by Blythe Baker
A Mysterious Murder in Faerywood Falls
Blythe Baker
Copyright © 2019 by Blythe Baker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Description
Newsletter Invitation
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
There’s a new monster in town ...
The appearance of a new and deadly beast in Faerywood Forest is followed by the arrival of a mysterious monster hunter, a man who seems as dangerous as the creature he stalks.
If that’s not bad enough, a local society has formed, dedicated to unmasking all of the magically gifted folk in town. When the society’s president turns up dead, can Marianne capture a murderer, without becoming the next target of the monster hunter and his silver-tipped arrows?
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1
The end of October brought cooler days to Faerywood Falls. The nights were bitterly cold, and it made me wonder what the middle of winter would look like. Would it just be so unbearable to be outside? Would my eyelashes freeze, along with my lips and any other exposed skin? It was hard to imagine it getting any colder.
The rest of the residents of Faerywood Falls didn’t seem troubled with it. In fact, I’d heard more than one of them claim that this was a milder fall than what they’ve seen in the last few years.
“It’s because you’re used to that Missouri weather, sweetheart,” Aunt Candace had so lovingly informed me.
“It’s not all that much different,” I said.
“Colorado’s days get noticeably colder in October,” she said. “Here, why don’t you take some of Bliss’s older things? I’m sure she won’t mind.”
Bliss’s jacket, while not my ideal color in bubblegum pink, was certainly a lot warmer than mine. And after Aunt Candace fitted me with gloves, a few scarves, and a hat with fuzzy flaps that rested over my ears called an ushanka, I was much happier to walk around outside along the lake in the evenings after work.
A week before Halloween, I was doing just that.
The night was clear. The stars shimmered overhead like chunks of crystal reflecting the moon high overhead. The lake, which was as still as glass, reflected their glow. I was learning that the colder the night was, the more clear the view of the heavens was; tonight, I could see the Milky Way stretching across the cosmos, like a tulle ribbon encircling millions of diamonds in pinks, blues, and yellows.
It was also quiet. Incredibly so. The only sounds around me were my footsteps crunching in the grass, the wind brushing through the branches of the nearby trees, and my own breath leaving my lungs.
And I was alone.
This was quickly becoming my respite from the world, the only place where I felt completely at ease. Everywhere else was just another reminder of everything that had happened in the last few months…
I pushed those thoughts aside, and tried to focus on the world around me instead of what was happening inside my own head.
I pulled a small bar of chocolate from the inside of my pocket, peeled back the wrapper, and broke off a chunk. It was sweet, slightly bitter, and velvety on my tongue. It warmed my soul.
Ever since discovering the truth about my mother, I found myself spending a lot more time staring out at the trees of the surrounding forest. Isabella, the reawakened ghost that had told me who my mother had been, didn’t have a chance to tell me very much aside from the most basic of information about her. Even still…something that she’d told me had really stuck with me, and had me thinking about it every time I looked into the trees depths.
My mother had asked for the forest’s protection over me. A charm or a spell of some sort, I didn’t know. But Isabella told me that the spell had been completed, and the magic deep within the forest had agreed to protect me.
I stared up at the overarching branches of the trees.
“What does that mean…?” I whispered into the night.
More than anything, I wanted to go back to the Hollow, the magical pocket dimension where the spell weavers met and held council, so I could do some research about it. When I was tested for my abilities, it seemed I had a knack for nature magic…whatever that meant. Maybe the spell my mother put on me had something to do with that?
Not only that, but I wanted to get some more information about her from the spell weavers library. My mother had apparently once been the first seat of the council of eleven. There had to be something about her somewhere.
However…since the fiasco with Delilah and the magical book, I’d been trying to lay low, keep out of the lime light.
There was a splash on the lake, and my heart skipped.
Glancing toward the water, I saw ripples moving ever outward from a spot a few feet from the bank. But given the size, it couldn’t have been anything more than a fish or a turtle.
I let out the breath I’d been holding, and continued on my walk.
I was probably halfway around the lake. On the far shore, there were small pinpricks of golden light from two cabins along the shore; my cabin, and my landlady’s, Mrs. Bickford’s. Currently, none of her other cabins were being rented, something that she felt like reminding me of every time I saw her the last few days. She said that was going to change, though, since people always came around on Halloween.
Faerywood Falls, being one of the last places in the world where magic still thrived, was a hot spot for tourists, despite its small size and removed location. The visitors would claim it was the beautiful mountains for skiing and the valleys for hiking, but those of us with magical abilities knew differently; they were drawn here, and found all the mysteries and intricacies so fascinating.
