“I don’t know what gave you that idea. If we’re going to investigate these cases, we have to go where the evidence leads,” said Lowe.
“You might be making a good point, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.” I shook my head, knowing there was no point in arguing. Lowe was right. We had to go. It was vitally important that we get the information we needed to fight the vixens.
As we headed back out into the bright sunshine I saw Lisa watering her garden. Her huge sun hat obscured her face, but she gave us a merry wave as we strolled past.
Rarely was the trolley quick in the early afternoon, but this time we waited even longer than usual. When it finally showed up, it was green and white. A couple of fallen angels and a vampire or two were scattered around the car, but it was a quiet ride.
From the trolley stop we took the bus to downtown. I hadn’t been down here since graduation.
“Here we are,” said Lowe as we got off the bus and joined the busy downtown crowd.
Lowe led us through the shopping district until we were a few streets over from the Flying Steps Dance Hall where I’d spent so much of my time since arriving in Twinkleford, the space where I’d started to learn about being a witch in the Twinkleford Coven from Ms. Mallon, Mr. France, and Mr. Burger.
We weren’t stopping there this time, though. As we walked, I remembered the night when I got lost, not long after I arrived in town. I had come out later in the evening than I should have, when it was almost dark outside. A much different crowd hung out downtown at that time of night. Bars, restaurants, and clubs were open. The townsfolk milling around were younger and hipper than during the day. Bailey probably would have judged them for not wearing the proper party attire.
“Here we are,” said Lowe at last, stopping just short of the Bleak Area. Behind us were bright colors, people laughing, life and movement. In front of us was a sort of general sinking, and—not to put too fine a point on it—a bleak prospect of overcast streets stretching into the distance. The houses were shabby and the light was bad. It was as if there was a canopy of dust overhead blocking out the sun.
“Let’s get moving. You know where we’re going?” I asked Lowe.
She pulled a map out of her pocket and tapped it with her hand a couple of times. The whole paper changed. The one she’d started with had been cream colored, but this one was green. “Needed the right map,” she explained.
“Sure,” I muttered.
I followed her down the street, which was just as dirty as when I’d been here before. I felt as if I had to watch where I stepped, otherwise I was likely to turn an ankle or worse. Unlike my first experience in the Bleak Area, though, there were no strange cats named Pastrami following me. Maybe they were only around when Quinn was near.
We hadn’t gone very far when a huge rat raced across our path. I was glad we had eaten lunch already, otherwise I wasn’t sure I’d be up for this adventure. Just because I was a new witch didn’t mean I wanted to come back to the Bleak Area. There were just too many skeletons around.
We reached the outskirts of the cemetery without much trouble. In front of us were gravestones, rows and rows of gravestones, many of them broken and falling over. There were also statues of gargoyles and other creatures. A stone bat with its wings expanded stood atop a small structure. This I took in at a glance. It took a second look to notice the scraggly grass, the dead flowers, the wilting trees. The skeletons did not care to keep this place clean.
“Are you sure we have to walk through here?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. The faster we do it the sooner we’ll be on the other side,” said Lowe. She was either totally oblivious to my squeamishness, or ignoring it. “Nothing can happen to us. You’re part of the coven. Besides, skeletons don’t care that we’re here. At least, I don’t think they do.” Her brow puckered in a small frown.
“Okay, let’s go quickly,” I said. Without waiting for a reply, I strode into the cemetery, moving at a fast clip down the broken cobblestones. I didn’t glance left or right. If the vampires decided to wake up and reach out of their dirt graves, I didn’t want to see it.
We made it to the other side of the cemetery more quickly than I had expected to, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Now we had the wind coming around the bend and the cemetery at our backs.
“This way,” said Lowe.
I followed her down the dirt road. As in the cemetery, grass was growing in on the edges. This path didn’t look like vehicles used it very often.
It didn’t take long to see where we were going. There was a sign stuck in the ground on the side of the road that read “Owl feather salesman. Inquire within.”
“Where are we supposed to inquire?” I asked.
“In the house,” said Lowe, pointing forward.
When I looked more closely, I imagined the house turning suddenly into a splintered monster with gaping jaws, with Lowe telling me to walk right between the teeth. For all I knew, that wasn’t even such a far-fetched idea in Twinkleford, the land of talking cats and unicorn dung.
“Oh, good,” I muttered. I didn’t mean it.
Chapter Nine
Looking intently through a stand of trees that blocked the view, I managed to catch sight of the house at last. I wasn’t sure if the wood had been painted black or had simply rotted away in place. Either way, it was the creepiest house I had ever seen, worse than any part of the Bleak Area I had already walked through. To make it stranger, there were shots of neon color: a bright purple mailbox out front, the door a slightly faded green. There was no porch. Leaning against the house were various bits of old furniture, and other scraps of objects that had no discernible purpose.
But the exterior paled in comparison to what sat on top of house: the figures of three owls. At first I thought they were real, but I quickly realized that they were actually carved out of wood. They too were weathered and possibly rotting.
