Chapter 8
A celebrity of the caliber of Ambrosia Celestine would, apparently, never be caught dead (perhaps too soon for that choice of words) rubbing elbows with the average festival attendee.
According to Hailey, she didn’t work the merchandise booth or the recruitment tent.
Instead, she spent her time communicating with the spirits and connecting with the energy of the earth. Whatever that meant.
“Do you think she can use a spell to track a lost cat?” Sal asked Hailey.
Arthur hadn’t considered that possibility. He knew very little of what magic could actually do, having never needed a witch’s services before.
“I’m sure she can,” Hailey said with an animated gesture. “She’s so powerful. Her specialty is weather magic but everything she casts is spectacular.”
Before moving to Trident Falls, there had been witches around their paranormal community in Chicago, but Arthur hadn’t felt it was worth his time to ingratiate himself with their local coven.
They were so terribly odd, and Arthur had preferred a more low-key presence.
He’d left the socializing to Sal, who was much better at that sort of thing.
Arthur looked back on that era of his life rather shamefully now, but there had been a time in his not so distant past when he’d wanted to be normal so badly he’d been willing to eschew his own paranormal nature and others who wore their identities with pride.
After the ordeal with the mayor’s death, Arthur had come around…
to a point. He’d agreed to a more vampiric rebrand of the inn, at least, though he still bristled at some of the cornier displays.
There was only so much he could do about his practical, and sometimes rigid, nature.
This was a new opportunity to learn, however, and with a murder case on the line, Arthur knew he needed to tread carefully. He tucked his preconceived notions about witches behind him to proceed with an open mind (but hopefully not so open as to invite any witchy mental probing).
With their arms once again linked through Hailey’s, they left the raucous festival behind, exchanging its smells of fried food and sunscreen for the subtle pine aroma of the woods.
As they made their way down a dirt path, Arthur kept an eye out for Rumble.
She might’ve sought solitude here, and if she had, Arthur could hardly blame her.
After the noisy festival, the soft hush of the trees and the cool shade they provided were like an aloe vera balm on an angry sunburn.
He hoped she’d been able to hunt for sustenance.
In the months Rumble had been part of the family, she’d not once brought them a dead animal as a gift.
Sal had bemoaned the lack in the beginning (Oh, Arthur, she must hate us terribly!) but came around to the idea that different cats showed affection in different ways (Oh, Arthur, she slow-blinked at me again because I’m her very favorite person in all the world!).
Whether or not Rumble was capable of feeding herself when circumstances necessitated it, Arthur couldn’t say, though he did hope she wasn’t devastating the local bird and rodent populations.
Whatever the case, Arthur spotted plenty of signs of wildlife as they passed through the edge of the woods, carefully stepping to avoid deer droppings and keep from disrupting a long trail of worker ants headed in the opposite direction.
The melodic trill of hermit thrushes punctuated the otherwise quiet march.
If Rumble was about, she hadn’t left a trace.
Arthur cocked his head as a sound that didn’t quite register as endemic to the forest reached his ears.
“Is that…wind chimes?” he asked.
“Oh, yes! We’re almost there.” Hailey let out a sharp squeal as she pulled them forward.
Soon enough, they broke through the trees to find a richly decorated campground.
The clearing was about sixty feet in diameter with yurts lining the edges, arranged evenly around a central firepit that was stacked with wood but not currently lit.
Each yurt was decked out in string lights, wind chimes, and flowers.
It was beautiful, Arthur had to admit, though in an unsettling manner like spotting a movie star in a Denny’s or a teacher at the supermarket.
Though he was overcome with the feeling that the encampment ought not to have been there, he couldn’t look away.
“Paisley, don’t you think if regular camping were like this, more people would be amenable to it?” Sal said appreciatively. “Glamping might be worth a shot.”
Arthur looked around for the paisley Sal was admiring before remembering it was his pseudonym. “I suppose so,” he said, though he couldn’t imagine “glamping” was more comfortable than a room at the Dead & Breakfast. The indoor plumbing simply couldn’t be beat.
“Did you feel that?” Hailey said as they crossed a line of Scotch bonnets in the dirt. “Ambrosia set magical wards to keep outsiders away, but they accepted us!”
Arthur hadn’t felt anything. He didn’t know all that much about witches, but he usually associated mushroom barriers with the fae.
