by R M Connor
She squinted at it. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“Look at the shadow . . . for . . . another shadow.”
“A shadow in a shadow?” Ethan took the picture and held it close to his nose. “Riley, I don’t see anything.” He handed it back to Maisie, unconvinced.
“There is something there. Hold on.” I ran around the counter and into my office. Rummaging around in the bottom drawer full of random things, I found a magnifying glass. I ran back behind the counter and held it over the right corner of the picture. “There’s a shape.”
Maisie leaned over my arm; her nose close enough to create a fog on the magnifying glass. “It’s a . . .”
“A shadow.” I finished her thought. “The shadow.”
If it really was the same thing—the hobgoblin—I had been seeing, it’s been around for a while. I glanced behind me at Zach. He turned the open sign to closed and began wiping down a table.
“I don’t see it.” Ethan shrugged. “But whatever it is, I’m glad I could help.”
I slid the picture back into the manila folder. “I could use your help with one more thing, if you don’t mind.”
“Does this mean you forgive me completely?” His warm hand found mine.
Maisie excused herself to go help Zach. I tugged Ethan close to me, tilting my head back to look into his eyes. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing us tightly together. His vanilla scent flooded my senses. Stay strong, Riley, but my knees already felt weak and I was glad he was holding me up.
“Mostly. Would you mind going to the library with me? It’s going to close soon but I need someone’s help with the computer.”
He rubbed his chin with his free hand. “You need help with the computer?”
Ah—surely he noticed I didn’t have a cell phone. “Electronics and I don’t get along. It won’t take long, I promise.” I hoped because the library was about to close.
The library was warm; half of the fluorescent lights above were turned off, creating a cozy atmosphere. I could hear a few hushed conversations, but otherwise, the library was empty. I pulled my jacket off before we reached the circulation desk. The woman who usually set behind it was missing. The squeak of a wheel echoed and then I saw her pushing a cart filled with books toward the back of the building.
She looked up and placed her glasses on her nose from a strap hanging around her neck. “We’re closing in twenty. Need any help?”
I waved at her. “No, we’ll be very quick.”
Pulling Ethan toward the far-right wall, I pushed him into a hard-plastic chair in front of a computer screen. His knees bent awkwardly, the desk not designed for someone of his stature. He signed in using my library card and we waited, watching the loading symbol spin while the computer logged in.
“What are you looking for?”
I pulled the neighboring chair close to his, my knees touching his leg. “I need you to look up books on poisonous plants.”
Ethan glanced at me before putting his fingers to the keyboard. “Why do you need a book on poisonous plants?”
“It’s best you don’t know.” I placed my hand on his thigh.
Ethan pulled up the catalog and typed in the search bar. A surprisingly long list of books appeared, but most weren’t located in the library at Wildewood. I didn’t have time to wait for a book to come in, I needed one tonight. He changed the search perimeters and a single book was left.
“That’s a little disappointing,” I mumbled. Careful not to touch the computer, I grabbed a short, yellow pencil, and on a small square of paper scribbled down the call number.
“Is that it?” Ethan moved the mouse to the X on the browser.
“Hopefully.”
He signed out of the computer and then we headed to the agricultural section. Ethan walked behind me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark shape move within his shadow. I stopped. Ethan bumped into me, gripping my upper arms. I wiggled free and followed the shadow as it moved against the bottom of the bookshelves.
Reaching the end of the bookcase, I lost sight of it. Frustration fluttered inside me and I looked up to see the sign for “Agricultural.” We walked into the aisle and a book on the second-highest shelf moved. It wobbled out from between its neighboring books and fell to the carpeted floor in a muted thud.
“What the hell . . .” Ethan stepped in front of me and picked up the book. He looked into the gap it had come from, then looked at me. “What was that?”
“The shadow.” I took the book from his hand.
“Looks like you didn’t need my help after all.” He laced his fingers in mine as we walked to the circulation desk.
