by Lily Webb
“I spoke to Carter Norwood earlier today. He told me that, among others, he’d had to let Holly go. Since Rowena’s death, the company’s stock has plummeted, and he had to make some cuts.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I know, especially after everything she and her poor kids have already been through. I bet she was too ashamed to go home and face them. She was probably desperate to find another job and bring home some shred of good news.”
“But why wouldn’t she have come home, regardless of the news she brought with her?”
“Good question. Let me speak to her kids, Heath.”
Heath glanced from my face to my stomach and back. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It has to be me. I know what it’s like to be in a situation like this. I can talk to them.”
“I suppose you’re right. The police are there presently, but I doubt Mueller will object to you counseling the children. Lilith knows they need all the comforting they can get right now.”
“Are you looking for her?”
“As we speak. I came to fill you in, but when I saw you were crying…”
Well, that explained why the entire Council had been poring over a map of Moon Grove. “I’ll be fine, but I should get moving. The longer we wait, the less likely we are to find her.”
Heath nodded and reached for a pad of paper and pen near the corner of my desk. He scribbled an address on the paper — Number Fifteen, Moonbeam Lane — tore it off, and passed it to me. “Here’s Holly’s address. It’s close to your house. I’ll call the police and tell them to expect you.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Heath.”
“Of course. I know I say this too often, but it counts now more than ever: please be careful, Zoe. Don’t do anything rash.”
“When have I ever been known to do something like that?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, but a smirk betrayed his seriousness. “I mean it.”
“Okay, okay, I promise. Things have changed now, I get it. I can’t go running into the line of fire like I used to anymore.”
“That’s right, and we don’t know how — or if — your magic will behave in your current condition.”
I nodded and jumped out of my chair to run to the closet for my broom and my bag. “I don’t think I’ll need it to talk to a couple of kids, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
Heath shouted something as I left my office, but I moved too quickly to hear. Umrea stormed after me, her monstrous feet thundering against the marble floor and shaking dust from the ceiling as we ran from the building.
“Where are you going?” Umrea asked breathlessly when I stopped outside to kick my leg over my broomstick.
“Holly Craft’s house on Moonbeam Lane. Hurry,” I said and darted into the air without waiting for her to catch up. The wind whistled in my ears as we soared northwest over the roofs of Moon Grove, and all I could think about was Holly’s poor kids. I was much younger when I lost my parents, but I knew age didn’t matter — a missing parent was devastating, regardless.
My house zipped by underneath, and a pang struck my stomach as I thought about touching down to tell Beau the good news, but it would have to wait. As monumental as the revelation of my pregnancy was, I had more pressing things to deal with first. Besides, it wasn’t like our baby was going anywhere.
We arrived at Number Fifteen and as we lowered to the ground, I spotted Mueller standing on the front porch waiting for me, his arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t take his eyes off Umrea as we approached. “I didn’t realize you were bringing in the cavalry.”
I fixed him with a glare. “Wherever I go, she goes. You ought to know that by now. Anyway, how are the kids?”
Mueller shrugged, shaking his jowls. “They’re going well, all things considered. The daughter seems to be taking it harder than the son.”
“Leave it to an older brother to be a tough guy. Can I talk to them?”
Mueller nodded. “Not a problem, but I’d suggest you leave the gargoyle outside. We don’t want to scare them.”
I glanced at Umrea, whose upper lip was curled, revealing one of her long, sharp fangs. “Sorry, kitty girl. That’s the way the wings flap sometimes.” She growled as I handed her my broom to hold but took her place standing guard by the door, anyway.
Mueller led me inside the humble, sparsely decorated house. Only a single photo — a family portrait of Holly, Torin, and Cassia, in which none of them seemed happy to be there — hung above the fireplace. The furniture looked used and unkempt, giving the impression that Holly and her family lived like Spartans, probably to be ready to leave at any time. My heart hurt for the kids.
