by Susan Harper
“It was actually rather frightening,” Clowdia said. “I’ve dealt with infatuation before, but he was acting almost aggressive. Usually men under the infatuation curse, as I call it, just act silly—following me around, singing, showing off, whatever it might be. But he was tugging at my wrist, swearing his undying love to me, swearing he absolutely needed me. I’ve never seen a reaction quite like that. It was obsessive. I told him to get his head right, that he knew he didn’t really feel this way about me, and I left him standing amongst the trees by himself. That’s the last I saw him alive.” Clowdia looked down, and Monica noticed a tear trickling down her face. “He was my friend. I want to know what really happened to him.”
“We’re going to find out,” Abigail said from where she sat behind them in the sand. “I promise.”
7
After speaking with Clowdia, Monica felt rather certain that the woman was certainly not their guilty party. There had been, after all, dozens and dozens of mystics present the night of Leopold’s murder. If she had been guilty, surely the woman wouldn’t have even mentioned her history with Leopold’s family. Monica and Abigail decided to head back to the scene of the crime.
They flew west back toward the forest regions, not quite reaching the centaur herds. The hobbits lived at a less dense portion of the Wysteria forests, not far from one of the more densely-populated wizard communities. They landed at the forest entrance, and the two began their walk through the trees. The place had been much more ominous during the party as most forests seemed at night. Now, in the middle of the day, the place seemed quaint and inviting. When they arrived at the hobbit holes, Monica spotted the young hobbit whose home had been vandalized the night of the party. He had removed his front door, which was now lying in front of his home. A few neighbors were assisting him in putting up a new one, all of them scowling about having to do this.
“Hey,” Monica said, making her presence known, and the group of workers all jumped.
“Oh, hello,” the young hobbit said. “Sorry, we’re all a bit jumpy today.” He finished screwing in his door as another hobbit held it up.
“We’re so sorry about your door,” Monica said. “I cannot believe someone would do that. If you’d like, I can get rid of that for you.” She pointed at the abandoned door with the Cinur writing sitting in their camp.
“Please,” he said.
Monica pulled out her wand, and Abigail scurried to put some distance between herself and Monica, which she usually did when Monica got her wand out. “Ignis!” Monica shouted, waving her wand. The door started to glow red, and then it began to shake.
“Hit the deck!” Abigail shouted, and all the hobbits bolted inside the house. Monica ran as well right before the door with the graffiti exploded into a million pieces.
“Well, that’s not what I was trying to do,” Monica said, pulling some considerably large splinters from the back of her leg.
“Unnatural, honestly!” Abigail said as she slowly made her way out from behind a tree that had been pelted by the door’s handle, now currently sticking out of the side of the trunk.
The hobbits emerged slowly, some of them having a bit of a laugh at Monica’s expense. “What were you trying to do?” one of the lady hobbits asked.
“Burn it,” Monica said. “Sorry about that. I’m an unnatural witch. Spell-casting is not really my expertise.” They thanked her for getting rid of the door nevertheless, and she walked away embarrassed toward the creek where Leopold had met his demise, Abigail trailing.
“You okay?” Abigail asked.
“I should be able to do a simple spell like that,” Monica said. “I’ve done more complicated ones than erupting fire from my wand before.”
“You know you need to take a moment to concentrate before using that wand,” Abigail said.
“I know,” Monica groaned. “It’s just so easy for everyone else. It’s not fair. Mona has more magic flowing through her than she knows what to do with. I can’t even set a hunk of wood on fire without it exploding in my face.”
“You need to accept that you’re an unnatural witch,” Abigail said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It just means that you need to take your time with spells. Can’t rush into them.”
“I suppose,” Monica said as they arrived at the creek. “Let’s look around. See if we can’t find anything that the wizarding authorities might have missed.”