The woman had returned, her cart empty. I handed her the book and my library card. Her lips moved; eyes focused on the title. “That’s funny.” She scanned the book, the corners of her eyes crinkled as she laughed. “For such an odd book, you’re the second person this month to check it out.”
Second person?
My stomach twisted. I gave her a chuckle, though I didn’t see the humor. I licked my dry lips and asked, “Who was the first person?”
She stared at her screen. “Hmm . . .” Her brows scrunched. “Oh, that’s weird.”
“What?” I leaned over the desk, trying to see what she was looking at.
“So sad. It says Sasha Vargas checked it out.” She handed me the book.
I winced, recovering as quickly as I could to hide how I felt. Sasha had checked out a book about poisonous plants and then ended up dead, with a petal from one shoved down her throat. I placed the book in my bag, told her goodbye, and forced myself to walk, not run, out of the library.
Ethan grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “What’s going on?”
I avoided eye contact. It would be wrong of me to lie to him, to hide things from him, since I had been so upset with him doing that to me. But what if I put him at risk by telling him all that I knew? Which was still not much, but enough.
“Did you drive to work?” I looked around. There were still people out and about, not many, but more ears than I wanted.
“Yeah, I parked behind Just Treats.”
I took his hand. “Come on. I’ll tell you in the truck.”
Ethan didn’t say much as we sat in his truck in the overflow parking lot behind the bakery. Only one working lamp chased away the darkness, casting an eerie yellow glow. The moon was almost full, resting high above the trees. Snow fluttered onto the hood of the truck and quickly melted away.
I told him about the petal I saw at the hardware store. I left out the part where I committed a felony in order to retrieve it. Then I told him about the petal found in Sasha’s throat. He only made a few noises in response.
“I think Eugene is in trouble.” Assuming he wasn’t already dead. I pulled the book out of my bag, running my hand over the hardcover.
Ethan straightened his posture and stared out the window. His brows were drawn together, his lips thin. His nostrils flared and he wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. I watched him let out a breath, his voice quiet. “I think so, too.”
He pulled out of the parking lot, turning on to the main road that led out of the center of town. I glanced at him, noting how tight his jaw seemed. Looking back to my lap, I flipped the book to the table of contents. Since I didn’t know what I was looking for, it wasn’t helpful. Neither was the glossary. I would have to look at each picture and hope to find a match.
We rode in silence until he parked the truck in front of my house. I didn’t take it personally. I had dumped a lot of information in his lap and he needed to digest it.
I slid the book back into my bag and turned to face him, placing my hand on his, which still gripped the steering wheel. His face softened, his hand taking mine. “Would you be willing to let me borrow your truck tomorrow evening? We still haven’t gotten a Christmas tree.”
He leaned across the bench seat and kissed me before I had a chance to react. My breath caught in my throat, and only whe
n he pulled away could I breathe again. “Where are you getting one from?”
“Tessa told me Peaceful Acres has a tree farm.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and he licked his lips. “Are you sure you want a real tree? They can be a pain.”
And a fake tree wasn’t? I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow. Either he didn’t want me to borrow his truck or he didn’t want me to go to Peaceful Acres. “I’m sure we can strap it to the top of Tessa’s car. It’s okay.” I was positive I could not tie one to my broom.
Ethan ran his hand over the back of my head until it rested on the base of my neck. “No, it’s fine. But how about I pick you guys up? I’ll even chop it down for you.”
I gave him a smile, trying to keep the skepticism off my face. “That sounds wonderful. I’m closing the café after the morning shift. Want to pick us up here before it gets dark?”
He nodded, bringing my knuckles to his lips. I slid closer, running my hand through his hair, and pressed my lips to his. It had only been a short while, but I missed the feel of his lips. Though, his kiss seemed stiff this time. Pulling away, I got out of the truck, readjusted my bag on my shoulder, and waved as he turned around in the driveway.
