“That’s okay. It’s a daunting prospect. We can talk about it tomorrow. Shall we go to dinner somewhere?”
Feeling instantly better and embarrassed that I did, I merely nodded. Explanations that I had come up with and meant to tell him died in my throat. He was okay. We were okay..
In the dining room there was chaos. Our family meals were a bit difficult at the best of times, Cookie always made sure of that. If there wasn’t a bottle of wine on the table she would yell and holler until someone produced one. Tonight she’d brought six.
“What? We have company,” she huffed when I quirked an eyebrow at her.
Dorian was sitting across from her, looking amused.
Joel was on his boss’s left, blinking around the Magenta Dining Room owlishly, as if he had never seen a room before.
Grant took his seat next to me. Lark and Pep came in right after us. They had also gone to the kitchen first and were carrying platters piled high with food. Kip, Corey, and Cam came in from a day’s work. Lizzie was the last to arrive, having taken her sweet time showering, blow-drying her hair, and putting on makeup. She was also wearing high heels. A few ghosts and skeletons came in and out with various reports for my mother or comments about the haunted house. No one would say it, but we were all a bit relieved that the haunted house would be closed until the murders were solved.
“Evening, Hastings,” said Dorian.
Grant nodded. “Been a long time.”
All eyes turned to stare at the two men; even I was caught off guard. I knew that Grant had gone through a rigorous training program to be at the rank he held. He had gone to school with a couple of guests that had visited us with the Brewers, so we had heard a little about the training then. The Brewers were another witch family who owned a fancy hotel. It was Mr. Brewer who had put Grant in charge of the Northeast investigative unit.
Dorian Deadly was another kettle of kelp entirely.
“Why would anyone agree to train a Deadly in deadly combat?” Pep demanded.
Dorian turned cold eyes on her, his expression unreadable. I felt certain that no one had ever spoken to him the way Pep was already making a habit of doing.
“Our family is a very old magical family. We are founders of a number of very important enchantments. My right was to be educated. No one would deny me that,” he said.
“What about your brothers?” Pep asked, unfazed.
Joel cleared his throat.
“No, they never got a conventional education. They might have been better off if they had,” said Dorian. Then he seemed to relax. “I would have come to Maine sooner if I had known that there was such interesting company here,” he said, looking right at Grant. His Majesty of Magic did not look fazed either, nor did he look away.
“Were you the same year?” I managed to ask, wondering why my neck suddenly felt hot. Maybe changing the subject would help.
“No, I was a couple of years older. I was mostly gone by the time I heard of the famous Grant Hastings,” said Dorian.
I searched his tone for any hint of mockery. There was none. Just a grudging respect.
“My year heard of you,” said Grant, sitting back slightly.
Now Dorian leaned forward. He looked truly interested, as if he hadn’t heard this information before. “What did you hear?”
“We heard that you were fast and skilled at creating enchantments that no one else could. All the teachers talked about you for years. They said you were sly. Your mind could slip between rules to create openings and opportunity in the spaces where power dwelled. All the teachers thought you’d continue on to do great things,” said Grant.
“I hope I haven’t disappointed them,” murmured Dorian.
“I’m sure you haven’t. The crime family that you’re a part of has been responsible for a number of amazing things over the past ten years,” said Grant.
Now Dorian’s face split into an expression of amusement. “You know perfectly well that my family runs a rare book business. On top of that, the fabled crime family of which you speak has never been charged with anything. There is no proof that we’ve ever committed a single crime,” said Dorian.
Joel had spaghetti hanging out of his mouth as he looked back and forth between the verbally dueling warlocks.
Grant was nodding slowly. “It just strikes me as odd that your family has so much money when they simply run a small business,” he said.
Dorian’s face was still impassive, but his eyes glittered. “We’re very good at managing our finances.”
“Someone pass the wine,” said Cookie. “If they’re going to kill each other I’d like to have a drink in my hand while they do it.”
“That’s how you finish most sentences,” muttered Meg. “So so so and I’d like to have a drink in my hand.”
“Here, I’ll pour.” Cookie reached for the nearest bottle.
After that, dinner continued uneventfully until nearly the end. We had avoided talking about the case, and Dorian was a very polite guest. He engaged Kip in conversation about his haunt hunting. He wanted to know how all of the supernaturals liked it here at the Bluff.
Joel was very interested in the workings of the haunted house. He said he’d like to tour it once it opened again.
“Maybe you can stick around for a day after we solve the murders,” said Pep.
Dorian looked at her with interest. It was the first time she had spoken up for a while.
Joel looked terrified and didn’t answer her.
“Do you have any suspects in the murders? Will the police?” Dorian asked.
“Nothing has happened yet,” said Mom. “I’m sure we’ll hear something tomorrow.”
“Did your brothers have any enemies?” Grant asked.
“I don’t really know,” said Dorian. To my surprise, he appeared comfortable discussing such a question casually, in front of all of us. “We weren’t in close touch. I’m sure they made plenty of enemies. They liked trouble and they didn’t have an eye to what it cost others,” he explained.
