Chapter 8 #2
“I will. Until then, Mary, Mary, quite contrary.” He took my hand and brought it to his lips. The tender caress against my skin sent a small thrill rippling through me.
I watched him walk away. Despite everything, he had a lightness to his step like a man without a care in the world.
A mixture of wet and dried leaves littered the sidewalk. I slushed my feet through them as I went home. Duchess scurried ahead of me, chasing after a fluttering dry leaf. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I drew it out, my heart doing a small flip when I saw Frank’s name.
In a gentle way, you can shake the world. -Ghandi
You have shaken mine for the better. Thank you, Mary.
I couldn’t stop the smile stretching across my face, and I walked with a skip in my step the remainder of the trip home.
The store buzzed with the typical late afternoon activity.
Duchess leapt onto the counter and sniffed at the different decorated goodies set out to tempt customers.
Kitty and Lydia ran the shop, one at the register, the other sorting through supplies in the kitchen.
The annual autumn bake-off was coming soon, and we would need to make extra of everything for the big town event held at Regency Meadows Park.
Mom sat at a small side table, deep in gossip. Ms. Bates was next to her, needles in hand as she worked on her knitting.
Mrs. Long, Mom’s long-time frenemy, also was with them, a cup of steaming tea in her hands.
Her blonde hair was pulled back, accentuating her sharp features.
She owned a fashion boutique in town. It looked as if Mom and Mrs. Long were currently getting along, however that would end soon with the annual bake-off approaching.
Every year they inevitably became the worst of enemies for up to two months after the event as they both ridiculed each other’s prized entries.
But that was still almost two weeks away. And this year Mom was a judge, so hopefully that might tone down their competitiveness.
“I’m telling you, any day now Jane and Bingley will be engaged,” Mom said. “And not a moment too soon. Finances have become precarious.”
“Oh, I can see how anxious you have been these past few months,” Ms. Bates remarked, patting Mom’s hand.
“Yes, my poor nerves are extremely frazzled these days,” Mom said.
“But the business of a wedding is hardly tonic for frazzled nerves,” Mrs. Long pointed out while sipping her tea.
Mom nodded. “It's true. But you know me, I’d do anything for my daughters.”
Or their social standing in the eyes of the fae, I thought. Lighting my trusty fae power, I was able to sneak past them and my sisters into the rear of the house before releasing it.
The bakery was popular, but it still only made enough to cover the bills, especially with the three of us daughters living at home. I paused in the entrance to Dad’s room. He lay sleeping, a curl of graying hair falling over his pale face.
If what Mom said was true, I hadn’t realized that finances had become so dire. But Mom had been paying for medicines from the Ravenswoods and visits from the doctor with various results. My heart twisted. What if we ran out of money? Who would pay for Dad’s treatments?
My father adored reading and books, like me.
There had been a time I thought we might connect over that, but his interest didn’t lie where mine did, in old texts and religious writings.
Those bored him, and whenever I’d tried to engage him in serious discussion about the fate of our souls or the destiny of our races, he’d only laughed at me, brushing my concerns aside.
But he was still my dad, and I loved him.
Seeing him in such a state left us all feeling a bit unstable, as if at any moment the floor would be pulled out from under us.
Voices in the living room brought my curiosity to the forefront. Maybe I’d sneak a peek through the kitchen door before heading upstairs.
Lizzy was talking to someone.
“Darcy seems like this polished high fae who’d never do anything wrong,” a man’s voice said. “But lesser fae and witches are nothing more than trash in his eyes.”
Lizzy moved her recording device to her lips. “Interview with George Wickham, part one complete.”
George Wickham? I’d thought I’d need to beg Lizzy to set up a meeting, but here he was. I bolted into the living room where Whickham sat in a brown suede jacket and blue jeans on our couch.
My sister cast me a startled glance. As she placed the recording device on the coffee table, she said, “George, this is my sister, Mary. Mary, this is George. He’s new to town.”
A grin stretched over his handsome face. He reached out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mary.”
“How long have you been in town?” I asked.
He blinked, but then his grin widened as he retracted his hand. “About a month.”
So he’d arrived shortly before Isabella’s death. “It sounds like you’re very well acquainted with certain individuals in this community despite that.”
“I’m familiar with a few people. Darcy and I, as you might have overhead, have history,” he replied.
“Did you know Isabella?” Better to cut to the chase.
Wickham stared at me for a long moment, but his smile never left his face. “Who?”
“The girl that was killed in the woods on the last full moon.”
Lizzy had been lifting a glass of water to her mouth, but at that, she scowled. “Mary,” she hissed, warning flashing in her eyes. She reached out to set the glass of water down, but it hit the edge of the table and tipped.
George moved, catching the glass before a drop could spill.
Those were quite the reflexes.
“It’s okay, Lizzy.” He rested the cup on the table and touched her shoulder.
A small smile came to her lips, even while she shot me an icy glance intended to get me to back down.
I wouldn’t be backing down.
“I’d never met Isabella in person, though I heard she was killed recently,” George said. “Poor woman. Was she someone close to you?”
He was lying, or at least bending the truth. I possessed proof of his familiarity with Isabella. “It's believed that a creature of the dark ended her.”
“Of the dark… like a werewolf, witch, or vampire?” he listed as if unaware, as if every fae hadn’t been taught since they were children what they were.
But fast reflexes. Wasn’t that a sign of vampires? They could move with inhuman speed. “Exactly.”
Wickham’s amiable smile remained on this face while he turned to Lizzy. “Does your sister go around interrogating each new person she meets?”
“My sister often doesn’t think about people’s feelings before she speaks.” Lizzy glared at me. “Come on, George. We can go to the park. We shouldn’t be interrupted there.” She began gathering up her things.
“Of course.” He stood, shoulders relaxed, not the least put out. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mary.” He faced my sister. “I’ll wait for you by the door.” And with that, he walked casually from the room, as if I hadn’t subtly accused him of being a creature of the dark or a murderer.
Who was that guy? Someone too unfazed by everything for my liking. “Lizzy…”
“How could you accuse him like that?”
“I didn’t accuse him. I only asked a few questions.”
“You practically called him a creature of the dark.” Her eyes flashed. “You don’t even know him.”
“Neither do you, and in case you forgot, there’s a killer on the loose. You need to be careful.”
“And you believe George is the killer?”
“I…” He had an appointment scheduled right before Isabella’s attack. He’d asked for a potion to treat bloodlust. “He could be.”
She snorted.
“Look, I don’t know,” I said. “But I can tell he’s hiding something.”
“Why do you think I’m interviewing him?” she snapped before blowing past me and storming from the room.
Wickham definitely appeared suspicious, but Lizzy hadn’t seemed surprised that he was involved in something that had to do with the darker creatures.
Werewolf or vampire? Considering that he’d inquired about an essence of foxglove to counteract bloodlust instead of wolfsbane, it prompted me to lean toward a vampire.
However, it was possible that he’d been bitten and didn’t have time to acquire wolfsbane, so he opted for the bloodlust counteractor instead.
Being new in town, how did George even figure out to call Isabella for anything, anyway? He must have some sort of connection.
Either way, the notion of someone running around with bloodlust wasn’t exactly comforting.