Magic & Malice

by Annabel Chase

  Great Goddess of the Moon. “Marley, I wasn’t even there when he died. My magic couldn’t have saved him.”

  “And that would be an awful lot of responsibility, wouldn’t it?” Rhys asked. “When things do go wrong…If those you love do get hurt, then would you blame yourself, even when events are out of your control?”

  Marley stared into her lap. “Maybe.”

  “How does that make you feel?” he asked.

  Marley laughed. “Anxious.” She glanced at me. “I guess you’re right, as always.”

  “It’s okay, Marley. I don’t need to be right,” I said.

  Marley fixed her gaze on me. “Don’t you?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Isn’t that why you can’t decide whether to go all in with the sheriff?” she asked. “That you might be wrong. That maybe you should’ve chosen Alec.”

  My stomach tightened. “This is your therapy session, Marley, not mine.”

  “You’re very astute for your age, aren’t you?” Rhys asked her.

  “Yes,” Marley said.

  “That combination of intellectual and emotional intelligence at a young age…” He whistled. “It can be torture on an undeveloped brain.”

  “Can you help her?” I asked. “If there really is some kind of blockage, can you…plumb it?”

  He laughed. “Rhys Meridien, emotional plumber. I like it.” He extended his hands to Marley. “Would you mind joining hands for a moment, Marley? This is where the traditional druid healing practices come into play.”

  Marley held his hands. I observed silently as Rhys closed his eyes and concentrated.

  “It feels like little sparks of electricity,” Marley said. She didn’t seem uncomfortable.

  “I’m trying to help open you up, if that is, indeed, the problem,” Rhys said. He opened his eyes and released her hands.

  “What did you feel?” I asked.

  Rhys placed his hands on his thighs. “This young woman carries an awful lot inside that small body,” he replied.

  “An awful lot of magic?” Marley asked hopefully.

  “I can’t be sure,” Rhys said. “I’m sorry. Let’s meet again soon, and see if we can’t work toward a breakthrough.”

  “But what if there’s nothing to break through?” I asked.

  He gave me a knowing look. “I’m not only talking about magic, Miss Rose. Your daughter has a lot of emotions to manage. Either way, I think she’ll benefit from our conversations.”

  “I’d like to try, Mom,” Marley said. “I know you don’t want to give me false hope, but that’s not how I see it. Like Mr. Meridien said, it’s an opportunity to work through all these complex emotions.”

  Well, if Marley wanted to try, then I wasn’t going to stand in her way. “Okay, Mr. Meridien. I guess we’ll see you next time.”

  He eyed me closely. “You should think about making an appointment for yourself, too, Miss Rose. I don’t even have to hold your hands to sense your complex emotions.”

  I bristled. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Rhys gave me a patient smile. “Your choice, but you know where to find me if you ever change your mind.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I sailed into the Caffeinated Cauldron, intending to dart in and out. I’d almost made it to the exit when the sight of a certain nymph at a table by the window stopped me in my tracks.

  “Holly?” I said.

  The nymph whipped around and I immediately noticed the mascara streaks under her eyes. “Ember.” She fished a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the makeup. “Sorry, I sneezed and now my makeup is a mess.”

  I pretended to buy her story. “Everything good with you?”

  “Getting there,” she said. “I had a rough patch where I didn’t feel like myself, but I’m back to normal now. Mostly.”

  “Rough in what way?” I asked. Although I didn’t want to pry, it felt rude not to ask a follow-up question.

  She stuffed the tissue back in her pocket. “Just off. You know how it is. I had a moody spell, which is so unlike me. I’m always upbeat.”

  I didn’t dare ask about Alec’s place in all this. It was none of my business. None. At. All. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Are you busy? Do you want to sit down and have coffee with me?” She held up her cup.

  My stomach twisted. Why did she have to be so nice? “I would love to, but I’m jetting in and out. I’m heading over to interview one of Hattie Rollins-Mahoney’s relatives.”

