by Kate Krake
“For your information, Doctor O’Farrell, I look after my cat probably better than anyone in this town looks after their pets,” I said, standing, still cradling the contently purring cat in my arms.
“Everyone says something like that,” he said. “But if you saw the things I’d seen, you’d know where I’m coming from.”
“Well, why don’t you just try to stop projecting other people’s crimes onto everyone in town and treat each case as it comes? You might make some friends that way.”
“I’ve got enough friends,” he said and turned to move out of the door. The brown leather thong around his neck was jutting out of the top of his collar.
“Dr. O’Farrell,” I said. “I noticed your necklace. A very interesting design. I would love to know where you had it made.”
The vet’s hand went straight to his chest. He glowered. There was guilt in Conri O’Farrell’s eyes. Whether that guilt had anything or not to do with him being a murderer, I was now determined to find out.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Drake,” he said, the nice guy act now well and truly gone. He slammed the door behind him.
9
I laid Hemlock down in his favorite place behind the counter, still groggy but purring contentedly. Lila was delighted to see him, and he looked equally delighted to accept one of the special ear rubs she doled out to him like candy.
“The flowers were poisonous?” she said. “Who on earth sent them to you?”
“Not exactly poisonous,” I said, ignoring Lila’s last question. “Apparently lilies are toxic to cats. Just an unfortunate accident.”
It was too much to fit in my mind. I wouldn’t put it past Jackfort to send me something he knew would endanger my familiar. Hemlock had long hated him, and it was a mutual disdain. I was certain, though, that if Jackfort really did want to hurt him, he would make sure he did something much more specific, not rely on an off chance the cat would come into contact with otherwise harmless flowers. Still, there was nothing harmless about anything Rowan Jackfort was involved with. He didn’t deserve the benefit of anyone’s doubt.
He’s not watching you, I told myself again. It was starting to become a mantra, and I hoped I would soon start believing it.
A thought struck me like a sharp blow to the head. Kenny was my next-door neighbor. Targeting the people around me was precisely the sort of thing Jackfort would do, a way to torture me without directly hurting me. But killing an innocent man as a cryptic message? Surely that was beyond even Jackfort’s evil. Besides, if he had been spying on me, he would have seen that the two of us were not in the least bit close. If he were going to come after me by way of the relationships in my life, as he’d done with Hemlock, surely Lila would have been a better target than Kenny.
An anxious nausea washed through me.
“Are you alright?” Lila said. “I didn’t need to be knitting to feel your thoughts go super dark just then.”
I rubbed my palms over my face, pressing my fingers over my eyes, trying to calm myself. “I’m not sure I am alright, Lila,” I said. “This was supposed to be a perfect little town, a safe place to settle down.” A good place to hide and be alone, I added mentally. “And now it’s…”
I couldn’t think of enough words to describe the panic, the confusion threatening to overflow in me.
Lila placed her slender arm around my shoulders. “We’ll get to the bottom of it all,” she said. “We’re in this together, whatever it is. And there are others who can help too.”
* * *
The next day, after I couldn’t take any more of Lila’s harping on about this famous Adela, I made a trip to the Blackthorn Springs library on my lunch break.
The library was a newish building just behind Main Street. I hadn’t joined, having an entire bookstore at my disposal, but I had wandered past the building any number of times and kept meaning to pay it a proper visit to see what it was like.
Inside, it was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and plenty of cozy nooks for reading, like a library should be. The foyer was plastered with banners and pamphlets for local events. Classes, groups, petitions, the usual community affairs. I noted a colorful poster announcing the grand opening of the Blackthorn Springs hedge maze. There were only three weeks to go. Not much time to disarm a magical maze and find a killer, I thought.
I recognized Adela immediately, though we hadn’t actually met. She was tall, a full-figured woman with long hair in various shades of brown cascading in tumbles down to her curvaceous hips. She had large, round dark eyes the color of chocolate. Her skin was like milk. There was nothing blatantly supernatural looking about her, though I wasn’t sure what I should be looking for in a Naarin demon. Pointed ears? Scales? Wings? Horns?
Adela was busy at the counter, scanning a pile of books into the computer as she chatted with someone I did know: Henry.
Crap.
I ducked down a random aisle of books.
The thought that Henry could be cheating on his girlfriend was still too upsetting, and I certainly hadn’t forgotten the vibes coming off that lute. While I was avoiding him personally, I also didn’t want Henry to hear me asking any more questions about magic.
Pleased that Henry had apparently not seen me, I wandered to the back of the library through the reference section, running my fingers absently along the spines of books, trying to think of a way of approaching the librarian.
I found myself in the paranormal section. So, the Blackthorn Springs library had eleven entire shelves dedicated to the occult and paranormal studies. In any other small-town public library, this many books on the supernatural might seem strange, but after what I had learned about Blackthorn in the last few days, it was less surprising.
“Can I help you find anything in particular?” came a voice like velvet from behind me. I turned to find myself face-to-face and all too close to Adela Kristos. She peered at me intently, but a warm smile on her purple-painted lips relaxed me. A little.
