My mother stood up without a word, walked over to where he’d shifted, and picked up something small and dark.
“A single sock,” she said.
Magic is strange.
Chapter 31
Dr. Ankh left with the gnome’s spiky weapon, the cool projector cube, and who knew what else. My mother and I were alone in her suite again.
“You should get changed,” she said. “I can lend you something from my closet.”
The bathrobe-towel combination was comfortable in an absorbent sort of way, but she made a good point. I still had one of the T-shirts Charlize had send me via Wyvern Special Delivery, but I had nothing to pair it with, so I took her up on her offer.
We went to her closet, and I deliberated over my choices. There were just so many options. There was the plain white blouse with long sleeves, the plain white blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves, or the plain white blouse with—brace yourself—long sleeves rolled up to look like three-quarter-length sleeves.
I picked a white blouse at random, plus a pair of tan slacks. As I was turning away from the closet, something glittering caught my eye.
“What’s this?” I gasped and shoved the hangers aside. I grabbed the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. It was the darkest of grays, with gold brocade along the bodice. The skirt was multi-layered, with crinolines and all sorts of tulle.
“That’s not mine,” my mother said.
“No kidding. It’s mine now.” I hugged the beautiful dress the way a child hugs a giant teddy bear she’s just won at the circus. For a brief moment, I forgot all about the horrors of the day. A beautiful dress can work that sort of magic.
“No,” my mother said, gently prying the dress out of my hands. “I mean it’s really not mine. It belongs to the castle. The staff dress up in medieval clothing for galas in the ballroom.”
I eyed her with suspicion. “What’s the costume doing in your room? Did you eat one of the staff members and keep her dress as a trophy?”
“If you must know, it was a simple error with room service. I had some clothes sent out for cleaning, and this came back by accident. I alerted the front desk, and they assured me someone would be by to pick it up, but they haven’t yet. In light of the recent homicide and the investigation, it’s understandable the staff have fallen behind on a few things.”
“Boo,” I said.
Her expression softened. “You could probably borrow it sometime, as long as you don’t damage it.” She swished her mouth from side to side as she looked over the dress. “This neckline would look pretty on you, and it was their mistake.”
“It’s a date,” I said to the dress, and then I started getting changed into my mother. Oops. I mean into my mother’s clothes.
* * *
ONE HOUR LATER
Zinnia was very interested in the parasitic twin theory. And I had to admit that, after seeing the footage of Chet become two wolves, it did seem the most logical explanation for the existence of the double. The fact that Archer was both charming and pleasant only strengthened the theory. He might even be a better Chet than the original Chet.
“I saw that once in a movie,” my aunt said over the phone. “The story’s about a guy who’s a loser at life, just a low-level employee at a government agency—”
I interrupted, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Anyway, he’s living his quiet life when a more confident version of himself shows up. This other young man starts taking over his life, doing everything better than he does. And nobody else around the original guy recognizes what’s going on. It’s one of those movies where you’re not sure if the guy is crazy or if what you’re seeing is happening for real.”
“Wasn’t that called The Double?”
“Yes! With the curly-haired guy from the Facebook movie.”
“Jesse Eisenberg.” I’d seen the movie about the double as well and had completely forgotten it until now. “The idea of a doppelganger taking over your life is not exactly a brand new idea. That screenplay was based on a novella by Dostoevsky.”
“Yes, that’s the one.” There was the sound of water running and dishes being organized. If I knew Zinnia, she was re-washing dishes from my cupboard that hadn’t been cleaned to her standards. When I got home, I’d probably discover I’d been gifted with new sponges.
“Zara, did you ever see How to Get Ahead in Advertising? Probably not. It’s a bit older, from the eighties.”
“We have a VHS copy at the library, but I’ve never watched it.”
“Oh, it’s good. You should watch it. I won’t say any more. I don’t want to spoil it for you.”
“It’s on VHS, Aunt Zinnia. I’d have to track down a VCR somehow. The logical place would be the local appliance repair shop, but there’s no way I’m setting foot in there, since your trigger-happy gnome buddy Griebel runs it, and I happen to prefer my hands without holes in them.” I waved my hand dismissively, even though my aunt couldn’t see me. “But I digress. Tell me what happens in that movie.”
There was the sound of more water running, and she told me the plot of How to Get Ahead in Advertising. The main character has a growth on his neck that starts off the size of a pimple but then begins to talk to him. The pimple grows until eventually it’s a full second head, which takes over the guy’s life when it tricks doctors into lancing the wrong head. The new head, who has a ruthless personality, goes on to have a very successful career in advertising.
“That’s so disturbing,” I said. “I can’t imagine anything worse than a parasite that looks exactly like you, and goes around causing trouble while sucking away your life force.” I paused. “Wait, no. I’m a mother, so maybe I can.” I gave my joke the nerdy ha-ha laugh that one must give their own bad jokes.
Zinnia said, “Well, it was just a movie. Many of these psychological thrillers are based around known mental illnesses. There’s a type of brain injury that causes a person to think their loved one has been replaced by a doppelganger. Something corrupts their memory retrieval, and they don’t feel any emotions when they look at someone they’ve known for years. It’s quite fascinating. The human mind is very complex, even when magic isn’t involved.”
