Fang Ten

by Emery Belle

  “So your consciousness travels back and forth between all three hundred and twelve of you?” Hunter asked, raising his eyebrows as he caught on. “That sounds exhausting.”

  “It is.” Dolores nodded fervently. “I’ve asked Fletcher over and over again to discontinue me, but he refuses. I’m his best seller.” She puffed up her chest with pride.

  “So the last time you were here,” I said, “you didn’t see Hattie, but someone tried to poison you? Did you see who it was?”

  Dolores shook her head so hard the rest of her hair escaped from her bun and tumbled loose over her shoulders. “I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, a zombie or a vampire. Whoever it was wore all black and had on a full-face mask. I happened to visit myself here at the precise moment the intruder walked past, and I had barely caught a glimpse of their disguise when my eyes were covered and I was force-fed hemlock syrup. Luckily most of it missed my mouth, so I was only knocked out for a few days. Look.” She pointed at her feet. “You can still see some of it around me.” I bent down, and sure enough, I could still detect a few drops of some sort of sticky, foul-smelling green substance on the mantel.

  “Whoever took Hattie came prepared,” I said to Hunter, wiping the hemlock syrup from my finger with a tissue. “And they had to be familiar with Hattie’s house—how else would they know to look out for the witches? This was definitely someone she knew.” Pearl still fit the bill, of course, and I knew I needed to track down Fletcher, and it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Arthur, either. My list of suspects was growing by the day.

  I turned back to Dolores, who was twisting her hair back into her bun. “Where does Fletcher—” I began, but the words died in my throat when I realized that the witch had stopped moving, hands still on her hair, eyes locked on Hunter.

  “Oh well,” I said with a sigh. “I guess it won’t be too hard to figure out where Fletcher lives.” I beckoned to Hunter. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I followed him to the door, then glanced back over my shoulder one last time at the house, an uneasy feeling setting in as my gaze landed on the witches, still and silent, their glassy eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. Then, realizing that Hunter had already crossed the rickety porch and was walking down the pathway leading to the road, I closed the door in a hurry and headed after him, not wanting to be left alone inside the house.

  Just before I reached the porch steps, I heard a crunching sound beneath my right foot and stopped to investigate. There was nothing on the floorboards beneath me, so I lifted my foot and peered down at the sole of my shoe—as I did so, a flash of color and metal caught my eye, and I realized that I had stepped on an enormous rainbow-colored hoop earring that was glinting in the sunlight, its hoop mangled against my shoe.

  It took a few moments for me to register where I’d seen one just like it before, but once I did, my hands began trembling as I removed the earring from the bottom of my shoe, dusted it off, and tucked it into my pocket for safekeeping. It looked like it was time to pay Pearl Dixon another visit.

  Chapter 10

  It wasn’t hard to track down Arthur, given that there were only two men by that name in the Magic Island directory—and one of them was the troll who provided security at The Islander Gazette. Hattie’s Arthur—or should I say Pearl’s Arthur?—worked as a broom insurance salesman in a strip mall right across the street from the employment office Glenn had brought me to on my second day on the island.

  Arthur greeted me with a shy smile as he tugged at the collar of his gray suit and wiped the sweat from his balding head with a handkerchief—it was an unseasonably warm autumn day, and as I fanned at my own face, I was sorry I’d chosen that afternoon to try unicycling around town for the first time. I cast jealous looks at the posters of broomsticks plastered all around Arthur’s office as I followed him inside, limping slightly thanks to an unfortunate collision with a centaur on a custom-designed four-pedal moped.

  Arthur settled himself behind his desk and I took the chair opposite him. The top of his desk was covered with miniature replica broomsticks in various makes and models, some with tiny figurines riding on top, and I again felt a twinge of envy as I peered down at a wizard in star-spangled robes sitting astride one, his long golden hair streaming behind him. Lady Winthrop hadn’t told us yet when we’d be starting flying lessons, and the three of us were eager to give brooms a try. For now, though, it seemed that transportation by magi-cabs and unicycles would have to do, along with that old standby—our own two feet.

