“Perfect. Thanks.”
“Mom, why do I need to be here?” Marley complained. “Can't I just go back to the cottage and read?"
"You have to be here," I said. “You know more about soccer than I do."
"That's not saying much," Marley said. "I've never actually played soccer. I’ve just heard other kids talking about it."
"That's more exposure than I've had," I said.
We stared at the field together. It looked like a bunch of kids running around willy-nilly. Oh wait, there was a ball, too.
"I wish you had to cover Quidditch instead," Marley said.
"I don't know if they play any magical sports here," I said. "I guess since this is a mixed school, not everyone has magical abilities."
"That's true," she said. "You should ask if you’ll be covering any sports for the Black Cloak Academy. I bet they do magical sports. I’d go to watch those."
I glanced down at her. "Marley Rose, are you suggesting that you might be interested in playing a sport next year if it's magical?"
She shrugged. "I think I might be tempted."
Hallelujah. Anything to get that girl's nose out of a book and into the real world for a change.
"I think a team just scored," Marley said.
"Popcorn balls," I said. "Which one?”
"The red one," Marley replied.
I tried to remember which team was the red one. I’d have to take notes. There was no way I’d remember all the details to type up later.
As I watched the game unfold, a striking figure in a navy blue suit caught my attention. Mr. Hale crossed the field looking every bit as dapper as the day I’d met him in the office. I was pretty certain he was checking up on me. At least that’s what I’d do.
"Hey there, boss,” I said, when he reached us.
"Miss Rose," he said, nodding crisply. His focus shifted to Marley. "And who might this be?"
"My daughter, Marley," I said. "Marley, this is my boss, Mr. Hale."
Marley offered her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hale. I loved your article on the ethical issues surrounding synthetic blood. It’s a brave, new world, isn’t it? We still have so much to learn.”
His expression softened. “We certainly do. Between you and me, I’m following up with a source on possible contamination of one of the largest synthetic blood companies in the country. Bloodspring happens to be based here in Starry Hollow.”
“Cool,” Marley breathed.
"And why, may I ask, were you reading such heavy material?” he asked.
“Mom works there now,” she said matter-of-factly. “I wanted to see what kind of paper it is, whether anyone does any actual fact checking.”
His mouth twitched. “And what was your analysis?”
“No evidence of yellow journalism that I could see,” she replied. “But I only read a small sample of articles, so you’re not free and clear yet.”
Mr. Hale broke into a broad grin. It was the first time I’d seen him smile and the effect was electrifying. His whole face changed and I caught a glimpse of the man inside the vampire.
"How old are you, Marley?" he asked.
"I'm ten,” she said. "I hope to come into my magic next year."
"I bet you do," he replied. "Well, in a few years, we can talk about an internship. We’re always looking for sharp minds at the paper."
"So are you here to check up on me?" I asked. "You don't exactly strike me as a high school soccer fan."
He straightened the edge of his suit jacket in a well-defined move.
"I was out for a stroll and saw the game happening," he said. A likely story. "I decided to partake in the community spirit.”
Marley smiled up at me. “You’re right, Mom. He was checking up on you."
I placed an arm around her shoulders. "That's okay. I don't blame him. He knows perfectly well I don't know what I'm doing."
"There is a learning curve," Mr. Hale said. "I will grant you that."
"So which is it, Miss Rose?" a voice asked. "Are you training to be the new sheriff or a sports reporter?"
I turned around to see Sheriff Nash behind me. "I'm not sure what you mean," I said, although I knew exactly what he meant.
"I will thank you to stay out of my investigation," the werewolf said. A wavy chunk of dark hair dipped into his eye and I fought the urge to fix it.
"You have been talking to my suspects," he said. "Keep it up and I’ll charge you with obstruction of justice. I don't care who your family is."
Mr. Hale stepped between us. "Sheriff Nash, I do believe you owe the lady an apology."
