Dead and Gone (Thornwood Academy)

Chapter 18

I feel as if I might take root in this booth at the café, but at least the place is an escape from Thornwood's campus. Leif likes the chocolate muffins sold here, and Holly insists the coffee is to die for , an expression that once alarmed me. Since discovering Holly doesn't, in fact, want to swap her life for a superior beverage, I've added the idiom to my mental list of phrases to remember.

The aroma of the death-inducing coffee drifts across the table, and Leif munches on the muffin. Curiously, Grayson doesn't eat or drink anything, something quietly noted by the worried expression on Rowan's face. Is Grayson's hemia nature beginning to take hold, and is food now losing its appeal? I continue to hope that my half-witch state will prevent me from wanting to sustain myself with blood.

I would've protested that I'd rather spend time researching our findings, but Holly is upset that we left her out of the full investigations. She should know why I want to keep her away from that side of my life.

"Did you pull off the museum curator's mask and reveal he's a witch?" asks Holly, smirking at us over the top of her cup.

Rowan groans at her, and Leif fights a smile, too.

I gawk. "Excuse me? Did you not listen to my explanation? The museum curator is not a witch, and why would he wear a mask?"

Holly bites her lip and glances at amused Leif. "You would be Scooby and Rowan could be Shaggy." His amusement drops. "Not because you're like Scooby but because you're a…" She trails off as Leif's mouth hardens. "Sorry."

Leif grunts and my confusion grows. "Do you know something, Holly? Is Mr. Wright a witch? How would you know?" I ask.

"Holly's talking about a dumb TV show," says Grayson.

"One of many she watches," I say pointedly.

"Mr. Wright isn't a witch, but I've started looking further into the Historical Society's committee." Rowan crosses his arms. "I don't believe the curator worked alone. He doesn't strike me as capable of masterminding plans."

"Yes. Do continue. You're making more sense than Holly."

"Remember the old couple we met at the museum? They're the Smythes. Mabel came from a founding family—the Parkers, and Reginald was on the town council when he was younger. They're not witches, so may not know about magical gems, but they would be invested in the town's history."

"I still think someone knew what the rubies were," says Grayson.

"Yeah, because it's weird how he randomly found rubies in a stuffed mole," adds Leif. "Did you give the gems and pocket watch to Dorian yet, Violet?"

"I'm meeting him later."

"Alone," puts in Grayson hastily. "We don't all need to meet with your father, right?"

"Yes. Alone."

Grayson's fearful expression softens. "Okay. Good."

"I'm suspicious whether all the other gems the curator sold were ordinary. Imagine how much money these people would make from selling magical artifacts if they did know," says Rowan.

"True. There's an underground market," puts in Leif.

"Oh?" I straighten. "Whereabouts? Caves? We could visit—Holly likes markets."

Holly blinks. "Not that type of market. Or actually located underground."

Leif laughs and flicks my nose. "Secret transactions. Illegal sales."

"I bet people from the Historical Society have access to the display cabinets—including books. Some might contain spells. I've persuaded the curator to let me look through the ones he locked away," replies Rowan.

I smile. "Yes. The museum holds knowledge that I wouldn't want to lose access to."

Holly slants her head. "Is that the reason you were nice to the curator?"

" Nice ?"

"By not reporting his theft to the police," she replies in hushed tones.

"Gray area." I sip from my coffee cup. "Who did the items belong to? The museum . The families donated the jewelry and mole, therefore Little Wittering museum technically owns them. I doubt the family would see things that way, but it's true."

"But still… selling exhibits is wrong," she says. "How would the donating families feel if they knew Mr. Wright profited from their heirlooms?"

"That's what concerned him when the mole disappeared. There was a chance someone would discover," says Grayson.

"Violet is right, though", says Rowan. "Legally, the curator can do what he wants on behalf of the museum. Morally, no."

"Yes, but I don't believe we've uncovered all secrets from the town's magical and supernatural past. Mr. Wright and his museum have access to items and texts not held elsewhere—this includes the mysterious omission of Arthur Redridge from the history books. Therefore, I am willing to stray into a morally gray area to maintain my good standing with the curator."

Leif splutters crumbs across the table. "Good standing? He hates supes."

I scowl. "I found his mole."

"There's more to this than a single amateur witch, Leif," says Rowan. "There're other secrets to uncover."