  “So I take it you’re in the market for broom insurance?” Arthur asked, propping a pair of glasses on his nose and pushing several brochures across the desk toward me. “A wise decision, if you don’t mind me saying so, especially given that nasty little incident with the flock of dragons last summer.”

  He tapped his finger on the first brochure. “This is our pigeon policy, which is your basic, run-of-the-mill insurance. Covers things like wind damage, lightning strikes, and other weather-related events.” He slid a second brochure out from beneath the first. “But if you’re really looking to protect yourself against all eventualities, then I’d suggest taking a look at our sparrow policy—named after the coven, of course.”

  Arthur’s glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up with his thumb. “This covers any and all accidents, even from foreign objects. So when those witches from the east come soaring in on their flying carpets and clog up the skies, you’ll be totally protected.”

  He continued talking, but I tuned him out in favor of studying his face. His eyes looked sharp and well-rested, his lips were curled into a smile, and his voice was animated as he launched into a pitch about pricing plans and payment policies—both of which he informed me were more than fair given the daily threats to our broomsticks. In fact, Arthur looked nothing like a man who was in a panic over his missing girlfriend… especially in contrast to Glenn, who had been walking around the island like a zombie ever since Hattie disappeared.

  I vaguely registered the silence that had fallen over the room, but it wasn’t until Arthur cleared his throat politely that I shook myself out of my thoughts, realizing that I’d been staring at his mouth the entire time he was talking. He licked his dry lips and took a drink from the glass of water on his desk, then said, slowly, as if he’d asked this question before and I hadn’t noticed, “So what’ll it be?”

  “Well,” I said, lightly tracing my finger along the edge of the brochure in front of me, “all of the insurance plans seem great, but I actually don’t have a broomstick yet. I’m here—”

  “That’s quite all right!” Arthur said enthusiastically, looking at me with newfound respect. “The early dragon catches the goat, my dear—it’s always good to be prepared. In fact, I have just the thing…” He trailed off and began muttering to himself as he opened the top drawer of his desk and rooted through it eagerly. When he produced a brochure entitled “Fly Fearless: Insurance for Broomstick Beginners” and handed it to me, I set it down gently and took a breath.

  “I’m here to talk about Hattie Bumble.”

  Instantly, Arthur’s entire demeanor changed. His body seemed to sag as he curled his shoulders in and winced as though he was in pain. His glasses slipped down his nose again, but this time, he didn’t bother fixing them as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath and removed the handkerchief from his pocket once more. He honked into it once, twice, then blotted at his eyes, which were suddenly drooping with exhaustion. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, Hattie.”

  “I’m helping Kellen investigate her disappearance,” I said as he pinched his lips together and studied me. “Can you tell me a little bit about your relationship?”

  “Well,” Arthur said with a frown, “I’ve already told all of this to Kellen, but I’ll do anything to make sure Hattie’s found safe and sound, so I guess it bears repeating.”

  He paused and stared at a framed photo on his desk, and, leaning in to get a closer look, I saw for the first time that the image wa
s of Hattie, her head thrown back as she laughed, her navy-blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. She looked beautiful, and I felt a tug of sadness as I watched Arthur’s face, which was crumpling before my eyes. It seemed that Hattie’s disappearance had left behind more than one broken heart… unless Arthur was the best actor in town.

  “Hattie and I hadn’t been together for very long,” Arthur said in a quiet voice, “but what we didn’t have in time we made up for in compatibility. I knew her for a long time—I used to date her best friend, Pearl—and the more I saw her, the more enchanted I became. Once I ended things with Pearl, Hattie and I began dating. Our relationship was a dream come true, especially for a guy like myself who had given up on finding someone a century ago.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, dreading my next question but knowing it had to be asked. “I’ve spoken with Pearl,” I said, swallowing back my nerves, “and your two stories don’t quite line up. She says you and Hattie were seeing each other behind her back. She was quite devastated about it.” The image of Pearl weeping over her desk wasn’t one that I’d soon forget.