  Her face crumpled. “Oh, that poor morgen. Alec told me about her. Two hundred years old and murdered by a member of her own family? How awful.”

  “We don’t know yet whether it was a relative,” I said. “There’s at least one member of staff on the suspect list as well.”

  Holly squeezed my arm. “It must be so traumatic, covering stories like this one. You really are forced to see the worst in others.”

  “The article was meant to be all about Hattie’s party for the society section,” I said. “I didn’t intend to cover a murder.”

  “Alec said you have a way of getting to the bottom of things.” She cocked her head, thinking. “Pretty sure the word he used was tenacious.” She giggled in that girlish way she had. “He said you’re like a vampire with her fangs in a good vein.”

  “What else does he say?” The question slipped out and I wished I could snatch it back. What did it matter what Alec told his girlfriend about me?

  Holly twisted a tendril around her finger. “He thinks you have the capacity to be an excellent reporter and that you’re a better writer than he expected, given your background.”

  “Wow, that’s a pretty big compliment coming from him,” I said. “Would be nice to hear that from him directly once in a blood moon.”

  “I know how you feel,” Holly said. “He isn’t very forthcoming with compliments.” She chewed her lip. “Or any sort of thoughts, feelings, or emotions.” She laughed. “Oh, that sounds terrible. Alec is amazing.”

  “He’s something,” I said vaguely.

  “He talks about you a lot, actually. A more insecure girl might even be jealous.” In an unexpected move, she reached out and pinched my cheek. “But I know you and the sheriff are hot and heavy. That werewolf is devoted to you. I wish Alec looked at me the way Sheriff Nash looks at you.”

  My pulse quickened. “Really?”

  “Honey, I would give both boobs for that kind of pure adoration.” She paused. “Okay, maybe not the whole boobs. A few cups.”

  I couldn’t resist a smile. As much as I wanted to dislike her, Holly had an endearing quality that appealed to me.

  “Maybe we could meet for coffee later this week?” she suggested. Her expression of hope made me want to pour the hot latte all over my head. I didn’t deserve her friendship. Not when part of me secretly rooted for her relationship to fail. I was a horrible person. Here I had the sheriff’s ‘adoration,’ and yet I still yearned for Alec’s attention. How greedy could one woman be? Complex emotions, indeed, Mr. Meridien.

  “I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.”

  She flashed a grateful smile. “Terrific. Good luck with your article.”

  I exited the coffee shop and drove to the Rollins-Mahoney estate, guzzling down my latte on the way. I drove past the main house to the back border of the property where Ella’s house was nestled in a clearing. While it wasn’t as quaint as Rose Cottage, the gingerbread-style house certainly had charm and character. I noticed Ella outside pruning some of the bushes in the front. Okay, clearly this was where our similarities deviated. Plants and flowers in my care had basically signed their death warrants.

  I stepped out of the car and smiled. “Good morning, Ella.”

  “Oh, hello,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors. I wouldn’t have put on my grubby clothes.”

  Her idea of grubby clothes was a pretty floral blouse and neatly pressed shorts. The morgen was far more styli
sh than I was.

  “I thought the estate had a gardener,” I said. With all the acreage here, it seemed impossible not to.

  “We do, but Aunt Hattie would never let him include my plot in his tasks,” Ella said. “She wanted me to be solely responsible for its upkeep.”

  I surveyed the plot surrounding the house. There were fruit trees, bushes, and flowerbeds, not to mention the grass itself. “That’s a lot of work, even if you enjoy it.”

  “I had to prove myself, you see,” Ella said. She removed her bright pink gardening gloves and set them on a tree stump. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?”

  “I don’t want to interrupt your work,” I said. “I only wanted to ask a few questions for the article I’m writing about Hattie.”

  “I’m surprised they’ve decided to run it anyway,” Ella said. “The society articles are generally upbeat. This one doesn’t end very well.”

