by Nova Nelson
But now? Nope.
Was it a coincidence? If only.
I considered my options, and wake up Ruby to tell her that her garden is dead did not come out on top. So I hurried down the street toward Medium Rare, knowing that whenever I returned, I would have this lovely conversation awaiting me.
However, things took an additional turn for the peculiar on my walk from Ruby’s house to Medium Rare. It hadn’t just been Ruby’s garden that had a hard night. The greenery on either side of the street was in a similar withered state. Because we lived so close to downtown, plant-life wasn’t particularly abundant among the stone and wood houses that towered over the streets, just a few shrubs here and there, some patches of grass—no tall trees and only a handful of gardens. But it was clear that nothing along my route had gotten off easy.
Then I passed a cross street and paused when my eyes caught sight of a hanging garden off a balcony that was healthy and flourishing. Why hadn’t it been affected like the rest?
My curiosity led the way and I approached the garden, looking for any signs of the same damage done to the other plants.
Nothing.
In fact, none of the plants on this street had been touched.
I walked back toward my route, but continued past the cross street, checking in the other direction, and it seemed those plants had been spared, too.
After a few more deviations from my route to work, there was only one conclusion I could draw: whatever had shriveled these plants had only functioned on a strict path.
And one that led from Ruby’s house to … where, exactly?
That small mystery was solved shortly, though, when, still following the path of dead plants, I reached Medium Rare and realized that the destruction didn’t end. It carried on just a little further … into the Deadwoods.
Oh boy. While it made sense, it was not a good sign.
And it was where my investigation stopped for the time being. The Deadwoods were nowhere I wanted to be in the full daylight, let alone the earliest light of dawn. The only time I’d ever set foot in there was by accident when I first arrived in Eastwind, where I was woken up by Grim’s wet kisses on my face. While it was Grim’s home for most of his life and now served as his favorite vacation spot, I wasn’t exactly looking for an excuse to step foot in there.
Besides, I had to work. And if I could use that as an excuse, I would.
Trouble had an admirable patience, and I was sure it would still be waiting for me after my shift.
Chapter Five
Mrs. and Mr. Flannery came in as soon as they’d dropped off their pups at Eastwind Primary School for the day. They were in especially high spirits, which was always nice; they could be a little unpredictable. I didn’t think it was just because they were werewolves—after all, I knew plenty of werewolves who kept an even keel—but many other Eastwinders chalked it up to that. Seemed a little unfair since everyone should be allowed to have days when they feel chatty and days when they want to be left the heck alone.
“The strangest thing, Nora, did you hear?” Mrs. Flannery said, as I set down two rare steaks with eggs over-easy in front of them.
“Depends on what it is.”
“Tammy May’s plants just up and died last night.”
I tried not to let the sudden tension in my jaw show. “Tammy May?”
“Yes, the fairy who lives over on Obsidian Lane. The one with the cherry tree outside.”
Oh yes, I remembered the dead cherry tree on my way to work. “What happened?” I asked.
Mr. Flannery laughed. “Dragon-shifter. I’d put my money on it. The thing looked toasted.”
“It did not,” Mrs. Flannery scolded. “It wasn’t scorched, it was just withered.” She leaned toward me. “Kensington just likes to start drama between neighbors.” She glared at her husband. “Anywho, I also spoke with Donovan Stringfellow this morning—you know him?”
“Yep.”
“And he said Blanche Bridgewater’s plants suffered the same fate. You could probably glimpse them after your shift, if you want. The Bridgewater estate isn’t terribly far from here.”
“I don’t like to gawk,” I said.
“Nora, dear,” Mrs. Flannery said, laughing, “you really should get over that aversion. Gawking is some of the only fun you’re allowed to have in this town nowadays, what with the High Council regulating everything magical until we might as well not have magic at all.”
“No politics before breakfast, Ginger,” said Mr. Flannery.
“True, true.” But then she leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know who I think is responsible?”
I swallowed hard. “Who?”
“Ted.”
I laughed. “No way. Why would Ted start killing plants?”
“Does he need a reason? He’s the town’s reaper.”
“First of all,” I said, trying not to become too annoyed on Ted’s behalf, “he doesn’t cause the death of anything. He cleans up after death. He’s corrected me on this more than once. It’s more a custodial position than anything. Also, why would he suddenly start killing people’s plants? He has no motive that I’m aware of.”
Mrs. Flannery bit back a smile and sat up straight in her booth, sharing an amused look with her husband. “Look at you, Nora. Always the detective. Looking for motive.” She brushed her hand down my arm. “Aren’t you just charming? We just adore you, don’t we, Kensington?”
Kensington nodded obligingly, but his eyes remained on his steak growing colder by the second while the conversation continued.
So, I excused myself, allowing Mr. Flannery to dig in, and made my way back behind the counter to set down the tray and start a fresh pot in one of the coffeemakers.
Only a moment later, Grim wandered in with Ted holding the door open for him.
Bummer.
Seeing Grim struggle with the front door each morning was a simple joy of mine. Sometimes he even tried to act busy, scratching behind his ear with his hind leg or sniffing the potted plants, until someone else arrived to open the door, then he’d push his way past.