In the living room, Torin and Cassia sat on the couch on the far side of the room. Cassia had her knees pulled to her chest. Though her pretty blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy, I could tell immediately that she was Holly’s daughter — she looked like the spitting image of her mother. She stared at a stain on the carpet in front of the couch and didn’t look up once as I sat down on the loveseat across from the couch.
Torin, however, sat on the edge of the cushion, leaning forward with his sharp elbows resting on his bony knees. He watched all my movements carefully with a scrutinizing look in his brown eyes. A fringe of matching brown hair dangled over his forehead. I had no idea what their father looked like, but I’d guess Torin took more after him than their mother.
“Torin, Cassia. I’m Zoe Clarke, the Head Witch,” I introduced myself gently, keeping my voice low but authoritative.
“Yeah, we know,” Torin said in a voice much deeper than his slim frame suggested he might have, but he didn’t seem dismissive. “You must know something, right? That’s why you’re here. They wouldn’t send the Head Witch over here for nothing.”
I exchanged looks with Mueller, who stood silently in the corner beside me. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, and I got the message: say nothing, give nothing away. I turned back to Torin and offered what I hoped was a warm smile. “When was the last time you saw your mother?”
Torin scowled, and a look of annoyance flashed across his face — probably because he’d already been over this several times with Mueller. Even though he rolled his eyes, he spoke. “Not since yesterday morning, before I left school. I started at Veilside this year.”
“Wow, congratulations,” I said, and I meant it, but Torin didn’t seem to buy it.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Was your mom heading to work?”
Torin nodded. “Yeah. Where else would she have gone?”
Typical teenage sarcasm, but I let it slip. “Have you noticed anything, well, unusual about your mom lately?”
Cassia scoffed. “Tons.” Torin shot her a dark look like she’d broken an unspoken rule, but she threw her hands in the air. “What? You want me to lie now?” Torin tore his gaze away from her and stared at the floor.
“What’s been going on?”
“Mom’s been acting all kinds of weird for days now, just like the last time she got in trouble. That’s what’s going on, isn’t it? No one wants to say it, but I know she did something.”
“We don’t know that yet,” I said, and Mueller cleared his throat to warn me about making promises I couldn’t keep. “What do you mean when you say she’s been acting weird?”
Cassia shrugged. “She’s been coming home later than usual, and when we ask why, she gets all angry and tells us to mind our business.”
“She thinks we’re stupid, but I know she’s been seeing that psychic,” Torin spoke up, and my eyes shot to his. Did he mean Madame Astra?
“A psychic? Do you know their name?”
Torin’s face scrunched up as he thought. “I saw it in her phone’s calendar about a week ago. I think it was Erwin or something like that. He’s that weird old dude with the beard who can barely walk,” he said, and my heart dropped into my stomach. He could only mean Derwin. But why would Holly be seeing him?
“When was the appointment you saw in he
r calendar?”
“Last night. Six o’clock.”
“And you’re sure that’s what you saw?”
Torin rolled his eyes at me again. “I know how to work a cell phone — way better than Mom does, obviously. It’s her own fault for not putting a passcode on it.”
“Why were you on your mom’s phone in the first place?”
“Mom can’t afford to give us our own, so we have to use hers,” Cassia said, and again my heart lurched in my chest.
“It’s charging in the kitchen if you don’t believe me,” Torin said and my pulse doubled. Why wouldn’t Holly have taken her phone with her to work and wherever else she was going? Did she ever make it to her scheduled meeting with Derwin?
“She left it here?”
“Not on purpose. Mom’s not exactly the most organized person in the world. She forgets her phone all the time,” Torin said.
I stood to make my way into the kitchen, and Mueller followed. I found the phone charging on the table. “Is it okay if I hold on to this?”
“Go ahead. I already looked through it, but I didn’t see anything interesting.”
I unplugged the phone and dropped it into my bag. I didn’t know what I hoped to find on it — especially since Mueller had seen nothing useful — but I figured it couldn’t hurt.
