by Harmony Hart
“Ask anyone in town, and they’ll tell you Mason is the nicest guy you’ll ever meet,” Beau said. “As for his relationship with Morty, it was as good as could be expected. Mason did his best to be there for Morty, running errands and fixing things up around the property. Morty was always cranky about it, insisting he didn’t need anyone’s help. But Mason didn’t mind. He still dropped by Montcrief’s every day to check on him.”
“It sounds like Bennett was right,” I said. “Mason should be the rightful heir to Montcrief’s.”
“I don’t disagree with you there,” Beau said. “But the powers that be in Salem are quite particular about following the rules, even though the constant bureaucracy seems to slow everything down. They’ll have to confirm Morty’s estate plans with the Hall of Records, which…” he sat back and closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “... is about as expedient as a drunken snail.”
“It sounds like Morty was a pretty wealthy man.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “And Mason worked here, which doesn’t strike me as a glamorous life. Is it possible Mason killed him to gain access to his money?”
Max, who was diligently cleaning the table a few booths down from us, paused and shook his head. “No way,” he said. “Mason loves working at Darkwoods Diner. Morty always pushed Mason to follow in his footsteps and take over the shop, but Mason wanted a simpler life. Real point of contention between them, too. No way he’d kill Morty just to get his hands on the very thing he always turned his back on.”
I frowned. I swore I was speaking quietly enough to keep our conversation private. “How did you—?”
Max wriggled his eyebrows and pointed to his ear. “Werewolf ears.”
“Oh. Right.” I flashed an innocent smile.
“Hey, Max? Y’all obviously think Mason isn’t capable of killing Morty. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. Maybe it’s best we keep my initial suspicions to ourselves. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with Mason before we even meet.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweet cheeks. I’m good at keeping secrets. You remember that, in case you ever want to keep something else just between us. If you know what I mean.”
Ew. I bit back my immediate reaction, smiling once more. “I’ll keep that in mind, Max.”
Beau was silent, but his tightly clenched jaw betrayed his annoyance. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin, depositing it on the table as he stood. He extended his hand to help me up, and I took it, nearly crashing into him as I slid out of the booth with as much grace as a newborn deer.
Beau was quick, catching my elbows to steady me as he grinned. “If Detective Otto had witnessed that near-disaster, your story about tripping over Morty might seem more plausible.”
“Ha-ha,” I replied. My tone may have been sarcastic, but every inch of my body danced with electricity as I realized just how close Beau and I were standing. I felt my face flush, and I lowered my gaze, as we walked to the door.
“Oh, my Bast! You like him!” Titus exclaimed.
“Hush. I do not.”
“I bet he doesn’t cuddle like I do.”
“Don’t be weird. No one is cuddling anyone.”
I was too embarrassed to admit it, even to myself, but the cat was right. We had only been here a few hours, but I already had a hopeless schoolgirl crush on my new professor.
"Do you mind if we walk?"
"Not at all," I said. "If I'm going to be stuck here awhile, I might as well get to know the town a bit."
He held open the door, and as I brushed past him, his delicious, masculine scent wafted into my nose. I thought I might melt into a puddle right at his feet. Instead, I plastered my best casual smile on my face and hoped he hadn't noticed me breathing him in.
Beau offered me his arm—apparently a common custom for gentlemen in Salem—and I looped mine through his, resting my hand on his wrist.
I fell into step with him, Titus sulking as she followed at our feet. We rounded a corner and found ourselves surrounded by a gloomy forest on one side and a row of dilapidated warehouses on the other.
"Are The Fringes always this spooky?" I asked. "Talk about the perfect setting for a slasher film."
“The Fringes can be intimidating at night, but I think you'll find the area more welcoming in the light of day." He pointed to the bare black tree trunks rising up from a blanket of gray fog. "However, those are The Darkwoods. Best avoided entirely.
A cold wind whipped through the trees, sending a shiver through my body. "I'll take your word for it."
