“No,” I say. “It’s fine. She’ll be fine. I can’t leave now.”
“Are you sure?” Jaxon asks. “Family is important. I’m sure Ms. Brewster will let you take off the time you need.”
I don’t tell him he’s wrong. No need to tarnish their view of Ms. Brewster. I’m sure the headmistress has her reasons for being so hard on me.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Have you told Krista about the oil or whatever was on Giselle’s shoes?”
“Yeah,” Jaxon says. “Crazy stuff.”
“I can’t believe she was really killed,” Ivy says. “And it was premeditated! The killer must have cleaned up the scene and everything. If anything slippery was left on the stairs, someone else would have noticed. Someone else could have gotten hurt or even killed.”
“That’s a good point,” I say. “What if Giselle wasn’t even the intended target? What if it was an accident?”
“You mean a trap set for someone else?” Krista asks. “But that means anyone could have been the victim and anyone could have been the killer. We’ll never find out what happened!”
“Right,” I say. “At this point, focusing on why Giselle was killed is a waste of time. We just need to find out who killed her. The rest of the story will then reveal itself.”
“We need to find out who put the oil or whatever on the stairs,” Ivy says. “Was it oil?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It wiped off cleanly. It could be something else.”
“The scent seems to be the item’s defining quality,” Jaxon says. “We should start with that.”
“If we find the scent, we find the liquid,” Krista says, rubbing her hands together. “We find the liquid, we find the killer.”
“Exactly,” I say. “So...I guess it’s up to me to find the scent.”
“Well, it is one of your superpowers,” Ivy says with a smile.
“I don’t want to go sniffing around the house like a bloodhound, though,” I say. “We need somewhere specific to look. Do we have any other clues?”
“Mr. Stewart was burning the notebook,” Ivy says.
“And he is a Craig witch, like in that note you found,” Jaxon says.
“And he could make that room with Giselle’s body super cold,” Krista says, though that’s less of a hint because anyone could have done that.
“So, all signs point to Duncan Stewart,” I say, not looking forward to a confrontation with the guy. He’s bad enough when people aren’t accusing him of murder.
“We should start in his office,” Jaxon says. “But it could be dangerous. If he catches us—”
“He’s known for that temper,” Krista says.
“Right,” I say. “So, only Jaxon and I should go for now. Me, because I can sniff out the oil. Jaxon because Mr. Stewart is pretty big, and I’d feel safer with you there.”
“Sounds good,” Jaxon says.
“What about us?” Ivy asks.
“Just wait here,” I say. “We’ll come back once we’re done searching the office.”
The girls nod but are clearly not happy about being left out.
“Maybe we can keep watch,” Ivy suggests. “Alert you if he’s coming.”
“How?” I ask. “We don’t have telepathy.”
Ivy wrinkles her nose. “Okay, fine. But don’t linger.” She checks her watch. “He should be in class now. You have about twenty minutes.”
“Okay,” I say, giving Jaxon as nod. “Let’s go, then.”
Chapter 26
I kneel before the door to Mr. Stewart’s office and use a gentle breath to unlock the door. On one hand, someone should suggest to Ms. Brewster that the locks should be updated. On the other, the crappy locks do make sneaking around much easier.
When the lock clicks, Jaxon barely lets me stand before he opens the door and ushers me into the room. He mostly closes the door behind us, but he peeks out to make sure no one is coming.
“He’s going to notice if the door is open,” I say.
Jaxon grunts and shuts the door completely. “Just hurry up.”
“I can’t see anything,” I grumble, but then I remember when I could “see” Ivy’s shampoo.
“Let me open the blinds,” Jaxon says.
“No, wait.” I place my hand on his forearm, and he stops. “Not being able to see might make my sense of smell stronger.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can smell...leather. Sulfur. The must of old books. I try to push past all that and find the flowery scent I’m looking for.
But it’s not here.
“I can’t find it.” I frown. “The scent isn’t here.”
