by Nova Nelson
“Of course not.”
“Anyway, it seems to me that since Grace’s body was supposedly found, tensions have been boiling over a little more than usual.”
“I’d say.”
He paused before asking, “Don’t you think that’s convenient timing?”
I shook my head vaguely. “I would say there’s no convenient timing for a war to break out, actually.”
“Well sure,” he said. “I agree with you. But not everyone would. If the town begins to believe there’s a significant threat to witches from werewolves …”
“The legislation,” I said, finally catching on. I couldn’t believe it’d taken me so long. “Of course. Fritz is the perfect villain. He’s huge, imposing, doesn’t have a job, keeps to his own kind.”
“And he’s a Scandrick, even if not by birth. That name dates way back.”
“And Grace is just a little blonde thing that keeps mostly to herself, doesn’t bother anyone.”
“She’s the perfect innocent victim to spread all across the Eastwind Watch,” Landon added bitterly.
I sighed. “This is bad. Well, not for the Werewolf Protection Act.”
“Right. Which goes back to our original question. Who benefits from the staged murder?”
“The people supporting the act. But that implies that it might go as high up as the mayor and high priestess.”
He nodded eagerly, his eyes shining. “Yep.”
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“You’ve made me a very happy man today, Nora, coming in here with this news.”
“Glad I can still make a man happy. But there are still things to address. For one, how the heck do we approach this if the mayor and high priestess are behind it?”
“We don’t go after them, that’s for sure. I assume they view the act of staging a murder, and all the tactical aspects of it, as below them, which means someone else pulled it off.”
“Okay, so we figure out who that was, and then what?”
He looked suddenly uncertain. “Get them to confess, I guess. You’ve done that before, right?”
“It’s true. It’s not always that easy. And it’s even more difficult to get a confession when you have no idea who to wring it from.”
He twisted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “No idea? You sure? Because I could swear I have a fairly solid idea. At the very least, a hunch.”
“You win,” I said. “You’re better at this than I am. I’ll admit that. Now who do you think it is?”
“I had a key to Grace’s home because I knew about the spare in her desk. I never put that key back, though. I didn’t want it falling into the hands of someone who might use it to ransack the place.”
“Like … we did?”
“We didn’t—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We didn’t ransack it. What I’m getting at is that whoever got that letter and planted it at the scene had to have visited her home after us and either had a key to the place or broke in. So all we have to do is swing by there, see if there’s any sign of a break-in, and if not, we’re in luck. Because that narrows down the suspect pool significantly.”
“What about magical entry? Oliver showed me an unlocking spell just the other day.”
“Two things. First, that spell only unlocks manually locked doors. Grace was prudent. She would never lock her door without a protective spell. Second, if someone did manage to overwhelm her protective spell, the magic would have to be so strong that there would be a trace of it. The air holds onto that sort of thing, and guess what kind of a witch has a special talent for sensing magic in the air?”
Obviously, he was talking about himself, since North Winds were aeromancers. “Okay. One last question: What are we still doing here?”
He pointed at me. “Let’s get going.”
There were no obvious signs of a break-in at Grace’s house. We circled the full thing, and the windows were locked, the doors, too. No signs of a picked lock, and when Landon gave the spare key he’d kept a try, it was clear none of the locking mechanisms were broken in an attempt at forced entry.
“One last thing,” he said, pulling out his wand and swirling the tip in tight circles just above the handle. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.
The air began to shimmer light blue like floating glitter. He opened his eyes and said, “Hmm.”
“It’s glowing. Does that mean there was tampering?”
“It’s glowing light blue, so yes and no. If there were no tampering, it would be silver. But I already assumed Grace had put some of her own magic on it, so light blue makes sense, because that’s the trace color of a North Wind. And because it appears slightly faded, I can tell that the magic isn’t fresh.”
“Does magic have a shelf life?”
He nodded. “Basic spells do, yes.”
“Each type of witch has a distinct color to their magic?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“And mine is?”
“Well, once you can perform spells, it’ll be red. The others are green, orange, and yellow.”
I stared at the air as the last of the shimmer faded. “How do we know there wasn’t another North Wind who’s tampered with her locking spell?”
“We can’t know that conclusively, but the age of the spell matches pretty closely with the day she left, so if another North Wind tampered with it, it would have to have been right after she left. But because whoever planted the letter would have had to come in after we left, I can rule out North Winds as well.”
He went around to check the back door while I waited at the front. When he returned, he shook his head. “Same story back there.”
“That means whoever got the letter had a key to Grace’s house, right?”
“Seems so. I can only think of three possibilities for that.”
I knew who he meant immediately, and while the thought of putting Hunter behind bars was satisfying, it also meant a confrontation of one fashion or another was inevitable. “And if there were only three people who could have gotten into her house to get that letter for the staged murder, that means there were only three people who could have staged that murder.”
