Chapter 3
The next morning, we walked into the small front room at Hearthside House Inn that served as a foyer.
Heart-shaped garlands with multi-colored florals and magical flickering candles that threw smokey cherubs up into the air decorated the mantel over the fireplace.
Plush throws and velvet scarlet pillows dotting the soft chairs and love seats created an inviting lounge area.
A woman wearing a sweater that read “You must be a Wi-Fi signal—because I’m feeling a strong connection,” stood at the counter, and Lizzy smiled. “Hey Sarah, how’s it going?”
“Oh, good, Lizzy, how are you?” Sarah asked.
Lizzy leaned against the counter and glanced up at the floating lanterns that hovered in the air searching for love. “Not too bad. Hey, we were wondering if you had a Clara Ashcombe here and if she’s left yet this morning?”
Sarah looked around and leaned a little closer. “I’m not supposed to give away that information. But I can tell you that she hasn’t left today.”
“I don’t suppose you could point us to her room number?” Lizzy inquired.
Sarah sighed. “Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“No worries,” Lizzy turned to me with a frown. “I guess we’re waiting.”
I glanced around the reception area, and my gaze landed on the chess set not far from us. Each piece had a tiny heart carved in the center that glowed. I opened my mouth to suggest we play.
A scream sounded from upstairs.
Sarah straightened, her eyes widening in fright.
I went into protective mode. “I’ll check it out.” And I dashed up the stairs.
I came to a room where the maid was standing in the doorway trembling, her hands over her mouth. When I reached her side, she turned her devastated gaze on me. “She’s dead.”
A chill washed over me, and I hastened inside the bedroom, wishing maybe she was wrong, and that I’d be able to use my fae magic to rescue the poor soul.
I stopped in my tracks as I rounded the bed. The unmoving figure on the mattress was none other than Clara Ashcombe. Her gray hair framed her face, and her wrinkled skin marked her as the oldest fae on the council.
A small gasp caused me to whirl around. Lizzy had followed me and stared at Clara’s still form with horror.
The sour taste of disappointment covered my tongue. Why her? Why now? I swallowed back my devastation and forced out what I needed to say. “We need to call the police.”
Officer Herrera was the first one on the scene. He used to serve as one of Pemberley’s security guards before he became a police officer. He was one of the few who knew my true identity.
“So you were the second ones to see her after the maid that found her,” Officer Herrera asked. He brushed sparkles off his uniform and muttered, “Sorry, my daughter is into all this Valentine’s Day stuff and keeps throwing glitter everywhere in our house.”
“Yes, the maid’s scream alerted us that something was wrong, and I thought if Clara was alive that I could help her,” I said.
Glitter twinkled in the officer’s hair. “And why were you two here?”
“We were coming to meet with Mrs. Ashcombe,” Lizzy replied. “Darcy organized a meeting with her for tomorrow, but we hoped to speak with her early.”
“And why were you meeting?”
“She wanted to talk about my parents,” I said.
“It looks as if she was experimenting,” Officer Herrera pointed to the small objects on the table next to her bed. I sensed the magic they contained. A small open notebook next to them made it clear she was using the magic-filled objects to search for a cure without luck.
“Do you feel the pulse coming from the magic? That’s wild magic,” I said.
“Yes,” Officer Herrera said. “She was clearly searching for a cure for Moonrot, but she wasn’t quick enough.”
“What do you mean?” Lizzy asked.
“Clara Ascombe died of Moonrot.”
“Wait. She had Moonrot?” That was news to me. I’d seen Clara at many council gatherings and never even suspected.
“Seems so.” Officer Herrera stroked his mustache. “She has the mark on her chest.”
“Do you mind if I take a look?” I asked.
Officer Herrera nodded. “Only because I know who you are. Quickly though, other officers will arrive any minute.” He walked us to the side of the bed.
He pulled back the collar on Clara’s shirt, and the telltale signs of Moonrot were evident, peeking out of the top of her shirt.
A bit of glitter fell from Officer Herrera onto the body.
“Oh, geez.” He jerked back. “Um, I’ll go stand over here. ” And with that, he moved away.
“So she was experimenting with wild magic to cure her own Moonrot,” I said.
Lizzy shuddered. “She must have been desperate to try something so dangerous.
Wild magic was unpredictable. It was generally taboo to seek it out or to use it in experimentation.
Her fingers showed no sign of the green glow that was usually an indicator of doing tests with the volatile magic.
But the glow was temporary, and she most likely had been dead for more than a few hours, which meant the green would have faded away by the time she was found.
Without warning, Lizzy stiffened next to me. It must be hard for her to see Clara lying there dead of Moonrot considering the state of her father. It made me want to reach out and comfort her.
“Do you see that rash on the side of her neck? The one with the slightly bluish tint?” Lizzy asked, pointing to the body. “That is a sign of thornlace poisoning.”
I stared at the rash, my heart suddenly beating double time. Could that be true? But I was confident that Lizzy knew her stuff.
“Thornlace poisoning?” Officer Herrera asked, surprised. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, witches are taught early on to identify the signs of poisoning when making potions. It’s very simple to apply. Once it touches the skin, it doesn’t take long.” Lizzy looked at me, her expression grave. “Clara Ashcombe was murdered.”
Murdered. The word reverberated through me, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe.
Officer Herrera escorted us out of the room after we finished examining the body.
“If you discover anything else,” I said, still feeling oddly detached from the situation, “please keep me informed.”
“I will let you know.”
“I appreciate it.” I turned and walked away.
Lizzy caught up. “Darcy, are you okay? What is it?”
“Lizzy, there was a rash just like that one on both my parents’ bodies. It’s in the coroner’s report. I thought it was a mark left from their seat belts, but the bluish tint… it… it’s too similar. The coroner was fae, so I don’t think he even noticed.”
“It’s a witch’s poison, but I’m pretty sure anyone can get their hands on it. I believe it’s sold on the black market, though only those with a lot of money would be able to afford it.”
Like someone on the council, I surmised from her unspoken words.
She watched me carefully, her brow furrowed. “Do you think the same person who killed Clara Ashcombe killed your parents using the same poison?”
“It’s too similar,” I said again. “And she winds up dead the day before we’re supposed to meet?”
“It does seem too coincidental. Was anyone aware of your meeting with Clara?”
I shook my head. “We should talk to the rest of the council members on the list. The Saints and Sweethearts Festival starts tomorrow.” My jaw clenched. “We can ask them what they know about both murders.”