Beau cupped his free hand over mine and slowed to a stop. "You're freezing," he said.
"Maybe a little chilly. I didn't have a chance to pack a jacket before being ripped from my home by the magical bookcase from hell."
He frowned, shrugging off his coat before draping it over my shoulders. "You'll need a coat. An entire wardrobe, in fact." He furrowed his brow. "And a bank account. And money."
"I don't even know where to begin," I said.
"I think the Coven is taking care of the logistics, but I’ll check in to make sure they expedite things.”
“Thank you.”
“It's been years since someone crossed over into Salem,” he said. “I forget how jarring it can be."
"That's an understatement."
"You'll want some help settling in. I'll introduce you to some fellow witches tomorrow, and we'll make a list of what you need."
"A cup of tea, a hot bath, and a warm bed would be more than enough for tonight," I said.
"Simple requests," Beau said. "Consider it done." He wrapped an arm around me, drawing me close to him as we began walking again.
And it wouldn't hurt to have you as a snuggle partner, I thought.
“Hey! I'm your snuggle partner!” Titus whined.
“You literally sleep on top of my neck. I'm not sure I'd call that snuggling. More like strangling.”
“It's a love strangle.”
“I’d be safer sleeping alone.”
“I am a fierce protector.” She puffed out her chest and tail, making her furry black form appear medium-tiny as opposed to just regular tiny.
I stifled a laugh. But speaking of spending the night alone… "Beau?"
"Yes, Gemma?"
"You don't think Morty's killer will come back, do you?"
"I'm not sure. It seems unlikely the killer would return to the scene of the crime, at least so soon.”
“Unless they came back to hide something. Like the murder weapon,” I pointed out.
He frowned. “You’re right. I'd feel better if you had someone stay with you for a few days."
"Yeah?" Oh, sweet stars above. Say that someone will be you.
"Mortimer has a sofa. I can sleep there tonight," He cast a sidelong glance at me. "If you don't mind a strange man bedding down in your newly inherited apartment."
"No! Not at all. I'd love it if you slept over," I replied, not even masking the eagerness in my voice. Tone it down, Gemma. "I mean, after the day I've had, some company would be reassuring," I said. That's better. Play it cool.
"It's just..." he pressed his lips together, "I can't leave my familiar alone all night. I’d never hear the end of it. Would you mind if I brought him over? He’s a cat."
"Of course not. I love cats!"
"What about Titus?" He peered down at her.
"Titus loves cats, too. She'll be fine."
"Only if you're certain," he said.
“I do not! I do not love cats,” Titus complained.
“How do you know? You've never even met another cat.”
“I know enough to know I don't like them.”
“But you are a cat.”
“Irrelevant.”
“You will be nice, or I won't share my breakfast with you tomorrow.”
“See? This new cat isn't even here yet, and he's already coming between us. I hate cats. Hate them!”
I rolled my eyes at her and tilted my face toward Beau with a smile. “I�
��m certain.”
The walk back to Montcrief’s took longer than I expected, but I didn’t mind. How could I, when every step through the cold October air added to the time I spent cuddled up with Beau? It had been a long time since I’d had any real interest in a man. Beau had me feeling as giddy as a teenage girl on her first date. I wasn’t going to let anything—not even a pending murder investigation—ruin that feeling for me.
It did strike me as odd that Coven Headquarters was so close to both Montcrief’s and Darkwoods Diner, but the distance between the shop and the diner seemed so great. As we made our way back to my new home, Beau explained.
“Coven Headquarters actually doesn’t exist on the surface of Salem. It’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. The founders designed it that way—hidden in plain sight—to serve as a safe haven for the early Salem witches in the event of another werewolf uprising. So if you’re a witch—” he paused, throwing me an apologetic look—“a witch who has passed her Basic Witch Exams, at least—you can access Coven Headquarters from pretty much anywhere in town. All it takes is enough wall space to create a doorway, a wand, and the right incantation. The wards around Coven Headquarters can sense witch blood, and won’t open for anyone else.”
