs to start working again, then I spun and ran. The haunting cackles of the three old women followed me out through the tunnels.
34
DECISION
A couple nights later, my friends, new and old, gathered in the living room of my apartment. Heidi sat criss-cross on my threadbare couch, hugging the sloth to her and cooing over it. She turned briefly away from it to take a bite of the slice of pepperoni pizza she’d magicked to hover just beside her head. The brilliantly colored macaw behind her side-stepped closer and opened his beak, his dark tongue reaching as he stretched his neck to get a bite of the pizza.
Heidi giggled and reached back to scratch his head with one finger.
I shot him a stern look and let out a couple of squawks. I’m pretty sure parrots are lactose intolerant.
He ruffled his feathers and glared at me, grumbling and growling. Yeah, well, if you’d been trapped in animal form for the last decade, I’d let you eat some.
I shot him a flat look and squawked again. We tried that earlier, remember? You’re not the one who has to clean up your droppings.
The bird huffed but shuffled back to his place behind Heidi and began to munch gently on one of the twin buns she’d piled her black hair into.
Will slumped beside her, his white lab coat splayed out on the sofa. He finished the bite of pizza he was chewing, then addressed Peter. “So you found the zebra’s family?”
Peter and I sat on kitchen chairs we’d pulled around in front of the sofa. Flashing lights from the neon signs outside my front window glared through the curtains. I glanced over. It was reassuring to know we had around-the-clock police protection—except for Ludolf’s cute little comment about owning the police department. I sighed—I didn’t feel safe anywhere anymore.
Peter nodded at Will, taking a moment to swallow his bite. “Yep, though his wife seemed alarmed at finding room for him in their apartment.” He grinned. “Their kids were thrilled, though. Thanks for your work curing his ear infection.”
Will rolled his eyes. “That so-called vet they were employing at the sanctuary was a hack.” He gestured around the room with the hand holding his slice of pizza. “All these animals—sorry, shifters—were in poor health.”
A black panther who sat beside him rested her enormous head on the arm of the sofa, her gold eyes following the food intently.
I grinned to myself—Will was about to lose that pizza if he wasn’t careful.
Peter nodded. “The veterinarian’s being prosecuted for knowing these were shifters and telling no one. Or, at least he will be, once we lift the hush order over the case.”
I chewed a bite and mulled it over. Peter had hand chosen a select few cops to know about the sanctuary case, with Bon and McCray’s approval. He’d even managed to keep it out of the press, though I doubted we’d be able to keep Madeline L’Orange off the trail for long.
With my animal translation skills, we’d been able to send most of the shifters back to their families or friends, even locating quite a few of the missing activist leaders. Many had immediately gone into hiding with their families, thanks to the police. We had no idea how Ludolf would retaliate, and I had no doubt he’d caught wind of this already. Like he’d said—he had contacts everywhere.
In the meantime, there were a couple dozen shifters whose families we either couldn’t locate or whose speech skills were so rusty, I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Since I’d been seeing Peter, I’d barely been spending any time at my apartment, so I’d volunteered it as a safe haven until we figured out what to do with the remaining shifters.
Heidi, eager to get out of her parents’ house, had volunteered to stay here and look after them all. She’d set out a half dozen bowls of water, magicked newspapers all over the floor, and even referred to half of them as her fur babies. Every time I reminded her she couldn’t keep them, she got teary-eyed, so I’d dropped it. But I knew they were all in good hands, though I didn’t love putting Heidi at risk. Who knew if Ludolf would try to take them all out or hide them again?
A small monkey scampered up Daisy’s back and perched on her head. She flattened her ears and growled. This is so humiliating.
I smirked and leaned forward around Peter to address her. The monkey groomed her, miming picking fleas out of her head. Aw. He likes you because your fur is full of bugs for him to eat.
She shot me a side-eyed look and bared her teeth. Then he must love you.
