by Nova Nelson
Tanner shrugged defensively. “I don’t think it’s just me they wait for, but yeah, they fill me in when I pass.”
I tried to wrap my mind around the organized gossip channels of this town. Didn’t these people have anything better to do? “And how do they know?”
“Owls, Nora. Lots and lots of owls. But also Lance’s brother, Lot Flufferbum, is the assistant chief editor at The Eastwind Watch, so he gets the scoop right when it happens. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has spies around the city with the dirt he digs up, but that’s another story entirely.”
“One I’d like to hear after the one about Mr. and Mrs. Flufferbum naming their sons Lance and Lot. But okay.” I shook my head to clear it. “What were we talking about?”
“Forrest. The drought at his farm.”
“Right, right. That’s not good.” Tanner didn’t realize, of course, that it was not good for a few reasons.
Predominantly, it meant I’d be seeing Donovan again after my shift. And we would be headed to the Deadwoods.
“Definitely not good,” he replied. “Forrest is responsible for half of the nightshades in Eastwind. But also, it means there could be another attack.”
“At least it’s limited to plants,” I said, trying to find the silver lining because, yes, I still felt slightly responsible for this happening, even though I knew I was myself a victim here.
“This town functions around plants, Nora. It’s a town run by witches. Witches need plants. Without plants, witches get cranky.”
“They also get cranky when they’re subjected to doom and gloom,” I said, raising my eyebrows at him.
“What, me? I’m never doom and gloom.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine, you’re right. I forgot who I was talking to. Tanner Culpepper is never doom and gloom. Or maybe you’ve been spending a little too much time around Grim.”
“Or you,” he said quickly.
I shrugged. “Fair enough. I need to freshen up before the breakfast rush hits. Would you mind getting that last table for me?”
His eyes went wide. “Are you trying to order me around, Nora Ashcroft?”
“Why not? I own half this place. Since you’re the manager, technically that makes me your boss.”
He laughed. “Not how that works, but sure. You do what you gotta do.”
I strolled into the kitchen until I was out of Tanner’s sight, then I jogged to the manager’s office, jotted a note to Donovan that another attack had occurred and snuck out back to send it by owl.
By three p.m., with a half hour left in my shift, my nerves were getting the best of me. I knew I had to go into the Deadwoods to find what was there and hopefully stop it, but every time I gazed up from behind the counter, stared out the window, and found myself facing the edge of the forest, my stomach did a somersault.
I’d been in the Deadwoods only one time—back when I first arrived in Eastwind. I’d woken up there, disoriented after crossing over, and was totally unaware of the danger I was in, more interested in, first, following after the big, black dog who’d awoken me and, second, finding a telephone to call for a ride back to Austin.
Four and a half months later, and I still hadn’t found a telephone, but since that day, I’d learned enough about the Deadwoods to know how lucky I’d been that I ever made it out. And now I was going to waltz right back in there. On purpose. Looking for trouble.
Tanner wasn’t wrong about me. I was a magnet for trouble. And it was a magnet for me. I decided not to hold it against him that he’d made comments in a similar vein to his best friend.
Going over my possible suspects, yet again, was as unhelpful as it had been the first thirty-nine times. It was a not-seeing-the-forest-for-the-trees thing, I think, just like when I’d speak with the ghost of a murdered Eastwinder and their list of suspects was usually far from exhaustive. Oftentimes, the ones who wished the most harm on a person were especially talented at keeping that secret wish hidden from the intended victim.
My suspect list was weak, to be sure, and contingent upon the assumption that whoever had conjured the thing that knocked on Ruby’s front door had both sent it there intentionally and was targeting me, rather than Ruby or Grim or Clifford. Those were some big assumptions, though. For one, Grim’s tendency to mark his territory where he wasn’t supposed to could easily earn him a few enemies. While he was my familiar, I certainly didn’t keep track of him all the time, and his routine of showing up at Medium Rare hours after the start of my shift each day bought him a daily window of opportunity to stir up all kinds of trouble.
