Winds of Change

by Nova Nelson

  “Yes,” I said, sliding a half-step back, “but I need to go check on some tables, so maybe later?”

  “Ah, of course. You probably wouldn’t get it anyway, since it was all in a dead language and there’s no exact translation for it. Heh.”

  I scooted off and considered telling Manchester about the Winds of Change, but decided that not only was there nothing he could do about it by the sound of it, but it would detract from my more immediate mission. And so long as the wind stayed in the Deadwood, who cared what happened? Hard to fear change in a place that can only be improved upon.

  By the time I made it back to Stu after placing a few more orders and clearing a table, he was finishing off his pie crust, dipping it in his coffee before tossing it back.

  “Oh hey, before I forget,” I said, “I think I have some info that might make your life easier.”

  “You playing detective again, Ms. Ashcroft?”

  “No,” I said firmly. “But I was having a drink with Zoe Clementine yesterday, you know, just as friends …”

  He narrowed his tired eyes at me. “Mm-hm?”

  “And she mentioned something about that day that you might not know.”

  He popped the last of his crust into his mouth and said, “I’m all ears.”

  I leaned over the counter so Fern Brisby, a nosy werewolf whose sole source of income as far as I knew was selling hot scoops to the Eastwind Watch, couldn’t overhear from his spot two stools down. “She was leaving a meeting with Count Malavic that hadn’t gone well, and that’s why she was at the center of town that day.”

  “Count Malavic? What kind of a meeting?”

  I whispered, “I don’t want to say here.”

  He nodded and leaned to the side to slip a hand in his pants pocket where he kept his coins.

  I stopped him with, “No need. This one’s on me. I’ll swing by the sheriff’s office whenever I’m off my shift and I can fill you in then.”

  “You mean you’ll swing by the sheriff’s office so you can be in on the investigation.” His mustache bristled above a self-satisfied grin.

  “Nooo … This one’s all you.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Okay,” I said, “so maybe I’ll accompany you on the visit if you really want me to.” Then I added quickly, “Just don’t tell anyone.”

  He held up his hands defensively. “Not a soul. Wouldn’t want it getting around that you’re not actually out of the game. People would be so shocked.”

  “You’re making fun of me.” I shrugged lightly. “No, that’s fine. Makes sense. Oh, by the way, that’ll be four coppers for the pie and coffee.”

  Chapter Eight

  As I hung up my apron in the back of Medium Rare and finished off a bowl of queso, licking the last bits off my fingertips, Tanner entered the kitchen, his arms full of dirty dishes. “You got plans tonight?”

  “I have some this afternoon, but none later this evening. What’s up?”

  He dropped the dishes into the sink, wiped his hands on his apron and said, “I was hoping you’d come over. I’d like to talk with you about something.”

  I froze, one fingertip still in my mouth. I removed it slowly and said, “Okay, I’m going to need you to assure me you’re not planning on breaking up with me tonight, or else I’m not coming.”

  “Huh? No! That’s definitely not it.”

  His tone was convincing enough, so I said, “Okay, I’ll see you around seven. Let’s go, Grim.” My familiar wrapped up licking the floor where Anton had spilled griddle grease an hour earlier (surely there wasn’t any flavor left, right?) and trotted after me. I paused on my path to sneak a quick kiss from Tanner before heading for the back door on my way to the sheriff’s department. He called after me, “Great, see you then!” and then, “Wait, where are you going now?”

  I let the door close behind me and Grim without answering. If we had plans to chat later tonight, it would be much easier to fill him in on my day then than to explain to him now why I was going to meet Stu Manchester, even though I’d sworn I wouldn’t stick my nose in this Zoe Clementine business. Would Tanner care that I was getting involved in this? Probably not. But my pride wanted me to limit the number of people who knew I was going back on my word. At least until I was for sure going to be done with it.

