Lowe sat forward in excitement. She had come alive during this conversation and clearly wanted to tell me everything.
“Don’t go gossiping where you don’t understand,” Bethel warned her. “These are powerful witches and supernaturals we’re talking about. They wouldn’t take kindly to what you’re saying.”
Lowe shrugged off my grandmother’s warning, her eyes bright.
“The Vixens are the main group that buys stolen cricket legs. No one knows who they are, but they’ve always been known to be dangerous. Potions are their specialty, and it’s rumored that they sometimes poison people. Their potions are nearly impossible to detect.”
My eyes were wide. “What about unicorn dung? Doesn’t that put us in harm’s way?”
Lowe was about to say something else but Bethel cut her off. “We’re fine. No one with any sense messes with a Rhinestone.”
“Who are the Vixen witches?” I said. “Are they witches I know?”
Like, did Ms. Mallon double as a vicious cricket leg trader?
“Oh, no one knows who they are. There were always rumors that your mother was one of that set, that she traded on the black market. But she wasn’t a Vixen,” said Bethel. “I’m as certain of that as I am of anything in this world.”
“Did she trade on the black market?” I asked breathlessly. So my mother was apparently a master criminal after all. If my family was full of criminals, had they in fact broken the law? Or was there more here than met the eye?
“What was my mother sent to jail for?” I asked.
Now my grandmother was getting annoyed with me. I could see that Lowe regretted having opened the way to the question in the first place.
“Many of us have traded on the black market from time to time. At one point or another it was what we needed to do to survive. Your mother’s court case was a sham, and that’s all I’ll say about it right now. You’re asking an awful lot of questions,” she added, looking like she was ready to rise and leave.
Lowe put out a hand and gently touched her arm, but my grandmother continued to shift and shake her head.
“I can’t see what’s so bad about wanting to get to know my mother,” I told her.
“There’s nothing bad about that,” said Bethel, instantly softening.
“Then tell me about her. You don’t have to tell me about the criminal part. What about the rest?” I said.
“It would be nice to hear stories. Of my dad, too,” said Lowe.
It turned out that Lowe’s parents had been killed at sea when she was a baby. They were investigating magical life in the ocean when a storm rose up out of nowhere. Lowe had been too young to go with them and had been left in the care of Marnie and Bethel.
Marnie, my mother, had been desperately sad when Lowe’s parents died.
That also explained why Lowe was an only child. She didn’t remember much of her mom and dad. Bethel had resolved to find the sea creatures her son was researching, but so far she hadn’t had any luck.
Having told some of the history of Lowe’s parents, Bethel now turned to me.
“Your mother loved fish and chips. She loved silly movies, she hated combing her hair, and she loved the unicorns. I never saw a kid so happy to race out there and take care of the horses. From the time she was old enough, she nearly flew out to the fields every single morning.
“I would always tell her to be careful, and she would always yell at me that she was. ‘Beautiful beasts’ was what I liked to call them, but she didn’t like that. She said ‘great creatures’ was more accurate. Ever since she chided me, that’s what I’ve called them. She was very protective of them. She never cared as much about their poop.”
“That’s sweet,” I said. Most people didn’t care about poop, but maybe it was a little different not to care when the poop was more valuable than gold.
My grandmother stood up, went over to a shelf, and reached down a beautiful wooden chest. Handing it to me, she murmured, “There’s definitely something of your mother’s in here.”
I opened the box and saw that it was filled with trinkets. I set aside the necklaces I’d been examining and started to check out the contents of the box.
“I keep a lot of family remembrances,” said Bethel quietly.
“Do you ever,” muttered Lowe with a grin.
“Ah. Here it is.” My grandmother pulled something out and extended it toward me as if she’d made a great discovery.
I raised my eyebrows at her. “It’s a pen,” I said, bemused.
“Yes, so?”
“I thought it would be something else. Like a ring, or a diary,” I explained.
“We Rhinestones don’t write about our feelings! We express them,” Bethel said.
“Explains all the fighting,” said Lowe.
“Anything else you have to say over there, peanut gallery?” my grandmother said.
“I’m sure there will be sooner or later,” said Lowe, not relinquishing her right to quibble about anything she pleased.
Bethel handed me the pen. “Ethel has a few things of hers as well. She didn’t have many worldly possessions . . . but she loved that pen.”
Bethel looked like she was going to say more, and I thought it would be that my mother didn’t have a lot of worldly possessions because she spent most of her time on the run from the law. But she closed her mouth again, and I didn’t ask her to expand on the subject.
The pen was very plain, silver with a black stripe on one side. I grabbed up a notebook on the side table and scribbled my name in it.
“It’s out of ink. Probably the ink dried up long ago. You must have had it for years,” I said after I’d scratched away at the paper several times with no result.
“I have had it for a long time,” said my grandmother.
I pocketed the gift anyway. My mother had held this pen. She had moved it. This pen had been hers. It was the closest I would come to her for a long time.
