by Lauren Quick
Clover had never encountered black magic. It was banned in Everland, but she’d heard stories from her sisters of many witches and wizards who dabbled in the dark craft, either out of curiosity or desperation. Vivi had faced a dark and dangerous wizard—the Darklander—a few months back who didn’t make it a secret he dabbled on the edge of black magic, and with her job as an investigator, Honora had tangled with more than a few witches and wizards who’d crossed the line. But even these stories hadn’t prepared Clover for the ugly reality.
Disgust crawled across her skin like ants. She rubbed her arms and stared down at the ashen circle that was filled with broken glass, charred bone, brimstone, and a sticky black tar—just a few of the tools of the trade in dark spellcasting.
The front gate rattled and Derek raced up the walkway, his shirt buttoned up wrong and his hair in tangles. “I got here as quickly as I could.” His mouth hung open as he hurried up the steps. “What the Hazel happened here?”
“Just another lovely morning at the pumpkin house,” she said, frowning and trying to hide a twitch of fear.
He gave her a hug. “You don’t fool me. Are you okay? Really?” He held her at arm’s length and inspected her face like a mother hen.
She relaxed in spite of her mood. “I’m fine or at least I will be once whoever did this is caught.”
Derek dug his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans and stared at the circle while Clover filled him in on her late-night visitor.
With slumped shoulders he said, “This just got real, scary real, not just tragic real. Whoever killed Oliver is sending you a serious message.”
“A message I got loud and clear.”
“When is Juniper getting here?” he asked.
“I sent the note to the sheriff’s department this morning with Rusty. He hasn’t made it back yet, so I don’t know.” Clover took a slow drink of coffee, hoping for a little caffeinated fortification.
“Rusty must have hit my place first on his way to the Willow Realm station.” With a surge of determination, Derek skirted his way carefully around the ugly ash circle. “If I know you, you’re going to try to get some clues to who might have done this.”
“You guessed right. I want to plan my countermove.” Clover’s brow furrowed. “Whoever sent the specter wanted to scare me. He or she was counting on me dropping this whole case, backing off, and curling up into a little ball of nerves, which I did do for about an hour after it happened.” In fact she’d curled up in an overstuffed chair in the library, stroking her beloved Rusty and shedding a few nervous tears. But it wasn’t the Mayhem way to let fear overwhelm them.
“Look on the bright side. When the sheriff finds out about this, it could clear your name.” His brow rose. “Sheriff Gardener would never believe you’re involved in Oliver’s murder when you report what happened last night. The murderer is probably behind the specter. Right?”
“I hope so. But I want to figure a few things out first before Juniper and her team come tromping through the house. That’s why I sent Rusty with a note and didn’t send up another emergency beacon. Plus, my neighbors would start calling my place the beacon house. I think subtlety is the way to go. I don’t want whoever did this to think they got to me.” She set her mug down on the porch railing.
Clover grabbed her wand from the table in the foyer and bent down to examine the circle. With a circular wave over a section of the black ash, Clover spoke a magnifying spell to give her a close-up look at the ugly contents. She cringed, realizing it was littered with chunks of broken glass and grave dirt.
“That’s disgusting. Is that a chipped tooth?” Derek crossed his arms over his chest and wrinkled his nose as he kneeled down next to the circle.
“Black magic uses some gross stuff to conjure the spell. Whoever did this pulled a specter right out of its grave.”
“See anything incriminating?” he asked.
Clover shifted the magnifying spell to a new section of the circle. A brown piece of thorn bush caught her attention. “Honora told me about a case she worked once where the wizard left a signature in the circles he cast. He was actually proud of his work. She caught him by tracing the debris he used in his spells.”
“I don’t know who would be proud of this. But I guess even evil wizards like to sign their work. Not very smart of them.”
“Arrogance has brought down many an evildoer,” Clover said, thinking of one of the plots to her romance novels. “Remember in the third Spellbinder novel, when Razor planted that stack of fake love letters, trying to break up Calliope and Jasper, and he got caught because he used his own cologne on the parchment? Oh, he reasoned that the scent would make the letters seem more authentic and he was right. Problem was it wasn’t the scent either of them wore, but he just had to use his own out of arrogance, and he got caught. It was his ego that trapped him. Maybe that will work here.”
“Here’s hoping whoever did this is an egomaniac and left us a trail to follow.”
Clover’s pulse jumped. “I think I see something. Will you please grab me some tweezers from the medicine cabinet?”
Derek darted into the house and returned with the implements and a piece of gauze. He handed her the tweezers. “Should we wait for Juniper?”
“Yes, but are we going to? No.”
“Technically, this is evidence tampering, and we really shouldn’t be touching anything.” Derek wiggled his brow, but a mischievous grin conveyed his real thoughts.
“No kidding. But it’s not like I’m going to harm the investigation. I’m helping it along. Plus, there’s plenty of this substance left.” She picked up a bit of broken glass with the tweezers and held it up to the light. Her stomach rolled over when she realized what it was—a chunk of amber-colored glass.
