by Zoe Arden
"No. Thank you," I said.
Detective Hudson stood seething. As if the idea of offering me water and dream bars was a criminal act.
"All right, Eli. Let's go," Sheriff Knoxx said, rising from behind his desk.
"Where are you taking him?" I asked, panicking.
"To his cell."
"Can I go with? I mean... can I talk to him alone for a minute?" I was hoping that if we were alone, my father might tell me what was really going on.
"Absolutely not," Detective Hudson said.
"Of course," Sheriff Knoxx said. He looked at Detective Hudson, who was glowering at him. "My station, my rules."
Detective Hudson stomped off toward the water cooler, mumbling, "We'll see about that."
My father and I followed the sheriff down a long hallway. "I'll take you to a private interrogation room. You can have a few minutes alone. Just knock on the door when you're done."
"Thank you," I said, bewildered by the sheriff's sudden change in behavior.
When we were alone in the cold, tiny room, my father hugged me.
"Dad," I sobbed. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you're here. If I hadn't come to this island..."
"Sssh, Ava. It's okay."
When my tears subsided, we sat across from each other at a small table, holding hands.
"Ava, the important thing is for you to get off this island. Now. Before it's too late."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "I'm not leaving you here."
"Ava, your mother's murderer... he came after you. When you were still a baby."
"What are you talking about?" I gasped.
"That's why I had to kill him. That's why I had to hide you away. I always knew one day his family would come for you again."
"His family?" I asked, thinking of Damon. "Do you mean Damon Tellinger? Is that who you think is behind this?"
My father sighed. "I honestly don't know. When I first saw Damon, yes, I thought he was Jon's son. His entire family had eyes like that. That sapphire blue. But now..."
"Now?" I breathed.
"I just don't know. I may have overreacted. It's been a long time since I've been to Sweetland."
We sat in silence a moment, both of us thinking.
"Why try to kill me?" I asked. My heriotza necklace pinged. I absently rose my hand to my neck and stroked the pendant through my shirt.
"Jon was afraid you'd grow up to be as powerful as she was."
"I'm not powerful. I don't even know how to cast a simple trace charm."
"Yes, Ava. You are. Very powerful. And I will do anything to protect you."
A chill ran up my spine.
"I know you didn't kill those people, Dad... Did you?"
"Ava..." He sighed but didn't answer my question.
"You're covering for someone, right? Aren't you? Who is it? Just tell me. Let me help you."
He remained silent.
"What happened tonight? I blacked out and the next thing I knew you're there and Brendan is dead."
My father cleared his throat. "I was outside the coffee shop when I saw something and went in to investigate."
"That's pretty vague," I said. "What did you see?"
He was staring at the table. "You..."
"Me...?" I prompted.
"Holding your wand."
"And?"
"And then everything went black. I ran into the shop and found you on the ground and Brendan dead. And your wand was gone."
"You didn't see who the killer was?" I asked.
He licked his lips. "All I saw was you and Brendan," he finally said.
"But that doesn't make any sense," I said. "You're obviously protecting someone. If it was just me and Brendan there, then who killed him? Brendan didn't kill himself!"
My father looked at me with watery eyes, and I finally realized who he was covering for.
"Oh, my roses," I said. "It's me. You think I did it. You think I killed Brendan."
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
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* * *
This time, I would do whatever she said. …
* * *
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The next morning I sat on the couch in my aunts' house, my head in my hands. I hadn't slept a wink. The sun was just coming up. Eleanor and Trixie said they'd already been awake when they heard me puttering around the house, but the way they were yawning gave me cause for doubt.
"Is it possible?" I asked them. "Do you really think I did it?"
Eleanor and Trixie exchanged a look. "Of course not," they said together.
Tootsie jumped into my lap, where Snowball was already laying. Snowball took up so little space, however, that Toots had no problems fitting in next to him. They snuggled together, purring loudly.
"I wouldn't blame you if you did," I told them.
"We don't!" Eleanor cried.
I laughed. "For a while, I was a little uncertain about the two of you," I admitted. I looked sheepishly at them as their eyes popped open. Time for a little honesty, I decided.
"What do you mean?" Trixie asked.
"I thought you two were storing boxie quill in the bakery. That somehow you were responsible for Campbell's death.
"You what?" Eleanor shrieked.
"Boxie quill?" Trixie laughed. "What would we be doing with that?" She turned toward a window and started wiping at an invisible spot.
Snowball's head popped up. She opened her sleepy eyes. "Snowball found boxie quill at the bakery. It is dangerous. There was much of it. Mama must be careful. Snowball will always protect Mama."
I scratched Snowball's head. "Snowball did good, but I think what you found was moxie satin. It looks almost exactly like boxie quill."
Snowy opened one eye but left her head settled in my lap.
"Snowball knows the difference. Boxie is bad. Moxie is yummy. The seeds are sweet. I have eaten many." She yawned, and I got a whiff of her tuna breath.
I looked at my aunts. "Is Snowball right?" I asked. "Do you have boxie quill at the bakery?"