I was wondering what Halloween was going to look like in a town full of vampires, shape shifters, and beast talkers. Especially when they didn’t want the “Ungifted” to find out who they truly were in the first place.
The moon came out from behind a cloud a moment later, washing the land in a pale blue light. Everything in front of me was shades of milky light and greying shadows…but something just up ahead of me, lying on the shore, caught my attention.
At first, I thought it might be an overgrown bush, but no light shone through; it was too solid. Then I wondered if it might be a vehicle that was overturned, but realized that it was too round to be any sort of car that I’d recognize.
My brow furrowing, I started down toward the shape, my heart leaping into my throat.
I took wary steps, my curiosity strongly urging me onward.
As I got nearer, a horrible smell reached me. Like rotting fish, or rancid meat left out in the sun.
I covered my mouth, gagging, and turning away.
That wasn’t just some shape. That was something dead.
I pulled my scarf up over my nose to try and block some of the smell – it only partially worked – and moved closer.
The moon passed behind a cloud again, bathing the shape in deeper shadow.
The black sha
pe looked more like a boulder than a creature, and it had pointed, straight twig-looking rods sticking up out of the top of it, probably a half a dozen of them.
I moved closer as the clouds unveiled the moon once more.
I gasped.
It was the hulking form of a bear, lying on its side…with what looked like arrows protruding from its ribcage.
My knees, as weak as jelly, carried me closer to it, inch by inch.
I recognized that face…
“Oh, no…” I said, my heart aching.
The lifeless eyes of Old Scar-Face stared out into the void, glassy and unmoving.
My heart pounded. “Hey…are you…still there?” I asked.
I felt the magic within me working, just like I did sometimes when I spoke with Athena.
But he didn’t move. There was no stirring in his thoughts. I didn’t feel anything from him. I may as well have been talking to the ground itself.
“I’m so sorry…” I whispered.
When he was alive, the bear had given me more than my share of grief. He nearly attacked me one day when I’d run across him near his cave, which I guessed I must have gone near again. I had another run-in with him when the young girl from the Forest Friends group summoned him to kill me after I discovered she’d been so angry at her group leader that she’d killed her.
None of that was the bear’s fault, though. He lived in these woods for longer than I’d probably been alive; the magic in the forest had surely kept him alive longer than most bears ever would’ve been able to survive.
My boot snapped a twig beneath me as I took another step, and I looked down. It wasn’t a twig at all, but the back end of a splintered arrow. The fletching was made from glossy black feathers. As I stooped to pick it up, the moonlight shifted across it, and the feathers looked blue. Raven feathers? That was an odd choice, wasn’t it?
My fingers ran up the shaft, and touched the soft wood. It was strong, and well made, but imperfect enough that I realized it must’ve been made by hand…which was even more interesting. It had splintered halfway, and the arrowhead was missing.
I looked down on the ground, but didn’t see any indication of it.
I looked all around, until I realized that given the way the arrows had pierced Old Scar-Face’s body, this arrow just must have missed the mark. Given the direction they must have been shot from…
I turned my gaze along the path it likely would have followed…and found the other half of the shaft and arrowhead buried in the trunk of an oak tree.
I walked over to it and pulled it from the thick bark.
It was larger than I expected, almost the entire length of my palm, and incredibly sharp. It shone brightly against the moonlight, as if it had just been recently polished. It seemed almost too heavy to be a steel arrowhead, though, which was what it looked like.
I wrapped my hand tightly around the short bit of the shaft that was still intact, and turned back toward Old Scar-Face.
“Who did this to you?” I asked the air, staring down at the massive shape that was now the deceased bear.
Because of how many shape shifters lived in Faerywood Falls, I had learned that great lengths had been taken to ensure that a lot of hunting had been curbed in this part of the state. It was to encourage hunters to look to surrounding towns in the mountains, and keep suspicion away from the animals that might actually be people here in this forest. I’d seen the results of that firsthand with the hunters that specifically seemed to go after wolves, most of whom belonged to Lucan’s pack.
I moved closer to Old Scar-Face, my thoughts racing. This was a skilled hunter, whoever it was, that took him out. But why would someone do that? Old Scar-Face had become somewhat of a town legend. Everyone knew him, and just gave him his space.
As I took another step, my boot came down with a wet squelch, and my stomach turned over.
I looked down…and saw a stream of something dark that seemed to be coming from Scar-Face’s body.
Blood.
I took a few stumbling steps backward, my hand over my heart.
It only took me a moment to realize where most of it was coming from. Aside from the wounds in his side, most of the blood pooling beneath his body was from the stump of his foreleg where his front paw used to be.
Used to be.
So not only did the hunter kill Scar-Face, they also took his paw as some kind of sick trophy?