“That looks familiar,” Derek said. “Where have I seen that type of glass before?”
Clover swallowed, but her mouth was dry as dust. She cleared her throat and placed the bit of broken glass on the gauze Derek held in his hand. “It looks like the same type of glass used in beer bottles.”
“Wait, you mean like the beer that was served at the party? Hey, that means…” He stopped short from saying what they both were thinking and shook his head. “No, there has to be another explanation. He’s such a nice guy.”
Clover’s heart welled with disappointment. After her encounter with Bradley at the tavern, it made sense. He knew she was asking questions about the murder, but he’d played it off so well, never raising suspicion. He even came off as kind and concerned.
“I don’t want to believe it, either. I’d much rather believe that the glass was planted to make Bradley look guilty, but until we know otherwise, we have to focus on the evidence.” She cringed because that’s exactly what Sheriff Gardener had said to her when he wanted to see inside of her closet. She had to face facts. “Our local brewer has a lot of explaining to do.”
“Um, Clover. We have a guest,” Derek said and motioned to the walkway.
Felicity Claire stood clutching the gate, her face pale, and her eyes bloodshot.
“Can I help you?” Clover stood, her senses tingled. This was the second time Felicity had visited her house in the past few days and this time the witch didn’t look good. “Let’s sit in the garden and we can talk.”
The witch pushed open the gate and rushed forward like a cat darting to safety. “I’m so sorry to do this to you, Clover.”
“Sorry for what?” Clover asked, intercepting Felicity on the path and guiding her to a small stone bench. The last thing she needed was Felicity asking questions about and tromping through the mess caused by last night’s intruder.
“To put you on the spot. I need your help. I’ve come to confess.” The witch’s hands were cold and clammy as she grasped Clover for dear life.
“Confess!?” Clover barked.
“For what?”
“I’m responsible for Oliver’s death. It’s all my fault,” Felicity gasped.
Clover got Felicity to the garden and settled at a quaint stone bench next to fragrant tea roses. Seeing where they’d gone, Derek brought their guest a warm cup of tea. Her trembling hands clutched the cup as she took a long drink. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, staring at Clover like a broken witch. “Things just went too far. They got out of hand. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, really I didn’t. You have to believe me. I would never willingly hurt Oliver. I’ve been guilt-stricken since this whole mess began.” The teacup rattled against the saucer, prompting Clover to sweep it out of her hands before she could drop it.
“Should we wait for the sheriff?” Derek shifted from foot to foot.
“No!” Both Clover and Felicity said in unison.
“I need to say this now,” she said. “I’ll confess everything to the sheriff, but what happened wasn’t fair to Clover. You’ve always been so kind to Oliver and me in the past, and this is how we repay you. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It was a stretch to say Clover had been kind to Felicity and Oliver in the past. She was cordial, maybe even a little neighborly, but they weren’t friendly. “Just tell us everything that happened. Take your time,” Clover said in a soothing voice. Finally, she was going to get some answers.
“It has to do with Oliver’s will,” she said.
“Yes, I was there for the reading. I heard.” Here it comes, Clover thought. The admission.
“The news about Oliver’s witchling is all over town,” Derek blurted. Clover cleared her throat and he went silent.
Felicity’s cheeks flushed. “Is it that obvious?”
“I had my suspicions,” Clover said.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m the witch he mentioned in the will.” A tear rolled down her face. “I always knew our relationship was special, but I had no idea he felt so strongly about me that he’d change his will.” She shook her head and grabbed Clover’s hand. “You have to believe me. I never asked for the money, never expected him to leave me one gold coin, never mind his labyrinth or land. I was as shocked as anyone when I heard the news. I wasn’t dating him for his money.”
“Then why were you?” Derek asked with a bewildered look on his face. “Sorry to be so blunt, but you’re much younger than he was and, well, you seem like a nice witch, and he wasn’t.”
“You worked for the Yearlings, didn’t you? As Austin’s tutor,” Clover said, taking over the questioning from her less than tactful assistant.
“Yes, that’s how I met the Yearling family. Austin was in his final year at Haven Academy and his father wanted him to continue his education with advanced magical training, so I was brought in to help. Unfortunately, Austin wasn’t interested in studies. He wanted to enter the world of finance and start making money. He was tired of training, school, and magic. He wanted to get out into the world and live. So I spent many an hour talking with Oliver about his garden and about magic.”
“What kind of magic, exactly?” Clover asked, realizing that she knew little about Felicity’s persuasion.
“I have a fondness for advanced illusions, spellcraft, and wandwork. I’m addicted to magic, really.” She beamed and for the first time since Clover had spoken to her, a spark of joy cut through the grief on her face.
“You and Oliver struck up a friendship though mutual interests,” Clover said.
“Yes, it was just a cordial friendship while I was tutoring Austin.”