I waited until I could no longer see his taillights. He tried to hide how he was feeling, but I suspected he knew more about Eugene’s disappearance than he was admitting. He was, after all, friends with Michael, and I bet Michael had confided in him.
I walked inside and saw the silver cage sitting on the kitchen island. Maisie sat next to it, her feet swinging as she scooped a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
“Everything good?”
“I think so.” I hoped so.
“Ready to catch a shadow?” She placed the bowl beside her and scooted off the counter to stand on her fuzzy, black slippers. Her long hair was wet and she wore a matching set of red, plaid pajamas.
She handed me the grimoire and grabbed the handle at the top of the cage. Following me behind the stairs, I laid the book on the floor and held my hands over it just as I had before. The pages flipped, opening back to the page for hobgoblins.
What a peculiar name for a creature.
I placed the cage in the corner. Maisie set a small, chrome bowl with cream in as far back as she could inside the cage.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” She sat back on her haunches beside me.
Nodding, I ran my finger over the instructions, rereading them quickly.
“Do we have to recite a spell or anything?”
“It doesn’t say.” I picked the book up and stood. “The cream will lure it in and then—” I slammed the door closed. Maisie jumped, bumping her head on the stairs. “The door will shut and we’ll finally find out what has been lurking in the shadows.”
“Good grief.” Maisie rubbed her head and scowled. “It won’t hurt it, will it?”
“I don’t think so.” The grimoire didn’t say, but it was a cage . . . not a mousetrap. I grimaced at the thought of it being a mouse. I was not a fan of rodents.
We walked back into the kitchen, and I extracted the poisonous plant book from my bag. Lying it on the counter, Maisie set a box of cereal and a bowl in front of me. As soon as I began shoving fruit loops into my mouth, I started turning pages, scanning the pictures for anything purple.
Almost to the end of the book, and I still hadn’t found a plant that resembled the petal I had found. I was getting worried, wondering if I had been wrong. Was it possible the petal wasn’t poisonous? Rubbing my thumb and index finger together, I remembered the way they had gone numb.
I turned a page, almost splashing the remaining milk from my bowl as I stood up straight. Wolfsbane. There it was. A match. The petals of the flower shaped like a hood. I set my bowl down and picked up the book, turning to lean my back against the edge of the counter.
“What did you find?” Maisie leaned closer.
I poked the picture. “This is what was in the hardware store.”
Every part of the plant was poisonous—including the petals—and it didn’t have to be ingested. I ran my finger down the paragraphs, absorbing all the information it offered, slowing at the mythology of the plant.
Wolfsbane was used to repel werewolves. Werewolves? I glanced at Maisie. She was reading along, her brows furrowed. I closed my eyes, thinking about the wolves running around Wildewood. They had been large, bigger than I had expected. Was it possible . . . No. I closed the book and laid it on the counter. Werewolves, really?
“Riley, you don’t think that has anything to do with the murders, do you?”
I rubbed my temple in a circular motion. “God, I hope not.” The thought of werewolves was terrifying. Any movie I had ever seen told me werewolves were bad news. I wanted to rule it out altogether, but we had just set a trap for a hobgoblin. We were witches, and we had a ghost for an aunt. At this point, anything was possible.
But, seriously, werewolves?
Bean never came home, and he never appeared on our way to the café. I grew more concerned over him missing with the possibility of werewolves running around Wildewood. I had trouble sleeping not knowing if he was safe. But he had to be okay—he just had to be. There had to be a good reason why he wasn’t hanging around. Agatha probably had him on some mission. If she would ever pop back in, I would ask her.
Werewolves in Wildewood. I wanted to dismiss the notion, but I had seen them with my own eyes. Of course, at the time I didn’t know that’s what they were. I figured they were just overgrown wolves. But in this weird town, I couldn’t rule anything out.
