Chapter 7
I walked into the cemetery, Duchess at my feet and a beach bag full of ingredients slung over my shoulder.
I took a long sip of my caramel apple cider.
A pleasant shudder moved through me. I loved how the syrupy taste suffused through my body and heated me from the inside out.
When I was ready, I set the bag on the ground and placed my steaming cup on the bench before focusing my powers.
And summoned Isabella to me.
She appeared, consternation evident on her face. “You sure are taking your sweet time.”
“I’m sorry. Do you have somewhere else to be?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Someone has found their attitude.”
“Always had it. I simply choose when to let it out.” I returned to the bench and picked up my drink, letting it soothe my chilled hands. “Why did you have Lydia deliver the potion to Frank Churchill?”
She scooped Duchess into her arms and scratched behind her ears. A soft smile lit her face. “Ah, Frank. Yes, he’s a regular and so kind, and charming.”
Of course she liked him. What wasn’t to like? He was all those things and more. A pang gripped my chest as I recalled what she wrote about him in her journal. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I was going to take the potion to him as usual, but the night before my parents decided we needed to have a family dinner. Frank’s delivery was scheduled at the same time and I couldn’t be late with the full moon coming, so I asked Lydia to deliver it for me.”
I sat on the cold stone bench. “And the wolfsbane potion that you and Lydia brewed? There wasn’t anything wrong with it?”
She shook her head. “I always double check when we finish and there were no problems with this batch. I’m very careful. It has to be precisely right.” She tapped her chin in thought. “No, the wolfsbane potion was perfect. I’m sure of it.”
I didn’t know whether to be frustrated or relieved. An accident could be written off as just that. I opened my bag, located the book, and took out the loose paper. “I discovered a list of your appointments from the day you died.”
“Oh good! You found my journal. Let’s see.”
I held up the page while she looked it over. “Mhmm, Mhmm.” She squinted. “Hmm, that’s new.”
“What?” I asked.
She pointed to Pastor Collins’s name. “I don’t remember making this appointment. He must have contacted me that day.”
What kind of potion would the pastor need at the last minute from someone like Isabella? “Have you prepared anything for him before?”
“No. In fact, how did Pastor Collins know what I was doing? Many of the remedies I concoct are illegal.” Duchess leapt from her arms and went pouncing after something in the grass.
My hands tightened on the paper. Collins hated the lesser Marked, even though he was nothing more than a low-born fae himself.
Could he have taken action to punish Isabella for trying to sell prohibited potions?
Perhaps it was all a trap. “Pastor Collins was your last stop on your list that night. And he lives in Fairwood Forest. Is there any reason you might walk out there instead of drive?”
“I always meet my clients on foot,” she said. “Cars are too identifiable. I’m too afraid someone will write down my license plate number.”
“So you’d have walked through the forest?”
“Yes. Why is that important?”
I paused, looking at her. She really didn’t remember. “They found your body in Fairwood Forest.”
“Oh.” She stared sadly at her name that had been magically etched onto her gravestone. Despite her body not yet buried there, the fae had used their power to carve it during the vigil. It read Here lies Isabella Ravenswood, Wonderful Daughter Taken Too Soon.
Pastor Collins had opportunity, means to make it look like an attack through his fae magic, and motive to do it. But I wanted to be thorough. “And are you familiar with this individual? George Wickham?”
“Not personally. I think he’s in a band, though. The Grey Doors? This was his first order. But yes, I remember setting up a meeting with him. He asked for essence of foxglove.”
“What does that do?”
“Aren’t you a witch? And you don’t know this?”
“Humor me.”
“Essence of foxglove counteracts blood lust.”
I stared at her. “Blood lust, like in vampires?” Was it possible someone bit Isabella, anticipating the blame would fall on a werewolf because of the full moon? It could be a clever cover.
“Vampires aren’t the only creatures that experience blood lust,” Isabella said.
I leaned back on the bench, the paper trembling in my hand. “Werewolves,” I whispered. Werewolves that hadn’t taken their wolfsbane potion.
“Yes.”
I placed the paper in the book and closed it. “Okay, I will look more into this.” I rose and stuffed the journal into my bag.