The sheriff gave him a cheeky grin. "Is that so? Tell me, Alec. How have I offended this woman? I'm simply informing her of the law and her potential violation of it. I would think you'd like to keep your employee out of jail. Am I right?“
Mr. Hale moved to stand beside me. "As it happens, Miss Rose is writing a piece on the Maiden as one of her first assignments. She has my express permission to interview any and all relevant parties."
Sheriff Nash folded his arms across his broad chest. "Do you mean to tell me a new reporter with zero experience in journalism is covering the biggest murder in Starry Hollow in years?" He clucked his tongue. "That doesn’t sound like the Alec Hale that I know."
Mr. Hale stepped forward, closing the gap between them. “I said she’s writing a piece on the Maiden, not on the murder. And I run the paper as I see fit. Miss Rose has shown promise. It only seems fitting to encourage her growth."
Marley jabbed me with her elbow. "I'm pretty sure he's talking about someone else," she whispered.
I shushed her and jabbed back. It was a fascinating pissing contest to watch. Although the sheriff had that unbridled werewolf machismo, Alec Hale had the coiled violence of a vampire. I felt that inner potential for swift, deadly action and it both frightened and excited me.
"Freedom of the press doesn't mean interfering with my investigation," Sheriff Nash said. "Tell your minion to stay out of it."
"She's a Rose," Mr. Hale reminded him. "She’s nobody's minion."
The sheriff laughed. "That's right. How quickly I forget. We’re all their minions, aren't we?"
"Speak for yourself, Sheriff Nash," Mr. Hale said. "I answer to no one."
The sheriff nodded toward me. "And yet you have a new employee that you didn't ask for. Get real, Alec. I know which side of the neck you get your blood from."
Mr. Hale scowled. "I think we’re done here. Why don't you let us get back to covering the game? Readers love seeing children's names in print almost as much as they love reading a salacious murder story."
"Sure they do," the sheriff said, and turned to me. "I've got my eye on you, Miss Rose."
The sheriff marched across the open field and returned to his car in a huff.
Mr. Hale gave me a quizzical look. "He doesn't have his eye on you in that way, Miss Rose.”
Color rushed to my cheeks. Damn vampire psychic. I really needed those tips on shielding my thoughts.
"I wasn't…I didn't…" I waved my hand. "Oh, forget it."
Mr. Hale smiled again and I caught a glimpse of fang. His second smile in one meeting. A record.
"So what exactly have you been up to that I don't know about?" he asked.
I gave an exasperated sigh. I was hoping to snoop around undetected. "I spoke to Garland, the Maiden’s herbology partner. Until the sheriff clears my name, the Council of Elders says I can’t get a passport.”
“I see.” Mr. Hale adjusted his tie. "Who else do you need to speak with in connection with the murder?"
My ears perked up. "Are you offering to help me?"
"It would be in my interest as editor-in-chief,” he said. "Tell me and I'll help make the arrangements.”
I cocked an eyebrow. "Why would you do that for me? How do you know I’m innocent?"
He tapped the side of his head. "Vampire psychic, remember?"
Right. “I’m going to see her friend Uri this evening,” I said. �
�So maybe the High Priestess?”
He choked back a laugh. "You think the High Priestess is a suspect?"
I shrugged. "I didn't say that. But she is someone I’d like to talk to since Fleur shadowed her.”
He seemed impressed. "You’re a brave young woman, Miss Rose. I'll grant you that."
"Why? Is the High Priestess intimidating?" She didn’t seem intimidating at my induction ceremony.
"Not at all," Mr. Hale replied. "Iris Sandstone is a lovely witch. I've known her for many years. I was just referring to your willingness to jump headfirst into a situation without fully understanding it."
"I find it best to work under the guise of ignorance," I said.
"Yeah," Marley interjected. "Ignorance really works for her. It's kind of her thing."
Mr. Hale's mouth twitched again. "It's been very nice meeting you, Marley."
"You, too, Mr. Hale," Marley said.
"Please, call me Alec."
My brows shot up. "Me, too?"
