And was stopped cold by six words.
“Wholly owned subsidiary of Kensington Industries?” I read aloud to myself in disbelief. “Wholly. Owned. Subsidiary . . . holy crud.” I needed to talk to Max and Britt now. Also, I needed to drive home. Home was the safest place to a Green witch. Our magic even worked better there. I would be looking up a barricade spell as soon as I got in. “Home please, Trixie,” I said as calmly as I could.
“You know it, girl.”
But Trixie turned and drove in the opposite direction from Filbert Road.
Chapter 18
“I said home, Trixie, not work,” I repeated, confused.
“You know it, girl.”
Her voice in my head sounded tinny and strained.
“Um, Trixie . . . I don’t know how to say this, but I think your internal compass is broken. Are you by any chance glitching?” Did we need to get her back into the shop? Then again it may have been that shop that had turned her personality upside down to begin with . . . or had that happened when she shut down?
Trixie was weaving in traffic, driving faster than ever. She was driving north into the hills, toward Corvid Park. The sun was setting on my left, making me squint.
“I need you to stop and turn around.”
“I’m sorry, all operators are busy assisting other VIP clients.”
“Trixie, this isn’t funny.” I tried to unlock the door but the button did nothing. “Take me home!”
“Home is an idea. Home is a core profit concept. Kensington Industries curates concepts and develops them for domestic and international markets.”
“Oh dear Gods.” Suddenly I was panicking. “You didn’t shut down randomly or because you’re old. The Kensingtons are behind it all. Estelle or someone who works for her has messed with your mind using Grey magic.”
“Girl, I wish I could say you were way off. But you’re almost totally 100 percent right! Bottom line, we are not going home tonight.”
The panic grew like a heat in my chest. “Where . . . where are you taking me?”
“To die in the woods, pal of mine. This is like the big finale, no encore. So sorry, but to be frank you kinda did it to yourself.”
“How can you say that?” Tears rolled down my face. “You’re my familiar. You’re supposed to be on my side. A cat would never betray me like this!”
“Ok, so, first of all, I hear where you’re coming from. But like did you ever think maybe you should have paid more attention when I first started acting cray-cray? Didn’t you miss the old me?”
“Um . . . well, of course,” I lied. The old Trixie could be annoying, like dealing with a person. A quirky person. The new Trixie was smooth and polished like a machine.
It wasn’t hard to see the parallels between our bakery and Java Kitty. How had I not suspected Grey magic all along?
Answer: because I couldn’t smell it. The machines doing the magic must not be physically in the car. Even now, a remote Automagick machine must be sending signals through her electrical components. The Trixie who was talking to me was an unholy mixture of Green and Grey magics.
In other words, the Trixie I knew was dead.
“I just didn’t think it was a big deal,” I finished lamely.
“Like you didn’t think Java Kitty eating your lunch was a big deal?”
“I did! But I had other stuff on my mind.”
“Like what, this silly investigation against the Kensingtons? Girl, they were vetting you for hire. You could have had a distinguished career and bought a small boat. Instead, you had to start suspecting Drew.”
“How do you know that I suspect Drew?” I whimpered.
“Come on, girl, get with it. I’ve been hacked. Snap, I’ve been spying on you for over a week. Anything you say in here goes straight to Mama.”
“You mean Estelle Kensington?”
“Finally got it. What’s that old, dated expression, better late than never? Don’t see much difference myself, but what do I know? I’m just a dumb car. Whose whole personality can change, and her person won’t even notice or care.”
“You’re right Trixie. I’ve been neglectful of you.” I swallowed. “Neglectful of myself, too. I put all my energy into Bryson. Spending time with him, which of course leached my energy. Protecting him with this investigation. Trying to get my friends and family to accept him . . . even denying the obvious, that he was a demon, took a lot of energy. I see now how badly I screwed up, though I don’t suppose it helps much.”
“No, that totally does make me feel better.” Pause. “Though now I feel bad about your imminent, grisly death.”