Jaxon cusses and starts opening drawers.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, rushing to his side. “Don’t disturb anything! If he finds out we were here—”
“If the oil is in a jar or something, you might not be able to smell it,” Jaxon says. “We should keep looking.”
I grunt, but I guess he could be right. I look at all of the items in a bookcase, but I don’t see anything that might hold a slippery substance.
“If only we knew what we were looking for,” I mumble.
“Maybe you’ll know it when you see it.” Jaxon opens the blinds to let in more light, then he goes to look inside a crate near the door.
I can’t help but run my fingers over the bindings of some books in the bookcase. They look old and have titles I can’t read—either because they are faded or in Latin—but I still feel drawn to them. So much old knowledge on this one little shelf. I wish I had time to just peruse the library and read books that interest me instead of only having time to read assigned books. There is so much I want to know about the history of witches. When was the last time—
The door to the room flies open.
“What the devil?” Mr. Stewart yells.
Jaxon stands, and Mr. Stewart punches him square in the nose, not even needing magic to knock him out cold. But I’m all the way across the room. I see his hand start to glow, and I know he’s going to hurl fire at me.
“Stop!” I yell, and I use my own powers to lower the temperature of the room, hopefully both to calm Mr. Stewart down and prevent him from using his fire power. Though, who am I kidding? He’s way more powerful than I am. If he wants to roast me, I’m not going to be able to stop him.
“What are ye doing in my office?” Mr. Stewart growls at me.
“Why did you hit Jaxon?”
“I dinne ken who it was,” Mr. Stewart says. “I just saw a couple of thieves creeping around my office.”
“Fair enough. But we have a good reason to be here.”
“I’m waiting fer it,” Mr. Stewart says.
“I know you killed Giselle,” I bluff, taking a page from Ivy’s playbook and standing firm.
“Are ye daft, woman?” Mr. Stewart asks, genuine confusion on his face. “Do ye not ken the first thing about being a witch? We can’t kill. The damn curse of Hecate.”
“Curse?” I ask. “What curse?"
“Believe me, some people deserve what’s coming to them,” Mr. Stewart says as he picks up Jaxon and props him up against the wall. “But it’s her sacred oath, that any who wish to serve her canne kill. Don’t you know that?”
“I do,” I say, surprised by how calm he is. “But Giselle’s death wasn’t an accident. I think she was murdered.”
He looks up at me, worry on his face. “Why would ye be thinking that now?” he asks. “And why would ye think it was me who done the deed?”
“I...” I cross my arms. “I don’t want to say. I need to protect the evidence.”
“Fine.” He stands back up and pours a cup of tea from a little teapot on his desk. “I’m sure Ms. Brewster will have something to say about you sneaking around, making wild accusations...” He kneels back down by Jaxon and holds the tea to his mouth.
“No,” I say. “You can’t tell Ms. Brewster. She already threatened to kick me out of school once today.”
“Ye don’t say?” Mr. Stewart helps Ja
xon drink the tea. “I don’t suppose you brought all this on yerself?”
“Not entirely,” I say. “I was...chosen, in a way.”
“Chosen?” he says with a chuckle. “Are ye Harry Potter now?”
Jaxon drinks the tea and sputters. Then he grabs the cup and downs the rest of the drink. It must have had a restorative power, because his face, which was starting to swell and look purple, now looks completely normal. He jumps to his feet.
“Hey!” Jaxon says, raising his fists. “What’s going on?”
“Never you mind, lad,” Mr. Stewart says. “But you two are in a heap o’ trouble, that’s fer sure.”
“The only person in trouble here is you,” Jaxon says. “We know you killed Giselle.”
Mr. Stewart rolls his eyes. “Are we back to that again? Ms. Whittaker already tried that.”
“I’m not sure he did kill her,” I whisper to Jaxon.
“Why?” Jaxon whispers back.
I return to a normal voice. “I just think that if he was going to kill someone, he wouldn’t hide it.”
“Damn straight,” Mr. Stewart says, taking a seat on the edge of his desk. “Finally, someone who understands me. There might be hope for ye yet, Miss Whittaker.”