“Which is awfully convenient for actual doppelgangers,” I said. “They can blame any quibbles from their family members on mental illness. I mean, assuming doppelgangers are real.”
“Hang on,” she said. “I brought some books over to your house, and I think there might be something useful in one of them. Do you have time?”
“Of course. I’ve got nowhere else to be. How are things going over there? Falling apart without me?” Another nerdy laugh.
“It’s only been one day,” she said. “Everything is under control here. Zoey and I just ate an early dinner. She’s next door now, helping Grampa Don with Corvin.”
“How about Boa? Whatever you do, don’t give her black forest ham. It makes her go crazy.”
“Why would I give your cat black forest ham?”
“Because she begs for it so sweetly. She looks at you with those big green eyes that melt your heart, and she makes a squeaky little meow like her heart is breaking, just breaking, and the only thing that can cure her breaking heart is sliced deli meats.”
There was a pause, and then Zinnia said again, “Everything is under control here.”
“Except for the door that magically appeared.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” she said. “You can deal with the door when you come home. Have the investigators said when they’ll be releasing everyone?”
“No news,” I said with a sigh.
“Just a sec. I’ve got to run out and get my books from the car.”
“Sure.” I walked into the bedroom of my mother’s suite and fell back on the soft bed. It had been over an hour since Chet turned into a wolf and jumped out of the window in broad daylight. The doctor left shortly after Chet’s departure. After letting me raid her closet, my mother had left as well.
<
br /> I’d stayed behind, claiming I needed a nap to help in my recovery from the spiky weapon, but I could tell by the look on her face she didn’t believe me for one minute, even though I was dressed up in her clothes.
No way could I nap when things were heating up the way they were. I’d only stayed behind because I hoped the wolf might return to the suite so we could work through the problem together. Chet and I had been a great team when we’d paired up to uncover Winona Vander Zalm’s murder. We’d even played newlyweds convincingly. Had it only been a few months ago that we’d held hands and gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes? It felt like ancient history, like something that had happened to two other people who looked like us. Now, whenever we saw each other, it led to an argument and one or the other of us storming out. I didn’t want to keep going like this. He was my neighbor. Our kids were becoming best friends. I didn’t expect us to be close—let alone close enough to make his goddess fiancée jealous—but I wanted to be friends again. My mother was right about me being too quick to give up on people. I hadn’t bothered to stay in touch with Nash, and he was but one of many. I had to change. I didn’t want to be the friendless person who insisted on being independent. I wanted to be part of a community, part of something bigger than myself. I wanted… to belong. That was what Archer Caine wanted, too. He’d talked about finding a place where he finally fit in. What if his place was buried deep inside Chet Moore? I was no expert on parasitic twins, but I didn’t expect that news would go over well. What a conversation!
On the phone, there was the sound of a door closing. Zinnia was back in the house with her books.
She asked me, “How are your hands feeling now?”
The pain flared up suddenly. “They were okay until you asked. But now that I’m thinking about them, they’re both aching like crazy.” I used the pillow to hold the phone to my ear while I rubbed my hands. “Those spikes really did a number on me. If I ever get my hands on that little gnome, he’s going to be sorry.”
“Griebel’s not a bad gnome,” she said. “As far as gnomes go. He’s one of the better ones. He was only acting in self-defense.”
“Aunt Zinnia, are all gnomes, um, little people?”
“Many of them are, but not all little people are gnomes.”
“So, they just hide in plain sight? Like witches, and shifters, and gorgons, and creatures of the grave?” Movement at the window caught my eye. I turned my head in time to catch the flick of a wyvern’s tail as it disappeared. I cursed as I jumped to my feet and ran to the window. “Ribbons was just here,” I explained to my aunt. “He must have been listening at the window. He could have heard everything.”
“Who’s Ribbons?”
I quickly caught her up. She said, “And here I was told all wyverns were extinct. You just never know until you see something with your own eyes.”
My hands were aching again. I returned to the bed where I could elevate and rub them.
I heard Zinnia cast a spell on the other side of the line.
“What was that?”
“A page finding spell,” she said with a snap. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten your first novice witch lessons.”
“But it sounded different from the one you taught me.”
“Oh.” She paused, and I pictured her pursing her lips the way she did when she might be wrong. “Well, I taught you the simplest version. This one is a little trickier, as it’s in one of the ancient Witch Tongues.”
“There are ancient Witch Tongues?” I sat up on the bed. “What have you been teaching me?”
“Zara, I’ve done the best I can as your teacher. I didn’t want to complicate matters needlessly. Yes, there are several ancient versions of the language. In the beginning there was only one, but it split as humanity spread out, and… surely you understand the basics of the evolution of language?”
“Of course I do,” I said, rubbing my aching hands and lying back again. “We can talk about it some other time. What does your book say about parasitic twins?”
She read for a moment then reported, “Your doctor friend must have the same text. It says here that they do branch off during moments of heightened emotion.”
“Can it happen to anyone?”
