by J L Collins
As if to prove a point, he opened the bag to reveal the funkiest and stalest cookies I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Oh no,” I groaned. “And I was just thinking about the crème filling, too. My Granddaddy had this special hack where he stuck a fork between the cookies and dunked the whole thing into a glass of milk. Pure heaven.” I shook my head, but I was glad for him to slide them back into the bag and toss them into a trashcan behind him.
“Sorry about that. Believe me, I’m so lost without my hemp seed oat shakes. Sometimes I throw in some Oreos to punch them up. Really bums me out.”
“Yeah uh, that sounds delicious.” Not at all true and I hated to think of what that would even look like.
My heart sank. The Oreos would suck, sure, but I watched him pick through the rest of the stuff, pulling half of it from the basket. A lot of the food was understandably no good, which kind of made me feel like an idiot for not putting two and two together. Of course the pre-packaged stuff went bad—they hadn’t exactly had the chance to bring in new stock from out of town.
“I’m sorry, man,” Prince said as he saw the look on my face. “I never got around to clearing out the old stuff after the winter curse. It was a pretty gnarly time. And it totally threw off my energy not being able to do anything to help.” He wiggled his fingers. “Water wizard and all.”
I nodded. “I can see how that would be frustrating.”
“So, is this it? I’ve got a bunch of other offerings coming through this week, after I get my own stash set up again.” He pushed his shaggy hair out of his face, reminding me of a certain mystery-busting guy with a dog for a best friend.
“Uh…” I began, looking around. “What exactly do you mean?”
He flashed me an excited look and held up finger. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he said, racing around the counter, down an aisle and back through the curtain.
“Okay then.” Not that he gave me much choice.
I looked down at the pitiful pile of things I had left after Prince’s scavenging and frowned. No food, no snacks, only some of the other more personal supplies I’d picked up for myself. Shaking my head, I put them all out on the countertop and patiently waited for Prince to return.
And boy did he ever. He carried a huge purple rock that was almost half his height, and some smaller round things in another wooden bowl.
I raised a brow. The purple rock I already knew was amethyst—the hugest hunk I’d ever seen. Plenty of gem mines and stores and even the few museums around western North Carolina carried beautiful amethyst structures.
A few days before I ended up here I even had the chance to pick up a few pretty gemstones that the gem mine owner claimed could help with different ailments. Different shades of calcite, polished and soapy feeling under my fingers. Onyx for protection. A rutilated quartz tower that was pointy enough to stab someone with. Selenite for cleansing the other stones—whatever that meant. And a beautiful hunk of amethyst for a whole list of stuff I’d all but forgotten.
Prince had the same look in his eye that I’ve seen at the mall when those weird guys in the middle kiosks try to rub lotion on your hands. I could feel the sales pitch coming on.
He set the wooden bowl down and carefully placed the amethyst tower down on the ground at my feet. “Here we go! I’m getting great crown chakra vibes from you, so I thought maybe I could interest you in an amethyst bath, or if you’d like, I have some crystal singing bowls for a sound bath. And these,” he said, dipping his hand into the bowl and scooping up small sand dollars, “Hand-picked them myself on my last trip to Ocracoke. They’re great for energy tuning.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. I don’t think I need any kind of… bath. At least the kind without water. But I will definitely keep all of that in mind if I ever do,” I said, pointing to what I actually came to buy. “It’ll just be these things.”
Prince’s vibes reminded me of a guy my friend Jess used to date. He was all about keeping the chakras aligned and sending love and light to people because he didn’t want to encroach on their beliefs. And there was always a scheme to try and upsell his ‘premium content’ course on how to make your own spiritual business thrive. But I never saw him actually do anything. A fake guru, if you will.
The disappointment in his face was clear. “Cool, yeah. No problem. I’ll just, like, put these things back in the back. Let’s go ahead and ring you up.”
He pressed buttons on the cash register, but it hit me just then like a sack of bricks. How could I be such an idiot? I had absolutely no way to pay for any of this! My cheeks burned. I bet the priest thought I was a liar when I told him I didn’t have cash to pay for the ride, but I had him taking me to the general store.
I smacked my hand to my forehead. “Ugh. You know what? I completely forgot that I—”
“All right. That’ll be $26.10. You’re staying at the library, right?” he asked, bagging everything up.
I nodded. “Yes, but I—”
“Right. Ash’s refugee. I’ll put it on the library’s tab, then,” he said, punching in another button.
“The library’s…? Oh. Oh, yeah, of course,” I said quickly, realizing what he meant. It wasn’t exactly honest, but without any cash I had nothing to pay with. I could clean up the library or something to help out if need be. I’d tell Ash the first chance I got and hopefully he wouldn’t be too ticked off about it.
“Right on. Here’s your stuff.”
It was then that I noticed the huge tank of water behind Prince. It looked like it was meant for a whole school of fish but there was nothing in there but a water purifier. Even the lid was missing.
My mouth ran away before I had a chance to think of what I was saying. “What’s that for?” I pointed to the tank while pulling on my knitted hat.