“Thanks.”
The gorgeous views of the Pacific told me we were entering the park. The sun was almost finished setting, which meant the park was closed.
The only other car in the lot was a black Porsche with the license plate B0KEK. I’d taken exactly one art class and dimly remembered that was a photography term. It meant blur.
My whole perspective on him had been a blur, until today.
Estelle Kensington stood waiting for us by the trailhead, dressed in hiking boots and a high-end athletic suit with the hood up. Sammy Boy was in her arms, wearing an adorable doggy sweater.
A backpack lay at her feet. I assumed it contained a change of clothes for David, once he shifted back into human form.
Also, whatever weapon they were going to use to kill me.
Delivery completed, self-actualization achieved, Trixie said smoothly. Then, a touch of her old Jersey accent returning, she added, Been a great ride. See you on the flip side, doll face. She glitched for a moment, juddering, cabin lights flashing. Then her engine went dead.
Goodbye, Trixie.
“Evening, Miss Greenwood,” Estelle greeted me pleasantly. “I must say I’m eager to tie up this loose end—meaning you—so we can all move on with our lives. Except you.”
“So you’re the mastermind behind all this,” I said. “You’re not covering for Drew’s accidentally draining Ashlee. You killed her yourself, because you didn’t think she was good enough to be part of your family. Just like you didn’t think Jenna was good enough for your son all those years ago. And you’re such a control freak you think you can decide who’s in your household and who isn’t by force. Take the way you tried to sabotage my bakery . . . just so you could hire me as your personal pastry chef. That’s gross, lady. You’re the worst human being I’ve ever met. You act all super sweet and well-meaning, like I do . . . in your case it’s bs.”
She smiled grimly. “With all due respect, it’s mostly bs for you, too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m rather glad we’re not hiring you after all. You may be a skilled baker and witch, but you don’t meet our class standards. Much like the unfortunate Ashlee. I’ve been overhearing what you say when you’re inside your car—”
“Oh come on, lady,” I burst out. “No one’s at their nicest while driving a car! Which you would know if you ever had to do anything yourself.”
I was met with a cool, composed smile. “The things I’ve had to do myself would make you weep, little Green witch.”
That got me. “So you killed Ashlee, personally? You didn’t sic David on her?” In either of his forms?
Estelle sighed. “I did what any loving mother would do to a woman like Ashlee. My dear, silly boy Drew had been using her as a blood doll for a few months when she talked him into an engagement. He’s not the brightest bulb though he means well. I immediately knew it was about money, so I met with her—months before the wedding—and tried to be generous, reasonable, offer anything a person like that would want to stay away.”
“You offered Ashlee 15 million dollars to leave Drew?”
“And she took it,” Estelle said, chin defiant. “As I predicted she would.”
That must have been when Ashlee had paid Kade de Klaw to create a whole new fake ID for her so she could truly disappear.
“But then . . . ” Estelle sighed
. “She came back again, greedy. Wanting more. Tried to blackmail us. Her assistant had seen something she shouldn’t have, and reported it to Ashlee shortly after she quit.”
“Oh which highly inappropriate thing did she see,” I said. “Drew chomping on the staff, Fred acting demented while everyone pretends he’s just a jerky old man, or David here turning into the lapdog he is at heart?”
Estelle rolled her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re—”
“It took me a while, but I figured out what the deal is with him. His being a shifter explains so much. Like how he was able to eat so many of my truth serum candies at The Drunken Barrel and never reveal his secrets.” All he’d done was gripe, as usual, about what a bad guy Fred was and how spoiled and irresponsible Drew was. He still saw Drew as a kid and Fred as a threat to him, though neither really was anymore. “But David must have noticed everyone else who ate them was being too honest, because on Sunday night he snapped up the cherry pie before you could taste it and incriminate yourself. He’s devoted to you. My guess is you two have been together for many years. He’s probably around your own age, but his domestic shifter genes make him look youthful. He’s your real partner, but he’s also your possession. A purse dog. With no power, no voice—”
“Oh he most certainly has a voice, Miss Greenwood.” Estelle looked amused at my having figured out David’s secret. “I’m sure he has much to say to you, in fact.”