“Morning, Nora!” Ted called.
I poured him a cup of coffee. “Morning, Ted. How’s it going?”
“Fantastic! Work’s been slow, so I’ve had plenty of time to explore my new passion.”
I indulged him. “Which is?”
“Building fireproof bird houses.”
“Oh? Lots of flammable birds out by your place?” Ted lived in the Deadwoods, which stretched on for miles, so it was only kind of a joke. For all I knew, there were flaming birds shrieking all over the place in there.
“Ha-ha! Nope. But I figure I can sell them at the market. Did you know that over a hundred years ago, the phoenix population in Eastwind was over five thousand? There were flocks of them! Beautiful things. Granted, every now and then they would accidentally set a roof on fire when one of them bit the dust, so, in a way, I understand why people would hunt them in droves, but my hope is that if I can create enough safe habitats for them, they might return.”
That was the sweetest and dumbest thing I’d heard all day. But more importantly, it was confirmation that standing up for Ted had been the right thing to do. He would never target random Eastwinders’ gardens. “Wow, good for you, Ted. I hope it works out.”
“Me too. Knock on wood.” He knocked three times, and before my brain could catch up with my reflexes, I grabbed his wrist, feeling the twin bones of his forearm acutely, and forced his hand to knock one more time. Then I let go as quickly as I could, because touching Ted felt like playing chicken with a semi-truck.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Huh? Yeah. Of course. Just, you know, it’s a witch thing.”
He pretended to buy that, took his hot cup of coffee, and headed to his corner booth.
Grim plopped down at my feet with a loud exhale like a deflating air mattress. “Do you want to talk about the fact that the walk here is lined by death and destruction, or should we just ignore it fo
r a while and you get me a plate of bacon?”
“You noticed?”
“Yes, I noticed. You know who else will notice before long?”
“I know, I know.”
“I don’t think you do. Once people realize that the path leads from the Deadwoods straight to where I live, will my life as a walking death omen become easier or harder, you think?
I rolled my eyes. “You’re really making this about you?”
“Obviously. What, are you upset because you wanted to make this about you?”
“Maybe. I’m the one that’s responsible for fixing it.”
“You say that, but somehow I know I’m going to be dragged into it, too.”
I sighed. “Okay, how many pieces for you to shut up about it until the end of my shift?”
“However much you have back there plus one.”
“Fine. No bacon for—”
“Six is a good start.”
I scribbled the order on my pad and dropped it off at the back for Anton. There was no way I was going to make it through this shift without being reminded again and again about the night before.
Why did I answer the door? It was such a stupid mistake. Maybe if I hadn’t, whatever entity had knocked would’ve disappeared and no one would be the wiser.
As Tanner chatted it up with Zoe Clementine and her magic tutor, Oliver Bridgewater, I went to take Ted’s order.
But once I got there, instead of asking what he wanted to eat (I already knew it would be a well-done steak and scrambled eggs, but he seemed to appreciate the option to change his order every morning, even though he never used it), I slid into the booth across from him. “Ted, I have to tell you, there’s a rumor that you killed a bunch of plants last night.”
His shock at me sitting down was only heightened by my statement. He stared at me silently through the black pits of his eyeholes. “Uh, no. I was building the fireproof birdhouses all night. Like I told you. Why would I want to kill a bunch of plants? I love plants. I have a garden of night veil bushes, bull nettles, wormwood, and white oleanders that I maintain on a daily basis. It’s quite lovely. You’re welcome to come pick from it if you ever need it for your magic.”
“I didn’t think you did it, either,” I said, ignoring his offer. “Do you know anyone, or anything, that might’ve, though?”
“Might’ve what?”
“Wilted a bunch of plants. Like a demon or, I don’t know, anything else from the Deadwoods?”
He cocked his hooded head. “I’m not an expert on it, but there are all kinds of things in the Deadwoods that would do that. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. And even if I did, I would probably only list one percent of the possibilities. By and large, the Deadwoods haven’t been properly cataloged by Eastwind’s cryptozoologists, toxicologists, or mythobiologists. The stigma around it keeps them away. I see new creatures I don’t have a name for on a daily basis out there, just on my evening strolls.”
The image of a grim reaper strolling solo through the Deadwoods provided a concise explanation of why Eastwind’s scientific community was reluctant to venture into the Deadwoods.
“Okay. Thanks, Ted. For what it’s worth, I knew it wasn’t you. I just thought you should know people were talking about the event and your name came up.”
“I appreciate it, but don’t worry about me, Nora. I’m used to being the scapegoat for every unexplained ill in Eastwind.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
I stood up just as he added, “Ever had any interest in building birdhouses? I could use an extra hand, if—”
I cringed apologetically. “Super swamped in here right now. Gotta go check on some tables. Thanks for the chat.”
“No, thank you.”
“Steak and scrambled eggs, right?”
“Heh. You know me so well, Nora.”
Yikes.
I scurried away.
“What was that about?” Tanner said, following me into the kitchen.
