“Don’t be hasty,” I said. “I’m the one with all the information about Helen-Mary’s case and nobody can read my notes. Trust me, I have terrible handwriting.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure they’ll manage,” Miss Black said. “This place is full of supernaturals. What can’t they do that a human can do?”
I had to persuade them to let me stay. I wasn’t ready to go. Not without Mischief or solving the case.
Not without saying goodbye to Cole.
I’d have to try to appeal to their sense of justice. “I think whoever sent you the letter about me is the one who obliterated Helen-Mary. It’s their way of stalling the investigation.”
Mr. Beige inclined his head toward my muffin. “Are you going to eat that?”
I snatched the muffin to my lips and licked it. “Aren’t you listening? Someone is using you to get away with murder.”
“I admit, that does make me uncomfortable,” Miss Black said. “Unfortunately, the letter was anonymous.”
I gave her the stink eye. “I thought you said there were privacy concerns.”
“That’s generally true, but, in this case, there was no signature and no return address,” Mr. Grey said.
Terrific. I pulled out the policy and procedure sheet that Hera had given me and quickly scanned it for any provision that might help me. “Aha! You can’t leave with me.” I shook the paper at them. “It says right here that upper middle management is required to provide their reasons for removal in writing with thirty days’ notice.”
“That provision pertains only to supernaturals,” Miss Black said. She folded her hands on the table. “And I think we’ve already established that you are one hundred percent human.”
I shoved half the muffin into my mouth. If I was going anywhere, it was on a full and sugary stomach. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you let me stay here until I’ve identified Helen-Mary’s killer, then I’ll come without making a scene.”
Miss Black scoffed. “I hardly think we’re worried about that.”
I fixed her with a pointed look. “You said you read my file.”
Her cheeks grew flushed. “Perhaps I skimmed certain parts. It was rather lengthy given your age.”
Mr. Beige nodded; understanding glimmered in his eyes. “She was known for her dramatic exits. We don’t want that kind of attention.”
I couldn’t resist a satisfied smile. “Didn’t think so.”
“How do we know you won’t deliberately stall the investigation in order to drag out your stay?” Mr. Grey asked.
“Because I have a sense of responsibility,” I said.
“Do you think you’re responsible for the oddities?” Miss Black asked.
Mr. Grey snorted. “Of course she does. She’s a narcissist. Haven’t you read her file?”
“I object to that diagnosis,” I said. “But do you agree to my very reasonable terms?” I spit in my hand and held it out for Mr. Beige to shake.
He looked at my hand with disdain before turning to his companions, who each nodded. “If you agree not to cause a scene on the way out,” Mr. Beige said, “then we’ll allow you to complete your assignment and preserve the peace.”
“You won’t regret it!” I jumped out of my chair, knocking it backward in the process. “Well, you might, but too late, suckers. A deal’s a deal.”
Chapter Thirteen
The night of the coven ritual was balmy with a gentle breeze blowing in from the lake and a canopy of stars over our heads. The moon was the real highlight—full, bright, and round as though it had been tailor-made for tonight. For a brief moment, I wondered whether the moon would be as stunning in human purgatory. It would probably be a hazy quarter moon, the least interesting of all the moon phases.
Mitzi and I stood across the street from the village green and observed the spectacle. Witches and wizards alike surrounded a pyre that looked like it was made from the same straw as Heilyn’s scarecrow. Maybe there’d been a recent sale on bundles. Agatha appeared to be in charge; she looked every inch the classic witch in her dark cloak and boots. I watched to see which coven member she interacted with the most in the hope of identifying her assistant.
“Are you sure you don’t know who she is?” I asked.
“You’ve asked me three times,” Mitzi said. “Do you think my answer will change?”
I motioned to the crowd. “We’re here now, so I thought maybe you’d see someone who jogged your memory.”
“I only dealt with Helen-Mary and sometimes Agatha for True Brew. Their assistant must only handle tasks internally.”
I wasn’t sure that the mystery assistant worked for Helen-Mary at all, but that part wasn’t important right now. I only wanted a name and a face so that I could hijack her after the ritual. The element of surprise tended to work in my favor, both in this life as well as my former one. Doing the unexpected was a tool I used often in professional and personal relationships. When one of the secretaries at my old job complained that I was too loud, I guarantee that she didn’t expect me to come in the next day wearing tap shoes. I clickety-clacked my way down every hall in the building and gave a special performance on the tile floor of the restroom, the door of which was catty-corner to her desk. She never complained again.
“Does it bother you to be left out?” I asked.
Mitzi continued to watch the coven in action. “I’m not one of them, not really.” Mitzi was raised by her human father, which was one of the reasons she struggled with magic.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
The young witch tilted her head, as though picturing herself among them. “No, I don’t mind. Even if I were a better witch, they’re not my coven so I guess either way, I don’t belong.”
I hadn’t told Mitzi about my visit from the Ghosts of Bureaucratic Past, Present, and Future. She would worry and focus on me and I didn’t want that kind of emotional attention. It was easier to concentrate on the investigation.
“They’d be lucky to have you,” I said.
Mitzi’s smile was small and sweet. “I doubt it, but thanks.”