“Just in case. Sometimes it helps to move things around. I probably should’ve used it before,” he said, rubbing his hands together. He must have seen the confusion in my eyes. “You know, for my power?”
“Oh! Sorry, I don’t exactly understand how all of it works yet.”
Despite his surfer-stoner exterior, I could tell there was substance underneath. There had to be if he was the one that they picked to be the water representative, right? If they even chose… in fact, I had no idea how they went about choosing.
“You have to have the element to manipulate it. I can’t suddenly invent water or anything. It’s way easier to do than conjuring fire. Water is everywhere in some state or another. We treat it like a friend, and it takes care of us when we need it,” he said, nodding along to his own philosophy. “We’re water, and water is we.”
“Gotcha. I got all A’s in my Environmentalism and Ecology classes. I think I follow you,” I said, taking the bags from him.
“Right on, fellow friend to the planet. Really we’re all just one tiny speck of the cosmos, you know? Some of us can wield the magic and some of us have to use other ways. Wizards and witches have like, a sacred duty to take care of the place. All of us on the Special Council take an oath to do it. It’s heavy stuff. Even Ash did it.”
I frowned. “Ash? But he’s not on the Special Council.”
Prince shrugged. “Not officially, but every magical race is meant to be represented. He may not like it, but that’s how it is.”
I pushed that thought down for now—I’d definitely have to mull it over once I was back at the library. “How do you get a spot on the Special Council anyway? It sounds like it’s pretty serious. It’s what, the head of Charming Springs, I take it? You all are the ones who make the decisions here?”
“We take votes on our decisions, so it’s like… the Supreme Court but not? Every faction has its way of doing things. Us water magic people are really chill about it. Most people don’t want to take on the leadership position because we’re not into micromanagement. We’re sorta laid back and go with the flow of nature. So we do nominations. The person who gets the most nominations gets the seat, unless they don’t want it. Then it goes to t
he next person. So on and so on. Take me, for example. Most people nominated my cousin, Judge Princeton. But he didn’t want it, so then it went to a witch named Deidre. She passed it to me and I figured I wanted it more than everyone after me, so why not?” He shrugged. “It’s not a bad deal.”
Different factions. Nominations. Supreme Court. This town had more going on behind the scenes than I thought. Though I didn’t want to think about the possibility of being stuck here much longer, I had to wonder if I would have to get sorted out here, too.
“Interesting. I should probably get back to the library. There’s some uh, cleaning to get to.” I held up my bags and gave him a quick smile. “Thanks again. Oh! And it was nice to meet you, Prince.”
“Likewise, friend. Don’t forget about the sound bath deal! Three sessions, half off!”
15
Scandalous
The library was surprisingly full of noise not long after I woke up. Or music, really. Slow, trembling music that held minor notes too long and sunk deep into the bones. Sad music.
I got ready for the day, figuring I’d set out on day three of my investigation by looking into this Constance woman. But when I went out into the main library I realized where the music was coming from.
Ash had told me last night that today was Beatrice’s cremation ceremony, which was pretty much a funeral. There’d be a whole funeral line heading down the street, behind the carrying of her remains once she was cremated. He also mentioned there would probably be loud music since she was the air magic elder.
“Air magic can manipulate soundwaves too, at least through the air,” he’d said.
I stood at one of the massive front windows, watching as the last of the small band walked past, slowly taking the music with them.
Ash was in attendance, and even asked me to go last night but I didn’t want to be disrespectful. Most of the people there probably thought I was the one who killed her anyway, so why make matters worse?
Not to mention, I didn’t really know her all that well. And what I did know of her made it clear to me that I wouldn’t have wanted to go even still. The way she treated her fellow council members, even her own friends? Yeah, no. She was a jerk and I wasn’t afraid to say so. Which was exactly why I was here in the library and not at the funeral.
There was no sense in trying to go track someone down in the middle of all of that, so writing it was. I was just finishing up the end of a particularly clever scene, if I do say so myself, when there was a tap at the front doors.
I sighed. The writing would have to wait for now. “Coming!”
Goldie swooped in past me and I closed the doors quickly, not wanting to let any of the cold in. “Where’ve you been?” I asked.
“Me? Oh yeah, I guess we were supposed to meet up this morning. Sorry about that—I totally forgot about the cremation ceremony,” she said as she shook her feathers out. “You’d think that they would’ve held this kind of thing inside.”
“They didn’t?”
She shook her head. “Nope. They always hold them outside, and I guess not even a curse will stop that. Anyway, I do have some news for you!”
I saved everything on my computer and turned back toward her. “News? What kind of news?”
Goldie folded her wings across her chest. “I got the dirt on Beatrice. Or at least someone related to her. Okay, not really related but more of—”
“I get it. So what did you find out?”
She wiggled her eyebrows, which still amused me. “I told you about Beatrice’s husband, Victor. Get this, he’s in love with someone else! And word on the beak is that it might be—”
“Constance?” I said, sitting back down at the table.
She stopped taking a few steps toward my computer and chittered, balancing on one foot before turning her head back at me. “Wait. How do you know about Constance?”