They exchanged another look. I could tell that Trixie was waiting for Eleanor to take the lead on this.
"Ava, your aunt Trixie and I thought... you see your mother was such a powerful witch—"
"A good witch," Trixie interrupted.
"That we thought maybe—"
"Once you got used to using magic—"
"You might want to try it."
"Try what?" I asked, perplexed.
"Creating boxie quill extract," Eleanor said.
My heart skipped a beat.
"You are hiding boxie!"
"Not hiding," Eleanor said. "It's not illegal. We just store it in a safe place."
"You want me to use dark magic?" I screeched, jumping in my seat. Snowball and Tootsie hopped out of my lap and ran off together.
"No! Of course not!" Eleanor cried.
"It isn't dark magic, Ava," Trixie said. "It only has that reputation because most witches and wizards can't work with it. They want its power but they die trying to get it."
"And for those who live," Eleanor added, "the extracts almost never work how they wanted them to."
"It's a tricky situation," Trixie said.
"Only your mother wasn't like most witches and wizards," Eleanor continued. "She could handle boxie better than anyone. Use the extracts she created for good. No one knew how she did it. I'm not even sure if she knew."
"I asked her once," Trixie volunteered. "She said it was a feeling that rose up inside her when she was casting. She couldn't explain it."
I stared at them dumbfounded. "I read in Magical Herbs and Plants that only five witches in existence have ever been known to work successfully with boxie. You're telling me that my mother was one of those five?"
Eleanor and Trixie nodded.
"What about the other four?" I asked.
"They haven't been around for a long time. The last witch who could work with boxie wa
s a couple hundred years ago—Tilda Gilmore. And before that, there was Sara Sweetland."
"Sara Sweetland?" I asked. "You mean the founder of Sweetland Cove?"
"Well, she wasn't exactly its founder. It was after her death, when her family and her husband's family divided up, that Sweetland Cove was founded. In honor of her, I suppose you could say."
"And she worked with boxie quill?"
"According to the rumors. Yes."
I thought it was cool that my mom was one of only five witches ever to work with boxie quill, but that left me with some really big shoes to fill. I didn't think I could fill them.
"I don't know if I'll ever be as good an extractor as my mother," I said.
"You don't have to be," Eleanor said quickly. "Trixie and I would love you even if you were a dim-witch."
"I just don't know what to think. I still don't." The boxie mystery had been solved, but there was still something weighing on my mind. "Where did you disappear to after Campbell's death?"
Eleanor and Trixie both grew pale. They held each other's gaze a long moment.
"Just tell me," I shouted, louder than I meant to. I was tired of all these secrets.
"Oh, fine," Trixie said. "We went to check the chocolate walnut cookies."
Eleanor's face turned bright pink.
"You what?" I asked. "You mean... the cookies I made?"
"Yes," Trixie said. "Campbell had been eating them all night. We thought..."
"Oh, my roses. You thought I killed him."
"Just accidentally," Eleanor said.
Trixie nodded furiously. "Yes. Never on purpose. And anyway, we ruled it out. The cookies were fine. Absolutely nothing wrong with them."
"Ohhh," I moaned. My head was pounding now. My father thought I was guilty. My aunts thought I was guilty. Maybe they were all right. Maybe I really was guilty.
"Here," Eleanor said, going to a small box on the fireplace mantle. She opened it and removed a key. "It's to the bakery," she told me. "Trixie and I had one made for you. So you can come and go as you please."
"Thanks," I said, touched that they would trust me with it. I took the key from her.
"We had it made last week," Trixie said. "We just haven't had a chance to give it to you yet." Eleanor threw her a look.
Last week?
They'd had this key for an entire week and hadn't given it to me until now? Clearly, they still had their doubts about me.
"Ava," Eleanor said. "Perhaps you should go see Dr. Dunne again. About your blackouts."
"Good idea," I said, rising from the couch.
"Oh, you're going now?" Eleanor asked.
"No time like the present."
"What?" Trixie asked, scrunching her face.
"It's a human expression," I told her. "I'll be back later."
I left the house. My aunts watched me go with an uncertain expression that bothered me. I think it bothered me more because I was just as uncertain as they were.
I stopped by the bakery. After Brendan's death and my father's arrest, my aunts had decided to keep it closed for a while. A sign on the door read, CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
I took out my new key and unlocked the door. The sweet smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air. My aunts had cast a freshening charm over the entire bakery, to make sure nothing would go stale while they were closed. I grabbed the best looking cake we still had on the shelf. I'd promised myself I'd thank Polly for the heriotza necklace she'd given me. I felt like it was the only thing keeping me safe right now.
I left the bakery and walked right past the hospital, never even glancing at it. Dr. Dunne was great, but he couldn't help me.
I needed someone who could see things X-rays wouldn't show. Polly's mom had tried to warn me once. She'd told me to leave the island, and I hadn't listened. This time, I would do whatever she said.
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
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Do you know where my wand is?…
* * *
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"You want something," Polly said when I handed her my cake.
