by Nova Nelson
Don’t worry, I planned to circle back around to it.
“So you remember leaving the sanctuary?”
“Oh yes.”
This time it was clear she was telling the truth.
“I had a meeting,” she continued. “I didn’t remember this right away after I was pulled out of the fountain—I suppose because I was in a bit of shock—but it was pretty clear to me afterward. I left the sanctuary and walked to Necro Coffee to meet about a donation for the sanctuary.”
I’d heard about Necro Coffee, which was in the wealthy part of town, but I’d never gone. Their slogan, painted on the front window, was “Coffee so good, it’ll raise the dead.” I didn’t appreciate the humor, for obvious reasons, so I’d never gone.
Also, their drinks were way overpriced. I was A-OK with diner coffee, thank you very much.
“Who did you go to meet about a donation?” I asked. But I already had a pretty good idea. She’d speak to a philanthropist, of course. Likely the town’s biggest philanthropist. My good friend—
“Count Malavic,” she said. She looked around the empty pub to make sure no one could overhear.
“And how did it go?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not good. I— I almost don’t want to tell you what his offer was. It’s too horrible.”
“Sounds right up my alley. What was his offer?”
The ease with which she launched into an explanation made it plain she did actually want to tell me about his offer, if only to have someone else to share the horror with her. “He knew we’ve been running at a deficit lately—I’m not the best with managing money, and it seemed Tanner’s grandmother wasn’t either, before she passed away. She used most of her savings to keep the place afloat—money that’s currently locked up while the Parchment Catacombs search for her official will. Malavic offered to help out, and the sum he was willing to donate would go a long way, but…” She cringed. “I just couldn’t. What he asked for in return … it was horrible!”
She was really going to drag out the drama, wasn’t she? Fine. I’d play along. “And that was?”
“He said he would give me the money if I would let him have the animals when they were getting too old. He offered to … put them down for me.”
“Holy shifter. He wanted you to give him your elderly and sick animals so he could drink them?”
She nodded and put her face in her hands. “He did! That’s what he wanted!”
“What did you tell him?”
Her head shot up. “I told him no, of course! We’re a sanctuary, not a butcher shop! We take in familiars when their witches die, and we help the sick animals of Eastwind. Animals find us from miles around because they know we’re a place they can finally be safe from monsters in the Deadwoods or being killed for their magical properties and cooked into some medicinal stew. The thought of one of the poor darlings spending its last moments in the clutches of Count Malavic is just too much to bear. It’s too horrible! They deserve a peaceful death.” She was on the verge of tears by the time she finished, so I decided to push on.
“Was he angry when you turned him down?”
She sniffled and dabbed a napkin to her nose. “Who can ever tell with him? He seemed a little more intense than usual, but he’s a vampire. I don’t pretend to understand them.”
I wasn’t sure what he would look like angry, either. And I hoped to never find myself in a position where I was close enough to witness him show any outward signs of anger. Vampires were deadly when they wanted to be, and I suspected that was among the chief reasons he kept getting reelected as treasurer on the High Council.
“What happened next?” I asked. “Did you turn him down and then leave?”
“I turned him down and he said he’d get me to change my mind one way or another. Then he asked me to think of the animals and did I want them to starve. Of course I don’t, Nora! But I also couldn’t agree to his terms. So I excused myself to go to the restroom and compose myself, and that’s the last thing I remember until I was staring up into Gabby Bloom’s face.”
“The restroom at Necro Coffee is the last thing you remember?”
“No, no. Excusing myself is the last thing I remember. I don’t actually know if I ever made it to the restroom.”
A theory was starting to form in my head, so I decided to feel it out a bit more. “Can vampires … hypnotize people?”
The question seemed to brighten her mood, and she giggled. “No. I mean, I guess they could learn hypnotism just like anyone could.”
Dang. Thanks for nothing, Twilight and True Blood.
“Ah. Okay. I guess I should read up on what vampires can do.”
“You and everyone else.” She shrugged casually. “No one really knows. They keep most of their powers hidden, and those who do discover them are said to not live to tell about it. Although, I’m not sure how anyone would know that.”
“Sounds like a rumor the vampires spread around,” I said.
“What I do know they can do,” Zoe added, “is tear people to shreds and suck every last drop of blood from their veins. That’s about all I need to know not to mess with one.”
“I’m impressed you stood your ground, then.” Clearly there was more to Zoe than I gave her credit for.
“I didn’t have a choice. Not when the sanctuary was on the line. But also, it’s just Sebastian. As far as vampires go, he’s harmless. He prefers to display his power in monetary ways.”
“As you found out,” I said. “Well, I’m sorry he pulled that stunt with you. That’s awful. You’ll find the money some other way.”
“I hope so.”
Fiona dropped off my food, and Zoe was kind enough to give me a quiet moment to dig in.
What she probably didn’t realize was that she was also giving me an opportunity to regroup and come up with a second round of questions for her. I almost felt bad about being so strategic.
Almost.
I licked the grease from my fingers and asked, “Did anyone else know about your meeting with Malavic?”
“I mentioned it to Oliver.”