I yawned. I had learned a lot this evening about Twinkleford and my mom. I just hoped some of it would help me save Ethel.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The classes in deportment became more hectic as the debutant ball loomed. France kept saying we were doing the wrist flick wrong.
“He reminds me of a chef,” said Jackie, waving her hands madly in the air. “I feel like he should be in the kitchen manning an army of workers and throwing up his hands every time the sauce doesn’t taste just so.”
“What did you say? Are you speaking when you’re supposed to be spelling?” France demanded, scrutinizing everyone as only a very large man with button eyes could.
Jackie squeaked and looked back at her crystal ball.
France’s eyes turned to me next. “Do you have a problem? How’s your spelling going? Have you seen anything in the crystal ball yet?”
“Not just yet. A lot of gray clouds,” I said.
France had pulled out the smallest six crystal balls he could find in storage, each about the size of a softball, or maybe a snow globe. Either way he didn’t think we could handle any more excitement then that.
The size of the crystal ball was directly proportional to how much we saw in it. The bigger the crystal ball, the harder the work was to handle and the more we saw.
Because this was one of the first things in magic that made total sense to me, I was relieved every time this class came around each week. Maybe that was also because in France’s class I didn’t have to deal with Ms. Mallon glaring in every direction, but especially mine.
The rain was pouring down outside today. The weather was so bad that my grandmother had gone up to the attic and dug out a pair of rain boots of my mother’s. They were bright blue with yellow ducks on them.
All of our rain boots now stood in a little line next to the red classroom doors. Leaning behind them were umbrellas, except that Hannah and Taylor had taken their umbrellas and hung them away from all the rest. Every time I walked near Hannah or anything that belonged to her, I smelled the cloud of flo
wers. She had told Taylor that she didn’t want her fragrance diluted by our musty scent.
She had looked at me when she said it, and I felt self-conscious about the boots having been in the attic for so many years. I also always felt as if I were sweating under my arms, even if I wasn’t.
“Everybody get back to work! I want all of you to pay close attention to this casting and what you’re seeing in the crystal ball,” said France.
But just as he finished speaking and we lowered our heads to work, screams split the air and we all stopped dead.
Goosebumps and chills raced down my spine. Someone was clearly in agony.
Then we were all moving at once. France didn’t even try to stop us. He was in the lead as we made for the red double doors.
There was a moment of commotion as some of the students stopped to put on their rain boots. I didn’t bother. I just kept going.
France shoved the doors wide and we all followed him out. The scream was still going on. The noise sounded very close.
At first it was difficult to see anything through the sheets of rain. There was a small parking lot next to the dance hall, and it sounded like that was where the sound was coming from. I could see other dark shapes of supernaturals moving around us as we headed out; more people who were out and about on this terrible day had heard the commotion and come running.
“Can’t you do anything about this rain?” Hannah demanded. She and Taylor were the last ones to show up on the steps, because they couldn’t possibly come outside without getting fully dressed. I, on the other hand, was still standing there in my socks.
“I could if I wanted to cause a lot of trouble,” said France. “You know perfectly well that messing with the weather is never a good idea. Are you trying to get out of classes for the next week, or what?”
Hannah didn’t answer. We all knew she was. She was the only one who thought she already knew everything there was to learn.
“I think I see her,” said Glory, pointing to the parking lot. Sure enough, a woman was making her way toward us, no longer screaming.
The witch looked vaguely familiar, but in the terror of the situation I couldn’t place her. Her eyes were wide and she was clutching a knife in her hand.
France spread his arms wide and stepped between his students and the woman, as if to protect us. The woman noticed the movement and immediately dropped the knife.
“It isn’t mine,” she stammered through the rain. Her teeth were chattering. “I just found it. That girl tried to kill me.”
France looked sharply around. “What girl tried to kill you?”
“I was just coming into the dance hall to drop off some paperwork. I wanted to take a class. Get out of my comfort zone a bit. I had made it to steps when she came out of nowhere. I don’t know where she came from, but she attacked me. She tried to kill me. I stopped her and she ran off.”
The woman’s teeth were chattering even harder as she tried to speak. She appeared not to have heard what France said. Glory stepped out into the rain and went to comfort the woman. Other people gathered around, so that there was a small audience nearby listening to what she said. I tried to see the faces, but most of them were covered by rain gear. Several colorful umbrellas poked upward toward the sky.
“Let’s get her inside,” said a woman, the very same lady who had kicked Lisa, Lowe, and me out of her shop. She didn’t look at me as she led the way back into the dance hall.
“It’ll be all right, Nancy,” Glory was saying.
Ahhhh, the woman from the shoe shop.
“Have the sheriffs been called? I don’t think I’ll feel good until they get here,” said Nancy, wobbling.
“They’re on their way,” said a voice in the crowd.
We didn’t have to wait long. Quinn and Joy came running just as we were handing Nancy a steaming mug of tea. She was sitting on the floor just inside the dance hall and refusing to move from the spot on the floor where she’d landed.
Quinn’s eyes scattered around the room, taking everything in. Joy went right to Nancy. “What happened?” Quinn asked.
