I frowned slightly. My search for suspects here at the blood bank seemed like it was going to be pretty fruitless.
“So you can’t think of anyone here who would have wanted Luca dead?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Titus said, shaking his head. “He was a genuinely good vampire.”
“I heard Luca was also involved in trying to get the laws changed so more humans can turn,” I said, and Titus nodded.
“That’s right, he was. He and a couple of others were at the forefront of a movement that’s growing among young vampires especially.”
“Can I ask where you stand on the issue?”
Titus winked at me. “Seeing as I was a human myself, once, I have to concede that I’m in favor of changing the law and making it easier for humans to turn.”
“You were a human once?” I asked, my eyebrows rising.
“Sure. I was a child of the gold rush. Came north when I was in my thirties, and that was when I met the vampire who turned me. Eternal life sounded pretty good. I had to change my name, and learn all of the vampire traditions, and abandon literally everything I ever knew, but I have never once regretted my decision.”
“Wow,” I said quietly. I didn’t think I had ever spoken to a vampire who had been turned before. At least, not knowingly. For the most part, paranormal species didn’t interact with one another, so I didn’t really know a lot of vampires, especially since they tended to work at night only and sleep during the day.
“It’s been an interesting change in my situation,” Titus said. “That’s why I like to work for the blood bank. I feel like I should give back to the community that brought me into the fold.”
“That’s good of you,” I said. “Anyway, thank you for the information.”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help find Luca’s killer. Come by whenever if you’d like more information.”
I thanked Titus and headed back out into the night, thankful to be leaving the weird blood room behind me.
Chapter 8
I stifled a yawn as I made my way back down the street. I glanced at my watch. It was just after midnight. The vampires would still be out for another six hours or so, but I was exhausted, and I realized I had absolutely no idea how to find George or Anastasia, the next two people I had to speak to about Luca’s death.
I ended up wandering back to the shed, where I found Vinnie square in the middle of my bed.
“This is my bed, I should at least have enough space to lie down in it,” I muttered as I shoved him gently out of the way. He let out a grunt but kept sleeping all the way through, and I quickly found myself off to dream-land as well.
Waking up late the next morning, I cooked myself a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs before deciding to make my way down to The Magic Brewmstick to see what the local gossip concerning Luca’s murder was all about. After all, you never knew what you could find out just by listening to the local rumor mill.
I gave Vinnie an extra carrot, then headed out. The clouds were low, and a few snowflakes fell from the sky. It was the first snowfall of the season, and I held my head up and stuck my tongue out to catch some flakes on my tongue.
Hey, who said just because you were a grown witch you couldn’t enjoy the first snow of the year?
I passed through the town, where an inch of fresh snow sat on every surface. It was a magical sight, seeing the Swiss-style buildings covered in snow, and the lake, with its surface looking black and foreboding, cutting into the landscape.
Eventually I reached The Magic Brewmstick and stepped inside, rubbing my hands together, thankful for the warmth.
“Morning, Ali,” the fairy behind the counter greeted me.
“Hi, Starr,” I said to her as I made my way to the counter. Being on a first-name basis with the staff here probably meant I spent too much time in this particular establishment, but hey, as long as it wasn’t a bar I figured I was ok.
Caffeine was totally a socially acceptable drug to be addicted to, after all.
“What can I get for you today?”
“An extra shot latte, please,” I replied. After all, even though it was already ten-thirty in the morning, I hadn’t actually gotten to bed until almost one, and I was the sort of person who didn’t function if my sleep schedule got really messed up.
“Big night?” she said with a wink, and I laughed.
“I wish it was that kind of big night. I was just working.”
“Oh, well that’s disappointing,” Starr laughed as I handed her a few bills. “Take a seat and I’ll bring it out for you in a minute.”
“Thanks, you’re a doll. I’ll be outside.”
I made my way to the back patio of the coffee shop. In the summer, the patio was open to the elements, allowing patrons to enjoy their coffee in the open air while looking over the lake. In the winter, like now, a magical protective covering kept the space warm and cozy despite the cold temperatures outside, which in my mind was even nicer than in the summer.
There were a bunch of people out here, and most of the tables were taken. I slipped into a seat at one of the large picnic tables and began casually eavesdropping on the conversation between two fairies next to me when I realized they were talking about Luca’s murder.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” one of the fairies said. “His parents closed the grocery store for two days, they’re still paying us for the shifts we’re not doing, though.” That triggered the memory for me; I knew this fairy, she worked as a checkout clerk at the grocery store.
“And murdered!” the other fairy said, in a hushed whisper as if it were a secret. “I wonder what he was into. Do you know anything about that?”
“No, of course I don’t,” the other fairy said. “I always thought Luca was straight as an arrow. Of course, I didn’t see him all that often. He worked nights. I think he might have been a bit distracted lately, though.”
“Distracted?”
“Well, it might not have been him. But for a couple of weeks now there have been a lot more mistakes made. I keep getting customers who complain the price at the register isn’t the price they saw on the shelves, or that they can’t find items where they’re supposed to be. It’s just been a few people, but it’s more than usual.”