“I dropped by Pokey Moe’s yesterday like you suggested. Victor was there and he was talking to the bartender about her.”
“Oh, wow. What did he say?”
I repeated what I’d heard and went to grab the notebook with all of our case notes. “But I don’t get it. They said she was performing or something. And that all of the wives in town would be angry. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty… scandalous.”
“It is pretty scandalous, actually. Did you not hear about what she does?”
I leaned back in the chair, cocking an eyebrow at her. “No. Did you?”
Watching an owl smile was still a little unnerving. “I know now. I’ve met Constance a few times here and there and she’s always seemed nice enough. Natalia’s family wants to keep up a good public appearance since they already have to be very careful.”
“Constance is a vampire?” I had more than enough questions just about the vampires in town alone, but I figured it made sense to save it for later. I’d just add that to the pile of crazy I needed to look into.
“Mmhm. She works at Pokey Moe’s, actually.”
“That makes sense. Larry—er, the bartender I mean, seemed to know her very well. And they did say something about him relieving her the night of Beatrice’s death.”
Goldie let out a deep hoot. “No! The two of them were just blabbering about it out in the open like that? No wonder everyone knows about Victor’s feelings for her. The man probably can’t keep his mouth shut about it.”
I nodded. That’s what I was thinking. “Okay, so go back to the part where you know what she’s been up to.”
“I’m getting there! While I was flying around after the main ceremony was finished up, there were some groups of people talking about Beatrice and what happened to her obviously. I won’t tell you how many people brought your name up, but it was more than you would’ve probably liked.”
“Yep. Thanks for that, Goldie. Truly appreciate it.”
She ignored me and kept going, drumming her talons on the table. “But people were also whispering about Constance. First I heard it from some of the town’s more affluent men. These are the guys rubbing shoulders with Victor. I heard them talking about these secret gigs she does for hire.”
My eyes went wide. Secret gigs sounded both ominous and intriguing. “And what does she do at these secret gigs, exactly?”
“I know right? It all sounds very Bond girl. But it’s not quite that racy. She sings and dances. And I don’t mean that kind of dancing—she and all of her kind are trained in some kind of Eastern European dance. Natalia’s thrown showcases of it in her own home and even during the Great Apple Fest. But the men really take a liking to Constance. She does her part by charming them, I think that’s part of the gig. There’s nothing you know, extra going on. At least not from what I can tell.”
“She’s not a stripper? I totally thought that we’d find out she was a stripper at the end of your story here. Okay, so what exactly would make the town’s wives angry about that?”
“Well, she gets paid for it right? It’s pretty taboo because the men pay her well for her time and discretion, too. So their wives don’t know about any of it. Hiring Constance is like a… magician at a kid’s birthday party. Except more skin and less rabbits in hats. Probably.” She nudged the notebook. “Why aren’t you writing any of this down?”
I nodded. “Good point,” I said, adding the first few bullet points under Constance’s name.
“Not only did I hear about the secret gigs, but I happened to see with my own eyes the front row of the service. And lo and behold, guess who was sitting there next to the widower?”
“No!”
“Oh yes. Constance was pretty cozied up to Victor despite what everyone else says. He was upset but I don’t think he was as upset as he would’ve been if she weren’t sitting by him. You know what I mean? I wasn’t the only one to notice, either. She was getting nasty looks from plenty of others. And I heard bits and pieces here and there about how Constance was just waiting in the wings. Odd saying, that is.”
“It sounds like they were just friends
. I mean, I heard him and that Larry guy talking about it. At least from what he said Constance did not share the same feelings for Victor. So why was she next to him? That doesn’t make any sense…”
A soft whoosh sent the corner of my paper wavering. Ash strolled up to the table and leaned over my notebook without so much as a hello.
I went to cover my notes, but he was already looking over them, and even had the nerve to chuckle behind me.
“What are you two doing?”
I pursed my lips together. But Goldie had no problem ratting us out.
“We’re putting together a case to try and figure out who really killed Beatrice. You want in?”
“Goldie!” Nope, there was no way I was letting McBroodpants try and break up my attempts at finding the real murderer.
He rounded the table and took a seat, propping his feet up on the chair beside him. “I’d rather leave the sleuthing to the professionals.”
“Ha. You consider Chief Putnam a professional? A professional donut-eater, sure. They already have their facts mixed up with opinions, especially about me. So who knows what they’re actually getting done as far as what happened to Beatrice?” I said with a snort.
Ash regarded me from under his thick lashes but said nothing. The pinpricking memory of what Prince had said about Ash versus the Special Council nagged at me. He wasn’t a vampire. And he wasn’t anything else that was mentioned at the council table, either. That made him an unknown… I wish he would just tell me so I don’t have to sit here wondering.
I looked away and back at Goldie. “Back to Constance. She’s contracted so to speak, so there’s payment involved like you said. Wait…” I trailed off, remembering something from the chat at the bar. “Larry said something about keeping the heat off of her. I’m not one-hundred-percent sure of who her is, but I’m like ninety-percent sure it’s Constance. What do you think he meant? They were talking about a specific night.”