Exactly. The murders and necromancy may've created conspicuous crimes for me to solve, but what of the town's quieter mysteries? Business mogul Christopher Sawyer dominates the town and holds obvious supernatural links, but what other activities slip beneath the radar? Do the modern-day council have secrets? Witch links?

"I rather enjoyed investigating a crime that didn't include a suspicious death," I add.

"What? I thought you'd be disappointed we didn't need to visit the morgue and remove body parts." Rowan gasps.

I narrow my eyes, attempting to detect sarcasm or seriousness. "No. Because I escaped any blame for a new murder."

"I'm glad that nobody died," whispers Holly.

" This time ," I say and wave a hand. "In the future, we could face worse than Alistair and his weak magic. This whole mystery goes deeper."

"That's what worries me. Don't go looking for mysteries to solve. There're enough problems in the town and academy without digging up more."

I meet her eyes and she sighs. Holly knows full well that she’s asking the impossible.

“I would like to offer my thanks to you all for your help and patience with the investigations,” I say them.

“Patience with you ,” says Leif quietly, then laughs at my scowl.

“I am trying,” I tell him.

“You sure are.” Rowan and Grayson exchange a look, both amused by his words.

“ Trying to learn how to behave appropriately,” I retort.

“You’re Violet Blackwood,” says Leif and squeezes my hand. “You have your own version of appropriate, and it’s funny not upsetting.”

Rowan scratches a cheek. “Mostly. Just less of the bossing people around. I’ve told you that before.”

“I can’t help my natural inclinations, but we do make a good team.”

Holly points at a bright poster haphazardly pinned to the wooden counter beside the display of cakes and pastries. "Let's do something normal. The fair arrives in town this weekend. We should go."

"What does that entail?" I ask, eyeing the poster.

"Fairground rides, food, games?—"

"Socializing?" I take a sip of my coffee.

"The fair takes place in the evening. In the dark. Perfect for you," says Holly. "Try something new! Have you ever eaten cotton candy?"

Leif's amber eyes shine as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Come on, Violet. You'll have fun."

"Fun?" I raise an eyebrow. " Define fun."

Grayson stretches his legs out, accidentally knocking my leg. I shift away. I may not be interested in human or witch blood, thanks to the daily potion my mother makes, but Grayson is a whole other story.

He glances at me as if sharing my thoughts. "Why are we even debating this? Violet won't go. Too many humans. Too much noise."

"And are you attending, Grayson?" I ask.

"If you go, I will. Someone has to make sure you don't scare the human kids."

"I don't scare human children." Holly arches a brow. "Not intentionally."

"Rowan." Leif nudges him. "Fairground this weekend? Convince Violet it's worth her time."

Rowan nods. "We could solve another mystery?"

I sit upright. "Mystery?"

"See?" Holly gestures toward Rowan. "Even he knows Violet doesn't do 'fun' unless there's a mystery to solve."

"There's the mystery of what stuffed toy Leif would win for you." Rowan chuckles. "Would you like something different to a dog this time, Violet? I wonder if the fair has stuffed moles as prizes?"

"What a ridiculous statement. Perhaps Leif could win a pig for Holly's collection?"

"I'm in," Leif says.

"What about you, Rowan?" asks Holly.

Rowan meets my gaze. " Are you going?"

"Is the fair a historic event? Where does this take place? Who will attend?" I ask, and Leif sighs and then looks at Holly. "Has anything untoward occurred at a fair in the past?"

Holly laughs at my barrage of questions. "Not in the years I've visited."

"Hmm."

"Just invent a story for Violet to investigate," whispers Leif. "Then she'll come with us to the fair.”

"I heard that!" I retort.

"If you join us, I promise I'll take you for a fun day out at the museum next week," says Rowan with a smile. "I hear there's a committee meeting."

I blink at him. "Is that so? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I'm not joining you at the museum this time!" puts in Holly hastily. "I need to finish my assignment."

"And this will be excellent research for mine ."

"Yeah, but we still have to persuade the Historical Society to allow us membership," says Rowan. "They'll be reluctant if they've something to hide."

"The curator will ensure we join. It's in his best interests to be nice to me." I smile broadly. "I'll visit the fair with you, but I'll have my fun at the museum."

My investigations aren't only about a museum, stolen gems or hidden artifacts. This town has secrets buried in its foundation, erased from its books, yet hidden in plain sight.

I don't plan to stop digging until I find them all.

Like Marvin, the town's mysterious past is dead but not gone.

Thank you for reading about the Mystery of the Missing Mole in "Dead and Gone".