“Just browsing,” I said.
“And you’re interested in esoteric fields?”
“It’s a casual interest, I guess you could say,” I said. I gave a strange giggle full of nervous energy.
“Belinda Drake, isn’t it?” Adela said, holding out a large hand. I shook it, embarrassed by my sweaty palms. “You can relax, Belinda. Lila and I are good friends. She’s told me about you.”
“She has?”
“Don’t worry, only the important things.”
“Those are the things I’m worried about the most,” I said. Adela laughed, a rich, musical sound.
“So, do a lot of people borrow these books?” I said, pointing to the shelves. My shop had its own selection of occult books, but I’d only ever seen a few tourists browsing there and had hardly sold any since I’d owned the place.
“Not many, and even less than before.”
“Before?”
“Before the internet. That’s where most people get their reference material from these days, isn’t it? And not just the paranormal fields. Since not many folks around here have home internet connections thanks to where we are, most come in here to look things up online. The reservation sheets are filled on most days.”
I had an idea.
“Can I get online now? I need to look something up.” My eyes flicked to the sign at the front about the maze festival. “About the maze. I’m on the committee.”
Adela nodded, a sage gesture with a glint in her eye that made me feel like the Naarin could see right through everything I said. Which, for all I knew of this kind of demon, she could have. “You’ve got the internet at home. Lila has told me about your online business.”
“Yes, but, um, it’s down. My computer is broken at the moment. That’s why I’m here.”
Adela’s eyes moved around my face, I felt like she was reading the lies all over me. She smirked. There was too much knowledge in her expression to feel comfortable with.
“Of course,” she said. She moved to the two computers at
the front of the library, bending close and whispering something to the two users. They packed up their things and moved on without a fuss.
That had to be magic, I thought.
“Thanks,” I said, “but I only needed the one.”
“Now you have two, just in case.”
In case of what?
I sat down at the first console and typed in “mazes” for show. A few pages of results popped up instantly, nothing I needed to see or read. I had already done as much research as I needed to identify it as a ghost maze.
Adela was back to scanning her books, and when she was busy with a patron, I quickly opened up the computer’s search history. It was strange that in a public place, the history wasn’t cleared every day, but that was probably a technicality too advanced for the locals of Blackthorn Springs, even the supernaturals.
On the twenty-first page, I found what I was looking for. Months ago, someone had spent an hour searching for spells. Illnesses and cures. The search history then went into recipes for brownies made of zucchinis. Two hours later, another user, or perhaps it was the same one with eclectic tastes, had gone back to looking up spells, more cures, more illnesses, a calming potion, a spell for eternal youth, and a site called Black Harrows: Spells for Forming the Life You Want. Someone had also looked up maze designs.
Beside the computer consoles, there was a reservation sheet full of names. The pages went back months, and it was easy to find the dates corresponding to the browsing history. There were three names: Helen Jenkins, Edie Jacques, and Conri O’Farrell.
On my way out of the library, my head down in hopes the librarian wouldn’t see me, Adela called my name.
Not much slips by this woman, I thought. Maybe she did know everything, as Lila had said.
“I hope you don’t mind me speaking so frankly, but Lila told me you’re a novice witch, not having had a chance at any formal education in the craft.”
“I guess,” I said softly. I looked around, thankful there was no one close enough to have heard what she said.
Adela held out a book. It was a clothbound volume, dark green with silver gilt edges. Two black ribbons ran like strips of obsidian through the pages. The front title was gold embossed: Essential Spells. There was no author, no publication details.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the book. It was heavier than it looked, and it felt important. “I don’t have a library card, though,” I added.
“No, no, this one is from my personal collection. I’m lending it to you as a favor. You may keep it as long as you need.”
“Really?” I found it hard not to be both impressed and touched by the gesture. No magic book I’d ever encountered had the presence this one had, like the latent power of its spells was held within its physical weight.
“I have taken the liberty of marking two items in particular for you.” Adela nodded to the book, prompting me to look. I opened it to one of the page ribbons. Dearmo Praecantatio—a spell to disarm a charm.
“You’re on the maze committee after all,” she said. “I would say you might need that, and likely sooner would be better than later. The whole town is looking forward to the event. It would be a shame for it not to happen at all, or worse, for something to actually happen while it went ahead.”
“You know about the maze?” I squeaked.
Adela nodded.
“Then why haven’t you done anything about it? That thing is deadly.”
“It’s not my way,” Adela said.
“B…but—” I stammered.
Adela held her hands out in front of her, palms up. “I can only direct the knowledge of humans, not act directly on their events.”
“Is that a Naarin thing?” I said. I was annoyed someone could know something was so dangerous and let it slide, but I was also embarrassed by how little I knew about the supernatural community and hoped the question didn’t come off as rude.
“In a way,” Adela said.
I let it go and turned to the next marked page. Ostendo Praecantatio—a spell to make the traces of witchcraft visible.