I lowered my voice and leaned forward so only he could hear me. “What will happen to the kids?”
“Nothing. We don’t want to take them out of their home or disrupt their lives any more than necessary, so we’ll post guards to keep watch over them until we figure out what’s going on.”
“Good, I’m glad. The psychic Torin mentioned, it’s Derwin Moriarty. Have you talked to him yet?”
Mueller shook his head. “I figured you might want to do that for us.”
He had that right. “Thanks. Derwin might not tell me much if he really was seeing Holly — evidently, the Seers have a Code of Conduct — but I’ll see what I can get out of him.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you. I’ll stay with the kids for now.”
I nodded and went back into the living room to sit across from the kids again. “Thank you both for speaking with me. We’ll find your mom, no matter what. You have my word.”
Cassia started crying again, and Torin nodded but said nothing, which I took as my cue to leave. Mueller nodded at me as I headed for the door. As soon as I stepped outside, my resolve broke and tears stung my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Umrea asked.
I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my robes. “Nothing,” I lied, and as I took my broom from her, I couldn’t stop thinking about Torin and Cassia — and the unborn child of my own.
For their sakes, I’d find Holly and bring all of this to a close, no matter what it took.
Chapter Fourteen
Before I left the neighborhood, I couldn’t resist walking past my house to see if Beau was home. Unsurprisingly, all the lights inside were off, so news of Holly’s disappearance must’ve already spread, leading to more work for him and the rest of the crew at Channel 666.
Still, I pulled my phone from my pocket and tapped to send a text to him.
>>Me: Hey. I’m sure you’re busy with the news of Holly’s disappearance. We’re working on it too. I just talked to her kids and I think I might have a lead, but there’s something you and I need to talk about when you’re free. Something big. Call me when you can. Love you.
I hated to be so vague, but I couldn’t see any other way. It didn’t seem fair to drop the news of my pregnancy on him via text, but I also didn’t have time to stop by his office or wait for him to come home. At least this way he couldn’t accuse me of leaving him completely in the dark.
Frustrated, I dropped my phone back in my bag and motioned to Umrea that we were heading for the skies. As far as I knew, Derwin was the last person to see Holly, but that didn’t mean he had anything to do with her disappearance. She might never have shown up for their scheduled appointment, so before I marched back into his shop and accused him of anything, I needed to get my wands in a row.
“Where to now?” Umrea asked.
“Back to the Town Hall. I need to talk with Heath about everything.”
“Good plan.”
I furrowed my brows at her. “Wow, there really is a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
Umrea fixed me with her eerie eyes. “Even a broken wand occasionally casts correct spells.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, but slung my broom between my legs to take off, anyway. The late afternoon air breezing through my curls was refreshing, but no matter how hard I tried to let it relax me, I couldn’t shake the image of Cassia crying on her mother’s couch.
Though Holly had a history of disappearing when the going got tough, she didn’t at all seem like a person who would abandon her kids — in fact, she seemed the polar opposite — which made me wonder if something bad had happened to her.
But who would’ve wanted to hurt her? Was she somehow tied up in all this drama with Rowena Norwood and the attack on Madame Astra’s shop? I couldn’t deny Holly’s record of theft in Starfall Valley, but she seemed like she’d really turned over a new leaf since coming to Moon Grove. More than that, I couldn’t for the life of me come up with a reason she’d want to steal Madame Astra’s crystal ball — nor what she could do with it.
Coupled with the fact that Madame Astra herself had been less than forthcoming every time I’d talked to her, doling out information as it suited her narrative, I found it hard to believe Holly had any connection to the attack on her shop. In fact, Madame Astra seemed more likely to stage an attack on her shop to drum up more coverage in the media and further inflate the worth of her app.