Slater was standing nearby. They'd been leaning against each other, holding hands and discussing something in hushed tones when I came in. Polly's face had gone slightly red.
"Er, just to thank you," I said. "Butterscotch praline perfection cake."
Polly smiled. "Well, who wouldn't want to be a little more perfect?
I still think you want something, though."
Maybe it was the pixie in her. I'd read somewhere that pixies were all a little psychic.
"It's not the necklace, is it?" Polly asked, tensing.
"No,” I said, "the necklace is great. It's just, well... I was hoping I could talk to your mom."
Polly smiled slyly. "I get it. You've got questions. You need answers. That's usually why people come by to see my mom. Hang on a minute."
She went into the back and left me alone with Slater.
"So," I said, suddenly uncomfortable. He was Damon's cousin. Damon. Who I was pretty sure wanted me dead.
Unless I'd killed all those people.
Were these really my only choices. Me or Damon? Why couldn't there be a third option I was missing?
"So," Slater said. "Talk to Damon lately?"
I gulped. "What do you mean?"
He looked at me oddly.
"I meant have you talked to him lately."
I realized I was acting like a nutcase. "Sorry, I'm a bit on edge."
"I can imagine. I heard what happened the other day. Mistmoor huh? No idea how you got there?"
I blushed and shook my head.
"Have you talked to Damon lately," I asked. I had a golden opportunity here and I was letting it slip right through my fingers. Slater was Damon's cousin, for witch's sake!
"Yeah, just the other day."
"Oh really? Did he... is he... adjusting to being back on the island?"
"What do you mean?" Slater asked, tensing slightly.
"He told me that he'd moved off the island when he was very young. That he hadn't been back in years. Till now."
"That's right," Slater said. "His mom moved him away after... an incident."
"Incident?" I asked, my ears perking up. "What incident?"
"None of your business," Slater said, more coldly than I was used to from him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's just an old, painful memory for the family. Suffice it to say that Damon's mom moved him away and now he's back."
"Do you know why he came back?" I inquired, hoping I wasn't pushing my luck. This was clearly a touchy subject.
"I asked him to," Slater said. "He's my cousin. I missed him. We were always very close. I guess things just aren't like they used to be." A sad look lit upon his face for a half second before disappearing.
The beaded curtain drew back before I could ask Slater any more questions. "You can come back now," Polly said.
In the back room, Anastasia was standing facing the wall. "Hello," I said. "Thanks for seeing me."
Anastasia spun around. She held a finger up in the air like she was testing the wind and cried, "You seek answers." As if Polly hadn't just come back here and told her that.
"Um, yes," I replied.
She was wearing a bright blue and green gown with huge sleeves that draped to the floor. On her head was the strangest looking headband I'd ever seen, if you could call it a headband. It had giant gold feathers sticking up all around it and a crystal in the center that looked like a third eye. It reminded me of something a Las Vegas showgirl might wear.
"The spirits told me as much," Anastasia said. "Sit." She indicated a round folding table that had been set up.
Answers.
I supposed that was the simplest way to put it. I had so many questions I couldn't keep them straight anymore. The biggest one was whether or not I was a killer. Whatever the answer might be, I had to know. I only hoped Anastasia wouldn't m
ake me ask the question out loud.
"As I've told you before," Anastasia said, "it is difficult to force answers from the spirits. Though, with an open mind and an open heart, it may be done."
I wondered what spirits it was we were seeking answers from. Did she mean ghosts? She seemed to be on a roll and I didn't want to interrupt her with dumb questions, so I kept my mouth shut.
Anastasia took a long black feather from a drawer and began to sweep the air with it. I had no idea what she was doing, but as long as it worked, she could've put scorpions on my head and told me not to move.
"Polly," Anastasia said, sitting down opposite me. "My crystal ball." She held her hands out for it.
Polly shot a look to Slater, who seemed remarkably interested in what was going on. I wondered if he'd ever seen a reading like this before. He was around Polly so much I sometimes forgot that he was human.
"I always thought the crystal ball thing was a gag," he said to Polly. She shook her head and pulled a crystal the size of a bowling ball from a cupboard.
"I wish," Polly said. She handed the ball to her mother, who set it in a shiny bronze base to keep it from rolling. The whole thing seemed a bit over-the-top to me, but what did I know? I'd never had a psychic reading before.
"Now what?" I asked. I wasn't sure whether or not it was my imagination, but the air suddenly seemed thicker. I could feel it on my face, like I'd walked into a steam room. Except the air wasn't hot, it was just... heavy.
"Now we concentrate," Polly's mom said. "Close your eyes. Polly, Slater, you may join us at the table, but do not rise while the reading is in progress. And do not touch either Ava or myself."
Slater immediately grabbed a seat, eager to be close to the action. Unfortunately for him, there wasn't much action going on.
We sat in silence for several minutes. I opened my eyes once, just to make sure Anastasia hadn't fallen asleep, and found her staring at me with wide, dark eyes. It creeped me out and I shut my eyes again. A few seconds later, a strange sound began to rumble around the room.