Isabella wrung her hands and again looked at her gravestone. Her eyes were wide and sad, as if she were realizing she was actually dead. “Hey, Mary. I know I can be a bit… demanding. But I appreciate you doing this.”
I gripped my strap, wanting to offer her more than my condolences. “You risked everything to help all these people who needed it. It is time that someone helped you.”
I left the cemetery and headed up the front steps of the church. As I opened the door, I almost struck Brexton, who was standing directly inside, observing Collins with an amused expression.
“No, I refuse to watch that little hellion again.” Collins was shouting into a cell phone I hadn’t realized he owned. “Are you aware of the torture that monster put me through last time? Nearly took off my arm.”
Brexton shifted out of the way to let me enter. “Hey, Mary.”
“Hey, Brexton.” I stared at the pastor pacing back and forth, fighting the slight sweat that broke out over my skin at the sight of him. I might be in the presence of a murderer. “What is Pastor Collins doing?”
“Phone call from his sister. She has a child that Collins occasionally cares for, more or less successfully.”
“Sounds like less successfully.”
Brexton emitted a sound of agreement in his throat. “I found out about him the same week you started interning here.”
I turned to face him, a question simmering within me ever since he helped me to secure my position. “Why did you talk Collins into giving me an internship? I’m a half-fae witch. It might have caused you to appear questionable in front of the other fae.”
“Collins believes a lot in the old ways. But I prefer to see everyone as having a bit of light inside us. For me, it’s less to do with the magic’s origins and ability, but what you choose to do with it.”
“I don’t really practice witchcraft.” At least I hadn’t.
He smiled at me. “That wouldn’t have influenced my desire to help one way or another. I vouched for you, Mary, because you are a good person.”
Warmth rose in my cheeks, and I pushed my glasses up my nose. “Thanks.”
“You’re most welcome,” he mumbled. He eyed my beach bag. “That’s pretty large. Moving in?”
I clutched it shut and smiled. “I have a lot of books to return today.”
Brexton didn’t question further, but he stared at the bag a moment longer, enough for my nerves to spark.
Without warning, he spun around and lifted a plate of brownies. “I’m going out to visit people. My sister and I made these, and I prepared some for you.”
“That’s very thoughtful.” I took it from him, surprised.
“They’re chocolate with peanut butter swirls. I believe you said those were your favorite.”
A small smile came to my lips. He was always so kind, especially to me. “They are.”
He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “Mary, I—”
The church door burst open.
“Brexton, just the person I was looking for,” Mayor Pembroke said earnestly.
She was dressed in a light brown sweater that brought out the golden tones in her skin, and her ink-black hair was pulled into a stylish bun.
“I heard one of the Steele sisters manifested the symptoms of moonrot. You must visit them. You’re remarkably adept at consoling the inconsolable. ”
“Good morning, Mrs. Pembroke.” Brexton stepped back, completely caught off guard.
She looked at Collins on the phone with interest. “Who is Pastor Collins speaking to in such an animated manner?”
“His sister,” Brexton said. “I’ve heard about the Steeles and plan to make a stop by today.”
“Okay good. You’re so good.” Mrs. Pembroke turned to me and gave a little start. “Mary, hello. I didn’t notice you there. Don’t you agree? Brexton is such a great man.”
Red flushed across Brexton’s face. “Mrs. Pembroke, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense. You know what you need? A nice young woman. There’s nothing better than seeing two wonderful people in love. What about a Steele sister? They’re sweet girls, don’t you think, Mary?”
For some reason, I didn’t like thinking of Brexton with the Steele sisters.
“Oh, um...” I was unsure what to say, and I felt Brexton focus his attention on me.
As if my answer was more important than it should be.
But I had nothing against the Steele sisters, either.
“I’m not very familiar with them, but they appear pleasant,” I concluded lamely.
Brexton shoulders dropped as if I’d said the wrong thing.
“Yes, yes. You should ask a Steele girl out,” Mrs. Pembroke pressed him.
Collins was still yelling into his phone.
“No, I don’t care what sort of state you’re in, I unequivocally will not—no, no!