Sammy Boy began to bark, then to shimmer as he shifted into a naked David.
“Hey, cake baker!” Without an ounce of self-consciousness, he grinned at me and started pulling on underwear from one of the backpack’s compartments. “I was really hoping you’d give up on your investigation and come to our side.” Then socks. “I liked you.” Then pants. “You seemed like someone who really knew her place in the world, like me. I recommended you as a strong hire.”
I whirled back around to Estelle. “So you really were trying to ‘hire’ me . . . by taking away my family business. Taking away my options. Is that the extreme vetting process Drew talked about, that’s the reason you’ve never had to fire anyone?”
“Well, yes. Though sometimes we’ve had to nudge someone along the path to retirement. David’s aunt Velma for example, hadn’t been up to producing pastries with her trembling old hands. I offered her a generous retirement package but she wouldn’t accept it, so . . . ” She shrugged.
“You offed her?”
“How dare you? I loved Velma. I had her put down, humanely.”
“She went over the Rainbow Bridge,” David said cheerfully. “I will too one day. It’s fine.”
“How can you honestly be happy being some rich woman’s lapdog?” I was sincerely curious. “I mean, dude, you’re a pet.”
“I’m someone’s best friend,” he shot back. “I’m in my proper place in nature and society. You could never imagine the ecstasy that comes with being loyal and true and—and—”
“And such a good boy?” I was unable to suppress a giggle.
“Laugh it up, miss indie baker. I don’t expect you to understand. Look, I come from a long line of farmers who lived hard, but don’t kid yourselves. The world is so much harder now. I chose to be taken care of. Loved. Cherished. I’m living my best life, if you want to know the truth.” He turned to me, anger dancing in his eyes that I’d glimpsed hints of in our conversations. Only I’d never imagined it was directed at me. “The only awkward thing about it is talking to people like you. Having to pretend I’m still like you. Still clinging to my precious, special independence when I surrendered happily long ago. All those irritating, judgmental questions about ‘art’ versus ‘keeping the lights on.’ Estelle would have offered you a great wage and a life without worries, but you chose this. It’s on you, cake baker.”
I ignored him and addressed Estelle, as if he was just her dog or something. “So that’s your MO. When you want something, offer people money, then if that doesn’t work, kill them?”
“I don’t have to answer to you, Miss Greenwood. I’ve added more value to the world than you ever will.”
“That . . . might be true,” I said, remembering that Estelle really did do a lot of good for the town over the years. She probably was a great employer, too. Landon, for example, seemed really happy and had a life outside his work. “But even still, you don’t get to go around murdering people. And you can’t make David do your dirty work.”
“How presumptuous of you.” Her nose in the air. “Our partnership may be nontraditional but I do not assign dirty work.”
“I just held Ashlee in place,” David said proudly. “It was Estelle who applied Ashlee’s special lipstick. Crimson Cyanide.”
Geez. It was getting real now. My heart began to pound wildly. “And is that what you’re going to do to me, poison me with cyanide?”
“No, dear,” Estelle said grimly. “Your mode of execution will be . . . death by frenemy.”
“Excuse me?”
David motioned to me to follow him. “This is so cool, cake baker. Can’t wait to show you.”
David ambled to the black Porsche and popped the trunk. Britt was lying inside, bound and gagged, with silver weights attached to her wrists that clearly had her writhing in pain. I could hear Max’s yowls from the backseat. Actually, she was in human form, but in a cage, her feet tied together.
I tried to stay calm. My friends were still alive. That’s what mattered. Wait, why were they alive? “You could have shot Max and driven a stake through Britt’s heart,” I said. “Are you saying you kept them alive in hopes they would decide to kill me?”
