Chapter 17 #2
“When he fired me, he told me he was going to investigate his mother’s disappearance himself,” Arthur said, processing his thoughts aloud. “He must’ve realized the Celestine Coven connection, and now he’s going undercover.”
“If so, he’s just copying us,” Sal grumbled. “Though I suppose that makes sense. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery—other than asking someone to pose for an oil painting, of course.”
“This isn’t something to make light of,” Arthur chided. “If he gets too close to the truth, Ambrosia and Chet could kill him.”
Sal raised his eyebrows. “You really think they’d do that?”
“Why not? They may have killed before.” Arthur didn’t intend to sit back and let Brody potentially put himself at risk.
He couldn’t intervene directly without going against Brody’s express wishes, but that wouldn’t stop him.
Arthur was nothing if not resourceful, and there was only one way to stop Brody from endangering himself by going after the murderer.
Arthur was going to have to catch the killer first.
All through Arthur’s evening chores—laundering towels, dinner prep, and cleanup, all done while not being in the same room as Other Arthur Miller if he could help it—he tried to focus on why Ambrosia might have killed Wilhelmina and Lola, but his worry for Brody kept creeping in and distracting him.
As he and Sal enjoyed their evening glasses of blood from their latest Fresh Bites delivery, Hailey popped into the kitchen.
Guests weren’t forbidden here, in fact they kept a selection of late-night snacks out for anyone who wandered by hungry, but Arthur hadn’t been expecting anyone. He froze like a bat in headlights.
Sal, who was never embarrassed about being seen drinking blood, swept into a bow and gave a little shimmy (to better show off his cravat, ostensibly). “Good evening, Hailey. What can we, your gracious and gorgeous hosts, do for you?”
“I was hoping to find you!” She was smiling in a manner Arthur wasn’t entirely comfortable with. “The Winslows and I need a fourth.”
Arthur nearly choked on a sip of blood but rushed to speak over Sal. The last thing he needed was for his husband to mistake an innocent invitation for something more salacious. “For what?”
“Board games,” Hailey replied, to Arthur’s relief. “They’ve never played anything newer than Monopoly, and I don’t want their first game of Pandemic to end in tragedy. Would either of you like to play?”
“I’d love to,” Arthur said.
At the same time, Sal shouted, “Of course!”
Arthur and Sal exchanged a glance. Sal raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
Arthur knew what the look meant; it was true that he enjoyed interacting with guests, but under more structured circumstances.
This was the sort of invitation Arthur would usually leave to Sal, who was the outgoing one in their partnership.
Sitting back and observing was more Arthur’s cup of tea.
But not tonight. Arthur wanted the chance at a casual and extended conversation with Hailey, and this was the perfect opportunity.
There was no reason Sal couldn’t help with that, though.
“We’ll both play. We can share one character,” Arthur said rather more confidently than was reasonable.
The last time they’d tried to play cooperatively (a doomed attempt at Codenames), it had ended with Sal shouting “Filibuster!” repeatedly at the top of his lungs.
Arthur still didn’t know what the clue was meant to refer to, but they never saw the vampire couple they’d been trying—and failing—to befriend ever again.
Pandemic was both more and less volatile as far as games went, but Arthur had no intention of impeding Sal’s game strategy.
He only wanted to steer the conversation.
They followed her to the dining room, where the Winslows sat giving the board game suspicious looks.
“Is this anything like Settlers of Catan?” asked Mrs. Winslow.
Sal gave a hearty yet sinister chuckle. “Oh, my dear. No.”
Soon enough, the game was underway and the mood was jovial. Sal spent the first half hour giving everyone’s token a name and detailed backstory, but eventually Arthur managed to bring the conversation around to that day’s festival happenings.
“What a performance from the woman herself,” Arthur said in an offhand manner.
“Oh em gee, right?” Hailey tore her eyes from the game board to fix Arthur with an electric stare. “Ambrosia is amazing. I’ve seen her speak in person three times now, and she never disappoints! It’s always such a great recruiting opportunity, too.”
“Oh?” Arthur didn’t want to press too hard in case she balked under his questioning. Best to let her believe this was just a casual conversation, not a planned interrogation.
“Oh yeah. No offense or anything, but after you two turned out to be a bust, I really need to get my numbers up.”
“No offense taken. Did you get any new recruits?”
“I did!” Hailey had turned away from the game entirely now, shoulders dancing with excitement as if she’d been waiting all day to dish this particular bit of news. “And you’ll never guess who!”
“Oh, I love guessing games!” Sal exclaimed.
Arthur tried to elbow him, a silent reminder of the whole purpose of the conversation, but Sal had leaped to his feet and was already guessing.
“Was it Alexander Graham Cracker?”
“Huh?” Hailey looked confused.
“How about Benedict Cummberbrunch? Timothee Challet? Billie Eyelash?” Sal gasped, clutched his hand to his chest, and closed his eyes. “Was it Bruce Wayne?”
“Brody Young,” Arthur said, if only to put a stop to Sal’s maddening interruption.
“Yes!” Hailey exclaimed. “That’s exactly right!”
“Arthur! How did you get so good at guessing?” Sal asked earnestly, as if he had not stood beside Arthur when they saw Hailey talking to Brody.
Arthur opted not to answer Sal’s question. “Brody’s a good kid,” he said, instead.
“And he’ll be a good witch!” Hailey leaned in closer. “I met him my first day in town at the Big Bad Brew. One sip of the caramel macchiato he made me and I could tell. His magic seeps into every drink he makes.”
“Is that how it works?” Arthur asked, bewildered.
“Oh, yes. Most witches imbue magic into their surroundings before they’re trained.
All that magic needs somewhere to go. For some people it’s whatever they do for work—we see a lot of retail witches accidentally charming customers, or there was this one Uber driver witch who always hit green lights.
Brody’s been putting his magic into the drinks he makes.
Plus, he did that mural downtown, right?
That’s one powerful calming charm, if ever I’ve seen one! ”
Arthur nodded, quietly relieved by the revelation.
He’d thought he was just being a sourpuss about the mural—which was lovely.
But no, it seemed everyone around them had been charmed by actual magic to feel at peace when they looked at it.
Arthur, who was immune to magic as a vampire, just felt a normal amount of appreciation for the art.