They did just that for nearly an hour, mostly looking in and around the water. It wasn’t, however, until Monica started expanding her search area a bit that they found something. There was a tree with an odd circular bit of bark at its side that simply looked like it did not belong. Approaching the tree, she noticed that a small area of the bark appeared to be growing in a different direction than the rest of the tree. She touched it and realized it was a fake cover. Pulling it back, she found a small storage bin within the tree. “Whoa,” Monica said, a bit impressed. She pulled out a small vail of a pinkish potion.
“What is it?” Abigail asked.
“I’m not sure,” Monica said, opening up the top. “But whatever it is, it’s about gone. There’s just a little sip left at the bottom.” She took a quick sniff, and she frowned. “It’s a love potion!”
“A love potion?” Abigail asked. “Are you sure about that?”
“I’m the potions expert, aren’t I?” Monica pointed out, and Abigail had no argument there. Potions work required next to no magic to perform, so it was something Monica had concentrated on quite a bit as a young witch. “We should take it to the Sorcerer’s Council’s potion master to be sure, but I’m telling you right now that this is a love potion.” She tucked the vial away on her person, and she and Abigail loaded up onto her broom before zipping out of the forest and toward town hall.
“So, a love potion,” Abigail said. “At the scene of the crime. What do you think that means?”
“I think that someone might have given Leopold a love potion,” Monica explained. “Think about it. Love potions are very dangerous stuff. If someone had put Clowdia’s DNA into this, the effects would have driven him completely insane.”
“Oh, I didn’t even think about that. You don’t need a love potion to make someone obsess over a selkie,” Abigail said.
“If Clowdia’s DNA is in this love potion, it would be like intentionally overdosing someone on selkie infatuation,” Monica said. “Usually all it takes for someone to go under the infatuation curse if to just look at a selkie too long. Can you imagine if someone had taken a love potion for a selkie? It would have made them crazy.”
“Clowdia did say that Leopold had been rather aggressive,” Abigail said. “And aggression is not usually the result of selkie infatuation.”
“Nor the result of a love potion,” Monica said. “But, if you combine them…well, who knows what it would have done to Leopold?”
They arrived at the courthouse, where they revealed to the front desk clerk what they had found. No time was wasted in getting Monica directly to the on-site potions master, who was very quickly able to find that they were indeed dealing with a very strong love potion. Within the hour, the potions master was able to pull DNA from the remaining potion and discover that selkie DNA had most certainly been used. Soon, Nud was joining them in the potion master’s office. The elderly warlock was shaking his head near the fire where a potion he himself had been working on that day was boiling, and he was checking to make sure it didn’t overrun. “It’s a very strong potion,” he said. “Very condensed. If Leopold drank the entire vial, assuming the vial had been full beforehand, it’s amazing he didn’t die straight away from a heart attack.”
“Love potion can cause a heart attack?” Abigail asked.
“If you give someone enough of it, they can get so excited their heart bursts,” the wizard explained. “And this is a very condensed potion, very dangerous. Top it off with the fact that it was used to make him fall in love with a selkie, it’s amazing the man didn’t fall over dead the second he saw her.”
“He was drowned,” Nud said. “But the forensic report filed this morning said nothing about a heart condition or even love potion.” Nud was writing something down on a piece of parchment, which he folded up carefully. “Would you mind, Dr. Williams?”
The potions master smiled. “Of course,” he said and tapped the letter with his wand. It zoomed across the room, under the door, and out of sight.
“I wrote the pathologist and requested an immediate response,” Nud said. “Thank you, Monica and Abigail, for this find of yours. I sense that we need to do some retraining with our crime scene teams, since it seems you are finding far more than our entire teams do when they are sent out.”
Monica smirked. “I have a keen eye for this sort of thing, I suppose.”
The response arrived back from the forensic pathologist who had conducted Leopold’s autopsy. “Hmm…” Nud said as he skimmed through the letter. “They retested Leopold for love potion and did find some in his system. But not very much. He likely only had a few sips, though the pathologist notes that if the potion was as dense as you say, Dr. Williams, it might have only been a few drops at best.”