  And yet, I did feel a slight twinge of guilt for the omission when Grim and I met up with Deputy Manchester on the front steps of the station before I filled him in on the rest of what I knew about Zoe’s meeting with Count Malavic.

  By the end of it, Stu seemed to be on the same page as me, and he said, “Well, I guess first things first: we go talk to Count Malavic and get his side of the story.”

  “That’s not all that exciting, but okay, let’s— wait.” I squeezed my eyes shut and waved my hands in front of me. “I’m not going with you. I’m just handing this off to—”

  The deputy cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Ms. Ashcroft, you can drop the act. You’re coming with me. If you need me to make it an order so that you can later say you didn’t want to but I pulled rule of law on you and you felt compelled to comply, I’m happy to do that for you.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay.” He adjusted his stance to appear more authoritative and hooked his thumbs into his duty belt. “Ms. Ashcroft, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to visit the count. This is not a request.”

  I sighed. “Shoot. I guess I have no choice.”

  He nodded and then pushed past me and Grim. “Let’s get going.”

  “I still don’t see why I have to come,” Grim added. “You don’t need me.”

  “You remember when we first started communicating telepathically and sometimes you overheard my thoughts that weren’t directed at you?”

  “Sure, like when you were trying to figure out if people wore underwear in Eastwind, or when you were wondering whether wand size had any correlation to —”

  “Right. What I’m saying is that it’s a two-way street. Sometimes you get a little lazy and I catch glimpses of things you don’t mean to send my way.”

  “Go on …”

  I could tell he was nervous now. I savored it. “And I know that as much as I’m struggling to keep from getting involved, you’re struggling more.”

  “Unicorn swirls!”

  “Nope, it’s not. The more mysteries you help solve, the less people associate you with being a death omen and the more scraps people feed you around town.”

  “If you just fed me the proper amount, I wouldn’t have to be so underhanded.”

  “I feed you plenty. The only reason you haven’t doubled in size is because I make you walk around with me so often.”

  We passed by Fulcrum Fountain at the center of town, and I tried not to imagine Zoe facedown in it. Thankfully, the sight of it didn’t trigger another vision, and I was able to continue focusing on our impending home visit to Count Malavic. Or rather, from what I’d heard of his living arrangement, a castle visit. Seemed a little stereotypical for a vampire to live in a castle, but perhaps some stereotypes exist for a reason.

  Stu waved to a small cluster of middle-age witches as we passed through the Eastwind Emporium, and they giggled and returned the wave. A new thought occurred to me. “Deputy, I know it’s none of my business, but are you seeing anyone?”

  He chuckled. “Why? Things not going so hot between you and Culpepper?”

  “No, things are great. I’m wondering because it looked like we just passed a small chapter of your official fan group.”

  “Yes, Ms. Ashcroft, I’m in the unfortunate position of being a bachelor. Have been for years. The job is not necessarily conducive to maintaining romantic relationships. The majority of the women I encounter during my long work hours are either in a state of crisis—not a great time to make your move if you aren’t a scumbag—or are Sheriff Bloom. And let me tell you, dating an angel is about the worst decision anyone could make. You’ll never be good en
ough. I may be a bachelor, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never been in a serious relationship. I know a few things about romance, Ms. Ashcroft, and one of those things is that relationships don’t last if one of the folks in it is way too good for the other. In fact, that particular type of match tends to blow up in a ball of hate-fueled flame, consuming anyone and anything nearby.”

  Oh boy. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do, but I did it anyway. “Can I ask for your honest opinion, Stu?”

  “You don’t even have to ask, Ms. Ashcroft. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  I fixed my eyes on the cobblestone street ahead of us as I asked, “Do you think Tanner is too good for me?” I braced myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.

