by Gina LaManna
“There are ways of making someone perform actions they disagree with.” Hettie cast him a warning glare. “You should know this, Harpin. Some of your very own tea leaves have the ability to. . . shall we say, alter one’s decision-making abilities?”
Harpin’s face turned red, and he fell silent. I made a mental note to never cross Hettie. Her ability to silence grown men with a few words was impressive.
“Do you have any thoughts as to why someone wanted Raymon dead?” I asked in the ensuing silence. “Why him, why now?”
“I believe I might.” Hettie averted her eyes, focusing on swirling the tea leaves in her cup. “I was watching Raymon.”
“Why?” I asked. “What did he do?”
“Nothing,” she said. “He was a good boy, growing into a fine young man. I thought he might be the perfect recruit to join us. To join The Core.”
“Did they know about this?” I nodded to Harpin and Gus.
“No, of course not,” Hettie said. “I have always worked independently in selecting new members to join The Core. It must be an objective decision; personal feelings cannot enter the equation, and it is not up for debate. However, I did utilize one contractor in the process.”
“Contractor?”
“A freelance Companion who is known for his surveillance skills,” Hettie said. “The process of vetting a candidate to join The Core is a long and thorough one, and I needed help, so I hired an outsider. It was a necessary risk, and it failed.”
“That still doesn’t explain why someone would want him dead,” I said. “So what if he joined The Core?”
Despite Hettie holding her chin high, the tiniest gleam of disappointment sparkled in her eye. Heartbreak for Raymon seeped through the cracks of her brave face. “If you found out someone was investigating you, what’s the first thing you would do?”
I shrugged. “Find out who they were and why they were following me, I suppose.”
“How would you begin?”
I bit my lip in thought. “Well, I guess I’d ask for help first. Maybe reach out to you, or Poppy and Zin. Maybe Ranger X.”
Hettie nodded. “I’m guessing Raymon mentioned that he was being followed to a friend.”
“Except this friend wasn’t as trustworthy as Raymon thought,” Gus said. “And this friend spilled the beans. Word made it back to The Faction that we were recruiting.”
“The Faction might not know our name or our faces, but we have to assume they know about us,” Hettie said. “Our group. Hence the reason they’ve got their blacklist. The price on my head is ten million coins, and I’m pretty proud of that number. I’m quite expensive.”
“But how—”
“They’re recruiting, we’re recruiting,” Hettie said before my question finished. “That’s the name of the game. It’s a race to secure the best teams before the battle begins.”
I swallowed a warm gulp of tea. “So, if Raymon hadn’t been killed, do you think he would’ve joined us?”
Hettie paused, sipped from her porcelain teacup. It was empty, but she didn’t notice. “I had planned to extend him an invitation next week.”
“I thought you didn’t allow Rangers into The Core.” I sounded a bit defensive. “Or has that changed?”
“It has not.” Hettie kept a blank expression on her face. “Raymon would’ve had to choose between us and the Ranger program. I believe he would’ve chosen us.”
“We have to assume The Faction knew this, too,” Gus said.
“If The Faction couldn’t have Raymon,” Harpin said, “they weren’t going to let him come to our side either.”
“Bingo.” Hettie finally realized her tea was empty and poured more hot water over the leaves. “Trent delivered the Poison Pill, but we must assume someone else was behind the decision. We need to find out who.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” Harpin strolled along the edge of the dining room, looking through the cracks in the platform to the ground below. “We can’t exactly run around The Isle asking questions.”
“No, of course not,” Hettie said with a frown. “We’ll ask one question, to the right person. However, I can’t do it. I have a more urgent matter to address—I must get in contact with my other recruit and ensure her safety.”
“Another recruit?” Gus raised an eyebrow. “Do we know her?”
“You’ll find out in time,” Hettie said. “Lily, can you—”
Harpin crossed his arms and interrupted, “I’ll handle it.”
“I think not.” Hettie smiled, her lips a thin line. “One of us knows the person with whom we need to speak. Lily, I imagine you know who I mean…”
CHAPTER 10
“To what do I owe this visit?” Liam rose from the table and air-kissed me on each cheek. “My dear, I never expected we’d be dining in the middle of the night again so soon.”
“Neither did I.” I sat across the table from him in Midge’s dining room at the only B&B on the island. A successful businessman, Liam traveled often, and was a frequent guest of the inn. “I only wish the circumstances were better.”
“As do I. Then again, when people ring me in the middle of the night, it’s hardly to share good news.” Liam forced a smile. “However, that may just be the nature of my business.”
“I’m really glad you were on the island already. Thank you so much for dragging yourself out of bed. I know it’s an inconvenience, but I can explain.”
“It’s hardly an inconvenience.” Liam gestured to his long-sleeved button-up flannel pajama top and the swishy pants that went along with it. Underneath the table he wore two gigantic slippers—black, in the shape of panda bears—over his feet. “I’m quite comfortable and not inconvenienced whatsoever.”
“I didn’t take you for a flannel guy,” I said as Midge approached. “A cappuccino for me, please, and for you, Liam. . .?”