Whatever the truth might be, I had a hunch I’d find the answers I needed in Holly’s phone nestled safely against mine in my bag. Though it wasn’t likely Holly had left any definitive breadcrumbs out in the open on her phone, she had to have left something behind, some clue that might point to where she’d gone.
Regardless, I knew I’d need Heath’s help to sift through and understand whatever I might find, so I landed outside the Town Hall feeling slightly more hopeful than I thought I had any right to.
Inside, the Council meeting had already dispersed, and I assumed Heath must’ve retired to his office, so I headed there first. Gorloz, his gargoyle captain, nodded at me as I reached for the door to knock.
“It’s Zoe!”
“Come in,” Heath called back through the door, so I let myself in. He sat behind his desk with his reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. An ancient-looking book lay splayed out in front of him, its pages worn and yellowed, its leather exterior cracked and faded. “I’m glad to see you back so quickly, and in one piece, no less,” he said over the top of his glasses.
“Doing some research?” I asked as I sat down across from him.
“Of sorts, yes,” he said and took his glasses off to rest them on the desk. He slammed the book shut with an echoing thud and rubbed his eyes. “Opening the Third Eye: A Guide to the Art of Divination by Vivian Quinn,” the cover read in peeling gold lettering.
“Brushing up on the basics, huh?” I asked, nodding at the book.
Heath chuckled and shook his head. “It’s been so long I feel like I’m learning for the first time. Divination was always my weakest subject in school.”
For whatever reason, I’d never imagined Heath as a student. In my mind, he was always the insanely talented, powerful warlock I knew, but he had to have started from somewhere with his magic just like the rest of us. It also made me realize how little I knew about his personal history.
“Did you go to Veilside too?”
Heath nodded. “I did, a very long time ago. I specialized in Alchemy.”
“Wow, really? I wouldn’t have guessed. You seem more like a Kinesis specialist, like me.”
“Well, dear, when you get to be my age, I suspect your talents will have grown to be just as varied.”
I laughed. “Let’s hope. Anyway, were you looking for something in particular?”
Heath cracked the book open to its table of contents to scan it. “I am. I’m trying to understand how Madame Astra’s app works. Against my better judgment, I’ve downloaded and experimented with it. It seems like Madame Astra is in fact the one providing the answers to all the queries her app receives, but how could she possibly do that herself?”
“I’ve been wondering that too. I’ve only asked the app a couple questions myself, but when I’ve talked to Madame Astra in person, she’s mentioned what I asked. It's kind of creepy.”
Heath chuckled. “Agreed. It would take incredible magic to do something like that. I’ve heard many great things about Madame Astra, and I don’t doubt her talents, but not even the most skilled witch or warlock in the world should have the power to do what she’s doing.”
“Could it be an illusion? You know, back home in the non-magical world, the big tech companies have these huge server farms full of supercomputers that sit and crunch data from all over the world all day, every day. Maybe she’s using something similar?”
Heath’s eyes widened. “Hold that thought,” he said and bolted from his chair to dash to one of the many bookshelves that lined his office. He spent several minutes searching for a book and eventually shouted “A-ha!” when he found it. He pulled the book off the shelf by its spine and brought it to the desk where he plopped it down in front of me.
“The Life and Legend of Merlin Ambrosius,” the title read. A warlock named Gerard Rathmore wrote it, and it looked even older than the book on Divination he’d been reading — which I didn’t think was possible.
“Do you know the legend of Merlin?”
I laughed nervously. “Probably not the real one. All I know about him I got from the animated movies I watched as a kid.”
“Well, you already know part of his story. It’s directly connected to yours,” Heath said and opened the book to a section called “The Myth of Merlin’s Artifacts.”
I scanned over the page that described Merlin’s incredible magical inventions and achievements throughout his life — he was the magical equivalent to Leonardo da Vinci — but my heart lodged in my throat when I got to a passage describing three enchanted objects Merlin allegedly created: Merlin’s Mind, Merlin’s Heart, and Merlin’s Wand.