” He growled as he ended the call, then spun on his heel to find us observing him.
“What are you two doing? Don’t you have work to do?
” Then he noticed Mrs. Pembroke. “Mrs. Mayor, I missed your arrival. What can I do for you? Can I simply say that your attire at the last town festival was the most festive outfit I have ever seen? Wherever did you get the idea for such a magnificent ensemble?”
And Mrs. Pembroke was soon pulled into a conversation about costume planning. Something she always had plenty to talk about.
“Well, I’m off.” Brexton didn’t meet my gaze. “I’ll see you later, Mary.”
“Bye,” I said, awkwardly. A little unsure what had just happened. “Thanks again for the brownies.”
I made my way into the aged stacks underneath the church. A glamour hid the entrance behind a plain wall, preventing Unmarked from stumbling upon it.
Beneath the old chapel, the archives collection was tucked away in a low-lit room that extended almost the full length of the building above.
Shelves lined the stone walls, filled with dusty leather-bound books, parchment scrolls, and a few newer volumes.
Long shelves packed the space, and delicate cobwebs hung unapologetically from the timbers above.
A creaky wooden floor added to the charm as my soft footsteps echoed, making it feel like a haven for those seeking knowledge of forgotten secrets.
After perusing, I found the timeworn manual I was searching for, Creatures of the Dark: Hexes, Howls and Vampire Fever.
I eagerly took it from the shelf. The church kept little information on other species outside of the fae.
The ancient fae classified magic that was separate from their own as a form of illness.
I supposed in many cases that wasn’t far from the truth, considering Isabella’s illegal business remained necessary today.
Carrying it, I went to a stuffy, old room behind a dilapidated wooden door at the end of the stacks.
Duchess walked across the dust strewn floor, not a hint of paw prints in her wake.
She gave me an arched look, as if asking what we were doing down here.
The air smelled of aged paper and earth.
I took a calming breath. Pastor Collins may be the killer and I was brewing a wolfsbane potion right under his feet.
Still, it was the best place that had come to mind.
After shutting the door and staring at the heaps of unsorted newspapers, I knelt and pulled out the ingredients from my bag, along with Isabella’s journal.
I’d read the instructions over many times.
I dumped a couple of bottles of water into the mini cauldron, then lined up the items. The air in the room hummed with the gravity of it, thick with the scent of dried herbs.
The liquid swirled in a strange, almost hypnotic dance.
My hands trembled as I measured the ingredients, each item carefully chosen: a pinch of moonstone dust, a drop of blackthorn essence, and the crushed petals of a midnight rose.
The recipe was delicate, precise, its potency depending on the smallest detail.
I muttered the incantation, my voice low and raspy, the words ancient and foreign on my tongue.
My breath came faster, each syllable carrying a weight of power that imbued the air with a heavy, magical charge.
My stomach twisted and sweat trickled down my back.
If I got one thing wrong, Frank wouldn’t have his wolfsbane in time for the next full moon.
I relaxed as it simmered. Unwrapping the brownies, I quickly ate one of the peanut chocolate-y goodness before carefully cleaning my hands.
I opened up Creatures of the Dark and started to read.
It was easy to get lost in the different passages and stories inside, but I tried to focus more on what I was looking for.
I planned on reading about vampires and werewolves, but found a section on death witches. I turned to that section.
The witch Elera of ancient times had the malady of dark magic.
She often communed with the dead. Many who died unexpectedly could not recall the circumstances of their demise, and so Elera claimed to use her powers to assist them.
But over time, she sank deeper and deeper into her sinister magic, and it corrupted her, blurring the line between the living and the dead.
Darkness consumed her, compelling the fae to end her, thus securing the realm.
That was anything but heartwarming. The text seemed to wrap around me as a dark warning. Was I on a shadowy path that would one day lead to my demise?
The alarm on my phone made me jump, causing me to slam the ancient tome shut, initiating a coughing fit as dust rose into my face and tickled my nose.
I’d have to worry about the fate of my soul later. Frank should be waiting for me outside. Rising, I gratefully left the condemning words behind and proceeded through the stacks to the front of the church.