“Well, I’d pick you for my coven any day of the week.”
She looked at me sideways. “Even though I mess up spells and destroy evidence?”
“I don’t choose friends based on what they can do for me. That’s called a business transaction.”
We weren’t the only ones admiring the dramatic scene. Across the green, I noticed Roderick watching from a respectful distance as Agatha used a blazing torch to set the pyre aflame. What a supportive guy. I bet Cole would offer similar support at my own important event—maybe a pie-eating contest; he was that kind of demigod. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes when I realized I’d never have the chance to find out.
It occurred to me that the fae was the ideal villager to help me identify the mystery assistant without being too obvious. “I’m going to have a quick chat with Roderick,” I told Mitzi. “I’ll be back.” As I crossed the green, I felt the warmth of the flames and hoped it didn’t trigger a hot flash. Ugh. One more thing that human purgatory wouldn’t have—magical potions to minimize reminders of middle age.
“How’s it going, friend?” I greeted him.
The fae gave me an easygoing smile. “A beautiful night, isn’t it? Perfect for a ritual.”
“Well, my armpits are dry, which means the humidity is under control.”
He wrinkled his nose before turning his attention back to the coven. “Doesn’t Agatha look radiant bathed in the light of the moon? It’s like the universe designed a spotlight especially for her.”
“A natural beauty, for sure. How about her assistant? Does she look radiant too?” Inwardly, I cringed. That was the worst transition since I asked my boyfriend if my hair looked frizzy after he’d just told me he lost his job. To be fair, my brain had been stuck on the frizzy question before he’d even started talking and stayed there until after he finished crying about being a loser.
Roderick craned his neck for a
better view of the coven members. I tried to follow his gaze and pick her out of the crowd. “She doesn’t hold a candle to my Agatha, but she looks nice too. I suppose moonlight is favorable to everyone, really.”
He wasn’t wrong. Everyone on the green looked like they were in the glamour lighting of an episode of Dynasty, the original not the reboot.
Just as I was about to ask the assistant’s name, loud shouts erupted from the side of the green where two hulking figures were yelling and pushing each other. It reminded me of being in the parking lot outside The Cheese Wheel after last call on a Saturday night.
“Who are they?” I asked.
Roderick’s expression flickered with annoyance. “Two minor gods who should know better than to interrupt a sacred ritual.”
Agatha marched over to them with fury in her eyes. “Can you two knock it off? We’re about to start a ritual.”
The gods disregarded Agatha and continued arguing. “The rain listens to me!” one shouted.
“Blasphemy! I’m in charge,” the other one bellowed.
They both slurred their insults to each other and I heard one of the witches say with a weary sigh, “Drunk on mead again.”
“They’re a group of magical people,” I said. “Can’t they make these gods stop?”
If they could, they didn’t react quickly enough. The clouds gathered and the rain came down hard and fast, much worse than the daily three o’clock shower. Coven members shrieked and ran for cover under the nearest palm trees. The bonfire flickered to nothing, leaving a soggy pyre in its place.
“This is outrageous. Do you even have a permit to be controlling the elements right now?” Agatha demanded with a stomp of her foot for good measure. A puddle had already formed and droplets went flying onto the hem of her cloak.
The dark-haired minor god crossed his arms, his biceps bulging. “You don’t own this parcel of land.”
“No, but I borrowed it for tonight. I have it in writing from the HOA. What do you have aside from your oversized egos?”
The minor gods exchanged guilty glances.
Agatha pointed to the sky. “Clear up this mess now. That moon was perfect.”
Roderick started forward, but I put a hand on his arm. “She’s got it covered, man. No need for chivalry.”
The blond god smirked at Agatha. “Do you really think Hera will side with witches over gods? She’s one of us.”
“She’s also a woman with a special place in her heart for bureaucracy,” Agatha said. She produced a sheet of paper from her cloak pocket and held it up for inspection. “And I have both in my favor.” She quickly stuffed the paper back into her pocket before the rain disintegrated it.
The minor gods clapped their hands. The rain ceased and the clouds parted like curtains, revealing the stars and the bright moon once again.
“You can thank me for that,” the dark-haired god said.
“No, I was the one who stopped the rain.”
“Then you can both pay when the coven sends you the bill for damages,” Agatha snapped. “Our ritual is ruined thanks to your egotistical nonsense.”
Each god took a step backward, recognizing that they were beat. As they skulked away from the green, the rest of the coven broke into applause and Agatha curtsied. She resumed her place at the pyre, setting fire to it again. The coven members emerged from the safety of the palm trees and joined hands in a circle. Their chanting was low and soft to start with, culminating in a powerful reverberation that made it seem like they spoke with a single voice. My body tingled the way it did when I heard an amazing song for the first time, like Katy Perry’s Firework. The fire streaked higher in response to their chanting and then I heard Agatha’s voice rise above the din.
“Tonight we pay tribute to one of our own, Helen-Mary, a wonderful witch and friend to us all. She may be gone, but a piece of her spirit resides within each of us and it is our duty to nourish it through our words and deeds.”