“Vial must not have been full beforehand, then,” Dr. Williams said. “Either way, a potion this dense on top of it being used for a selkie could have driven Leopold over the edge. The man might have drowned himself over the rejection?”
“I don’t know,” Monica said. “I’m still concerned over who would have given him the potion in the first place.”
“Yes, I must agree,” Nud said. “Surely someone who concocted a potion like this would have known how dangerous putting a selkie sample into the potion would be? Even if they only gave Leopold a few drops of the stuff, he could have wound up hurting her. Dangerous magic, love potions.”
“Very,” Monica said. “Could someone have simply given him the potion hoping to cause problems with the team? This could be someone from another team attempting to cause problems between team members before the finals. Maybe there were more Remembrance members there that night other than Noah?”
“Two very excellent points, Ms. Montoya,” Nud said. “Or someone could have simply wanted to cause a rift between Leopold and his girlfriend…what’s her name…Rosemary. Giving him a love potion to cause him to chase after a selkie would have been a sure-fire way of doing that.”
“Lot of possibilities,” Abigail said. “But now that we know Leopold had been drugged beforehand, we’ve got a real lead.”
“I’ll be sure to inform our investigators of this discovery. Thank you, again, Ms. Montoya,” he said. “Oh, and I ran into your sister earlier today. She knows you’re in Wysteria and mentioned wanting to tell you about a memorial service for Leopold his Romp-A-Roo team are doing this evening.”
“Oh, thank you, Nud,” Monica said. “I’ll be sure to reach out to her about it.”
“Good work again, ladies. Thank you for your service to this community,” Nud said with an approving nod before shaking hands with the potions master and heading off.
Monica and Abigail headed out as well, both deep in thought and rather perplexed by the discovery of the love potion. “I feel like all of these theories we’ve been throwing around about why someone would want to give someone a love potion for a selkie are a little farfetched. I mean, what is the motive behind that, really?”
“I’m not sure,” Abigail said. “But something tells me that it’s not a coincidence that the warlock given the potion to obsess over Clowdia is the brother of a man who stole her skin. I think this thing might go back further than just that night. I think we should talk to Leonardo. See if we can get a better idea of what happened between him, Clowdia, and Leopold when her skin was stolen.”
Monica nodded. “I think I have to agree with you. But, for now, let’s go back to Backroom Books. I think Holly will want to know about the memorial service too.”
Abigail nodded in agreement, and the two of the hopped up on Monica’s broom and flew back toward Main Street, Wysteria.
8
By the time Monica and Abigail arrived back to the Bankstown side of Backroom Books, Holly had just finished with all closing duties and had locked the front door. “How did your super sleuthing go?” Holly asked jokingly as Monica and Abigail arrived back.
“Well, we discovered that someone drugged Leopold with a love potion,” Monica said. “Before he was drowned. So, someone definitely wanted him to get enamored with Clowdia. Now we just have to figure out why and maybe that will lead us to who.”
“Excellent work, ladies,” Holly said.
“We are about to head to a memorial service for Leopold,” Monica said. “You’ve been invited as well. I don’t know if you have plans this evening or not, but we’re going if you want to tag along.”
“Oh, I’ll come,” Holly said. “No plans.”
“Okay, we’re going now,” Monica said. “You coming?”
“Coming!” Holly said, pausing to look down at what she was wearing. “Is this appropriate attire?” She was in a mere t-shirt and blue jeans.
“I think I can get Aunt Wilma to help us out with that,” Monica said as they headed through the portal.
Aunt Wilma was waving her wand about, causing books to fly to and fro to put them back in their proper place. “Ladies, are you planning on going to the memorial service tonight?”
“We are,” Monica said. “Headed that way now. Would you mind helping us out with some more appropriate attire?”