He led the way off her doorstep and down through Erin Park. Smart of him. Lingering at the door of a presumed murdered girl wasn’t especially wise, even if the town did think it had the killer locked up. The last thing I needed at any given time, for personal reasons, was a closer association with every single death in this town.
“I would bet there are at least a few other witches in the Coven who know what really happened to Grace,” I said, “but we can’t very well go after them without having to watch our backs twenty-four seven from here until they inevitably kill us.”
“We don’t go after the big ones,” he said, lowering his voice. “All we have to do is get the ones who did this to confess to the staging, then we let Manchester and Bloom, who can’t be killed, do the rest.”
Manchester, Bloom, and Culpepper, I thought, but I didn’t want to bring that up right now.
“You got a plan for getting that confession? I don’t imagine they’ll spill the beans at Necro Coffee.”
“I do have a plan,” said Landon, “but if we’re going to take on Grace’s entire circle, we’re going to need back-up.”
“Stu?”
Landon shook his head. “No, not anyone who has to play by the rules, like we talked about. But we will probably want a couple witches.”
“You know more witches than I do,” I said. “Got any suggestions?”
“I do, but I think it’s better if you pick. My idea relies heavily on, um, you putting yourself in harm’s way.” He stared fixedly at the spring of water shooting out of Fulcrum Fountain where the street opened up into Fulcrum Park a few blocks ahead.
“Ah. Well, that’s the best kind of plan, isn’t it? I’m glad to see you’re at least a little bit ashamed of yourself for it. How many witches do we need?”
“At least two more if we’re going to
take on Hunter, Annabel, and Jackie. You’ll need to stay put and not fight.”
I nodded. “Not like I really can anyway. My spellwork leaves something to be desired. Mainly, any hint of effectiveness.” I paused, considering who I could get to help. “Oliver might be good in a fight. He’s certainly talented enough.”
“Would he agree to something like this?”
I didn’t have to think long on that. “Not a chance. Bummer. I wonder how Zoe would do in a fight.”
“She might do okay, but do you think she could keep her mouth shut about our plan between when we tell her and when we do it?”
“Not a chance.”
Landon spoke the next words carefully. “What about Tanner?”
“No way.”
“I know, I know. Sorry. But he would do anything to protect you. He’s not a bad person to have your back.”
I stopped walking and turned, grabbing Landon on the shoulders. “Not happening, understand?” I let my arms fall back to my sides and continued walking. Landon stutter-stepped to catch up. “Besides, Tanner is about to be law enforcement, too. I don’t even know what your plan is yet and I already know it could get him in too much trouble when he needs to be keeping his nose clean.”
“Okay, not Tanner. What about Donovan?”
I crinkled my nose. “That’s … that’s really where you go next? Not Tanner so Donovan? You know he’s not my second string anything right?”
Landon held up his hands defensively. “Oh, no, no, no. That’s not it at all. I was, um, I don’t know why my mind went to him after Tanner.”
I did. But I didn’t want to keep at him. There was no point.
“You’ve teamed up with Donovan before is all I’m saying,” he added. “And you both came out alive. Maybe you make a good team. And Eva’s learning quickly. Also, she’s a South Wind. They’re always up for a good fight if it comes to it. I bet those two would help out if you asked.”
I surprised myself by considering it. It wasn’t exactly the ladies’ night I’d been hoping for with Eva, but I did trust her. And, goddess help me, I knew with a certainty that Donovan would have my back. He’d put himself in danger to protect me more than once—not just multiple times in the Deadwoods, but also in Sheehan’s (though I hadn’t asked for it then).
When I thought about it, Donovan might actually be my top pick over anyone when it came to running headfirst into danger.
For fang’s sake! You gotta make more friends.
“Okay,” I conceded as we paused at the fountain. “Donovan and Eva. I’ll see if they’re up to it. In the meantime, I’d better go to work so Tanner doesn’t have to handle all the tables himself for the lunch rush.”
“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind. I can fill you in on the plan while we walk.”
“Sounds good.”
Only it wasn’t. Because the more Landon explained his plan, the more I realized he wasn’t kidding when he mentioned putting me in harm’s way.
Chapter Twenty-One
Along with Landon’s club salad, I also brought him over a few slips of owl parchment and a pen. After a quick check with the rest of my tables, I took a seat across from him and tried to read his writing upside down.
“Stop,” he said. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry.” I sat up again and looked around. The lunch rush had started to die out. Tanner wasn’t happy about me strolling into work two hours late without sending word about it, but he wasn’t nearly as upset as I’d expected. In fact, he looked relieved when he spotted me coming out of the kitchen, tying on my apron, already midway through an apology.
“It’s fine,” he’d said. “I mean, it’s not. This morning has been a waking nightmare. But I’m glad you’re okay. I thought … Well, with Grace turning up murdered, we just don’t know how dangerous it is out there for witches right now.”
“Sorry.”