“That’s unfortunate,” said Lark. “What do you think they were doing here?”
“Visiting some of your housemates, I expect,” he said.
Everyone looked around in confusion.
“He means Down Below,” I said.
“Right, which is why you need to have a talk with your friends down there,” said Cookie.
“I don’t like it,” said my mom.
“It’s my job,” I told her, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
She lapsed into silence. I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she tried to think of another argument to keep me out of it.
There wasn’t one.
Chapter Twelve
“I have a question,” said Cookie.
We had finished dinner and Audrey had brought out cookies for dessert, with ice cream to put on top. Cookie was not having a cookie. She was almost blind drunk.
“Who do you have a question for?” my mom asked warily.
“For anyone, really,” Cookie said.
“Okay,” Mom said.
“How powerful a supernatural do you need to murder two strong young warlocks? You would need a very powerful supernatural or, say, several vampires,” Cookie said.
No one bothered to respond. We all knew that what she was implying was right. Grant’s face clouded.
“Are you referring to the Root of All Evil?” he asked.
My grandmother’s face sliced into an amused, drunk, smile. “I am indeed. You know they have a house on the village green, right? Jane knows as well. She’s been keeping quiet about it, but it’s true.”
I glared at my grandmother. I had known all along that she’d reveal that secret eventually. She’d want to take the heat off herself, and the only way to do that would be to throw someone else under the bus. Like me.
My mom let out a gusty sigh. “So we all know, and none of us has told the others.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I have my ways as well. Just because I spend all my time running this place doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on elsewhere.”
“I’d heard that the Root of All Evil was in the area. I might have to pay them a visit,” said Dorian.
“If you need backup, let me know,” offered Grant.
For a split second Dorian looked surprised. Then his face cleared. “Thank you. I very well may.”
Joel looked relieved at the exchange. He certainly didn’t want to be relied upon to save another Deadly brother’s life.
Once I finish my cookie, I pushed my chair back and said, “All right, if we’re going Down Below tonight, we have to do it now.”
I picked up my dishes to head for the kitchen, the cue for everyone else to start cleaning up as well. The only one who stayed seated was Cookie.
“Someone has to stay with her. I might as well be the one,” said Lark.
“It’s been awhile since I went Down Below late at night. I don’t want to miss it,” said Pep.
“Okay, you can come,” I told her. She nodded her head.
“I’m definitely going,” said Grant.
“Me as well. Joel, you stay here. Call home and tell them everything is fine and I’ll have more to report tomorrow,” Dorian instructed his employee, pushing his chair back and standing to his full height. Joel nodded and again looked relieved.
When the dishes had been stacked in the kitchen and everything seemed under control, I turned to Dorian and said, “The door’s this way.”
He followed me out to the hallway, with Grant and Pep bringing up the rear. “I’m very impressed that your family has managed to get along well with Down Below for so long,” said Dorian as we walked. “Nobody thought it would be a success.”
“What would be a success?” I said.
“The experiment of letting a bunch of criminals live in your basement,” said Dorian, as if it was obvious.
“Really?” I asked. It was just how I’d grown up, so I had never really considered how odd it must seem to other people.
He nodded soberly. “There have been a lot of wagers riding on it, most of them betting that your family wouldn’t survive. The bets were related to arguments as to who would take over the mansion if your family lost it. There was a time limit on them, but you’ve outlasted even the longest of the estimates. Anyone who bet on your family surviving made a small fortune.”
“You wouldn’t know any of those people, would you?” Grant asked dryly.
Dorian glanced over his shoulder. “Certainly not.”
“I had no idea that the supernatural world was betting on our demise,” I mumbled.
Dorian shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly something we wanted the Garbos to find out about. Anyway, there’s pretty much unanimous agreement as to why your family survived having the criminals Down Below.”
“Let me guess,” said Pep. “Cookie.” It was the first time she had piped up, but Dorian didn’t turn around to look at her, he just nodded his head.
“She’s a rather impressive witch,” he said. “She’s still rather impressive, even when she’s drunk. All around, she was underestimated. Down Below didn’t dare mess with her, even after her sons were killed.”
We had reached the mail room, but I was barely registering it. What Dorian just said had stunned me so badly that it took a few moments to process it.
“What do you mean, killed?”
Dorian also stopped short. “I mean dead. Not killed. They died young. Cookie was forced to take on more than she had meant to. Usually the sons are looked to lead the family. In her case, all of the sons were another generation removed after her own sons died. The next generation of warlocks are her grandchildren. Like your brother. He was too young to lead, so she had to do it. And she has done it better than anyone could have imagined. Shall we go down below?”
My eyes slid to Grant, and I saw that even he looked troubled. I had this overwhelming feeling that I had to tell Mom immediately, if not sooner, about the fact that we were dating. I wanted his support. I wanted his advice. I wanted it all out in the open as soon as possible.
I squared my shoulders and stepped into the mailroom. Dorian had given me a lot to think about, but this wasn’t the time. Later, back in my cold attic, I could meditate on what I had heard. Now was the time for action, not pondering.