“Of course,” Wilma said and pointed her wand at them both. In an instant, Monica’s hair was curled and pulled back on her head, and she was wearing a long black dress with lacy, black gloves. Holly was dressed in black dress pants with a black shirt with tiny white beads that made the shirt seem to glitter a bit, her hair pulled back in a bun with delicate lose strands hanging down in her face. “Perfect,” Wilma said, waving the wand in front of herself, causing a similar change in attire.
The ladies, along with Abigail, headed out. Monica and Wilma held their brooms, and they mounted them. Holly hopped on the back of Monica’s broom, and Abigail elected to ride with Wilma. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, why don’t you have a familiar, Wilma?” Holly asked as they rose into the air.
“Oh, I did. For years, actually. She got old is all. Passed away a few years ago,” she said.
“Oh,” Holly said. “So your familiars aren’t necessarily with you for life, then?”
“No, not usually,” Wilma said. “They remain a bit immortal until a witch reaches a competent level of magic—basically until we reach adulthood. Then the familiar reaches a point of mortality and slowly ages and dies like any other animal or mystic would.”
“Except for mystics like me who are really witches serving a sentence,” Abigail groaned.
“She’s so bitter,” Wilma said with a slight cackle.
They landed in the middle of the local Romp-A-Roo field where a number of mystics had already gathered. Wilma and Monica released their brooms, and they went and flew alongside the other brooms in the stands. The team were all wearing their jerseys, and everyone was placing flowers under Leopold’s podium as well as lighting candles. “Should we have brought flowers?” Holly was starting to say, but Wilma was already summoning flowers with her wand.
They each held onto a bouquet of flowers, and even Abigail held a small rose in her mouth, and they went over and placed the flowers with the rest. “Hey,” Mona said after tapping Monica on the shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”
Monica turned and gave her sister a hug as well as one for Deimus, who was standing near her. “We appreciate it,” Deimus told Monica, his voice low and soft. “We’re all still pretty shaken up, the team, I mean. We were all pretty close. Oh no…”
Monica glanced in the direction Deimus was staring. Clowdia had arrived, and she was placing a bouquet of blue flowers whose stems were wrapped up in a string of small seashells at the base of the podium. The rest of the team seemed to have swarmed around her, none looking al
l too pleased at her presence. “You got some real nerve, Clowdia!” Rosemary said as Clowdia stood up, staring back at her teammate.
Clowdia brushed off her jersey as she stood upright. “I’m a member of this team, and I came to mourn my teammate.”
“We all know you did it!” Bolt snapped.
Clowdia glared at him. “Next time someone is hurt during a full moon, Bolt, please, tell me how it feels when they point fingers your way.”
“I call it like I see it, Clowdia,” Bolt said, a slight growl in his tone.
Deimus started to say something, but Monica held up her hand to tell him not to. She marched right over, a scowl on her face. “You all should be ashamed of yourselves!” she snapped, stomping her foot. “Of all places to get riled up at Clowdia, too. This is a memorial service. Now, all of you listen, because I’m only going to say this once. Someone slipped Leopold a very powerful love potion with Clowdia’s DNA inside. Tell me, does that sound like something a selkie would dare do?”
Everyone grew quiet, and after a moment, Rosemary spoke. “Leopold was on a love potion?”
“Someone drugged him,” Monica said. “I found the vial hidden at the crime scene, and the forensic pathologist ran a test and confirmed there was love potion in his system. Someone used Leopold’s vulnerability against him before drowning him, and I don’t think for a second that Clowdia would have intentionally drugged someone with love potion!”
The teammates started muttering for a moment before Rosemary spoke up. “I believe you,” she said at last. “I know selkies view the infatuation as a curse, so why would Clowdia attempt to strengthen that? And to a friend? Clowdia, I’m so sorry,” she said, taking step toward the very bitter-looking selkie woman. “We all know what happened with you and Leopold’s brother, so we thought that maybe this was some sort of revenge thing. That Leopold just fell for the infatuation and that it made you so angry and reminded you of what happened with his brother…that you killed him over it.”