He nodded, and for a moment I thought he was going to go on. There was some softness in his eyes that caused the knot in my stomach to loosen. I wanted him to open his arms so I could run in. I wanted to apologize, not just for being late, but for everything, every single little dumb action that had driven this wedge between us.
But then the hint of that passed, and he blinked and said, “Right. Anyway, I’m so in the weeds because of you, I’m about to build a new home here, so I’m going to take a lunch break to avoid a complete mental breakdown, and if you would be so kind as to take over all the tables, that would be fantastic.” He shoved a fake smile my way, and then hurried off.
It’d been an hour and a half since that happened, and he hadn’t returned.
I had a feeling it would be another half hour before his pettiness was complete and he’d left me on my own for the same amount of time I’d left him this morning.
Touché, Tanner.
“There, what do you think?” Landon said, holding out the letter. I took it from him and read it through.
Hunter, Annabel, and Jackie,
I know what you’ve done. You thought I left town and wouldn’t know, but that’s not the case. I don’t think those in charge would be too happy if your sloppy work exposed their bigger plot.
I’m done being the silent one of this circle. You thought you could treat me any way you wanted and I would eventually disappear. You thought you’d won. You haven’t. I’m still here, and I can appear just as easily as I vanished.
You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?
Bring me all of what they paid you to stage my murder or else I’ll go public. And not only will you lose the money, but you’ll end up in Ironhelm on conspiracy charges. Or worse, you’ll be let off and have to face the harsher punishment of those who hired you.
Meet me in the sixteenth cavern of the Parchment Catacombs at nine o’clock tonight with the money, or else your little plot will be exposed completely.
-G
“Looks pretty good,” I said. “They’ll definitely buy it. Their guilty consciences will override any critical thinking that might allow them to realize this isn’t her handwriting.”
Landon chuckled. “I mean, it’s pretty close to her handwriting. As in no one alive could tell the difference. Even Grace.”
“Is that a North Wind skill? Forgery?”
He shook his head and leaned forward, his eyes darting around quickly to make sure he couldn’t be overheard. “You’ve never asked what I do in the Catacombs.”
“True. I guess I’ve never needed to be bored to death before.”
“I’m a forger.”
I sat up straight. “A what?”
“Sh!” His head swiveled. “You can’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t even be telling you. But I figure I know enough incriminating things about you that you can know one about me without it being a problem.”
“Is that what friendship is? Mutually assured destruction? Makes sense. Go on.”
“We often lose original documents,” he explained. “And all we can find are the cheap duplicates and triplicates. They don’t look anything like the magically notarized ones, which can’t be perfectly duplicated or tampered with. When that happens, they bring the duplicates to me and I create a fresh original which is then notarized in sector twenty-nine of the catacombs.”
“Wow,” I said, trying to realign my image of Landon. “You’re telling me the Parchment Catacombs have entire jobs created just to cover up their own incompetence?”
He nodded.
“And you’re a professional crook.”
“Nora, I work for the government; I can’t be a crook. I’m sanctioned to do this.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that logic, but okay.” I looked back down at the letter in my hand. “Either way, it’s working out for us, so I’m not complaining.” I handed it back to him.
“I’ll send this to Hunter once I’m done eating, and you send one to Donovan and Eva, giving them the bare bones until we can meet tonight and discuss the rest.”
“Roger that.”
“Who?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Sounds like a plan.”
Later, as I finished up the letters in the manager’s office, trying to decide if “I need your help and it will be dangerous, but it could stop a werewolf-witch war” was too dramatic, the door opened behind me abruptly. I jumped and whirled around. “Tanner! Geez! Why are you sneaking up like that?”
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” His gaze jumped down to the letters. “What’s that?”
“None of your business.” I stood from the chair and made to leave, but he grabbed my arm as I was about to pass him.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Hold up.”
I turned toward him, both of us squeezed into the space of the doorframe. When I looked down at his hand on my arm, he let go.
“Is everything okay, Nora?”
Was everything okay? How could he seriously ask that? He broke up with me! He was going to abandon Medium Rare to work for Bloom! It was like he was doing everything in his power to make things not okay, and then he wanted me to say, “Oh sure. Everything’s fine. You’re off the hook.”
But at the same time, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting me. “Yeah,” I lied, meeting his eyes. “Why?”
“You were running two hours late to work today without an explanation. Grim beat you here, for fang’s sake. It’s something more to do with Grace, isn’t it?”
“I can’t tell you,” I said.
The hurt in his face was undeniable. “Why not?”
“Because we don’t want law enforcement involved.”
“You don’t …” His mouth fell open as his attention wandered toward the ceiling and he leaned back against the doorframe, sighing. “Who’s ‘we’?”
“Why do you want to know?”
He stood upright again and moved an inch closer to me. “You need me to say it?”
Instantly, I knew I did not. I looked down at the floor. “It’s just Landon.”
“You think he can keep you safe?”
“Yes.”
“If he can’t—”