Chapter 12
Over the next couple of days, I walked to the church trying to figure out what I’d missed in finding Isabella’s killer, all the while ducking the exclamations and stares of the townspeople who’d seen Frank’s post on social media—I was now regretting that.
I had to recount how we’d met after my mom and each of my sisters either hunted me down or called.
Mom was the one least able to believe I would date someone like Frank Churchill, but I’d finally convinced her, then she’d expressed her usual enthusiasm.
It had been exhausting. I wanted people to know but not talk to me about it.
On day eleven of my potion making, I walked to the church with an extra nervousness in my step. I’d eliminated all my suspects, leaving only Lydia and Frank. But of course it was neither of them. It couldn’t be. Could a different werewolf be responsible? But I was no closer to finding any of them.
Not to mention, today I’d find out if I made the wolfsbane potion correctly.
Before I entered the church, I saw Marge walking toward the cemetery, though she didn’t have any flowers this time. I caught her eye, and she waved. I smiled and waved in return. But instead of heading for the grave, she angled toward me. I suppose that meant we were going to have a conversation.
“Hello! How are you, dear? Had any lovely seances with the dead of late?” She shifted, and underneath her coat I made out an image of a skeleton and the words Bone to be Wild.
“Oh.” I glanced around. I didn’t want anything about me speaking to the deceased getting out. “Umm… no?”
“Well, that’s too bad. I’m here to make certain Johnny doesn’t forget about me, especially now that he has such a lovely visitor.
” She winked at me. “But he has one of the nicest resting places in Austen Heights. Cost a pretty penny, too. I hope he appreciates it.” She glared at the cemetery like she could hear Johnny complaining.
“I’m sure he does,” I said. “Heaven knows my family would struggle to afford such a spot at this time.” I bit my lip, realizing what I’d just revealed and that my thoughts had even gone there.
Marge’s gaze turned gentle. “It’s a tough time, that’s undoubtedly true. But it’s always helpful to have loved ones around.”
My eyes stung, and I blinked hard to clear my vision. “Do you have loved ones nearby?”
“I have friends, and my cat, Rufus. He can be a comfort… when he chooses to be, that is.” She let out a soft chuckle. I glanced at Duchess, who gave me an lofty glance as if to say, Don’t expect too much from me.
“What about you, my dear?” Marge asked.
“I have family… and Frank.”
“Ah, that handsome man I’ve seen in the vicinity of the church more often.”
I gazed at her in surprise. She didn’t seem like the type who used social media. “How did you—”
“I hear things, and what’s more, I see things around here.” She gave me a clever smile. “Being old is pointless if you can’t vicariously relish the adventures of youth. You enjoy your Frank. He looks like a real catch.”
“Um, thanks.”
The woman laughed her cackling laugh and waved goodbye. “I’ll talk to you later, my dear.”
“Bye.”
I walked into the church. I spent my childhood in this town, and despite a couple of friends, they’d both moved from Austen Heights after high school.
Since then I’d been a self-proclaimed loner.
At least until Brexton started working as the assistant pastor and got me my internship.
Now it appeared I was able to add Frank and a little old woman named Marge to the list.
The room in the basement filled with newspapers was dark and unwelcoming.
I turned on the light and uncovered the potion hidden there.
I took a slow breath. Today was the day.
If the potion hadn’t changed from a forest green to a clear liquid, then something was wrong.
I regarded it and frowned. The liquid was as dark green as the pine trees in a mountain wilderness.
I sat back in defeat. With only one more day until the full moon, I needed to find a way to get it right.
I pulled up my phone and scrolled to Kitty’s name. I tried begging Lydia’s help that morning, but she flatly refused. She wanted nothing more to do with werewolves and illegal potions.
Can you come to the church?
I’m running the shop with Lydia.
I’m desperate. Please come?
Just a moment.
…
Okay, on my way.
I breathed a sigh. Surely Kitty could solve this problem.