“Long story.” I stuck Ted’s order into the turnstile for Anton, who grunted. I wasn’t sure what that particular grunt meant, but as long as the ogre wasn’t swinging his metal burger flipper at me, I figured that was all right.
Tanner had planted himself in my way. “I got time.”
“Okay, fine. But in the manager’s office.”
A devilish smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. “If you insist.”
Once we were in the manager’s office, I pushed him away from me as he moved closer. “No time for that. Do you want me to fill you in or not? We have a full house out there and nobody’s waiting on them while we’re in here.”
His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “Oh, you actually have something to talk about? I thought it was just an excuse to … No. Right. What’s up?”
I caught him up to speed, and when I finished, he squinted at me like more useful information might be found in my pores. “That does seem strange. You said it was plants, right?”
“Yep.”
“Sounds like you might want to talk to a West Wind witch.”
“You mean like I’m doing right now?” Sometimes it seemed like Tanner completely forgot he was a witch.
“A better West Wind witch than me. I was a terrible student. I’m pretty sure they only let me graduate because they felt sorry for me and didn’t want to deal with me anymore.”
For some reason, it’d never occurred to me that Tanner had done the Mancer Academy thing. Obviously he had—all the witches that grew up here had to—but he never mentioned it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. “I had a lot going on at the time. I was working two jobs, taking classes—”
“No, it’s not that. I just never hear you talk about that part of your life. But, duh, of course you had your crazy teen and early twenties phrase.”
He shrugged a single shoulder. “They weren’t that crazy. I was too busy to do the social scene. Donovan was the only close friend I made and kept from school. The rest weren’t so big on how much time I spent around werewolves and shifters. Witches can be kind of snooty. And it was even worse only ten years ago.”
“So who should I talk to about my problem?”
“Have you met Oliver?”
“Oliver? Zoe’s tutor?”
“Yep. He graduated top in my class. Total nerd, but a good guy.”
“Not one of the snooty ones?”
“Maybe a little bit. But he was mostly too buried in books to do the social scene himself. I’m sure he could help point you in the right direction.”
Anton started grunting loudly from the kitchen and Tanner perked up. “Shoot. There’s gotta be plates ready to go.”
I hurried after him, and once the food was delivered and Anton was subdued, I took Tanner’s advice and approached Zoe and Oliver.
If I’d passed Oliver on the street, the first thing I shouted at him would not be “nerd.” And not just because I’m not a bully and shouting things at people you pass on the streets is lunatic behavior. More likely, and assuming I’d had a few drinks so that I forgot all my manners, I’d probably shout something more along the lines of, “Where are you headed, and can I come?”
I wasn’t sure if it was something in the water supply, but the men of Eastwind were, by and large, abnormally smoking hot. Even the nerds, apparently.
Don’t get me wrong, I was fully invested in seeing this Tanner thing through and, in my humble opinion, Tanner was the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous of them all, but being surrounded by so many beautiful men on a daily basis could really put a smile on a girl’s face. Or a guy’s face, depending.
Bottom line, if Zoe wasn’t actively pursuing this tutor of hers, she and I needed to have a long talk.
Tanner was just a few steps behind me after he’d dropped off two pieces of pie for the Flannerys.
“Hey, Nora!” Zoe said. “I wanted to say hi earlier, but you’re so busy. I’m glad you came by, though. Have you met Oli?”
“Not yet,
though I’ve heard all about him.” I offered my hand. “Nora Ashcroft.”
“Oliver Bridgewater. Nice to meet you.”
“He’s helping me study for my witch’s certification. I had it in Avalon, of course, but the laws here are so different, I have to pass a new exam,” Zoe said cheerfully.
Tanner jumped in. “Nora has a question I thought you might be able to help with, Oliver.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s just hypothetical,” I said quickly. “I’ve just been hearing gossip, and you know how unreliable that is, but then it got me thinking, and I talked with Ted and he didn’t know, so I asked Tanner and he said you would be the one to speak with. You know, just so I can settle this hypothetical question in my mind.”
Oliver cocked his head to the side expectantly. “And that question is?”
“Right. Um, say you’re just sitting at home, and you hear a knock on your front door. Three knocks.”
His eyes narrowed and he leaned slightly forward. “Uh-huh?”
“And then you open the door and, well, things sort of get blown everywhere. And the hot water you were boiling for tea disappears. And then the next day some of the plants around town have randomly withered and died. Would you say those two things are probably related, or could they be totally a coincidence? And if they’re related, what would you say, hypothetically, caused all of it?”
Oliver didn’t reply right away. I saw his chest rise and fall as he took a few steadying breaths. “I can’t say right off the top of my head, but were this ever-so-hypothetical situation to arise, I would immediately report it to the Coven.”
“Report it to the Coven?” I asked. “Like how?”
“You’re new in Eastwind like Zoe, right?”
“Much newer than her, but yes.”
“Then you could probably just tell one of your recertification instructors and they could report it for you.”
I grimaced. “So, what if I don’t have any instructors? Hypothetically. Who would I report it to then?”