“My life has really changed,” I said.
“What’d you say?” Lowe had been pre-occupied with where we were going.
“Nothing,” I said.
Above the door was a sign that said, “Open.” Underneath that was another sign that read, “Thieves will be used in next available potion.”
I glanced over at Lowe to see what she made of it. “Do you think that ever really happened?”
She shrugged. “No idea. Skeletons are very good in potions, though.”
I rolled my eyes. This town really was crazy.
We made our way to the door. Without waiting to discuss it, Lowe knocked, obviously the better option than just walking in on someone who would apparently be perfectly happy to make us into stew.
A voice from inside called for us to come in. Lowe opened the door and I followed her into another world.
First of all, whatever I had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Second of all, a very pungent smell of potpourri met my nostrils, making me cough. What I took in after that was . . . owls. Countless owls. Owls here, owls there, owls all over the place.
Several big cages held four or five owls each, of different colors and with feathers of a different light. I don’t think most of the types of owls I was looking at existed in the real world. At the moment, they all seemed rather subdued. Their eyes were closed and the room was dimly lit. In the background I could see a figure moving about.
“What can I help you with? What are you looking for? The basis for a stun potion? One to build a garden? To live in a world where time travel as possible?” The figure moved closer to us.
He was surprisingly welcoming for someone who supposedly did not like other people.
When he got closer, I realized to my shock that the owner of this establishment was a young man. He wore a dark brown hat, and around his waist was a fancy belt with some especially beautiful owl feathers sewed into it. He had black eyes and black hair. His skin was pale, not surprisingly given that he lived in the Bleak Area. I didn’t think the sun had touched this part of Twinkleford in a very lon
g time. The young man would not have been out of place among the vampires.
He looked back and forth between us and seemed as surprised to see us as I was to see him. “You two were not what I was expecting. Have you been in before? No, I didn’t think so. Are you here for gardening supplies?”
He spoke fast and nervously, as if he didn’t like talking to people in general or young ladies in particular. We were about the same age, and he seemed uncomfortably aware of that fact. I had a feeling that he mostly spoke to the owls.
“I’m Lowe and this is my cousin Jade. We’re Rhinestones,” said Lowe.
The young man’s eyes showed some recognition and he looked at me curiously. “Yes, I’ve heard of you. Very polarizing figure. Then again, your sister seems to have given everybody the slip. Impressive. Downright wonderful if you ask me. I follow her exploits. If she ever wants an owl feather, you tell her to come here. Don’t go anywhere else. Those other places are poor quality.”
I glanced at Lowe. She had mentioned that there were other places around town that sold owl feathers. This guy didn’t seem to think very well of them.
“Are you the apprentice?” Lowe asked.
The young man blinked at her. He didn’t appear to take offense. It almost seemed as if he didn’t understand the question. “No, of course not. I own this place and run this establishment. My name is Michael Fieldcorn.”
Now it was my cousin’s turn to blink in surprise.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“Yes, well I don’t know how I feel about you yet. I’m going to have to think about it. I will also need to know exactly what you’re doing here. I do live on the other side of the cemetery for a reason,” he said.
Michael was anxious for us to understand that he didn’t value company. To be fair, I had already taken the hint when I found out that he lived on the other side of the cemetery.
“We were actually hoping to ask you some questions,” said Lowe, glancing around the stuffy, dusty, musty room. There were no tables or chairs. It seemed that Michael had been working on a stack of boxes when we interrupted him. From the way the place smelled of incense and potpourri, I wondered if he’d had an entire field of flowers shift into this one room. Then I looked at Michael and doubted it very much.
“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t answer questions. You’ll have to find somebody else to ask questions of. I don’t like questions,” he said. He turned around and started fiddling with the boxes again.
“How could you not like the questions when you don’t know what they are yet?” I asked.
He glanced at me as if he understood the irony of what I had just done. Unfortunately, I was entirely serious. “I can’t help you with some school paper or something. I’m a working man and I have a lot to do. Do you see all of these owls? I care for them. Find someone else to assist you with your nonsense.”
Since we hadn’t explained what we wanted, I wondered if that might help soothe his agitation.
Lowe was thinking along the same lines. “Forgive me for not being clear,” she said, stepping forward. He looked at her and blinked again, apparently still surprised that there were young ladies speaking to him. “We wanted to ask you some questions about an investigation we’re doing. Neither of us is a student. We’re looking into the illegal trade in owl feathers.”
Michael went stock still and frowned at my cousin. There was a long silence, during which he continued to frown and Lowe continued to stand her ground. Several of the owls shifted and hooted at us.
“That’s a serious problem. Looking into it is a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” he asked, seemingly more to himself than to us.
He turned sharply on his heel and made for another door at the back of the room. “Come along then,” he said. “We can talk in here.”
His demeanor had changed completely. He now appeared more confident, as if we were comrades in arms. Maybe he was pretending that we were wooden dressers and that was making it easier for him to deal with us. You never know.