To calm my nerves while I waited, I pulled out the book on werewolves and other creatures of the dark while Duchess chased dust motes nearby.
I found it interesting that the text didn’t list dragon shifters.
The fae maintained an almost envious relationship with the shifters. Nobody ever considered them a disease.
I’m here.
Shutting the tome, I rose, hurried to the top of the steps, and went outside. Kitty stood with a large puffy coat, a scarf, and earmuffs. She always dressed like it was the middle of winter, even at the slightest hint of cold.
“What is this about?” she asked.
“Come with me.” I grabbed her arm.
I dragged her down into the little room and showed her the potion. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” I said.
“What is it?”
“Wolfsbane potion. Well, it’s supposed to be wolfsbane potion, but it should have changed color by now and it hasn’t.” I twisted my fingers together and shifted from one foot to the other.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you doing this and who is it for? Wait, is this for Frank?”
“W-what? Why do you think Frank is involved?”
“You’ve already done one illegal thing with him. It only makes sense. Plus, you’re dating him. Who else would you go to such lengths for?”
I’d have to tell her about Isabella’s diary, anyway. Retrieving it, I handed her the instructions. “I’ve been following this.”
Kitty took it from me and squinted at the tiny handwriting. Then, keeping her fingers on the page with the directions, she flipped to the front of the journal. “Isabella. I thought so. She was making wolfsbane for Frank? How? According to this, you need a witch to help brew the potion.”
“She had a witch doing it for her.” I threw up my hands at her skeptical glance. “Not me.”
“Then who?”
I lowered my hands. “Can you help me or not?”
Her gaze shifted from potion to book. “You’ve followed the instructions, exactly?”
“Yes.”
She chewed on her lip in thought. “Let me see what I can do. I must return before 3:00. Mom’s taking Lydia shopping."
“Sounds normal.” I couldn’t remember the last time Mom had taken me or any other daughter shopping for that matter. Not that I would have enjoyed it.
Kitty pouted. “She always has Mom wrapped around her finger.”
“I think it’s a mutual thing.”
Her shoulders dropped, and she shook her head. “Lately, something has been… off between them.”
Lydia loved presents, retail therapy, and gifts. Because of the financial strain of Dad’s curse, she probably thought Mom was becoming too stingy with money and took it personally.
“Sounds like this excursion to the shops is to get things back on track.”
“The only way to solve their issues.” Kitty nodded. “Anyway, I need to focus. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stare at me.”
I rolled my eyes and picked up my book. “I’ll go read in the stacks. Tell me when you figure it out.”
“If I figure it out.”
I frowned at that. “If,” I mumbled. I went into the stacks and opened my book, but no matter how long I stared at it, I couldn’t focus.
I should have asked for help sooner, but I’d wanted to do this for Frank and sought to avoid giving too much away to Kitty or others.
Now, those reasons felt silly compared to the fact that Frank may be without a wolfsbane potion tomorrow.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket, my heart skipping at the sight of Frank’s name in my text messages.
I need you.
I smiled.
You know how to make a girl feel special.
I’m here. Outside the church. Come quick.
My smile faded. The lack of flirty response was concerning. I rushed up the steps and dashed for the doors, throwing them open.
Frank stood there, his face devoid of color, his hands on his knees gasping for breath as if he just ran a marathon. “It was me. I did it.”
Dread curled inside, but still I said, “We don’t know if you did it.”
“I know I did it.” He lifted his phone, scrolling with trembling fingers, then shoved it at me. “See that? That’s me.”
My eyes fixed on the screen, my heart pounding in my ears. The photo, somewhat blurry, depicted a werewolf standing upright in tattered clothes. “This is a picture of a werewolf. It may be any—”
“No, that pattern, that color. Those are my missing clothes. The ones I was wearing on the full moon.” A groan came out of him, and his frantic gaze met mine. “I’m the one who killed Isabella last month.”