  Manchester chuckled. “You know, I’ve known that boy for a long time. I’ve seen one woman after another throw herself at him, pulling all kinds of tricks and spells to win him over. Just between us, I’ve intervened on his behalf more than once based off of solid tips from anonymous sources who happened to know there was a love potion headed his way. If you’d asked me a year ago whether any of the women in Eastwind were good enough for Tanner Culpepper, I would have told you no way. Then you came into town, and I saw the way he looked at you and I thought I’d never seen such a clear case of karma in my life. All this time, Tanner had been pursued by women who didn’t deserve him, and suddenly there he was, head over heels for a woman he didn’t deserve.”

  “I don’t think I follow,” I said.

  “Ms. Ashcroft, if your relationship with Mr. Culpepper goes down in flames, it’ll be due solely to the fact that you’re too good for him.”

  I laughed uncomfortably. “I thought you said you wouldn’t lie to me, Stu, and here you are serving me up a steaming plate of unicorn swirls.”

  He held his hands up defensively as we marched up the hill. “I’m not lying, Ms. Ashcroft. I’ve spent a lot of time with Sheriff Bloom, and I’ve learned a thing or two about spotting the good ones. You’re one of the good ones.”

  “That’s strange,” Grim said, a few steps behind me. “He doesn’t smell like he’s been drinking, and yet …”

  I ignored him, though I shared the sentiment. “I don’t feel like one of the good ones.”

  “Why on earth not? You do two of the most important things in Eastwind: feed people good food and bring people closure.”

  “Yeah, but I make stupid mistakes, too,” I said. Maybe Stu had learned an angelic trick or two spending so much time with Bloom, because the more he praised me, the heavier every bad thing I’d ever done weighed on me. One more compliment, and I thought I might just start confessing.

  “Everyone makes stupid mistakes. It’s not the mistakes you make that make you good or bad. It’s the way you fix them.”

  Turned out, it didn’t even take another compliment to tip the scales. “I kissed Donovan. More than once.”

  Stu stopped in his tracks and turned slowly toward me, folding his arms over his chest.

  I planted my feet and faced the deputy, horrified, but at the same time, oddly relieved.

  Grim backed up a few steps, his tail between his legs, while Stu inspected me closely. “Was this while you were with Culpepper?”

  I nodded.

  “In the Deadwoods?”

  I nodded again.

  “Have you told him?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He considered it, then his arms fell to his sides and his posture slackened on an exhale. “You should tell him.”

  “What if he breaks up with me?” I swallowed hard. Showing emotions to Stu would do no good.

  The deputy’s mustache wiggled back and forth as he looked me up and down. “Then with all due respect, he’s an idiot. Now can we get back to business?”

  “Yep.” The three of us started back up the hill, and I felt certain I’d never hear about it again. Neither would anyone else. Not from Stu, at least.

  “Where exactly does the Count live?” I asked, changing the subject.

  Stu seemed more than happy to follow my lead. “On Mount Reign. Just a little bit outside of town, not too far past Whirligig’s. The closest thing to it is Fluke Mountain. Next closest is the Bridgewater Estate.”

  “As in Oliver Bridgewater?”

  “The same. I don’t think he lives there, though. I believe only his grandparents do. Blanche and Levi Bridgewater, Oliver’s parents, live up in the fashionable part of town. And Oliver lives not too far from Ms. True’s house.”

  “I didn’t know that.” I probably should have, but I almost never asked Oliver about his personal life. He gave off a distinct vibe of “let’s keep this professional” in our tutoring sessions.

  … You know, when a spirit wasn’t possessing him and spilling his secrets.

  I wondered if he realized it was that sense of professionalism that had made Zoe reject him. Probably not.

  I hadn’t mentioned the kiss between Zoe and Oliver to Stu Manchester when I’d filled him in. Was it relevant to this case? Possibly. But the spirit of her telling me seemed more in line with the way one tells a friend, not the way one tells an investigator, and I didn’t want to betray her trust.

  Even though Stu now knew my dirty little secret and I was confident he wouldn’t spill it, what happened between Oliver and Zoe wasn’t mine to tell anyone, no matter how trustworthy that person may be.