Maisie pushed through the kitchen door with a fresh batch of blueberry scones. Zach stood across the room taking an order from a couple who had just sat down. I closed the register and handed the woman in front of me a receipt, barely hearing her say goodbye. I had too much on my mind; too many questions, and not enough answers.
I wanted to know if the Wolfsbane had been used on Sasha because she was a werewolf. Did that mean Eugene was one too? Rubbing my temples at the formation of a headache, I looked up at the sound of the chime. Connie Fields walked inside. She loosened her mustard-colored scarf from around her neck and pulled a pair of tan gloves from her hands. Her granddaughters, Daisy and Rose, trailed behind her bundled in matching black, puffer jackets that went to mid-thigh.
They styled their light-brown hair the same way: straightened and cut to their shoulders. They both had dark-brown eyes, thin eyebrows, and pale lips. Daisy and Rose did a better job at being twins than Maisie and me. Except, they weren’t twins.
I placed three to-go cups on the counter. They always took their coffees to go. Waiting for them to reach me, I decided to ask about Wolfsbane. I had little reason to believe Daisy was involved, but I didn’t want to rule her out altogether just yet. She was, after all, the last person to handle the flower arrangement before Sasha died.
“Good morning. Want to try something new today?” I greeted them with a smile.
All three shook their heads.
That was all I needed. I knew their orders by heart. The one thing the girls did differently was their coffee. I made Daisy’s Rich Witch, adding extra caramel because that’s how she liked it. A Wicked Witch—mint, dark-chocolate Frappuccino—for Rose, and a simple Hocus Focus for Connie because she believed “coffee should taste like coffee.”
Handing over the drinks, I wrote out the receipt and decided it was now or never. “Can I ask you a plant question?”
“Of course, what is it?” Connie stirred a single packet of sweetener into her coffee.
Rose excused herself and hurried toward the bathroom, leaving her drink on the counter.
I leaned closer to Connie, lowering my voice from prying ears. “Do you sell Wolfsbane?”
Daisy coughed, placing her cup on the counter, she covered her mouth. Connie patted her on the back and made an exasperated remark under her breath.
“Good grief.” Connie handed her a napkin.
“Sorry.” Daisy cleared her throat
. “It went down wrong.”
With an eye roll, Connie asked, “What was your question?”
“Do you sell Wolfsbane?” I watched Connie’s eyes widen, her lips parting. She snapped her mouth shut. Daisy brought her cup back to her mouth, this time successfully taking a sip.
“Heaven’s no. Why are you asking?”
Not wanting to tell Connie the true reason why, I asked, “Do you know who does?”
Connie scoffed as she stood. She shook her head, her big, black-rimmed glasses sliding to the tip of her nose. “No one I know, and don’t you go around trying to get some. It’s dangerous.”
I gave her a weak smile and the receipt. I had no plans to grow it or to have anymore in my possession. All I wanted to know was how it came to Wildewood. Who would bring in something so deadly?
Rose walked back to the counter and picked up her to-go cup, none the wiser to our conversation as she smiled. She took the receipt from Connie and checked out with Maisie. Daisy’s cheeks were flushed, though I wasn’t sure if it was from choking on her coffee or my line of questions.
“Daisy, go wait at the door for me,” Connie commanded, then zoned in on me. “Riley Jones, I’ve only ever known one person to grow Wolfsbane, and now, they’re dead.”
She turned away before I had a chance to ask who. Catching up with her granddaughters, she held the door open for them and took one last glimpse at me before stepping out of the café. They walked across the street, the wind rustling Connie’s silver hair. Was she talking about Sasha? Is that why Sasha had checked out the book? Had she grown the plant that ultimately killed her?
“Everything okay?” Maisie nudged me with her elbow. She was following my gaze out the window, but Connie and her granddaughters were already across the street. I wish I knew exactly who she had been referring to. Maybe if I got her alone, without any prying ears, she’d fill me in. Connie loved to gossip as much as Pete loved sweets. I only hoped she couldn’t resist.