“I hate to mention this, but weren’t you dating Austin?” Clover asked
Felicity shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I dated Austin after he graduated from the academy and moved to Stargazer City, but it didn’t last long. I visited Oliver’s house a few times over the year when Austin and I were dating, but then Oliver began sending me letters detailing his studies with his labyrinth and the illusions he wanted to incorporate into the maze. I hate to admit it, but I couldn’t resist. He’d found the way to my heart and I found myself coming out here to visit more and more, working late into the night on spellcraft. It was glorious, and I knew then I’d have to break it off with Austin.”
“Did he know that you left him for his father?” Clover asked.
“No, we made sure of it.” Felicity’s expression was imploring. “You have to believe me. We didn’t want to hurt him.”
Clover frowned. “But he found out, didn’t he?” From the way Austin reacted when Clover mentioned Felicity’s name the other day at his house, she was sure that he knew. His reaction now made sense.
Felicity relented. “Regrettably, he did. But we kept it a secret for his sake. No one else knows about us and that’s why Oliver didn’t mention my name is his will. He wanted me to make the decision to come forward on my own.” She wrung her hands and another tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t know what I’ll do now.”
It was a lot to take in, but at least one mystery had been solved—Felicity Claire was Oliver Yearling’s mystery love.
“Austin is going to be furious if you claim your inheritance.” Derek kneeled down in the grass. “His father betrayed him.”
“Betray is a strong word,” Clover countered. And a motive for murder.
“Oliver chose her over his own son. She dumped him for his dad. That’s harsh. I’d say that was a betrayal.”
He had a point. “Derek’s right,” Clover said. “It doesn’t sound good, Felicity.”
“Austin never really loved me. He was too young to understand. I never should have started dating him. That’s my biggest regret. But he’s dated many witches in Stargazer City since then. Our breakup hardly broke his heart. It was my romance with his father that was too much for him.”
Clover drummed her fingers on the bench. “Let’s get back to why you really came. You said you feel responsible for Oliver’s death. How?”
Felicity sighed. “Oliver wasn’t well. His health was in decline and there was little that the healers could do to prolong his life. I should respect his privacy, but I can’t anymore. It all started when he went on a expedition to the West to study a type of creeping vine he was fascinated with and he contracted wizard’s wrath.” She bit her bottom lip.
Clover gasped, “That’s terrible.”
“I’m so sorry,” Derek said, humbled by the news.
Wizard’s wrath was a rare and incurable viral sickness contracted from drinking the water in certain springs in the mountainous areas of western Everland. Because the disease was so rare, there had been little attempt at curing it.
Felicity twisted her handkerchief. “Oliver said he took precautions and has no idea how he encountered the virus. He swore that he never drank the water, but by then it was too late. He was diagnosed about a year ago.”
“When Austin started visiting,” Clover said. “That’s why he’s been coming out so much. It was to visit his ailing father, who he knew was dying.” Sympathy for him washed over her.
“Yes, we both did.”
Wizard’s wrath could take years to progress to death and Oliver didn’t look ill at the solstice party. “How far had the disease progressed?” Clover asked.
Felicity sniffed. “The disease was in mid-stage. He had his ups and downs, but he was strong and stubborn. He was also taking belladonna for his illness.”
“He took deadly nightshade willingly?” Derek asked.
“Yes, for medicinal purposes. In small doses it’s quite helpful. Being a plant mage, he thought he could handle the poison. It was the only thing that relieved the inflammation in his back and neck. He suffered from severe pain and the herb was working for him.”
“That’s why Austin bought it at Rosewood Apothecary. To help his dad,” Clover said.
“When did Austin bu
y some? As far as I knew, Oliver was the only one who bought it, and he hadn’t made a purchase in months.” Her brow pinched in confusion, but she shook it off. “Perhaps Oliver asked him to. I don’t know.”
“But why would you think you were responsible for his death?” Clover asked.
“Because I was pushing him to take part in studies with Mender Corp. I wanted them to find a cure. I wanted him to live, and if he didn’t, I swore I would die with him. I was selfish.”
“Are you suggesting a suicide pact?” Clover’s stomach rolled over. The thought was tragic. “Oh, Felicity. Tell me you weren’t really planning on taking your own life.”
The tears flowed again and Derek handed her a tissue he dug out of his pocket.
“Yes, no. I don’t know. I was so overwhelmed with the thought of losing him and he was so stubborn. He had accepted his fate and wanted to enjoy his last moments alive, but I pushed and pushed. I refused to accept his death. He told me he had a surprise for me that night, a surprise that would end my worry.”
“You think he killed himself?” Derek asked. “That’s a terrible surprise.”
“What else could it have been? I pushed him too far and he wanted to end his suffering and mine. I think he put a large dose of belladonna into his drink and went to the old oak to finish it all. I was supposed to meet him that night under the solstice moon, but I got caught up with the party and never met him. I couldn’t find him and ended up going home by myself alone. I figured he went home early to sleep, but I never saw him again.”