She snorted. “Thankfully, no. According to my book, there was once a group of warrior monks who practiced transcendental meditation day in and day out, so that they could split off into multiples during battle.” She read a little more. “It says their fractured spirits continue to roam the earth to this day, without bodies, but they occasionally twin off the living to enjoy being human.”
“Those wacky monks.” The aching in my hands eased up. “So, you think Archer is the fractured spirit of an ancient warrior monk?”
“Me? How would I know? It’s the doctor’s theory, remember. I haven’t even seen the man, or the video footage with the two wolves.” She paused. “You said the man who calls himself Archer Caine was intimate with Josephine Pressman.”
“They had sex in a storage room. I don’t know how intimate it was.”
“Yes, well, that does sound like someone who’s enjoying some time being human.”
“How about killing her? Did the warrior monks enjoy killing people for fun?”
She didn’t answer.
“Never mind,” I said. “Monks are traditionally the good guys. That was a stupid question.”
No response.
“Zinnia, are you still there?”
“Just reading,” she said. “Something doesn’t add up.”
“Is the editor of your book Jorg Ebola? He always puts his own delightful spin on things. You have to read between the lines.”
“No, it’s not that.” I heard pages flipping back and forth. “The parasitic twins are called that because they try to take over a person’s life. They use the same name and pretend they are that person. They’re home while the original is at work, and they’re out while the original is at home. Friends and family might interact with them regularly and never be the wiser.”
“Creepy.”
“The original is often exhausted after the split, so they spend a lot of time napping. Naturally, this provides even more opportunity for the double to take their place when they cancel social events or call in sick to work.”
“Those sneaky doubles!”
“I know,” she said breathlessly. “You may have encountered one and not realized it. For example, when a friend says they can’t make it to an event because they’re under the weather, but then they do show up and they’re the life of the party. I always chalked such occurrences up to really good cough syrup, but now I have to wonder.”
“How many carbon copies of people are running around right now? Does the book say?”
“The warrior monks numbered exactly one thousand, before they were wiped out during a volcanic eruption.”
“So, anywhere between zero and a thousand fractured warrior monks might be roaming around looking for great lives to jump in on. I guess I’m lucky my life isn’t that glamorous from the outside.”
I heard the snap of a book being closed. “What doesn’t add up is that this fellow never claimed to be Chet.”
“Maybe he sensed I was a witch, and he could tell by talking to me that I was no dumb bunny. He knew I was too clever for his tricks.”
“I doubt that,” she said.
“Thanks a lot.”
“No, it’s just too convoluted. What are the chances? It’s far more likely that he is who he says he is. A long-lost twin. Maybe Chet’s mother knew her boys would be better off raised apart. Parents of magical offspring do have their own unique concerns.”
“Fair enough. So, he’s just a regular guy looking for his family? And he didn’t kill Jo Pressman?”
“If she was experimenting with love potions, she might have accidentally poisoned herself. I’ll try to talk to Griebel about the potion, but he’ll probably be avoiding me, thanks to your little altercation.” There was the unmistakable stink of blame
to her words.
“He started it,” I said.
There was a knock at the door of the suite. I quickly said goodbye to Zinnia, told her not to give black forest ham to the cat under any circumstances, and went to answer the door.
Rob stood in the hallway. He was alone. He was dressed in “combat casual” and glancing around nervously.
“Zara, I need to ask you for some help with something.”
“You guys want me to be the bait for a trap?”
He blinked twice. “What makes you say that?”
“Come in,” I said with a sigh.
Chapter 32
30 MINUTES LATER
The second I walked into the hair salon, the handsome, dark-haired man in the stylist’s chair nearest the big window gave me a huge grin.
“Hey, stranger,” Archer Caine said.
“Hey, yourself.” I forced a friendly smile. He had no idea what he was in for. No idea I was there to bait the trap that would lead to him being exterminated. Rob had assured me there was a fail-safe. The process used to melt a parasitic twin back to primordial goo would have no effect whatsoever on a being who wasn’t a magical parasite. Rob had been very convincing. But now, as I stared into the eyes of someone who might be an innocent human caught up in a heap of trouble he didn’t deserve, I didn’t feel very convinced. And my hands were aching even worse than before, throbbing with pain in rhythm with the beating of my heart.
His hairdresser, a middle-aged woman with a stick-straight body, snubbed nose, and an asymmetrical blonde bob gave me a friendly look. She wrapped the hair-cutting cape around Archer’s shoulders and fastened the neck.
“You can sit right here,” the hairdresser said to me in a friendly yet tired voice, waving to the empty chair next to Archer’s. “It doesn’t cost anything to watch, but I do accept tips.” She gave me a knowing wink.
I took the chair and swiveled it a few times. I recognized the hairdresser from Jo’s memory in the wine cellar. Her name was Patty, and she popped Mexican diet pills like they were Tic Tacs. She’d been married four times, divorced three, and widowed once. Patty was currently dating the man she hoped to make Bad Choice Number Five. She and Jo had bonded over their shared attraction to bad boys. And there was something else, too. In the vision, Jo had thanked Patty for fixing her broken leg. But Jo didn’t have a broken leg when she died, and she hadn’t been at the castle very long, so I wasn’t sure what that meant.
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