While I wasn’t aware of any enemies Ruby might have, she’d certainly been in Eastwind long enough to earn some. From what I could tell, she wasn’t besties with the Coven, but would they send an evil entity after her? That seemed unlikely, seeing as how obsessed they were with rules and order.
Perhaps only to make matters easier on myself, I’d ruled out Clifford as the intended target because he didn’t do much of anything, and if I were going to eliminate one of us from the mix, he was the obvious choice.
That left me. Who were my enemies? Tandy Erixon and Frankie Jericho, obviously, since I’d played the lead role in getting each arrested for murder. But they were locked away in Ironhelm Penitentiary now, and from what I’d learned of the place, the structure had been fortified with layers and layers of powerful enchantments preventing any of the inmates from using magic. Presumably that included conjuring a demonic entity.
Could Tandy and Frankie have loved ones on the outside seeking revenge against me? It was entirely possible. I had never spoken to Frankie’s husband, Heath Jericho. On the one hand, it had been his beloved sister who was murdered. On the other hand, his wife was now in prison for life, thanks to me. Whose side did he take in the matter? I had no clue.
Then there were the petty reasons for sending an entity after someone. Perhaps Seamus Shaw was upset that I rebuked him at Sheehan’s and wanted to get even. I wasn’t sure what level of magic leprechauns possessed, but he could have just as easily hired someone to conduct the conjuring. From what I heard, he came from money. Or maybe Sebastian Malavic wanted to send me a message to put me in my place. I wasn’t sure why a vampire would need to bring something scarier than himself into the equation, but hey, I wasn’t sure about a lot of things.
My list of suspects went on like that, one unlikely candidate after the next, each built on the two major assumptions that the attack was targeted and I was the intended target.
I had to drop it or I would give myself a migraine going in the same fruitless circle again and again. Instead, it made sense to focus on finding a solution to the problem at hand, and maybe in the process I would also stumble upon who was behind it.
In short, I needed to stop framing it as a whodunnit and start viewing it as a how-do-I-undo-it?
“You’re here early,” I said as Jane appeared from the back, coming to stand by me behind the counter as I started in on some of my side work after the tail end of the lunch rush. It wasn’t until she was right next to me that I noticed the bags under her eyes. “Rough night?”
Slowly, she turned her head toward me, and it was clear I’d asked the wrong question. “I hope to the almighty goddess that you never have to spend a night with an angry and confused werebear.”
“Um. Yeah, me too. What happened?”
She shook her head, pressing her palms into her eye sockets. “Looks like drought hit Whirligig’s Garden Center late last night. Thaddeus is trying to keep it quiet so it doesn’t hurt business, but Ansel is furious. He near about lost an eye while potting a belligerent totem pole cactus a few weeks back, and now the thing’s two inches from death’s doorstep and he’s not sure it’ll recover.”
I swallowed hard. “The cacti were affected?”
She removed her hands from her eyes and turned to lean her side against the counter so she faced me head on. “Yeah, Nora. Strange, isn’t it?” The controlled tone of her voice indicated that she did not find it
all that strange. Ansel must have done what he said he would and told her about my visit two days before. “It was almost like the water was sucked right out of them.”
“Fangs and claws,” I cursed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry?” she said, one of her dark brows levitating high above her light-brown eyes. “You didn’t kill the cactus, right? Just like you didn’t also drink half the water in Glacier Lake.”
“Glacier Lake?” I asked. “Up on Fluke Mountain?”
She nodded slowly as a yawn overtook her. “Yep. Darius is losing it, too.”
“Wait, who’s Darius again?”
“Darius Pine. The love of Ansel’s life. Their bromance would make me jealous, except I’d feel smothered if Ansel ever looked at me the way he does Darius. Maybe it’s just a werebear thing. Darius is head of Ansel’s clan, actually, and owns the cabins and lumberyard up on Fluke Mountain. He’s also the one I was going to set you up with until I realized you were unavailable.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
Her hand shot into the air between us. “Save it. I don’t have the patience for lies this morning.”