“So someone like me needs an escort to come and go from Coven Headquarters?”
“Until you’ve proven you can control your most basic powers, yes. But something tells me you won’t have any trouble finding volunteers to accompany you.”
“So how do all of the Council members get in? The ones who aren’t witches?”
“Council Chambers serves both as a meeting hall and a courtroom. It’s not actually part of Coven Headquarters. We just use the lobby to access different parts of Salem more quickly. You can leave headquarters the same way you enter, but having a clear intention is much more important upon exit. Visualize your destination in your mind’s eye, and leave no doubt about where you want to go. Otherwise, things could turn disastrous.”
I started to ask him to elaborate, but as we rounded a corner and came to a stop across the street from Montcrief’s, my mind flashed back to the memory of Mortimer’s body lying cold, stiff and lifeless beneath me.
And as a dark, hooded figure appeared in the doorway, his broad jaw stretched into a macabre smile against his bare, bone-white skull as he carried Morty’s corpse out into a wooden carriage, I was certain the chill spreading through my body wasn’t because of the weather. The figure paused to adjust the scythe strapped to his shoulder and caught my eye, his hollow sockets trained directly on my face. He lifted his free arm and wriggled his bony fingers in my direction, and my mouth went as dry as sandpaper.
Death himself had come for Morty. And from the looks of things, he’d set his sights on me, too.
4
Evening, Brian!” Beau called. My feet dragged on the ground as we approached the grim reaper. He placed Morty’s body in his cart and turned to greet us.
“Professor! What a coinkydink! I was just thinking about stopping by the winery when I got the call about, uh…” He hooked a bony thumb toward Morty’s body. His voice was rough and full of gravel, a stark contrast to his friendly, boisterous demeanor.
I leaned in and whispered to Beau, praying death didn’t have the supersonic hearing like werewolves. “Um, is that The Grim Reaper?”
Titus bristled, backing into my ankle. “Oh, spell nah!”
The corner of Beau’s mouth turned up as he angled his face toward mine. “A grim reaper. But he’s the only one in Salem. Brian is the town Coroner.
“Brian?” I raised a brow at the shadowy skeleton standing before us.
“He’s harmless,” Beau insisted. “In fact, I should check out the apartment upstairs. Wait here. Brian will keep you company. I’ll be right back.”
“Are you leaving me with—?” Before I could finish the question, Beau had disappeared through the doorway, abandoning me to make small talk with Brian.
“I’m going with him!” Titus sprang after Beau and vanished into the shop, kicking the door closed behind her.
“Oh, now you like him!” I protested. “Traitor.” I pivoted and gave the grim reaper a weak smile.
“Howdy there!” He called. “You must be Gemma!”
“Nice to—” My introduction was interrupted when Brian spread his arms wide and lunged at me. I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut as I braced myself for… a hug? His spindly fingers pressed against my back in a hearty embrace. Not exactly what I expected from the literal embodiment of death.
“Whoops!” He backed up with an awkward laugh—if you could even call it that. It was more like a fragile death rattle rising in volume and intensity from the back of his throat. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! Prolly should’ve asked first, but I just get so excited about making new friends!” He opened his hands out to each side with a shrug. “What can I say? I’m a hugger!”
“Wow. Um...” I brushed a loose piece of hair from my forehead and tucked it back into my up-do. “It’s okay. Really. I just wasn’t sure what was happening at first.”
“Aw, man!” Brian’s jaw dropped open, and he dropped his head back in frustration. “Not you, too!” His shoulders sagged as his head dropped forward again.
“What?” I asked. “What did I do?”
Brian simply shook his head, refusing to look at me. I waited patiently. Sometimes people just need to be given the space to open up. Maybe Death Himself was no different. Finally, he spoke.