  Arthur’s eyes hardened. “Pearl was in denial, plain and simple. I tried ending things with her more times than I can shake a wand at, but she always showed up at my door, begging me for another chance—and this was well before Hattie and I started dating. Pearl’s a sweet woman, but we just weren’t right for each other. And when I finally managed to get the message across to her that we were over for good and I was seeing Hattie, she completely lost her marbles—showing up at my office, breaking into Hattie’s house in the middle of the night to try and catch us together.” He bowed his head. “It was a shame, really, that their friendship broke up over me. That was never my intention.”

  I tried to hold in my snort of disbelief. What did he think was going to happen to Pearl and Hattie’s friendship when he took up with both of them, even if the relationships didn’t overlap? There was no way around it—Hattie had broken girl code beyond repair. Of course, it was more than a little unsettling to hear that Pearl had taken to breaking into Hattie’s house, which might explain the earring I’d found on her front porch.

  Although… Pearl had been wearing the matching earring on the afternoon I went to speak with her, which wasn’t until several days after Hattie’s disappearance. That meant she’d paid a visit to Hattie’s house after she knew Hattie went missing, when there was no way she’d expect to find Arthur and Hattie there together. A shiver ran over my skin as I considered the implications of that.

  But still, I couldn’t leave any stone unturned in my investigation, so I turned my attention back to Arthur. Not bothering to hide my annoyance with him, I spat out, “What were you doing on the morning of Hattie’s disappearance?”

  He gave an uncomfortable shrug. “The same thing I told Kellen—I was here, at my office.” He swept his hand around the humble space. “As you can see, I work alone, so no one can vouch for me. But I know how I feel about Hattie, and I know I would never do anything to hurt her. If you’re looking for suspect number one,” he said, his eyes darkening, “look no further than Pearl Dixon. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted me back, and who knows? In her twisted mind, maybe she thought getting rid of Hattie would make that happen.”

  Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t, I thought as I thanked Arthur for his time and left his office, squinting as I stepped back outside into the sunshine. If what Arthur had told me about Pearl was true, then her behavior certainly went above and beyond what a normal person would do after a breakup, but I couldn’t discount the fact that Arthur had plenty of motivation for framing Pearl for the crime—if she was arrested for Hattie’s disappearance, then she’d be out of his life forever.

  As I began walking down the sidewalk, I stopped and turned back toward Arthur’s office, realizing that I’d forgotten to ask him whether he knew about Hattie’s relationship with Glenn, or even her marriage to Fletcher—two additional motives. But my gut told me that the answer was no on both counts, and so I kept walking. The truth would come out sooner or later—it always did—so what was the harm in letting Arthur enjoy the fantasy of his relationship with Hattie for just a little bit longer?

  Garnet and I had plans to go dress shopping for the coven’s dance, which was rapidly approaching, and so after my interview with Arthur I met her at the most exclusive boutique in town. I was still living on a fixed income, thanks to Sandrine, but due to Monty’s generosity and Garnet’s insistence that anybody who was anybody would be wearing a gown designed by a witch named Lana, I found myself standing outside The Sorceress’s Closet staring at the mannequins in the window.

  They looked positively lifelike, and within moments, I found out why, letting out a cry of surprise when the mannequin on the right waved to me and did a slow twirl to show off the train of the shimmering gold gown she was wearing.

  “Aren’t they gorgeous?” Garnet said, sneaking up behind me and causing me to jump again. “I can’t wait to try some of them on!” She practically dragged me into the boutique as I cast one last glance over my shoulder at the mannequin, who was now draping a matching shawl over her shoulders. The mannequin next to her, not to be outdone, was sashaying back and forth with her hand on her hip and batting her eyes flirtatiously at a group of teenage wizards ogling her from across the street.