  “There it is,” Stu said twenty minutes later when the castle came into view ahead of us.

  “Ho-ly spirits,” I said slowly. Was my mouth hanging open? I checked, and yes, it was.

  Mount Reign, it turned out, was located in the middle of Widow Lake, or at least that’s how it appeared until we moved closer. Then I realized there was a land bridge jutting out into the water, connecting the mountain to the shore.

  Malavic had his very own peninsula. Of course.

  The castle wasn’t at the very top of the mountain, thankfully, but there would be a bit of a hike up once we crossed the water.

  The winding road leading to the start of the peninsula was lined on either side by lush greenery that appeared more accidental than intentional. It wasn’t maintained, other than to be cut back to keep from growing over the cobblestones, which struggled nonetheless against the growth of weeds pushing between them.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Stu asked, nodding ahead.

  “Yep.”

  “It’s even more impressive from the standpoint of security. Malavic was the first vampire in Eastwind, back before it was even called that, and he’s the reason the town only has a handful of vampires. He’s done a good job of either keeping them away or keeping them at bay. But that’s earned him his fair share of vampire enemies. Lucky for him, vampires can’t cross over bodies of water. There’s only one way in and one way out of his castle for those creatures, and he can keep a close eye on it at all times.”

  “Is that really why he lives there? He’s paranoid?”

  Stu pouted and bobbed his head. “If he’s not paranoid, he’s an idiot. The vampire knows how to make enemies almost as well as he knows how to throw money at charities to gain precarious allies.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked, catching sight of a figure leaving the front door of the castle. We were still hundreds of yards off, easily, and with the sun starting to set, I couldn’t make out any details.

  “Hmm …” Stu squinted, making a sun visor of his hand. “Likely just the man we’ve come to see.”

  Grim sniffed the air when the wind changed. “That’s not Malavic.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Oliver.”

  “Bridgewater?” I asked aloud, though, to my knowledge, there wasn’t another Oliver in Eastwind.

  “You think?” Stu asked, scrunching up his face.

  “That’s what Grim said.”

  “What would Oliver Bridgewater be doing at Count Malavic’s?”

  That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? I had m
y own hypothesis forming, but I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions yet.

  Oliver left the land bridge when we were still fifty yards away and took a sharp left without acknowledging us.

  “Hey, Oliver!” I shouted. Maybe he hadn’t seen us, though I wasn’t sure how he could have missed the three of us. Grim wasn’t exactly small.

  But he ignored me and kept walking.

  Manchester made a deep grunting noise. “I’ll go speak with him. You stay here to keep it low-key.”

  As Stu jogged over to Oliver, I turned to Grim. “You think he’s investigating, too?”

  “It would make sense.”

  “True. Someone tried to murder the woman he has a serious crush on.”

  “Plus, he’s way smarter than you are, so he’s probably better suited for the job,” Grim added.

  “Uncalled for. But point taken. There’s another possibility here, though.”

  “Another possibility outside of Oliver being smarter than you? No. I don’t think so.”

  “No, not that. I mean another possibility outside of Oliver being here to investigate the attempted drowning.”

  “And that is?”

  “He could be investigating the possible romantic involvement.”

  “True. Or he could have been the one to try to drown her, and he’s worried the count might have seen it, so he’s checking on that.”

  I wasn’t big on that theory, as much as it did remain a possibility—or about as much of a possibility as all the other theories, which were little more than shots in the dark given the information we had.

  Manchester jogged back over and paused, slightly out of breath when he reached us. “Okay, let’s give this a try. Oliver said Malavic wasn’t answering the door, but there’s always the possibility the count simply didn’t want to answer the door for Bridgewater. You, on the other hand, he seems to take a shine to.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Any idea why this is?”

  “Nope. And if I did, I would do everything in my power to put an end to it.”

  The deputy nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Okay, let’s get going.”