  I declined to tell her the article was now focused on the murder. I wanted her to feel free to say whatever was on her mind. “I could help you here. We can talk while we”—I glanced around—“do whatever it is you’re doing.”

  Her expression brightened. It seemed as though she wasn’t offered help very often. “Let me grab you another pair of pruning shears,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  It would be like handing scissors to a pigeon. She was so enthusiastic, though, that I didn’t want to disappoint her. I’d handle those shears like a pro—or at least I’d pretend to.

  “Apologies in advance,” I whispered to the greenery around me.

  “Here you go.” Ella hurried back and handed me a purple pair of shears. She loved her bright colors.

  “Thanks.” I watched how Ella positioned hers before I made a move. No need to flaunt my ignorance. “So how was the reading of the will? That happened recently, didn’t it?” Although I knew the contents of the will, I wanted to hear Ella’s version of events.

  She scowled and clipped with extra intensity. “Yes, but the whole thing is ridiculous. No distributions can be made until they’ve apprehended the murderer.”

  I cast her a sidelong glance. “Aren’t you interested in having your aunt’s murderer brought to justice? I would think that’s a priority.”

  Her cheeks grew flushed. “Of course. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I was promised the deed to the main house. That’s part of proving myself with the care of this smaller house. I’ve earned it.”

  “What about her grandchildren?” I asked. Would her story match Avonne’s?

  Her lips formed a straight line. “They weren’t interested in the house. They’ll get plenty of money. The house was promised to me.”

  “And is that what the will said?” I asked.

  “Yes, except I can’t take possession until this whole mess is resolved.” She scaled back the rapidity of her clipping. “I’m not even convinced she was murdered.”

  I dropped the shears to my side. “There was a potion found in her system that she wasn’t taking. An accelerant that caused her to have a heart attack. The autopsy report suggests it was mixed in with her mead. How is that not murder?”

  Ella lowered her gaze. “I don’t know. I just can’t see what anyone would have to gain at this point by murdering her. She would’ve only lasted a couple more years. What was the rush?”

  “That’s the point of the investigation,” I said. “Maybe someone needed their share of the money sooner rather than later. Maybe your aunt pushed someone too far with he acerbic personality.”

  Ella snorted. “In that case, we’d all be responsible for her death.”

  “Why did she promise you the house specifically?” I asked.

  Ella sighed. “Because the house should have gone to my grandfather, her older brother. He died before their parents, though, so the house went to Aunt Hattie. I think she’s always felt guilty over that, though she’d never admit it. So this was her way of setting things right in the family.”

  “But her grandchildren have children,” I said. “What if you don’t leave any heirs? What will happen to the house?”

  Ella straightened. “I have every intention of marrying and having children. I’m still young and, as Aunt Hattie proved, morgens can live long lives.”

  “Are you dating anyone now?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I was always afraid of courting Aunt Hattie’s disapproval and getting written out of the will, so I avoided men. Now that she’s passed, though, I plan to get out there. My clock’s been ticking for years.”

  I felt a pang of sympathy for Ella. Like Fitz, she feared her aunt’s disapproval so much that she was willing to put her entire life on hold. That would never have been me. No house was worth the price. Then again, maybe Ella got tired of waiting and living a life alone. Maybe she wanted to hurry along her aunt’s demise.

  “I know a good matchmaker in town, if you’re interested,” I said. “Artemis Haverford.”

  Ella broke into an enthusiastic smile. “Yes, I’ve heard she’s very good. I was planning to try the old-fashioned way first.”

  “And what’s that?”

  She laughed. “Bars.”

  “Steer clear of my cousin, Florian, if you meet him,” I said. “He’s not the settling-down type.”

  “So he’s like Fitzgerald,” Ella said.

  “Sort of. What’s your impression of Sampson?” I asked. “He’s the only one with a key to the mead cellar aside from Hattie. Do you think he’s capable of killing your aunt? I can’t imagine it was an easy job, being her servant.”