David beamed. “Yep, that’s the beauty of this plan. Estelle and I don’t have to do all the work for once. You three are all gonna kill each other.”
“Why on Earth would we do that?” We were actually getting along pretty well for once.
“Boy oh boy, I’m so glad you asked. I love showing off the cool toys Estelle gives me.” Like you love riding in cars and eating treats? I thought as he pulled an MP3 player out of the car’s glove compartment. “This digital music player has been Grey magicked to detect and amplify levels of interpersonal tension. And it looks like the three of you have all kinds of baggage to work with. Going way back. It’ll play exactly what you each need to hear to go homicidal.”
I watched as he lifted Britt out of the trunk and abruptly dropped her small form onto the ground, making her groan through her gag at the harsh landing. He opened the cage that held Max and grabbed her by her tied ankles, dragging her out of the car and through the dirt of the trailhead until she was beside Britt. As he untied her ankles, Estelle tapped my shoulder.
“Cell phone, please. There’s no reception here in the woods, but why take chances you could reach out for help?”
“How are you going to explain that we all died without our cell phones?”
“Simple, you and Max decided to throw them into the ocean. Says so here in your suicide note. Oh, you also apologized for killing your former bullies, Ashlee and Britt. And for hiding Britt’s body in a place it’ll never be found. Since Britt will of course turn to dust. I’ll be returning in an hour to toss your bodies into that ancient POS car of yours, douse it with gasoline, and set the lot of you on fire.”
“Huh, then where are you going to leave our suicide note?” Max had stopped her unearthly yowling long enough to listen to their murderous plan and poke holes in its logic. “Just by a tree or something? It could get blown away by the wind.”
David and Estelle exchanged a look.
“Did you have a plan for . . . ?” he began.
“I was thinking we could . . . never mind, what do you want to do?”
Max snorted. “You idiots are totally winging this.”
“There’s no need to be disrespectful, young woman,” Estelle said mildly. “None of us here are professionals. We’re all muddling through as best we can.”
“Oh I know!” David said. “I’ll drop it off at the bakery.”
“The ba
kery?” I burst out, shaking with anger.
“Ooh, good boy, good boy.” She reached up and patted his head. He opened his mouth as if to pant.
“Grossness,” Britt muttered.
So not only were they killing us, they were leaving a cruel, horrible note for my grandmother to find? No doubt that would kill her, too. “I will never stop haunting you,” I growled at them.
“Oh, my dear, we have haunting insurance,” Estelle said, cringing slightly as if my threat was a minor faux pas. “Comprehensive, naturally. It’s a no-brainer, in our situation. So sorry to burst your bubble. All right, girls, time to go! We’ll leave you with this lovely music.” She almost curtsied, then turned on the evil MP3 player and handed it to David, who tossed it up onto a thick tree branch about eight feet off the ground.
Music began to play, softly at first and then screaming right into my soul. A jagged, painful song. A familiar song. It made me want to cry for reasons I could not explain . . . until I could.
“You guys, don’t you recognize the song?” I said. “This is the song that was playing on grad night, when it all went down.”
“Holy crap, you’re right.” Britt stopped to listen. “Well, grad night is the last thing we should talk about if we’re supposed to be trying not to kill each other.”
“Don’t you see, we have to talk about it.” I said as the grim realization hit me. “The only way to stay alive is to work out our interpersonal tensions.”
“Never gonna happen,” Max said. “Guess we’re dead. But hopefully I get to kill Brittany.”
“Not a chance, you whiny bobcat.”
“Whiny? Whiny?” Max puffed herself up.
“Yeah, why were you yowling incessantly in the car?” Britt snapped at Max. “I was embarrassed for you. Have some dignity.”
“Brittany, I know this is hard for you to understand,” Max said in her most condescending tone. “But I wasn’t making those sounds to express distress at our situation. Or rather, I was. But formally.”
Fangs and Frenemies Page 20