“Um...thanks.”
“So, why did you think I was the killer?” Mr. Stewart asks again. “I’ll be sure to avoid the mistakes of others if I do ever commit murder so you don’t catch me.”
I look at Jaxon, and he shrugs, I guess leaving it up to me if we want to trust the guy or not.
“You burned Giselle’s notebook,” I say, leaving out the part about us stealing it back.
He nods sagely. “I knew there was more to that fire than my own magic,” he says. “You were there, huh?”
I nod but don’t say anything else.
“Do ye know what was in the book?"
I shrug. “Some runes I couldn’t read.”
“Dark magic,” Mr. Stewart says, shaking his head. “I don’t know exactly what Giselle was involved in, but it didn’t originate with Hecate, I’m sure of it.”
“Dark magic?” I ask.
“Our magic is innate,” Mr. Stewart says. “A gift from the goddess Hecate. But there are other sources of magic in the world. Magic that is not innate, but can be called forth from the depths of darkness.”
“What do you mean? Like...from demons?"
“If ye like,” Mr. Stewart says. “Those runes were not from anything originating here on earth or in the realm above. They are from an old, dark time. It was best that the book was destroyed.”
I nod slowly. I suppose it is possible that Giselle was involved in something not sanctioned by Hecate. After all, I haven’t been able to find out anything about the runes on my own.
“So, you were protecting us?” I ask. “The school?”
“My own arse probably,” Mr. Stewart says sadly. “Giselle was a top student. I knew she was pursuing something...something she ought not. But I looked the other way. She was Ms. Boucher’s problem, not mine, since she was a Grier witch. But when I saw Ms. Brewster with the book...” He shakes his head. “I knew the book had to be destroyed. It already led to Giselle’s death. I couldn’t let harm come to anyone else.”
“You think Giselle was killed for the notebook?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “I think the book killed her...after a fashion. Whatever dark magic she was conjuring up, that was what killed her. The monsters. Or a spell gone wrong. Believe me, lass, ye don’t want to be messing with dark magic. You never know when it’s going to blow up in yer face.”
I know there is some truth to his words. Giselle was involved in something that led to her death. And it is possible she died because of what she was working on in the notebook. But I also know that she was killed by a person. Someone put the oil on the stairs. If she was killed by a...a malevolent spirit, a demon, it wouldn’t have used such a mundane method.
That’s when it dawns on me that Giselle was killed by a very human method. Why would any witch use a physical substance—once that left evidence behind—to kill a witch?
“Mr. Stewart,” I say, “are there any humans here at the school? Either mundanes or mortals?”
“Not that I know of,” he says. “Why?"
I cuss to myself. “Nothing,” I say. “Just...nothing makes sense.”
“Life rarely does, lass. Now, are we done? Or do I need to worry about you accusing me of more malicious deeds?”
“I think we’re done here. Sorry.”
As we walk toward the door, I’m surprised when Mr. Stewart lays a hand softly on my shoulder. “Ye’ve been through a lot, my girl,” he says. “I’m not surprised ye want to find out the truth of yer roommate. But trust me, lass, leave it alone. Whatever Giselle was involved in, best that it died with her.”
I give him a wan smile and then follow Jaxon out of the office, Mr. Stewart closing the door behind us.
“Well, now what?” Jaxon asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I think we just hit another dead end.”
Chapter 27
We make our way back to Krista’s room, where the girls seem to have been waiting for us with bated breath.
“What happened?” they ask as soon as we enter.
“He didn’t do it,” I say, and the disappointment is clear in my voice.
“How do you know?” Ivy asks.
We give them the rundown of what happened, including what Mr. Stewart said about Giselle being involved in dark magic.
“And you believe him?” Krista asks, her eyebrows quirked skeptically.
“I do,” I say with a sigh. “I mean, if he was trying to cover up a murder, I don’t think he would have told us as much as he did.”