“I’m sorry, Jane. If it makes you feel any better, I’m doing what I can to get the drought issue sorted. Donovan and I are—”
“Donovan?” She chuckled. “You managed to rope Mr. Not My Problem into this? Wow, Nora, I’m impressed. Especially with the way he feels about you.” She stood up straight and inhaled through her nose. On the exhale, she said, “Okay,” then nodded. “I see you mean business getting this figured out, so I’ll save all the grief I was going to give you for something else that you inevitably stir up.”
“You’re so merciful,” I grumbled.
“Never been called that before.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Enjoy your side work. I’m going to chug a pot of coffee in the back.” I thought she was kidding until she grabbed a full pot from the cradle on the counter next to me and took it with her into the kitchen.
I put in an order to-go—two sunrise burgers and loaded fries—so that it would be ready by the time my shift was over. I figured if I was going to drag Donovan into the Deadwoods with me, endangering his life or whatnot, I ought to bring him something to eat first.
And maybe I was hoping to butter him up. After all, he was the witch who would have my back in this, and the more incentive I could provide for him to do a bang-up job of it, the better.
It didn’t occur to me until I saw him enter, sweat stains under his arms visible from yards away, that Deputy Stu Manchester hadn’t made it in for breakfast this morning. I prided myself on keeping tabs of the regulars, but my mind had been somewhere else all morning (specifically, standing at the edge of a dark tunnel of trees), and I’d forgotten to double-check my mental manifest. I hurried to get the coffee and pie served up for him before he made it to the countertop.
Man, he looked rough this afternoon. The odds were good that he’d been awake nearly twenty-four hours, if he was coming in at this time. Something had held him over, and I was almost afraid to ask.
The pie and coffee were there for him as he slid onto the stool, and an ice water followed shortly after.
“You gonna make it today, Deputy?” I asked.
“It’d be a miracle if I did, Ms. Ashcroft.” He downed the entire glass of water and proceeded to chew the ice before I came over with a pitcher to refill. “Thank you. Never been thirstier after a day on the job.”
“It’s hot out there, that’s for sure.”
He waved me off and stuck the first bite of cherry pie into his mouth. “Nah, not the heat. The drought! Plus the fighting. Plus the … well, the everything.”
Oh boy.
“This sounds suspiciously like something you might have played a part in,” said Grim from the spot below the counter where he’d taken up residence a few hours before.
“We don’t know that.”
“I’d put money on it, if I had some. Would you put money on it?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Let’s put money on it.”
“Um, not right now. You just said you don’t have money anyway.”
“Doesn’t matter if I have money or not. You’ll be the one paying up. Guarantee it.”
“No deal.”
“Want to talk about it?” I asked Deputy Manchester. “You know I’m good for it.”
He looked up at me, head still tilted downward toward his pie, then exhaled. “Actually, yes. I could use an ear.”
I smiled and nodded for him to go ahead.
He sighed, sat up straight, adjusting his duty belt, and stared vaguely at the ceiling. “Where do I begin? Okay, how about the fact that if I see another leprechaun today, I’m going to quit this job once and for all, and Eastwind can learn to clean up its own messes?”
After a quick scan of the restaurant to make sure we didn’t have any leprechauns present, which we did not, I asked, “What happened with the leprechauns?”
“For fang’s sake, what didn’t happen with the leprechauns is the easier question to answer.” He grabbed a napkin and rubbed it over his forehead, soaking up sweat and grime. “Erin Park is a complete disaster. First, I get word that all the booze at Sheehan’s pub is gone—of course they’d notice that first.”
“Huh,” said Grim. “Sounds a lot like what happened with Ruby’s tea.”
I ignored him.
Stu continued venting. “I’m already trying to single-handedly prevent that entire neighborhood from rioting once word gets around, which takes, oh, half an hour, then an emergency owl swoops in to inform me that Rainbow Falls has slowed to a trickle!”
“Oh boy,” Grim said quickly.
“What? Why ‘oh boy’?”
“You don’t know about Rainbow Falls?”
“No. Should I? I’m not a leprechaun. I almost never go over to Erin Park.”
“Well,” said Stu, “you can imagine the worst-case scenario there.”