  A statuesque woman dressed in gorgeous teal chiffon robes greeted us when we entered the boutique, her silver-white hair twisted into an elegant chignon. “Welcome to The Sorceress’s Closet,” she said, holding out a delicate hand for us to shake. “I’m Lana. All of the gowns you’ll see on display today are my creations, each one-of-a-kind.” She swept her arms out to indicate the rows of beautiful dresses on display, their colors, materials, and designs as varied as the seashells on Magic Island’s shores.

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” Garnet said eagerly, pumping the witch’s hand up and down with enthusiasm. “I’m a huge fan of your work. My friend Wren and I were hoping to buy gowns for the coven’s dance on Saturday.” She hesitated, suddenly looking worried. “I hope we aren’t too late—we only just found out about the dance last week. Is there enough time for a proper fitting?”

  Lana gave us a mysterious smile and beckoned us further into the shop, where a row of pedestals stood in front of a bare wall. I looked around for dressing rooms, or even a mirror, but found none. “Ladies, if you please,” Lana said, motioning for Garnet and me to climb separate pedestals. Once we did so, she stepped back and studied us with a critical eye, and I resisted the urge to tug at the plain blouse and pants I’d chosen to wear for my meeting with Arthur.

  “Your eyes are stunning,” Lana said, addressing Garnet, whose cheeks flushed pink with pleasure. “I have the perfect dress to complement them.”

  She stepped away from the pedestal, and though I expected her to pull a dress from one of the racks lining the boutique, she merely waved her wand and waited. Garnet let out a soft, sudden “oh” of surprise, and I turned to find that her street clothes had been replaced by a stunning emerald gown with a lace bodice, full skirt, and three-quarter-length sleeves that showed off her petite frame. The wall behind us transformed into a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and after Garnet swept around and took in her appearance, she turned to me, her face shining with excitement.

  “It looks wonderful,” I acknowledged, feeling, not for the first time, like a frump standing beside her. I was used to men gawking at Garnet wherever we went, which only made me more jealous of her striking green eyes, shiny auburn hair, and porcelain skin. My envy must have been obvious, for Lana gave me a soft smile.

  “You, my dear, are such a classic beauty that you could have your pick of any dress in the boutique and still look breathtaking. But I think I have one in particular that will make your date’s head spin.”

  I smiled shyly back at her, my heart hammering as I imagined Cole’s dark eyes on me, then remembered, with a jolt of embarrassment, that he’d turned me down. Not that Sebastian wasn’t
a worthy date—in fact, the night I’d asked him to accompany me to the dance, we’d stayed up for hours in his apartment, talking and laughing and having, frankly, a wonderful time. There was no reason why it wouldn’t be the same at the dance.

  Lana waved her wand, and I felt a slight tickling sensation as a formfitting red dress with an elegant illusion neckline, corset bodice, and tasteful slit in the leg wrapped itself around my body. Garnet raised her eyebrows in delight when she took in the dress, and I drew in a sharp breath when I saw myself in the mirror for the first time. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  As Garnet and I admired our reflections and discussed the dance, Lana bustled around us, jabbing her wand at our hemlines and waists until each dress fit like a glove. By the time she was finished, I was so excited that I practically threw the not-insignificant amount of gold coins I’d spent on the dress toward her, and when Garnet and I left the boutique a few minutes later, we were weighed down by long garment bags that we were careful not to drag on the sidewalk behind us as we headed back to our dorm.

  A few blocks from the boutique, I heard someone calling my name and turned, hitching the garment bag higher over my shoulder, to find Sebastian waving at me from across the street. He wasn’t alone; standing beside him was Saul, the vampire who worked the sports beat at The Islander Gazette and who had suggested—futilely—at the last newspaper meeting I had attended that Sandrine consider moving the paper to an all-digital platform.

  They crossed the street toward us, and Garnet even managed to give Sebastian a pleasant smile; even though she’d made her opinion about him known on more than one occasion, to my surprise, she hadn’t given me any grief when she’d found out he was my date for the coven dance. I had a hunch, though, that it had much less to do with Sebastian than it did with her own conflicted feelings over the Calvin/Hunter debacle—Garnet, of all people, needed to keep her mouth shut over other people’s dating decisions, at least at the present moment.