His eyes narrowed. "No, you may call me Mr. Hale."
I tried to hide my disappointment. So my ten-year-old was on a first-name basis with my vampire boss, but I was in the formal zone? Whatever.
“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll reach out to Iris,” Mr. Hale said.
"Okay, thanks.” I watched as he crossed the field, drawing the eyes of most female spectators, and a few of the men as well. Not that I blamed them. Where Sheriff Nash was raw sexuality, Alec Hale was raw sensuality.
"So that's a vampire, huh?” Marley inquired. "He seems really fancy."
"Not so fancy that you can't call him by his first name."
“It’s because he’s trying to keep you at arm’s length,” Marley said.
I shot her a quizzical look. “That sounds too insightful for a ten-year-old.”
Marley shrugged. “It’s probably his way of maintaining distance from his employees. I’m not an employee.”
Right. Distance from an employee. It was so sensible, I almost believed it myself. Almost.
Chapter 13
Uri’s art class took place directly on Balefire Beach, so Marley and I took PP3 for a walk, and I left them to play nearby while I spoke with Uri.
The beach itself was incredibly wide and almost white—very different from the Jersey shore. I bet the residents of Starry Hollow didn’t have to contend with raw sewage washing up on the beach. They probably had a magical filter that kept the ocean looking as pristine as it did right now.
There were about a dozen easels set up in the sand in view of the horizon. I easily identified Uri—not because I recognized a vampire on sight, but because he was, by far, the saddest-looking artist in the group. Still processing his friend’s death, no doubt.
I removed my shoes and let my bare feet sink into the warm sand. The sensation was heavenly.
"That's a beautiful picture," I said, moving to stand behind Uri. I didn't know anything about art, but the image was pleasing to my eye.
Uri craned his neck to look at me. His eyes were so dark, they nearly matched his black hair. He wasn't pale like Victorine, though. Instead, his skin was more bronzed like Mr. Hale’s. When I’d asked Linnea about vampires walking around in the daytime, she said it’s because Starry Hollow is a paranormal town. Apparently, the paranormal towns are equipped with some kind of magical juju that allows vampires to move around in sunlight without burning to a crisp.
"Thank you," he said. “It’s more melancholy than I normally like to paint, but it seems fitting under the circumstances."
“I assume you’re talking about your friend, Fleur?"
He gave me a sad smile. "I'm glad you referred to her by her name and not as the Maiden.” A scowl marred his smooth features. "I am so tired of hearing her reduced to a title. She was a person, not a vessel."
An interesting opinion for a vampire. "I understand you two were good friends. Her death must have hit you pretty hard." Especially as someone who didn't need to worry about a natural death.
He winced. “That’s an understatement. There’s a hole in my heart that will never be filled. Fleur has been my closest companion since childhood. We spent most of our free time together.”
"You’re such an interesting pair," I said. “I imagine your friendship must've raised a few eyebrows over the years."
He lifted his paintbrush and returned his attention to the canvas. "That's because you’re from the human world, Miss Rose. You don't understand a paranormal place like Starry Hollow. Maybe you will in time, if you keep an open mind.”
So he knew who I was. "I'm happy to be enlightened, Uri. So are you telling me that Starry Hollow is one big, happy paranormal family? Everyone gets along and it's all unicorns and butterflies?" I was surprised by my use of the phrase ‘unicorns and butterflies.’ Typically, I said something like ‘puppies and rainbows.’ The residents of Starry Hollow were rubbing off on me.
"I'm not trying to paint a perfect picture," he said, and took note of his canvas. "Okay, maybe I literally am trying to paint a perfect picture, but in terms of this conversation, it's not unusual for a vampire and a witch to be friends. Look around at the students in this art class."
I surveyed the small group. "They all look like humans to me. I wouldn't really know whether I was looking at werewolves or vampires or witches."