“That’s a bit strange,” the other witch said. “Maybe he was seeing someone.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that.”
“That’s what I think, anyway. He might have been in love, and so his mind wasn’t on his work. Or maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have, and that was what got him killed.”
“Like what?” the cashier said with a small laugh. “This is Mt. Rheanier. What could Luca have seen that would possibly get him killed? A couple of teenage wizards taking potions in the park at two in the morning? Because let’s face it, apart from the murders that have all been solved, there haven’t exactly been any high-stakes crimes in the area lately.”
The other witch shrugged. “Maybe it didn’t happen here. Maybe he went travelling and saw something happen in another town.”
“Now you’re letting your imagination get the better of you,” the first fairy said. Just then Starr came by and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.
“I upsized it for you on the house,” she told me with a wink. “You look like you need it.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I said, shooting her a grateful look. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite?”
“No, but I know it anyway,” Starr replied with a dazzling smile as she sauntered back off to the counter.
I turned back to the fairies, but the sounds of a familiar voice drifted suddenly toward me. It was that of Gloria Melrose, and as much as I did not want to involve myself in my grandmother’s blood feud over pie, I couldn’t help myself.
It was just then that I realized I had never gotten an answer from Grandma Rosie about Sorina last night, either.
“That’s right. Rosie’s reign of terror over this town ends this year,” I heard Glor
ia say. She was a couple of tables over, and I struggled to overhear the conversation, but at the same time I didn’t want her to see me. If she noticed Rosie’s granddaughter, she would obviously stop talking straight away.
Instead, I ducked my head and turned the other way while casting a quick sound amplification spell and aiming it toward the table where Gloria was sitting, along with a couple other older witches that I didn’t recognize. That way, anything they said would sound louder in my head, and I could overhear without them being aware of my presence.
“You know, I hear she cheats her way into that prize,” one of the witches said.
“I heard she slept with Henry last year so he’d give her the win, even though her apple and winter berry pie wasn’t nearly as good as Juniper’s pumpkin pie.”
“I personally thought that one had too much nutmeg,” one of the other witches said quietly, and I glanced over to see Gloria glaring at her.
“It most certainly did not,” Gloria said with a sniff. “Juniper’s pie was better than the crap Rosie came up with.”
“I like the art Rosie comes up with on the crust. That wreath of flowers she had made out of dough was so elegant,” another witch offered, and this time it was her turn to get the stare of death from Gloria.
“It’s not supposed to be about how pretty the crust looks, it’s all about the taste. My pies are better than hers. My three year old grandwitch makes better pies than she does. She goes around telling everyone how it’s an old family recipe that’s been in her family for hundreds of years and how that’s the secret to her success, but she’s lying. I know she’s lying. I’ve known Rosie since she was seven years old, and I’ve never seen her lift a finger to bake a cake. Why, when her husband was still alive he used to do all the cooking, which let me tell you he got an earful from his friends about. This was back in the sixties and seventies, after all. So no, there’s something fishy about Rosie winning the pie contest every year, and I’m not letting her do it again.”
I had to hide a smile. Now that I knew Grandma Rosie was lying – not only had she gone to France to study pastry-making just to win this contest, but she later admitted to me that her recipes came from Pinterest – I thought it was pretty funny that she was pretending to use old family recipes to win the competition.
Especially since it seemed to be driving Gloria Melrose nuts.
“I don’t know, I had a piece of that winter berry pie last year, and it was definitely something,” one of the witches said, and this time Gloria slammed her fist on the table.
“Mine are better, damn it. She’s cheating. I know she’s cheating. And I don’t care what it’s going to take, I’m going to beat her this year.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of pie are you making?”
“A rosemary-pear pie. It’s one of those modern, fancy recipes that the judges seem to love these days for some reason. I found out the same recipe won a competition in Italy a few months ago, so I should be all set. And I’ve also got a secret weapon of my own.”
“Are you going to sleep with Henry?” one of the other witches asked, and I glanced over to see Gloria scrunch up her nose.
“That’s disgusting, of course not. Henry is like, eighty years old, has nose hairs longer than my actual hair and he smells weirdly like paint.”
“He does have a faint paint smell about him,” one of the witches confirmed. “I’ve never been able to figure out where it comes from.”
“Anyway, I’m totally going to destroy Rosie this year. You can all count on it. She’s smug, she’s weird, and it’s about time someone got her off that high horse of hers.”
The other older witches murmured general agreement, but I had to admit, it kind of sounded like they weren’t entirely on Gloria’s side. I watched with satisfaction as their eyes dropped to the side, avoiding hers.
“What exactly is your plan, Gloria?” one of the witches asked, but Gloria tapped her nose.
“A lady never gives away her secrets. I can’t tell you exactly what I’m going to do, but I can tell you it’s going to be effective.”