The locks on our side of the door to Down Below were firmly in place. I had let Peter know that I’d be coming down to see him this evening, so he should be expecting me.
As soon as I knocked hard on the connecting door, scraping and scrambling sounds came from the other side. “Just a minute,” I heard Peter yell weakly.
I shifted my weight. “I have to change my assessment. Your family is still alive because of your grandmother and some very good locks,” said Dorian.
He was so large that he filled up the small space of the mailroom. I hoped that he and Grant stayed cordial; I wasn’t sure Grant could beat him in a fight. Dorian Deadly was an entirely unknown quantity, and I knew that there was a strong possibility that he would have it in for the Garbos in the end.
I unlocked the locks on my side of the door and waited for Peter to do the same on his. Judging from the noise he made coming up the stairs, he must have been at the bottom when I’d knocked. But soon the noise of his footsteps stopped, and a scraping sound on the other side of the door told me that he had reached the top. The next instant the door burst open.
What happened next was very unexpected. The cavernous door opened to reveal the darkness beyond, marked only by flashes of candlelight. Peter, purple coat, top hat, and all, took one look at us. When his eyes landed on Dorian, he let out a blood-curdling scream. Before any of us knew what was happening, he was falling backwards down the stairs.
I took one step into the stairwell and watched him fall. Behind me I heard Grant say, “We’d better get down there.”
In the moment of confusion, Grant grabbed a torch from one of the sconces that lined the walls and led the way. Pep hurried after him as Peter landed in a heap of bones and old clothing at the bottom of the very long stairway.
I glanced at Dorian, who shrugged. “What can I say? My family’s reputation precedes me.”
“Is that the family reputation that you have absolutely nothing to do with and no recollection of, and you are all aboveboard and your family’s activities are all totally legal?” Pep yelled from halfway down the stairs.
Dorian’s face split into a grin I had not seen from him before. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Pep was braver than me. I wasn’t about to yell at Dorian Deadly.
We hurried down the stairs, where we found Peter on his back busily trying to slither away from us. Unfortunately for him, there was nowhere to go. “How could you bring him down here? I thought we were on good terms!” he yelped.
“Whatever are you going on about?” I demanded. “Dorian is here as my guest. He isn’t going to do you any harm.”
“Are you crazy? Of course he’s going to do me harm. How can you be so foolish? This is a matter of life and death.” Peter stopped pushing himself backward and stared up at me in consternation.
“Here, let me check to see if you’re injured,” said Pep, kneeling down beside Peter.
“I’m a skeleton,” he said, exasperated. “Of course I’m not injured. I’m just about to be dead. What’s the difference?” Peter was so frightened he was rambling.
“I want one of you to explain what’s going on,” Grant demanded. “Peter has never behaved normally, but he’s never acted this absurdly either. Dorian? How do you know each other?”
When I glanced over my shoulder at Dorian, he looked a picture of innocence, not an easy feat for a man dressed in all black who was six feet five inches tall and moved like a stalking cat.
“What’s the point in explaining anything? He’s going to kill me in a moment,” wailed Peter.
“No one is going to hurt anyone,” I grow
led. “We’re here to discuss his brothers.”
“Exactly. I think. Just because I’m a skeleton doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” said Peter. “Am I going to die?” he wailed, looking at Pep.
She shook her head. “There are no discernible injuries.”
Just then two skeletons walked past our oddly assorted group and looked at us curiously. Between the two of them they were wearing more than twenty knives on their persons, and those were just the ones we could see.
“Let’s go into your office,” I demanded of Peter.
“Sure, why not? Kill me here, kill me in my office, either way I’m dead,” he said.
He got to his feet with the help of Grant and Pep and slowly led the way to his office.
Once we were there, he sat behind his desk and relaxed slightly, probably because there was now a solid heavy object between him and a Deadly. “Keeping an eye on you,” he said to Dorian with a glare.
The Deadly brother stood by the door. He didn’t look the least bit interested in intimidating Peter any further.
“Yeah,” Peter babbled on, now looking at me, “so I identified the Deadly brothers to you. Didn’t realize you didn’t know who they were. The Deadly brothers are famous around here. I thought real witches knew that.” Again his eyes swept to Dorian, but neither of them said anything more.
“I do now know they’re famous,” I said defensively. “That didn’t mean I recognized them. There are apparently a lot of Deadlys.”
“I suppose that’s accurate,” said Peter reluctantly.
“How did you know who they were, and what did they want with you?” I asked.
“You aren’t going to believe me if I tell you,” Peter complained.
“Try me,” I suggested.
“I suppose I don’t have a choice in the matter. You still aren’t going to believe me,” he said.
When no one responded, he let out a gusty sigh. “They set up an appointment with me a few weeks ago. They wouldn’t say what it was about. They just said it was very important that they speak with me. They wanted it to be around this time of year. Anyway, that’s what they wanted. But they came earlier than I expected, and I wasn’t here when they arrived. I was visiting a lady, you see.
Spooky Scarecrow Page 9