“When was this?”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes, studying her baby-blue fingernails instead. “Just before he … left.”
There it was again. That pause.
“Zoe, what are you not telling me?”
She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip, then rasped, “He tried to kiss me, okay?” She looked around to make sure no one had overheard, which, of course, no one had because the closest person to us was Stella, and she was completely lost in her scribbling.
“Ah.” I bit back the grin, but I was pretty fanging proud of ol’ Oliver. But wait. “He tried? Good golem. What happened?”
Her chest heaved as her ruby-red lips pressed tightly together, and for a moment, I didn’t think she would spill the beans. But this was Zoe. She wouldn’t disappoint. Not when she thought it could make us better friends. “I was telling him about the pregnant koala and how I thought she would give birth next week, and I thought he was listening, and then it was like something came over him and he just leaned forward and kissed me.”
“You have koalas?” I’d always loved those little guys and wanted to hold one someday. Then I realized I’d asked the wrong question and quickly added, “I mean, he kissed you. He didn’t try to kiss you, he did kiss you.”
“Well, sure, but I pulled away.”
Oof. Poor guy. “Why? I could have sworn you had a thing for him. I would’ve put money on it.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know why I pulled away. I was just shocked. It happened so suddenly. I thought I would have to be the one to make the first move, and I wasn’t sure if he would go for it. He’s always so … academic. I asked him if he had a girlfriend once, and he started talking about ancient Avalonian courtship rituals until I was so bored, I thought I’d burst into tears.”
I laughed, let myself relax a bit, and washed down another bite of sausage with a long sip of beer. “But you like hi
m.”
She sighed. “I do. And now he’s never going to try to make a move again, and I’ll have to do it.”
“What was your excuse? For pulling away, I mean.”
“I told him I had a coffee date with Count Mala— Oh no…”
I cringed. “You called it a ‘coffee date’?”
“Well, I didn’t want to tell him the sanctuary was underwater! So I made it sound like … Oh, poor Oli.”
I refrained from making fun of her pet name for him. “No kidding. Poor Oli.”
“What should I do?”
“Talk to him.”
She blanched, her mouth falling open. “And say what? No, no, no. I’m not ready. Oli’s the kind of guy who’s so serious … I would need to be sure before I told him how I felt.”
“You’re saying you’re not sure how you feel?”
“No, I’m sure, I just …” She dusted off crumbs from the bar top. “I’m not sure I deserve him.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “It’s stupid, I know. I’m always stupid like this. And he’s just so smart.”
“It’s not stupid,” I said. “If anyone in this town knows exactly what you mean, it’s me, Zoe.”
She perked up, stared at me for a moment, then said, “That’s true.”
“Um, now hold up there. You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
She shook her head vaguely. “Why not? It’s true. Tanner is the most eligible bachelor in Eastwind. Or was until you snatched him up.” She beamed and placed a hand on my forearm. “You two are adorable, by the way. I’m pretty sure seeing you snag Tanner has given every last single woman in Eastwind hope that she might luck out and get a guy just a little too good for her.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa … I wouldn’t say—”
“I know you’ve served as an inspiration for me, Nora. Anyway, I’d better get going. Good luck solving my attempted murder.” She stood. “I have complete faith in you. Anyway, I’d better get back to the sanctuary. It’s almost dinnertime for the little ones, and the dragons don’t like to wait.”
Once she’d hurried from the pub, a woman on a mission, and I’d moved past the unnecessary comments about Tanner being too good for me (I also realized I needed to reevaluate most of what I knew about Zoe as a person), I mulled over the suspects so far. Oliver fit the role of jealous admirer, but did he have it in him to try to drown the object of his affection just because she turned him down for a kiss and went to coffee with another man?
No part of me was saying a definitive yes to that theory.
Count Malavic, though, he was a much better suspect. He had a motive for killing Zoe, or at least the start of one. He was angry at her for turning him down. But would killing her get him his way in the end? Probably not. Technically, Tanner owned the sanctuary, or would as soon as the Catacombs confirmed it. Zoe was simply the steward so Tanner didn’t have to run two businesses in different parts of town. If Zoe died, Tanner would be in charge of the sanctuary again, and there was no way he would hand it over to Malavic. So in that way, murder wouldn’t achieve Count Malavic’s desired results.
But if the vampire was just trying to scare Zoe … yes, that theory held water. No pun intended. If vampires were as deadly as Zoe and everyone else said they were, he wouldn’t have failed to kill her if that was his intention. But holding her underwater in a public place was a safe way to make it look like someone had tried to kill her without actually doing so. Someone else would come along and find her before long, right? And someone else had. Tanner and me. Sebastian Malavic had means, because he had the strength to do it, and opportunity because he had just been with her and could have easily followed her out of the coffee shop.
There was still a loose end, though, and that was Zoe’s missing memory from the time she excused herself to the time she woke up in Bloom’s arms. Perhaps hypnotism was one of the many hidden vampire talents.
There was only one way to confirm or dispel the theory, and that was to speak with Count Malavic.
I mean, um, pass the information along to Deputy Manchester and have him speak with Malavic.
Because I wasn’t going to involve myself further. Seriously. I meant it this time.