“Is this for the maze too?”
“That one is more general purpose,” Adela said. “It won’t tell you what a spell was exactly. It will show if a magic force has passed through a person. Think of it as a spell residue.”
“How much exactly did Lila tell you?” I said. I closed the book and clutched it tight to my chest.
“Just the basics. You told me a lot yourself.”
“You can read minds? Like Lila?”
Adela laughed again. “No, most people tell their entire stories themselves. The way they hold their bodies, the way they talk, move, even breathe. It’s just another thing I love to read. And yours looks like it might be a most interesting tale. One day you can tell me the rest of your story, if you like. I’d especially love to know about that necklace of yours.”
I touched my fingers to my pendant. I felt vulnerable, and on the wrong end of a whole lot of things that everyone besides me seemed to understand.
10
I took Adela’s book straight into the back room of my shop.
Lila was on the phone with what sounded like a customer interested in some first edition Agatha Christie mysteries I’d recently gotten hold of. I had a mystery of my own to figure out, and I buzzed with a tickle of excitement that Adela’s spellbook might be the key I needed to help figure out what all these clues were supposed to look like when they were put together. Too bad I probably wouldn’t be good enough to pull it off.
I sat on the stool I used for the quiet little escapes into my own head, and also to reach stuff on the top shelf, and reread the Ostendo spell. Closing my eyes, I uttered the phrase from the book as quietly as I could.
“Show me the way of those who walk this path before me, of those who walk all paths, above and below and between.”
Simple.
The slightest stirrings of magic tickled at my mind. I opened my eyes.
Nothing. I wasn’t surprised.
Maybe I couldn’t perform it on myself. A lot of spells worked like that, or so I had decided to believe when so many incantations I had tried didn’t work.
I sighed, disappointed and annoyed. Witches were supposed to be trained as part of a coven. Quentin had always been quick to remind me that without that training, I was merely potential, and not even a lot of it.
How was I supposed to catch a killer when I was nothing?
I reached out to open the door, and there it was: a shimmering blue aura surrounding my fingers, stretching all the way up my arm and across my shoulders. When I looked down, my entire body was surrounded by a misty blue cloud. The spell had worked. This was my magical residue. I shook my hand as if I were shaking off drops of water and the cloud fell away. I was elated. Maybe I wasn’t so bad at this game after all.
The next step was deciding who to work this magic on first.
I stepped out of the backroom and slammed straight into my answer.
“Hi,” Conri said.
What was he doing here?
I looked him up and down, noting how he had to stoop not to hit his head on the exposed oak beams in the ceiling. His collar was buttoned up high and tight.
Hiding something? I thought.
“Something tells me you’re not here for Virginia Woolf,” I said. The vet smiled but still looked oddly nervous. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile properly, and it changed his face completely. For the second time, I was taken aback by how good looking he was.
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Virginia Woolf, the author. I was making a joke… sort of. Um… Can I help you with something?”
Conri cleared his throat. “Can you have coffee with me?” he said quietly. The words were clear enough, but I still didn’t understand what he was asking.
“Pardon?”
“Can you come? Coffee? With me? And you. Together,” he said, slightly louder.
“You want to have coffee with me?” I
said.
He coughed and rubbed at his neck. “Look, I kind of suck at this sort of thing, so I’m just doing the best I can here. Would you like to have coffee with me? Now? Or whenever you’re free next? Or, you know, whenever is good. It doesn’t have to be coffee. You can have tea. Or soda. Wine, beer, water, whatever. I’m not trying to tell you what to drink. You don’t even have to have a drink. I’m going to stop talking now.”
Had the vet come over to ask me on a date? Why?
I hadn’t spoken in a long time, and he started to frown. I guessed cranky was his neutral state.
“Look, if you’re busy, then I can… just don’t worry about it,” he said, and he turned to leave.
“No, that’s fine. I can go with you. Er… now, if you want?”
I felt terrible for leaving Lila in the shop by herself again—that was all I seemed to be doing these days—but this was important detective business, I told myself. Besides, the girl had spent so long sitting behind the counter knitting, reading, and drinking tea that it was about time she was made to do some work for a change.
Conri held the door open, and I moved past him, suddenly aware of how good he smelled. It wasn’t a cologne type of smell; it was more subtle, like the clean scent of soap and something natural, earthy and deep. I was suddenly keenly aware of my tousled hair and dark lines around my eyes from how little sleep I’d had lately.
“Shall we go to the diner?” he said, pointing across the street to Jenkins’s place. I agreed with a nod and led the way, feeling like everyone in town was looking at us walking together.
Jenkins’s Diner was crowded even for lunchtime. It seemed everyone in town was coming into Tom’s now since Kenny’s wasn’t open. It was curious how no one had liked Kenny, and yet everyone had gone to his coffee shop. Maybe he really had bewitched the food. If Kenny was involved with the supernatural somehow, that might have given the killer some other layer of motive besides… well, besides the one I still had yet to figure out.