“Totally,” I lied. “And did it come to pass?”
His head swiveled quickly, checking his surroundings before he leaned over the counter. I leaned over, too, since he obviously wanted the next bit to remain between us. “Yes.” He stared at me wide-eyed, and I suspected I was supposed to be following along.
“Rainbow Falls protects the town’s gold reserves,” Grim supplied in uncharacteristically helpful fashion. “They’re stored in a cave behind it. No one can get past the falls except the Guardian … unless the falls dry up, then—
“Oh, holy shifter.”
“The gold is gone?” I spat. Cringing, I looked around. Only Ted seemed to be paying attention to me, but that was sort of a given. “Sorry,” I whispered.
“It’s true.” He nodded, his shoulders slumped, and he shoved nearly half the pie into his mouth in a single heaping forkful.
“The gold is gone,” I repeated dumbly.
Through a stuffed mouth, he replied, “Well, not gone. I mean, it’s somewhere. Probably. Assuming none of you lot vanished it with a flick of your wand. Don’t know why anyone in their right mind would do that, but there are plenty of witches not in their right mind. I’m gonna need another piece of pie,” he added.
Now that he’d gotten the worst bit of news off his chest, he appeared much less burdened, sitting up straight, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. “Yep,” he said around another mouthful of cherries and crust, “this town will burn itself to the ground when word gets out in approximately twenty-three minutes and eighteen seconds.” He sucked in coffee and mashed it around with the pie. “Oh, and on top of it all, Whirligig’s Garden Center and Forrest Uisce’s farm suffered losses that they’re attributing to magic. And you know what?” He cackled. “I don’t even have time to care! Because the leprechauns! With their pointy shoes and thinly veiled alcoholism and death threats! Ha! This town is going to fold in on itself in a matter of days, and then who’s going to be in support of budget cuts to keep from hiring more deputies? Not even Mayor Espe
ria is going to raise a stink about it now!” He chugged his coffee, wincing against the heat, no doubt, before raising the mug up to me. “Keep it coming.”
“Special delivery,” said Tanner from behind me. He carried two to-go boxes with a folded and sealed letter on top. “Somebody’s hungry,” he said, handing over the boxes.
I smiled but didn’t reply.
“And this letter just came for you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Could you get Deputy Manchester a refill while I see what this is about?”
“Of course.” He turned to Deputy Manchester. “You’re in awfully late in the day, Stu.”
I cleared my throat until Tanner looked, then I shook my head quickly, mouthing, Don’t ask.
“I, uh, let me get you that coffee.” Tanner scooted away and I pulled open the sealed letter. It just said, Fine. Come over. Bring food. Don’t tell T.
I crumpled it up and stuck it in my apron just as Tanner snuck up behind me. “Anything good?” he said playfully.
“Nah, nothing. Just Ruby. She wanted to know if I would stop by the butcher’s on the way back.”
“Ah, is that burger for her then?”
“Nope.”
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “O-kay. Not feeling talkative. Fair enough. It’s been a crazy shift. Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight and we can try the flavor enhancer potion again. This time without letting Monster screw it up with one of her hairballs. Not looking to switch bodies with Grim again.”
I wasn’t in a hurry for a repeat, either. Hearing Grim’s words come from Tanner’s mouth was certified nightmare material. Almost turned me off of potion practice for good. “I’d love to. But, um, I have plans tonight.” I grimaced apologetically. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Who do you have plans with?” he asked, the words tumbling headfirst from him.
“Donovan.” I cringed my apology.
Tanner’s mouth popped open, and his eyebrows pinched together. “Oh. Okay.” He paused. “Can I come?”
Oof. “Uh, we were just going to address the issue of”—Stu didn’t seem to be listening, but no point risking it—“you know, since it seems like it wasn’t a one-time thing.” My mind searched for a good excuse until it landed on a fairly strong one, if I do say so myself. I moved closer to him and set my hands on his hips just below the level of the countertop. Sliding my palms just a little farther toward the back, I murmured, “I won’t be there long, and I’m afraid if you come, I’ll be too distracted and we won’t make any progress.”