I smirked, but my smile quickly faded. I was still pretty shaken up from my confrontation with Ludolf the other night. I gingerly touched the still tender blisters on my arm. It must’ve shown on my face, because Peter slid an arm around me. “The police are doing their best to keep everyone safe.”
I glanced toward the front window again. I’d spotted Neo and his goons lurking outside the night before. I knew he was watching me. I turned back to Peter and my friends. “Look, we have to take Ludolf down.”
Will gasped. “Wha—? I hadn’t thought of that! What a brilliant idea!”
I shot him a flat look.
He rolled his eyes, and the panther edged closer to his pizza. “If we could figure out a cure for even one of these fools, the trapped shifter could testify against Ludolf.”
Peter nodded. “Right now, it’s just Jolene and Daisy’s words that these animals are actually trapped shifters.”
“Aw, guys, look!” Heidi beamed down at the sloth, who’d raised his little long-fingered hand to hold her cheek.
Will huffed. “Yeah, adorable.”
Peter nodded. “We need hard proof—transforming one of them back and getting their statement would do the trick.”
I shrugged. “Well, I know Ludolf has records of all the potions he’s used on them, but personally, I’m not up for trying to steal them back again.”
Peter hugged me closer to him, his breath coming quicker. He’d been more upset than I was when I’d told him about what happened.
I licked my lips. “Look, I’ve been thinking. Even if we could get hard evidence against Ludolf, who’s to say we don’t get buried by one of his powerful cronies? A judge or a politician just makes all this go away for him?”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like where you’re going with this, Jolene.”
A bat winged overhead, and a gazelle bounced by behind the couch. Thank the goddess we’d cast a silencing spell around my apartment. Between the sounds of hooves, the shrieking of the monkeys, and the lion’s roar—who was now snoozing on my bed in the other room—I was sure my landlady, affectionately known around town as “the dragon,” would have evicted me already.
I nodded to myself. “The animal rights activists mentioned that Sam Snakeman would be speaking about shifter rights at the palace next week. He’s got connections to Prince Harry and Princess Imogen and”—I shook my head—“and I think we could trust them.”
Peter gave me a serious look. “What do you propose?”
I bit my thumb. “We still want to keep this quiet, but I suggest we let Madeline L’Orange in on the secret—she’ll
find out on her own soon anyway. She has connections to Sam and the others. I say we have her make an introduction, quietly, and we ask them for help prosecuting Ludolf.” I shrugged. “Maybe they have resources we don’t—someone who can help cure these guys.”
I gestured at the menagerie of animals stampeding around my apartment. The bat grabbed hold of the light above my kitchen table and hung upside down, swinging with it. The panther leapt after it and slammed into the wall, knocking a piece of plaster loose.
She let out a yowl. Sorry. Animal instincts.
Heidi winced.
I was definitely not getting my deposit back.
Peter nodded, finally. “I think that’s a good idea. We could use some allies—powerful ones.”
Will rolled a thick wrist. “And we know Sam didn’t grow up in shifter culture, so he probably hasn’t been bought by Ludolf yet.” He huffed. “Probably.”
Always the optimist.
I nodded. “So that’s the plan?”
We all agreed, and I went back to eating pizza, my stomach a bundle of nerves and excitement. A couple of nights ago, I’d come as close as I ever had to dying. I knew I was on a short leash with Ludolf, and I could feel this all coming to a head. Soon, this would all be over, and either we’d finally get to see Ludolf behind bars and his mob reign over the shifters ended—or, I’d disappear, another name in his cabinet of failed experiments.
Thank you for reading The Squawking Dead. I hope you enjoyed it!
The next book in the Magic Market Mysteries is Book 8: Can Jolene cure the trapped shifters, defeat Ludolf and solve the mystery of a murdered baker? She’ll need the help of hunky cop Peter and sassy Daisy…along with a few new friends. Don’t miss the charming conclusion to the Magic Market series, featuring a crossover with Imogen, Iggy and the gang from the Spells & Caramels series.
Read The Big Fang Theory to solve a murder myssstery today!
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