The room he took us into was just as strange as the one we had left. First of all, it was filled to the brim with furniture, books, and bits and pieces you might find around an old home. In a matter of seconds I counted at least twenty doilies. If that wasn’t strange enough, it was all perfectly orderly and clean. Filled to the brim, but very clean. On the floor was a large old-fashioned rug.
“Tea? Cookies? Care for any refreshment at all?” Michael offered, sounding very formal as he went through the options.
Lowe frowned, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. She was wondering if it was safe to drink liquids from this person. She landed at the same conclusion I did: maybe not quite yet. “We actually just had lunch, but thank you. Maybe next time.”
“Do you suppose you’ll be returning?” Michael asked. He made his way over to a sitting area. Instead of a coffee table, there were stacks of books topped with a flat sheet of glass. He did the motion for crackle so fast that I nearly missed it, but a tea tray with a China tea set on it appeared on the table. It occurred to me that he must be an excellent good warlock if he could do something like that so smoothly.
“I hope you’ll not find me rude. It’s nearly my afternoon tea time,” he said.
Lowe and I followed him over and took our seats on the sofa. “We may have to come back. This is an ongoing investigation. We don’t know what’s happening, but we do know that you know a lot about owls,” I said as I watched him carefully pick up a couple of sugar cubes with small tongs and drop them into a teacup.
“I do know a lot about owls. Not so much about illegal trading. Nobody has ever asked me such questions before,” he said.
“You haven’t been threatened by anyone?” Lowe asked.
He frowned at her. “Who would threaten me?” He didn’t sound the least bit afraid, just curious. I wondered if that was bravery or foolishness.
“I was thinking of the Vixens, but I’d be open to anyone at all,” Lowe elaborated.
“Oh, them,” said Michael dismissively. “I’ve heard of them. I didn’t think they were a real threat. Then I heard that they had killed Jonathan. I think they’re trying to legitimize their organization.”
“Do they have an organization?” I asked.
“They at least have an organization of Vixens, don’t they?” he frowned. He sat back in his chair holding his tea, looking placid and still not the least bit concerned. I supposed he had a point.
“But you haven’t had any dealings with them?” Lowe asked.
“We don’t know who they are, correct? Therefore, I do not know if I’ve had any dealings with them. I do know that no one has showed up here and introduced herself as a Vixen and offered to make any sort of deal with me,” he said.
“Okay, I guess that makes sense. Have you had any of your merchandise go missing recently?” I said.
Michael took a offense at this. “My merchandise doesn’t go missing. I keep perfect track of the owls. They would never leave me and I would never abandon them. I know where they all are at all times.”
After seeing how heated he had gotten, I assured him that I had meant no offense. “I’m new around here. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re irresponsible or a bad businessman.”
He inclined his head. “I appreciate that. I forgive you your silly and ignorant notions. Be that as it may, I’ve had no problems. If someone is trading in owl feathers, it isn’t me, and it isn’t with my merchandise.”
“How many other owl traders are there in town?” I asked.
“Two other official ones, then a handful who sell feathers legally on the side. Not fancy feathers, mind you, just the regular ones for the most part,” he said. I expected him to elaborate, but his lips stayed stubbornly pursed.
“Do you have any idea which one might be trading with the Vixens?” Lowe asked.
“I would hate to speak poorly of either of the other official traders. I would say that one isn’t a very serious trader. He only has three owls
. It’s more of a side business for him. I would say that the other, Potter, is more of an expert,” he said. His tone implied that he really wouldn’t mind speaking poorly of them and probably had before.
He nodded his head several times, as if he was sure he’d said something helpful. I felt exactly the opposite. I had no idea how what he’d said was helpful at all.
“Why do you think no one has asked you to join in the illegal trade? Since my arrival I’ve heard that it’s quite popular around here,” I said.
“We are not pushovers,” said Michael. “I come from a family of traders. We go back several generations of warlocks. This is my family’s home. My family’s property. We were one of the founding members of the town. I mean, we got here a year after it started. I would hope that I would not be considered someone to mess with. Kind of like your grandmother. Still, I’m cautious. I know that mixing magic corrupts. I also know that I have owls that none of the others have. For particular spells, my owls might be the only option. So far, I do not believe that those spells have been performed. I would know,” he said.
Michael didn’t exactly sound cocky. He also didn’t sound as if he was afraid of being attacked. In fact, I rather got the impression that he knew more about this topic than he was letting on. I also got the impression that if an attack did come, he would relish it.
He took another sip of tea.
“I sense that you expect trouble,” I said.
He shrugged. “What I have in the room we just left is very valuable. Some of the owls I have there can’t be found anywhere else, they’re the last of their kind. Therefore, in order for witches to make certain potions, they must get the supplies from me. So yes, I do expect trouble. Always have. That’s something that my father, and his father before him, instilled in us. We cannot be complacent. If we are, we’re doomed,” he said.
“Don’t you think you might be safer somewhere closer to town? Being all this way out and near a graveyard seems dangerous,” said Lowe.
The Rhinestone Witches Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 29