“You know what I’ll have.” Liam gave Midge a wink.
Midge, the owner of the B&B, was hardly four feet tall. She doubled as the hostess, waitress, bartender, and concierge. But most importantly, her macaroni and cheese was to die for. Literally, if the rumors were to be believed.
She nodded, retiring to the kitchen to put in our orders. I turned back to Liam, hardly able to believe my luck. From the treehouse, I’d used Hettie’s Comm device to ring Midge at the B&B. She’d said that yes, Liam was staying with her and yes, she would knock on his door to see if he was around. Then Liam had agreed to see me, and voila, a mac and cheese meeting had been arranged.
“What can I help you with tonight, my dear?” Liam offered that charming smile of his, the smile that made me feel safe and confused all at once. “Name your worry, and I shall do what I can to make it go away.”
“I imagine you’ve heard about the Trials.”
“Why, of course. In fact, I was there. That’s the whole reason I’m on the island in the first place. I couldn’t miss it—I booked my room weeks in advance. Midge is completely full tonight, never seen anything like it.”
“Then you saw Raymon—”
“I saw everything, start to finish,” he said crisply, sparing me the details. “I sat next to the lovely Madam Xiong; she was kind enough to offer me a seat in her box. It’s a shame, isn’t it?”
I tapped my fingers against the soft, white tablecloth. “Yes, it is. Any thoughts on what happened?”
Liam leaned forward, tsking as he shook his head. “I didn’t become the most trusted businessman on The Isle by sharing my opinions, Lily Locke. I’m here to listen, and I imagine you have something to tell me.”
Taking a deep breath, I began my story. I didn’t stop until I’d finished everything. Of course I left out the exact details about The Core, and the bits about Ranger X and myself. Everything else—from Raymon being watched by a Companion, to our theory that he’d mentioned this to the wrong person and subsequently been killed for it—was accurate.
“I won’t ask for your sources,” Liam said when I lapsed into silence. “I assume this
is confidential?”
“Yes, it’s private.”
“No problem, most things of great importance are. Now, you are wondering how it happened. Beyond the Poison Pill. Who was really behind the whole scheme.”
“Yes,” I said, my heart racing at his tone. “Do you know something about it? It’s very important you tell me everything. I promise you it’s essential.”
“I understand that this is important. That doesn’t mean I want you anywhere near it.”
“Why would you care?” The question came out sharper than I intended. “It’s my decision.”
“I have a vested interest in your safety.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”
“I didn’t.”
We stared eye to eye for a long time, Liam’s bright eyes boring into mine. He was a handsome man, and charismatic. It wasn’t his face nor his intelligence that had me captivated, however. There was something in the way he spoke. The way he carried himself with a calmness on the exterior and something deeper underneath. Passion, maybe. Passion for what? I wondered.
“I care about you and your safety,” he said finally.
“I’m sorry, Liam. This whole thing has me on edge. But I am begging for your help. I’ll do anything.”
“It’s called mind bending,” he said abruptly. “The type of magic used to murder Raymon. I’m almost sure of it, but that’s the thing—it’s impossible to be sure of it unless you find the source.”
My jaw dropped. This conversation had raced through twists and turns like a high-speed car chase, and I could hardly keep up. “What did you call it?”
“Ahh, thank you, darling,” Liam said, turning his attention to the owner of the B&B. “This smells exquisite.”
Midge’s head barely came over the edge of the table as she unloaded a cappuccino, the macaroni and cheese, and shakers of salt and pepper onto the table. I took a sip of the cappuccino, giving Midge a huge thumbs-up in the hopes that she’d leave us alone.
Apparently, Midge had other ideas. Either that or she was lonely, because she plopped down next to Liam in the booth and dived into a plate of curly fries that she’d brought along with the other items.
“Midnight munchies,” she said as an explanation. “Carry on talking, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
The next twenty minutes were a work in self-restraint. The cappuccino was smooth with a caramel finish that I would have normally savored to the last drop. However, this time, I downed the froth in one gulp, tapping my foot for the next nineteen and a half minutes. Midge didn’t get the picture, not even when the conversation ran out and we fell into silence.
Finally, just when I was about to explode from impatience, she kissed us each on the cheek and said goodnight. This required us to bend halfway to the floor so she could reach our cheeks. Then Midge swiped the last of the fries and told us to take our time.
“I want to get one thing straight,” Liam said when the room was empty. “In no way am I endorsing your involvement with anything in this realm of magic.”
“You mean mind bending? Is it that bad?”
Liam shook his head. He pushed the remains of the mac and cheese away from him, leaning back against the booth. “It’s worse.”
“Why haven’t I heard about it if it’s so bad?”
“It’s not often discussed for many reasons.” Liam rested his hands in his lap. “The only reason I’m explaining it to you now is because you’re an adult, Lily, and you’re the Mixologist. If you’re going to experience the darker side of life, it’s best if you’re prepared.”
“Mind bending. What is it?”