Drat. There went another chance to get some more information for Grandma Rosie. I couldn’t believe Gloria was out here spreading rumors that Grandma Rosie had slept her way to the blue ribbon.
That was just wrong.
Chapter 9
I should have let it go. I knew I should have just let it go. I should have drank the rest of my latte in peace, and left without having any of the older witches see me, but despite my brain telling me this was a bad idea, I just couldn’t let Gloria get away with insulting Grandma Rosie like that.
Besides, I was still salty about Gloria failing me in that class back in high school. I mean sure, I wasn’t the best student ever, but I tried sometimes. Most of my other professors passed me, but Gloria had always been out to get me, and I’d never forget the smirk she gave me when she handed me my report card with the final grade on it.
Plus, I was fairly certain she had purposely failed me on my final test just so that she could fail me in the whole class.
So while I knew I should have let it go, I didn’t.
I took the final sip of my coffee and stood up from the table, slowly walking past Gloria and her friends.
“Oh, hi Gloria,” I said with the fakest smile I could manage. “Are you looking forward to losing the pie competition yet again this year?”
Gloria snarled at me. “It would be nice for someone in your family to win something, wouldn’t it? After all, you’re all just a pack of losers. How on earth that sister of yours turned out half-normal is beyond me. Have you learned the importance of algebra in casting spells yet?”
“Well, more importantly, I’ve learned not to be a gigantic douchenozzle, a lesson you’ve obviously yet to master despite your advanced years.”
Ok, so I was lying. I hadn’t learned that lesson myself yet, either, as evidenced by the fact that I had started this whole exchange. But the look on Gloria’s face was priceless.
“You always were a little brat! You, who showed up to class late, or not at all. You, who were always more interested in going off on little adventures than studying math. You, who I had to wait until the last exam to fail so I could see that crushed look on your face.”
“A little brat related to the seven-time winner of the pie competition,” I said with a smile. “I heard you’ve got a secret plan in place to try and dethrone my grandmother, but I’m telling you right now, it won’t work. She’s smarter than you, and a better baker.”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that listening in to private conversations is rude, you stupid witch?”
I shrugged. “Sorry if you don’t like my honesty. But to be fair, I don’t like your entire personality.”
Gloria stood up and pointed her wand at me. “You say that again.”
“What, are you so old now you’re going deaf?” I was fully goading her now, but I couldn’t help myself. After all, Gloria had all but admitted that she had failed me on purpose back in the tenth grade.
“Rhea, mother goddess, curse this witch and make her itch!” The hex Gloria cast was a popular one among school-age children, and my reflexes were still pretty good. I immediately ducked to the ground, and to my relief found that I wasn’t itching at all.
A second later one of the witches at the table behind me jumped up with a yelp. She immediately began scratching at herself.
“What’s going on? What is this?” she asked in a panic, and I grinned at Gloria.
“Wow, great work casting that spell, you really nailed that,” I said, shaking my head. “Someone should call the Enforcers and tell them there’s a witch who’s been using magic irresponsibly here.”
“I’m so itchy! Oh, make it stop!” the witch called out, and Gloria quickly muttered a reversing spell. As soon as the witch who had been hit by the spell was no longer desperately clawing at her skin, she looked around as if to see who had done it.
I pointed a casual finger toward Gloria, my bod
y angled so that only the witch who had been hit by the hex could see it.
She narrowed her eyes at Gloria. “I should have known it was you, you fat cow!”
My mouth dropped open at the insult. I had definitely not been expecting that.
“Oh please, Betty. How could you tell the difference between my spell and the normal itching you get from wearing those flea-infested clothes all the time?”
Wow. There was definitely some bad blood between these two witches that I had not known about. I stepped away from the fray, wisely deciding not to get in the middle of this argument between the two old witches, and watched as Betty whipped out her wand.
She muttered a spell aimed directly at Gloria, who cast a different spell to shield herself, and the spell instead bounced off the shield and straight at one of Gloria’s friends. The witch’s hair immediately caught on fire; the flame was blue and hot and the woman screamed as a third witch used her own wand to put it out.
I watched, riveted, as the two tables of witches started going at it full-pelt. It was like a food fight scene from a movie, except rather than teenagers at an Academy, the participants were all fully-grown witches, and they hurled spells at each other rather than cups of pudding.
The other patrons ducked away, lest they be dragged into the fight. The two fairies that I had been sitting next to had tipped the long table over and were crouched behind it like they were dodging bullets in a riot zone.
I pressed myself against the wall, knowing I was only a few feet away from the door and from safety, but also super interested in seeing how this played out. Grandma Rosie was going to be furious when she found out she missed this.
Honestly, it was probably a good thing she wasn’t here, though. I knew full well she’d be in the middle of the fray.
The participants in the fight were absolutely not holding back. Someone on Betty’s side of the table threw out a spell that made Gloria blow up like a balloon and start floating into the air. One of the other witches, in an attempt to bring Gloria back down to earth, reached up and grabbed her by the ankle, quickly finding herself floating up as well.
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