I watched in amazement as small bursts of color emanated from the pyre-—yellow, orange, green, blue, and purple. They drifted upward until they were no longer visible, blending with the night sky. The ritual was much cooler than any Fourth of July fireworks I’d ever seen. Once it was over, it took me a moment to recover my voice.
“So which one is Agatha’s assistant?” I croaked.
Roderick aimed a finger at a wisp of a witch in a dark purple cloak, black dress, and black flip-flops standing slightly apart from a cluster of coven members. With her hair secured in a bouncy ponytail and a flawless complexion, she looked no older than twenty. “That’s Terra.”
I passed Agatha as she headed for Roderick with an adoring smile and felt a pang of envy. Their relationship seemed so effortless and I couldn’t help but wonder whether I had any hope of enjoying that type of relationship. My past relationships had been so fraught with unmet expectations and disappointments. Of course, none of that mattered now that I’d be relocating. It was probably for the best anyway. Cole’s only meaningful relationship had ended in tragedy. The odds weren’t exactly in our favor.
“Excuse me, Terra?”
The young witch turned away from the group to face me. “Yes?”
“Nice ritual.”
“Thanks. I can’t take credit. I only held hands and chanted.”
Okay, she couldn’t take credit, but did she want to take credit? That was the real answer I wanted. “I’m Eloise Worthington, the marshal in Divine Place.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, right. The human.”
I tapped the star affixed to my shirt. “Well, yes, but the important title right now is the marshal bit. I’m investigating Helen-Mary’s obliteration and would like to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure.” Her eye twitched and her hands balled into anxious fists. Interesting.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” I asked.
“I am. It’s just that…” Her gaze drifted to the cluster of nearby witches and I wondered whether she was about to throw someone to the wolves. “Everyone is going for drinks at Bloodlust after this. Will it take long?”
Okay, so I completely misread her. It happened. “I’ll do my best to keep it short. Far be it for me to stand between someone and a full bar.” I moved away from the group so that we wouldn’t be overheard. “I understand you work as an assistant for Helen-Mary and Agatha.”
“Technically I work for Agatha, although I did do work for Helen-Mary on occasion. With their business, it was hard to avoid.”
“You wanted to avoid Helen-Mary?”
Her cheeks reddened. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I only mean that Agatha is the one who pays me. She’s the one I answer to.”
“And what does she pay you to do? Witchcraft? Do you help her make potions?”
Terra shook her head, swinging her ponytail from side to side. “No, I don’t help with the potions. I only do admin.”
“That must be so boring. I bet you wish you could do something more interesting…like potions.”
“Not really. I like numbers.”
That had to be a lie. Nobody liked numbers; they simply tolerated them as a necessity, like toilet paper. “You’re telling me that you enjoy addition, subtraction, and filing paperwork.”
She nodded. “It’s my safe place. I find admin soothing.”
“Soothing,” I repeated. Did. Not. Compute. Then again, there were people who found classical music soothing and it made me want to gouge my eyes out with a piccolo. What ever happened to good, old-fashioned tequila?
“Agatha doesn’t like busywork, as she calls it, so she hired me to take that off her plate so that she could focus on macro issues instead of micro ones.”
“How MBA of her.” It occurred to me that Terra would’ve been aware of Helen-Mary and Agatha’s schedule and, as a result, their golf game. From the looks of her, though, she would’ve had to use magic to get that golf club through Helen-Mary’s chest. Her arms were like two wet noodles.
“Where were
you yesterday morning?” I asked.
Terra pursed her lips, thinking. “I woke up at seven. Ate granola with yogurt and blueberries and a cup of lemon and ginger tea. Then I stretched, especially my chest area because the tightness impacts my upper back and…”
I waved a hand. “I don’t need to know how many breaths you took and how much toothpaste you applied to the brush. Just tell me whether you were home the whole morning.”
“No, I left my house around eight.”
“To go where?”
“I met a friend at the coffee shop. I knew that Agatha was busy most of the day so I made plans.”
“Who’s the friend?” I asked.
Terra gestured to one of the witches shuffling away from the village green. “Kelsey.”
“How long were you there?”
Terra cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled to her friend. “Kelsey, how long were we at the coffee shop yesterday?”
Kelsey turned to give her a friend a curious look. “I don’t know. I guess an hour and a half.”
Terra waved and Kelsey continued on. “After that, I went to the HOA to file a request.”
“For what?”
“I need permission to repaint my fence. Some of the white has chipped off and it looks shoddy.”
“Your fence is already white and you’re asking to paint it white again?” I asked.
“That’s right.”
Wow. A genuine love of admin and an unadventurous spirit. Terra had to be the dullest supernatural in Divine Place. There was no way she had the passion required to thrust a golf club through Helen-Mary’s heart.
“Did you know Agatha was asking for a promotion?”
Terra shifted uneasily. “Yes.”
I pointed to her feet. “Why did you do that?”
She looked at the ground. “Do what?”
“You moved your feet like you were uncomfortable.”
“My feet hurt. I’ve been standing for over an hour.”
“You’re wearing flip-flops. There’s nothing more comfortable for your feet in the world outside of being barefoot.” I fixed her with a steely eye. “Why does my question make you uncomfortable?”
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