Either way, they hadn’t tripped any alarms on account of being vampires, it seemed.
Their undercover aliases must have been working.
Though, now that he thought about it, he had no idea why Ambrosia wanted to speak with two random new recruits.
Maybe arriving with Hailey was enough to pique the coven leader’s interest, if she truly was a witch on the cusp of attaining the platinum level.
“This place has such a good energy.” Hailey cast her gaze about, a look of awe on her face.
She took a deep breath, and air began to swirl around her, picking up leaves and flower petals like a small, decorative whirlwind.
She exhaled and the magic spun away. “There’s so much ambient power here.
Do you see how the clearing is a perfect circle?
And the pine trees here are very old. Ambrosia must’ve carefully selected the site herself. ”
Arthur had been about to comment that the trees Hailey was pointing at were technically Douglas firs, but before he could speak, a familiar airy voice that seemed to tinkle like crystals wafted over to them.
“The spirits led me to it.” It was Ambrosia Celestine herself. Had Arthur not been undercover, he might’ve asked if the spirits got help from the local tourism brochures, or perhaps Acting Mayor Nora Anderson. “Welcome, fellow practitioners.”
“Wow,” Hailey squeaked. “Ambrosia. Ms. Celestine. It’s such an honor to be here.” Hailey was the very definition of starstruck.
Arthur plastered on his best impressed smile, hoping the coven leader didn’t look too closely at him.
Sal’s disguises were good, but he doubted they could withstand magical scrutiny if Ambrosia got suspicious.
Sal, a little too lost in his character, was lazily following a butterfly as it flitted through the campsite.
“Lovely to make your acquaintance.” Arthur’s hand twitched with the instinct to reach for a handshake, but he resisted.
There would be no point in their ruse if Ambrosia discovered they were vampires just from the temperature of his skin.
Instead, Arthur grabbed Sal’s shoulder and turned him to face Ambrosia.
“I’m Paisley Sunset, and this is my new friend Ringo Moon. ”
“No relation,” Sal amended. Arthur began to suspect Sal didn’t exactly remember the drummer’s name.
A confused expression crossed Ambrosia’s face, but she hid it quickly. “Thank you for joining me at my sanctuary,” she said, gesturing to the camp around them. The bracelets and bangles on her wrist clinked like champagne glasses. “Let me show you the platinum pavilion.”
Arthur tried not to look too eager. This was perfect. A chance to snoop around and find any suspicious potions they could slip to Lore for testing. Arthur exchanged a significant glance with Sal. If they both kept a lookout, they’d double their chances of spotting something.
“Scandalous, but I’m ready and willing,” Salvatore murmured, misinterpreting Arthur’s look and leaning in for a kiss.
“Sal!” Arthur shook his head in dismay, backing up oh so casually so as not to alert Hailey or Ambrosia to their aside.
“What? It’s not like they’ll be aghast that Paisley Sunset and Ringo Moon hit it off.”
“Just keep an eye out, all right?”
“For clandestine makeout spots?”
“No! For anything suspicious.” Arthur dragged a hand down his face, turning it into an exaggerated eye rub when Hailey glanced back at them.
“Allergies?” Hailey asked.
“Ah, yes. Perhaps it’s the…trees…” Arthur hoped he sounded convincing.
“Nature is not always aligned with our spirits.” Ambrosia paused to retrieve something from a woven basket near the fire. “Here. Drink this.”
Arthur eyed the glass vial in her hand with trepidation. It was unmistakably a potion—green of color with glitter swirling inside.
“What…does it do?” Arthur asked, reaching out to take the potion with a shaky hand.
“There is no need to be afraid.” Ambrosia’s gaze found his, piercing blue eyes seeming to slice through him. “It’s quite safe.”
“Oh my god! You’re so lucky.” Hailey leaned forward to get a proper look at the vial. “Ambrosia is, like, the expert when it comes to potion brewing.”
“You flatter me,” Ambrosia said without a hint of humility in her tone. “I had a good teacher.”
With all eyes on Arthur, he had no choice but to take a swig of the swirling viridian potion. It tasted grassy with a honeyed finish and a spicy aftertaste. None of the flavors felt cohesive. Had it been a cocktail, Arthur would have sent it back.
“Can you feel your spiritways opening?” Hailey asked, voice full of wonder.