I turned around and started for home immediately. I’d seen all I needed to.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, my head slightly dizzy, I scrolled through the search engine bar until I found the number I was looking for. I hit dial, and pressed it to my cold ear, listening to the ring on the other end.
“Hello, you’ve reached the office of the local wildlife foundation. The warden is not in presently, but if you’d please leave your name and number, he will be sure to return your call. Thank you.”
Beep.
“Hi, my name is Marianne Huffler, and I was out for a walk tonight when I stumbled upon the body of a dead bear. I think it’s the one that everyone in town calls Old Scar-Face. Anyways, I found him down on the western side of the lake. He’s full of what looks like arrows, and seems to be missing a paw. I’m not sure how long he’s been dead, but he’s definitely already starting to smell. Anyways, my number is…”
2
As much as I enjoyed my walks out by the lake, it was always an even greater relief to step inside the tiny cabin that I called home. Especially tonight.
“Hi, Athena,” I said, stepping through the door in a rush of cold air. I quickly closed the door behind me, eager to keep the warmth stemming from my woodstove in the corner inside. I shrugged off my coat and tossed it onto the hook I’d installed behind the door, and grabbing onto the kitchen counter beside me for support, I yanked off my dirty boots. I was confident that most of the blood I’d stepped in had been rubbed off by the sand I’d walked in on the way home, but as I wasn’t totally certain, I pulled open the door and tossed them back out onto the porch for a thorough cleaning tomorrow.
I straightened to see a tiny, furry head peering at me from the bundle of blankets on my bed at the far side of the room. A fox with sharp, dark eyes and a magnificent, fluffy copper tail that was wrapped around herself, slowly blinked at me.
Why do you smell like blood? She asked with her thoughts, which filled my own head as easily as if I’d heard her say it out loud.
“Old Scar-Face,” I said, trying to pull the stubborn gloves I wore off each of my fingers. My sweating palms made it slightly difficult, though. “I found him dead near the lake.”
Athena’s head lifted somewhat higher. He’s dead?
“Yeah,” I said, finally succeeding and tossing the gloves onto the floor in front of the woodstove to dry. “From this.” I held up the broken shaft of the arrow, the arrowhead glinting in the warm light.
Ever since that first night I came to Faerywood Falls, I’d been able to speak with Athena. What had once been a mystery had been soon revealed as a gift that I’d accidentally stolen from a poor woman at a gas station I’d stopped at on my way into town. As a faery, I had the ability to take and return these gifts as I pleased. After returning the beast speaking ability to the kind gas station attendant, I ended up stealing another version of it from the crazy teenager who tried to set Old Scar-Face on me in the first place, and now I could speak with any animal I wished, not just Athena.
That had been the one and only time I’d spoken with the ancient bear.
Hunters? Athena asked. I haven’t seen many when I’ve been out in the forest lately. And I don’t think I’ve seen any with bows and arrows.
I frowned at her. “When have you been out in the forest?” I asked. “You know that you’re supposed to be staying here so you can rest and recover.”
The tip of Athena’s tail twitched in annoyance. I’m not a kit, you know. I can handle myself.
I pulled my socks off, which were hot and sweaty, too, and rolled t
hem up into a ball to toss into my laundry basket. “You know as well as I do that you’re supposed to rest. That curse was really powerful, and – ”
I’m aware, Athena said in a somewhat sharp tone. This coming from the human who doesn’t want to step foot outside her house for fear of being chastised.
I sighed, sinking down onto one of my mismatched chairs in the kitchen, looking over at her. “I know. I just…don’t want anything to happen to you again,” I said in a low tone.
Athena’s gaze softened, and she nestled further down into her blankets. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I understand that you want what’s best for us. And for now, I guess that means having to lay low.
I nodded. “I’m glad that you’re feeling well enough, though. Want to come with me on my walk tomorrow?” I asked.
That’d be nice, yes, she said. She blinked at me again. So…that arrow doesn’t look normal, does it?
I lifted it in the air and examined it more closely now that I was able to see it in the light.
“There are some pretty intricate carvings on here,” I said, tracing the swirling inlay with the tip of my finger. “Almost like ivy or something.”
That’s interesting, Athena said. She stood up from her nest and hopped down onto the floor, wandering over to where I sat at the table. She made it look effortless as she jumped up onto the table.
“I thought it was steel,” I said, turning it over. “But I think it’s actually made from silver, now that I look at it.”
That couldn’t have been cheap, Athena said, sniffing at the air around it. I take it you didn’t take this one from the body?
“Ew, no,” I said, my nose wrinkling. “I found it in a tree nearby.”