Chapter 17
Even the police station was decorated for Halloween.
A glowing skull planter sat in the corner and fake wanted posters of famous characters from The Nightmare Before Christmas were posted to the walls.
On my way in, I noticed a countertop full of little pumpkin-shaped cookies with frosting in the shape of sheriff’s badges.
A pencil lay on the table and my fingers ached from writing my statement.
Duchess perched next to it, as if supervising me.
She reached out and swatted at the pencil as it rolled, then chased it as it fell onto the floor.
I stretched as I waited, trying not to think too hard about what I was actually doing.
The door to the small room opened, and I straightened as Marge entered.
She picked up my paper and nodded. Then she fixed me with a compassionate stare. “I’m sorry for all the espionage and what not. Obviously, I couldn’t give myself away when your entire family was under investigation, but I want you to know that I enjoyed our chats.”
“I understand.”
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest? You appear as though you could use it.”
I nodded and headed for the door. Duchess padded along behind me.
“Did you ever spot him there, in the cemetery? My Johnny?”
I froze, my hand on the handle. “What?”
“I can tell you’re a medium.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Who else goes into a graveyard by themselves and starts speaking to no one? It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she added.
“Mediums who use their powers to help the dead are some of the most respected members of the witch community. We don’t condemn them like the fae do.
I was just wondering if you ever saw him. My Johnny.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, no.”
Her expression shifted to one of simultaneous relief and sadness. “Well, it’s good to know that he moved on.”
“Moved on?”
“Spirits of the dead sometimes linger for a reason. Some call it unfinished business. Only mediums can help them in resolving it to move on. So my respects to you, Mary Bennet, for taking your responsibility seriously.”
“Thank you.”
The older woman nodded. “I’ll see you later.”
I headed down the steps of the police station. Frank was there, waiting. I was pretty sure my mom couldn’t tell the police about him. After all, if she confessed to knowing Frank was a werewolf, she’d basically be giving herself away.
“I’m sorry.” I said softly to him. “I’m so sorry for what she did to you.”
His fingers ran over my skin, causing a rush of gentle heat throughout my body. “And how are you doing, my Mary?”
“Sh-she deserves it. She deserves to be arrested for the lives she uprooted and the futures she stole. She…” I wiped angrily at my eyes under my glasses. “She deserves justice, and…”
His arms wrapped around me. “And she’s your mother.”
The gentle understanding in his words after everything was what broke me. Tears fell onto my cheeks and a sob burst out of me. Frank, without a word, removed my glasses and tucked them into my pocket. I buried my face in his chest and cried.
“So that’s it. Your mom poisoned Frank in order to take possession of him to attack me. All over a man.” Isabella sat next to me on the bench at the cemetery the next day, watching Duchess hunt a butterfly that rested on the edge of a tombstone.
When she phrased it that way, it sounded so petty. I swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’m sorry, Isabella.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “You’ve done nothing but help me… I mean, after you first rejected me and scampered off like a frightened little mouse.”
“Thanks for that.”
She looked at me, her head tipping to the side, causing her transparent curls to fall over one shoulder. “I’m curious. What changed your mind?”
“Frank and Lydia were implicated, so I felt obligated to look into it.”
“Frank? Oh yes, I get it. I thought there was something there when you spoke of him.”
“We’re dating,” I said, still amazed that I was able to say such a thing after all these years of assuming he was unattainable for someone like me. Frank Churchill was mine.
Isabella inhaled, gazing upward at the sun. “This feels… right. Thank you, Mary. Now that I know that my killer has been found and imprisoned, I’m at peace.”
“So, no more unfinished business?” I asked. “Do you think you’re ready to move on?”
“I believe I am.” She offered me a smile. “Tell Frank he better treat you well because if he doesn’t, I’ll come back from the grave just to haunt him.”
I smiled in return. “I’ll tell him.”
“And take good care of Duchess. Heaven knows what her unfinished business may be.”
I released a high-pitched laugh, more than a little unsettled at that disturbing thought.
“Oh, and one more thing. I know my body will be buried here soon. But perhaps the reason that we could meet here had nothing to do with where my body was, but that this is where your connection to the dead is the strongest, so this is where my spirit manifested.”
I blinked in surprise. “Perhaps you’re right.”
She scooped up Duchess, who’d abandoned the butterfly to snuggle against Isabella’s side. “Don’t give up on us, Mary. There will be others who need your help. The living and the dead.”
“Frank met the other werewolves after he changed back on the full moon. He knows who they are. And Lydia has promised to teach me lessons in potion-making. With Frank’s assistance, we’ll work to make sure that the werewolves of Austen Heights get their wolfsbane potions on time.”
She patted Duchess’s head and shut her eyes. “Then I can truly rest. It was a pleasure getting to know you, Mary Bennet.”
“The pleasure was mine, Isabella. Rest well.”
She set Duchess on the ground. The air was cool, carrying the sweet scent of lavender and fresh earth, and the sound of rustling leaves whispered like a gentle lullaby.
As the last rays of sunlight kissed the horizon, Isabella, clothed in mist, gave one final, contented sigh, her form dissolving into the embrace of the twilight.
There was no fear now, no yearning, just a peaceful surrender to the stillness of the cemetery where the gravestones stood, quiet guardians in the soft afternoon glow.