The light vanished from his eyes. “An illegal form of magic. It is banned across the world, not only on The Isle.”
“Does that include The Faction?”
He inhaled a shuddery breath. “I can’t speak for the group as a whole, but it appears someone has unearthed the dark magic form for the first time in years.”
“How do you know it was The Faction?”
“I don’t.”
“But…?” I prompted him.
“There is only one person in the world with a nearly complete mastery of mind bending.”
“Someone in The Faction?”
“Someone who escaped from prison this morning.”
“No wonder X was upset,” I breathed. “I’ve never seen him so uptight.”
“I imagined he might not be thrilled.” Liam paused for a dark, almost eerie smile. “This woman has been locked away for years, and quite honestly, I believe most people have forgotten about her.”
“Why was she in prison?”
“She broke the mind bending laws, of course.”
“But what is it? Similar to telepathy?”
Liam chewed on his lip for a second, sizing me up as he considered his response. “On the street, it’s called blood magic.”
“How does it work?”
“Have you heard of voodoo?”
“Like the dolls? Yes, of course. I mean, in the movies. I don’t believe in it, personally.”
“You don’t need to believe in voodoo, but you should start believing in blood magic.” Liam reached for the salt, sprinkling it on his leftover macaroni and cheese. “She calls herself The Puppeteer.”
“The prisoner?”
He swirled the mac and cheese with a fork. “Yes. She has a collection of dolls made from yarn—the most extensive collection on The Isle, and most likely in the world. She’s believed to have a doll for nearly every person on the island. They’re essential for her to perform magic.”
“Where are they? Someone must have taken them from her when she went to prison.”
“Nobody could find them. She claimed they were hidden somewhere safe, somewhere they’d never be discovered.”
“I’d have thought the Rangers would make her give up the collection when they arrested her.”
“They tried.” He poked a few noodles, but at this point, they looked like shredded cheese. “The Rangers offered to cut her sentence in half if she turned over the dolls. She refused.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I imagine it took her years to create her collection. It’s not a simple process. Do you know where the term blood magic comes from?”
My stomach churned. I’d never liked the idea of blood. “Do I want to know?”
“These dolls are created like any normal doll—at least, in the beginning. Everything changes once they become enchanted, however. The spell is a difficult one. Complicated largely by the fact that the final ingredient in the potion is a drop of blood from the person for whom the doll is created.”
I fought back a wave of dizziness. “How does she go about getting people’s blood?”
“There are ways,” he said. “It’s a miniscule amount—nothing more than a finger prick.”
“No wonder they locked her away,” I said with a blink. “She sounds like a psychopath.”
“She is incredibly dangerous, and many have debated about her mental state,” Liam agreed. “But it’s more than that. Mind bending affects the user on a fundamental level—it crawls deep under their skin and lingers, like smoke after a fire. Sometimes, the effects never go away. It changes a person’s soul.”
“Is that what happened with The Puppeteer? She changed?”
“I can’t say.” Liam cleared his throat, increasingly uncomfortable with the topic. “The Puppeteer has the power to influence a person’s mind, their heart, their actions. It’s completely within the realm of possibility that Trent was under the influence of blood magic when he delivered the Poison Pill.”
“Let me guess—it leaves no trace of magic behind.”
“That’s a complicated question,” Liam said. “All magic leaves a trace, you know that.”
“That’s what I thought. But according to X, they thoroughly checked Trent when they arrested
him. There were no signs of magic whatsoever.”
“As I said, it’s complicated.” Liam stood, leaving the soggy mess of salted macaroni on the table. “When a person performs blood magic, they lose a piece of their soul to the person on the other end of the spell.”
“Those are steep consequences for a spell.”
“Try to imagine performing a spell, knowing that you are losing a piece of the very thing that makes you… you.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would do that. And what happens if a person gives away too much?”
Liam hooked his arm around mine, pulling me up from the table and leading me to the doorway. His slippers shuffled across the floor, the panda heads bobbing as he walked.
“That is precisely why mind bending is illegal.” He spoke softly, his breath whispering across my neck. “Nobody wants to lose their soul.”
I shivered at his tone of voice. We lingered in the lobby, his flannel-clad arm looped through mine. “Who can show me how to find her?”
“No, Lily, I can’t allow—”
“Please help me, or I’ll find another way.”
Liam unraveled his arm from mine, taking a step back. Waves of emotion washed over his face. “There is one person more knowledgeable than I on this subject.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I will be careful.”
“She is called the Witch of the Woods.”
“Can you tell me where to find her?”
“Goodnight, Lily.”
CHAPTER 11
My thoughts devoured me whole as I sidled across the desolate beach, taking the long way home to let my mind wind down. I didn’t look up until I was halfway across The Isle, my footsteps clanking on the wooden plank of the Lower Bridge. The thunk startled me back to reality.
A crack sounded in the distance, and I froze. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe until I located the sound. When I did, I exhaled in relief. Nothing but a tree branch banging against a boulder on the shore.
I took a step toward the railing, watching as the bright orange fish circled below, moving faster and faster and faster until…