"That's my point," he said. "You can't tell and it doesn't matter. Fleur and I became fast friends during a coloring session in first grade. There was only one black crayon and we both wanted to use it. None of the other children wanted to color with black." He smiled at the memory. "It was during our dark phase. We ended up breaking the crayon in half and sharing it."
"And you were friends ever since?"
He nodded. "We supported each other through a number of difficult times."
"Any recent ones that you’d care to share?"
He swiveled to face me. “Why are you interested in this? Is it because you’re the one who found her?"
“I’m writing a piece on Fleur for Vox Populi,” I said.
“Oh,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing. “You mean the weekly paper owned by your family.”
Hmm. Now he was going to throw nepotism in my face? I decided to switch gears.
“Listen, Uri. It’s my first assignment and I’m trying in vain not to mess it up, so could you help me out? Since you were her best friend, do you have any theories on who may have killed her?"
His jaw tightened. "I wish I did. It would take a coven of witches to keep my fangs at bay.”
"What about jealousy?" I asked. Even though Garland’s jealousy didn’t qualify, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some other seething witch in the background.
He turned back to his painting. “She was often annoyed by Ianthe, and so was I, for that matter.”
"Who's Ianthe?”
"Her understudy," he replied. "Just like the Maiden is the understudy of the High Priestess, Ianthe was the understudy of the Maiden.” He grew quiet. "The understudy is prepared and steps into the Maiden’s role in case something like this happens."
All about Eve, coven-style. "Is Ianthe a student at the high school?"
"She attends the Black Cloak Academy," he said. “Ianthe is all about doing things the coven way. She's very different from Fleur."
“I’ll speak to her then. Thanks, Uri. I appreciate your help.”
I watched as he put the finishing touches on the painting. A splash of orange and red in the heart of the picture. Although the resulting image was beautiful, it made me feel sad when I looked at it. I was pretty sure that was the point.
The Mistress-of-Runecraft was a witch called Hazel and she had more freckles than I’d ever seen on a single body. Her curly red hair was cut just below the ear and her smile reminded me of a crazed clown.
Hazel arrived at the cottage with an oversized book. She swept into the room with efficient energy and set the book on the dining room table. We’d decided to hold our sessions while Marley was at school to m
inimize distractions. Aunt Hyacinth made sure that Mr. Hale agreed to frequent absences for the sake of my education. I was sure everyone in the office would be thrilled to learn about my special treatment. Nothing like making friends with co-workers by being labeled the special snowflake.
“What exactly is runecraft?” I asked, reading the title of the book—The Big Book of Runecraft. Very original.
“Think of it as a magical alphabet,” Hazel said, opening the book to the first chapter. “It’s basically learning a new language.” She peered at me. “Do you speak any other languages?”
“I know Spanish curse words,” I said. “Does that count?”
“No,” she said, and gave me a disapproving look. She pointed to markings on the page. “I’ll be teaching you how to interpret these characters and symbols.”
“When would I need to know this information? Like in what context? Are the bathroom signs only marked with runes?” Because that could easily end in embarrassment.
“When it’s time to have your own grimoire, you’ll need to learn how to read the spells,” Hazel said. “Many spells are written in runes.”
“Do I need to learn spells?” I asked, staring at the black symbols on the page. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to translate these into words. Runecraft seemed more up Marley’s alley than mine.
Hazel stared at me like I’d called her baby ugly. “You don’t want to learn spells?”
“I want to learn magic,” I said. “Does it have to come from a spell?” Spells seemed like hard work. The type of magic that happened in the tow truck just popped out of me. Much simpler.
“No, of course not,” Hazel said. “It’s just that spells help us focus our magic. They set parameters.”
That sounded reasonable. “Okay, so how do we do this?”
Hazel set a piece of paper in front of me. “Not much different from learning your ABC’s. I’d like you to copy the symbols and characters you see on this page and write them on your paper.”
I blanched. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. It’s how we learn.”
“It’s how we learn to draw,” I said. “But I have no clue what they mean.”
Magic & Murder (Starry Hollow Witches Book 1) Page 11