“Witches are extremely adept liars,” Krista says, not giving up. “There are many ways to use magic to disguise guilt.”
I hadn’t considered that before, but it just makes me feel worse. “It’s impossible, then. I just don’t have the skills to do this. I’d never be able to uncover if a coven elder was lying to me.”
“But he did admit to burning the notebook,” Ivy says. “How did he get it in the first place?”
“He seemed to hint that he stole it from Ms. Brewster,” Jaxon says. “He said that he saw her with it and knew it had to be destroyed.”
“Well, he certainly has more daring than I would have thought,” Ivy says with a shudder. “I can’t imagine anyone stealing from Ms. Brewster and living to tell the tale.”
“Probably a good thing that she doesn’t know I have it now,” I say. “Or she might think I stole it. I’m surprised she hasn’t accused me of stealing it already.”
“Well, if is wasn’t Mr. Stewart,” Krista says, “who is the next suspect?”
“Umm...I don’t have one,” I say.
“Then we go back to the evidence,” Ivy says, and she leads us from the room back to mine. “Show us what led you to Mr. Stewart, and we will see where we went wrong or what other interpretations we can come up with.”
I clear my throat and reach under my mattress to pull out the notebook. “I suppose a lot of the evidence against him was not very solid. He burned the notebook. He’s a Craig witch and coven elder. Are there other coven elders?”
“Pretty much anyone over a certain age is a coven elder,” Jaxon says as he takes the notebook from me and flips through it.
“Including my gran,” Krista says.
“Could we ask Aunt Nellie for help?” I ask, hopeful. I could really use another opinion now.
“I’d rather not go to her with this just yet,” Krista says. “I don’t think the fact Giselle was murdered should leave our little circle unless absolutely necessary.”
“You’re probably right.” I slump onto the bed. “I suspected that Giselle had been murdered from the beginning. I saw the protection—well, luck sigil above the stairs when I found her and knew something wasn’t right."
“Who else was there?” Ivy asks. “Because whoever pu
t the oil on the stairs had to be there to clean it up awfully quickly.”
“I didn’t see anyone,” I say, trying to remember. “But a lot of people showed up quickly after I screamed.” I close my eyes and rattle off the names of the students I can remember seeing, along with all the teachers and Mr. Hamilton. “Probably half the student population and all the teachers were there within a minute or two, including all of us.”
“So that doesn’t narrow it down,” Krista says, taking the book from Jaxon. “What about the book? What have you gotten from it?”
“Not much yet,” I say. “I did a little translation work, but it’s mostly names and dates of the people the statues are based on. I still don’t know why Giselle was collecting the information, or why she wrote it in code or runes or dark magic. What’s so secret about it?”
As Krista flips through the notebook, the small paper with the random letters on it slips out to the floor. She reaches down and picks it up. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that’s how I started translating the runes,” I say, then I remember that I don’t want to reveal that I found them near the statue in the grotto. As far as I know, no one else knows about him yet. “It was the only paper I found with English letters on it. It’s also why Jaxon and I focused on Mr. Stewart. See, it says CW and CE. Craig witch and coven elder."
“But these two Cs don’t look alike,” Krista says, turning the paper so I can see. “The C in CW has a little hook on the end. It looks like a G to me.”
Once Krista says it, I can’t unsee the letter G. I feel like someone could knock me over with a feather.
“How could I be so stupid?”.
“Well, it looks like it was written in haste,” Ivy says, taking her turn with the paper. “I can see why you thought it was a C, but I really do think it’s a G.”
“So that would be Glenn witch,” Krista says.
“My mom is the coven elder for Glenn,” Jaxon pipes up. “I can’t imagine her being involved in something like this.”
“Then it would be Grier witch,” Krista says, looking at me. “The air coven elder.”
“Ms. Boucher?” I say. “It can’t be. She’s so nice. So helpful. So sweet. So—” For the second time, I want to curse how dumb I am. “Oh my goddess. The flowery scent. The oil on Giselle’s shoes. I know where I smelled it before!”
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