“You thought I was going to take your soul, didn’t you?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his black robe and scuffed a boot-clad foot against the ground. “Everyone always thinks that.”
“No, I…” I sighed. This was usually the part where I told a little white lie to avoid hurting someone’s feelings or avoid some nasty emotional backlash like them not liking me anymore. But as I stood there before a disappointed Death, I felt compelled to tell him the truth. “Actually… yes. But it’s nothing against you, personally. I mean, in the human world, that’s what the Grim Reaper does. I wasn’t expecting you to be so… nice.”
He lifted his face to meet mine. “Really? You think I’m nice?” His teeth clacked as he chuckled to himself, visibly relaxing beneath his hooded robe. “Wowie! What a sweetheart you are!”
I offered a confused smile, which probably came across as more deranged than anything, and stepped back toward Beau. As nice as Brian seemed, I hadn’t yet moved beyond the whole skeleton-who-harvests-the-dead-for-fun-and-profit vibe.
After Brian stopped laughing, I took a chance on leveraging our newly established friendship for a bit or information. “Say… Brian?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Do you know what happened? To Morty, I mean?”
“Of course!” He reigned in his enthusiasm before he continued speaking. “But I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Oh,” I replied as I cast a long look at Morty’s body. “I understand. It’s just that… well, I found his body. And I’m sure that’s old hat for you, but that’s not an everyday occurrence for me. It’s been pretty scary. And I think I might find it easier to sleep tonight—in the same place where he passed—if I knew he died of natural causes, you know?”
“Aw, shucks, Gemma.” Brian raised an arm to scratch his skull with one bony fingertip and let out a sigh. “I guess I can tell you a little bit. In the name of being a good neighbor and all.” He lowered his volume so I could barely make out the words between his raspy breaths. “But keep it between us?”
“Of course!” I leaned in closer so I could hear him better. Not the most comfortable position I’ve ever been in, but it wasn’t every day Death confided in me, so I might as well make the most of it.
“Morty didn’t die of natural causes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. This is my area of expertise. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s death.” He beamed at me proudly.
“How did he die?” I tried to brush off the dis
comfort creeping through my body as Brian cupped a hand over his mouth and whispered. “Blunt force trauma to the head. One good whack to knock him down, then another when his noggin bounced off the ground. That’s the one that cracked his skull.”
I swallowed hard. “That certainly sounds deliberate. Did they find a murder weapon?”
“Not yet. Detective Otto is on it. But you know how that goes.” He shrugged.
“Not really,” I said. “But I think I’m starting to get the picture. Thanks for the info, Brian. Your secret is safe with me.”
“How did you find out?” Brian grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the carriage, his voice taking on an urgent tone. “Who told you about them?”
“Find out about who?” I asked. “I just meant I wouldn’t tell anyone that you shared Morty’s cause of death. What secret are you talking about?”
“Oh! Haha. Same.” Brian released my arm and nudged me with his elbow. “Sorry for the drama! Just a little game I like to play with my friends, you know? The Secret Game.” He twiddled his thumbs as he backed away.
“That really doesn’t make any sense, but okay,” I offered. “I, uh…” I gestured to the shop entrance. “I should really get going. It’s been a long night.”
“Righty-o!” Brian answered. “I should probably get this guy back to the morgue.” He latched a gate across the back of the carriage and gave me a salute. “Goodnight, new friend!”
“Goodnight, Brian!” I waved to him as I backed up to the shop door. I kept one eye on him as I fumbled with the knob and pushed the door open, then spun inside and slammed it shut, latching it behind me with a sigh of relief.
“Hiding from someone?” Detective Otto’s slow drawl scared me out of my brief moment of relaxation. As if I needed any help with the whole general-anxiety thing.
“No, I just…” I took a deep breath and faced the moose shifter. “Kind of. I just met Brian.”
“Ah. No need to get all bent out of shape,” he said. “Brian’s harmless.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Maybe I’m just a little on edge, considering.”