  Ella moved to a different section and resumed pruning. “Sampson is the sweetest man on the planet. He has a no-kill policy for insects, so I can’t believe he wouldn’t extend that policy to paranormals.”

  “You feel like you know him well?” I asked.

  “We spend a lot of time together,” she said. “In fact, we had tea together the day before the party.”

  “Here?” I didn’t think Hattie would take kindly to the servants sitting down to tea with family members in the main house.

  “We were supposed to meet here like we usually do,” Ella said. “I had an issue with my stove, though, so I couldn’t make the tea. We ended up in the south garden instead and Mrs. Ballywick made the tea for us. Aunt Hattie never ventured out there. It was too far from the main house.”

  “Is the south garden that far?” I asked.

  “Not for anyone else,” Ella replied. “Aunt Hattie tended to stick to the inside of the house is all. The fact that she was outside on her birthday was a big deal.”

  So Ella could have taken the key to the mead cellar from Sampson and slipped it back later without him realizing it. That meant she had motive, access, and opportunity.

  “What did you and Sampson talk about over tea?” I asked.

  “The party, of course.” Ella appeared thoughtful. “My dating prospects. Sampson is very sweet. He wants to vet any potential suitors.”

  I smiled to myself. Sampson was a little more fatherly toward Ella than Simon was toward me, probably the result of our different personalities.

  “And, as far as you know, Sampson didn’t have issues with Hattie?” I asked. “No recent disagreements?”

  “Not that I know of,” Ella said. “Like I said, Sampson is a sweetheart. I can’t imagine him harming anyone.” With those words, she lopped the head off a flower with her shears.

  “Let me know if you’re interested in meeting with Artemis and I can arrange an introduction,” I said. Assuming you’re not a murderer.

  “I’ll consider it, thanks.” She wiped her brow with her sleeve. “Right now, I’d like to focus on maintaining my house and garden until it’s time to move into the main house.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the charming little house. “What will you do with this place?”

  “Rent it out for extra income, I think,” she said. “It’ll be part of the estate, so I’ll have the freedom to do whatever I want with it.” She smil
ed as she looked at the house. “Wow. Freedom to do whatever I want. I never thought I’d be able to say those words.” Her expression clouded over. “I don’t want to act like I’ve been some hostage under Aunt Hattie’s thumb. It wasn’t like that. She never explicitly told me what I could and couldn’t do.”

  I gave her a sympathetic look. “You felt like you couldn’t live your life to its fullest, Ella. Whether she explicitly set rules or not, it sounds like she had control over important aspects of your life.”

  Ella offered a small smile. “Not anymore.”

  No, not anymore.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I thought we were going to tea,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “This is the road to Haverford House.”

  “We are going to tea,” I said.

  My aunt sniffed. “You and Marley seem perfectly capable of visiting Artemis Haverford without any involvement from me.”

  We rolled down the long driveway of Haverford House. Marley and I had made an appointment with the matchmaker without telling Aunt Hyacinth what we were up to, mostly because we knew she’d reject the idea.

  “This isn’t a social call,” I replied. “We’re going for you.”

  My aunt recoiled. “For me? Whatever do you mean?”

  “It’s time to set the matchmaking wheels in motion,” I said.

  My aunt locked the car door. “Don’t be absurd. I don’t do matchmaking. I’m a Rose.”

  “Aunt Hyacinth, you should be spending time with someone you care about,” Marley said. “Someone you can share your days with.”

  “I share my days with my family,” she said. “I don’t need more than that.”

  “Maybe if you had someone special, you’d be less focused on everyone else’s choices,” I said.

  My aunt fixed me with a thousand yard stare. “You really don’t mince words, do you?”

  I shrugged. “Life’s too short.”

  She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know that Artemis is the right matchmaker for me. She’s so….”