Chapter Seven
“What’s the word, Deputy?” I said, sliding Manchester’s coffee and pie across the counter the next morning as he sidled onto a stool in Medium Rare.
“Tired,” he grunted. “Tired is the word.”
“Isn’t that usually the word?” I asked.
He considered it. “No, sometimes it’s hassled, or annoyed, or even hopeless.”
“Makes sense, but maybe don’t lead with that when you begin recruitment.”
He harrumphed. “Unless you or Tanner plan on joining, I think we’ll have to hope some crime-fighting witch appears in Eastwind before we have any chance of hiring on.” He sipped his coffee then asked, “What kind of witch is talented with crime-fighting?”
I shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong witch.”
He nodded. “No, I think I’m asking the right one. It must be Fifth Wind witches. After all, you’re the best detective this town has.”
“Oh stop.” I winked at him and went to check on Ted, who’d been an hour late coming in this morning. I also tried not to hate myself for winking flirtatiously at Stu because I knew it was a necessary step in buttering him up before I brought up the Count Malavic suspicion. Manchester wouldn’t like to hear it. It wasn’t the first time I’d suspected the count of foul play. Granted, he’d never turned out to have anything to do with the ill goings-on of Eastwind, but I just had a feeling that it would happen eventually. No one became so powerful without pulling a few evil stunts. Malavic was just intelligent enough to have never been caught. I was as sure of that as I was that Grim loved bacon.
“Another cup of coffee?” I asked Ted.
The grim reaper’s head jerked up, his black hood fluttering with the movement while staying firmly on his noggin. Thank goodness for small blessings like that. I’d never seen Ted without his hood almost entirely obscuring his face, and I assumed that if I did, it would probably be the last thing I saw.
He stuck his thumb in the book he’d been enjoying to mark the page as he gently shut it. “Yes, please.”
I refilled his mug. “You doing okay this morning, Ted?”
“Oh, sure, sure. Just had a bit of a rough night.”
When a grim reaper tells you he’s has a rough night, while your brain knows not to ask, your curiosity doesn’t always get the memo. “Why’s that?” I regretted asking the instant it was out of my mouth.
“Winds of Change.”
“Come again?”
“The Winds of Change. They were whipping through the Deadwoods last night. It sounded like a banshee screaming and pounding on all sides of my house. Not great for rest.”
“I’m still lost. When you say winds of change…”
“It’s just another kind of wind. The Sixth Wind, if you will. Change is as much a part of everything as water, earth, air, fire, and spirit. Except, you know, it’s sort of the enemy of all. We can know a change is necessary but we always dread it, just the same. Anyway, the Winds of Change are rare, but when they whip through, it’s usually a sign that the next year will be a transitional axis.”
“And how often do the Winds of Change blow through?”
He shrugged, his bones scraping in their joints as he did. “Every so often.”
“When was the last one?”
“About three hundred years ago.”
“And what happened then?”
He tapped a gloved finger to where I assumed his lips would be if he had them. “I believe there’s a term for it. Oh!” He pointed at me. “Civil war. Between the witches and the werewolves. Yep. It was right around that time. I remember because I’d just finished this crossword in ancient runes, and it was the kind where certain squares were shaded, and if you wrote out the letters from the shaded squares, it gives you the answer to a riddle. I still remember the riddle
. Want to hear it?”
“Yes,” I said, sliding a half-step back, “but I need to go check on some tables, so maybe later?”
“Ah, of course. You probably wouldn’t get it anyway, since it was all in a dead language and there’s no exact translation for it. Heh.”
I scooted off and considered telling Manchester about the Winds of Change, but decided that not only was there nothing he could do about it by the sound of it, but it would detract from my more immediate mission. And so long as the wind stayed in the Deadwood, who cared what happened? Hard to fear change in a place that can only be improved upon.
By the time I made it back to Stu after placing a few more orders and clearing a table, he was finishing off his pie crust, dipping it in his coffee before tossing it back.
“Oh hey, before I forget,” I said, “I think I have some info that might make your life easier.”
“You playing detective again, Ms. Ashcroft?”
“No,” I said firmly. “But I was having a drink with Zoe Clementine yesterday, you know, just as friends …”
He narrowed his tired eyes at me. “Mm-hm?”
“And she mentioned something about that day that you might not know.”
He popped the last of his crust into his mouth and said, “I’m all ears.”
I leaned over the counter so Fern Brisby, a nosy werewolf whose sole source of income as far as I knew was selling hot scoops to the Eastwind Watch, couldn’t overhear from his spot two stools down. “She was leaving a meeting with Count Malavic that hadn’t gone well, and that’s why she was at the center of town that day.”
“Count Malavic? What kind of a meeting?”
I whispered, “I don’t want to say here.”
He nodded and leaned to the side to slip a hand in his pants pocket where he kept his coins.
I stopped him with, “No need. This one’s on me. I’ll swing by the sheriff’s office whenever I’m off my shift and I can fill you in then.”
“You mean you’ll swing by the sheriff’s office so you can be in on the investigation.” His mustache bristled above a self-satisfied grin.