France told him about the screaming and about all of us rushing outside.
“I’ll tell the others to start canvassing the area,” said Joy.
Nancy’s breathing had slowed, but she was still upset. “I can’t believe I was attacked. Why would she attack me?”
“Can someone get my briefcase? I have some purple smelling salts we could use,” said France.
I dashed back into the dance hall. Just as got there, I thought I saw the door to the second floor swinging shut.
But everyone in the building was in the hallway, or so I thought, so there was no way the door should have been moving.
I stood stock still, my heart pounding.
When nothing more happened, I told myself that after all the excitement I was probably just imagining more trouble.
When I returned to the front hallway, a few people had disappeared from the gathering. Quinn had sent some of the bystanders away, and now he was talking to Nancy, trying to get information that would help him find out who had attacked her.
“You said ‘she’?” he pressed, giving Nancy an intense look. Part of me wished he’d look my way, but the other part knew he needed to concentrate on his work.
“Yes, it was definitely a woman. Did you find the knife? I dropped it outside. I can’t believe I was nearly stabbed,” Nancy whispered.
“We did pick up the knife. We’ll examine it, and I promise we’ll get to the bottom of what happened,” he explained. “Now. We’d have a much easier time looking for your assailant if you could give us a physical description.”
“I can do better than that,” said Nancy. She had stopped crying and was now looking at him very steadily.
“How can you do better than a physical description?” Kelly muttered behind me.
“It was Ethel Rhinestone.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
For a split second there was utter silence. Every person listening was taken aback. The only one who didn’t show surprise was Quinn.
“It couldn’t have been,” I burst out.
Without missing a beat, Nancy burst into tears again. “I’ve been through so much. I can’t do this anymore. Please just find her. And take me home.”
France gave me a look as if to ask why I had done that, but I couldn’t help myself. I glared around the room and said, “My sister is innocent. She hasn’t killed anyone and she definitely wasn’t anywhere near here. I don’t know who this woman is, but there is no reason for Ethel to attack her. This whole thing is a witch hunt. Literally.”
Without another word I stomped away to the big hall. I felt mildly bad for upsetting a woman who had just been attacked by a knife-wielding assailant. On the other hand, she had implicated my sister, and that required a response. I might never have met my sister, but we Rhinestones were not violent. I would have to remind Quinn of that fact when he yelled at me for what I had just done, as was inevitable.
Alone in the dance hall, I couldn’t stay still. I kept getting up and sitting back down, pacing around in between.
The chairs happened to be just below where Jonathan’s office was on the next floor up. I was sitting alone, listening to the noises of the sheriffs taking Nancy home and the other people still milling around and chatting in the hallway when I heard a different sound.
There was a creak above my head.
Slowly and quietly, I looked up.
At first I thought it was just strange noises from the old building. Then I realized it was more than that.
Someone was walking around above me. The person was trying to be quiet, but they couldn’t be quiet enough.
I jumped to my feet and hustled through the door I thought I’d seen moving a few moments before. I hurried up the familiar dark staircase to the second floor and was met by the same lonely hallway I remembered, where there was nothing but the plant outside Jonathan’s office to interrupt the emptiness.
Okay, I wasn’t the only one with a key.
I hesitated, knowing perfectly well that what I was doing was a bad idea. If someone had broken into Jonathan’s office, I shouldn’t be confronting her. I was no match for a trained witch.
But the overwhelming need to clear Ethel’s name made me reckless.
I made my way forward, hearing no further sounds from the office. Without daring to breathe, I slowly peered around Jonathan’s doorway.
The office was still dark. The one small window didn’t let in a lot of light, and on rainy days like today the whole crowded space was bathed in shadow.
But once my eyes adjusted, there was enough light to see that the floor of the office was strewn with papers. The whole room had been torn apart. Someone had been looking for something, but the intruder was gone now. There was no one in sight. I wondered if the person had found what she was seeking.
“Jade?” Quinn yelled from downstairs.
Swearing under my breath, I headed back. I couldn’t do anything about Jonathan’s office now; whoever had broken in was long gone. Whoever it was must have been leaving when I heard the first noises. In fact, now that I thought about it, Jonathan’s office might’ve been spelled for silence, but the hallway wasn’t. The footsteps I had heard were those of a vandal getting away.
I bounded down the stairs and found Quinn looking around the dance hall with his hands braced on his hips.
When he heard me push the door open, he spun around. “How dare you badger a woman who had just been attacked!” He was nearly shouting. “She was in a state of shock, and you started yelling at her. We were trying to find out who attacked her, and you made it all the more difficult by sending her into another panic. We needed to hear what she had to say instead of silencing her. Next time I’ll thank you to let the sheriff do the work. If you can’t do that, we will have to move to more serious measures.”
He had stomped all the way over to me and was now looking down at me. I glared back at him as he braced his hands on his hips. “And just what were you doing upstairs now, anyway? Were you hiding? Is that where your sister is?”
Pointy Hats and Witchy Cats Page 15