Chapter 16 #2
Well, at least Arthur had been right about one thing. Salvatore could cause quite a diversion. Whether the tutu had truly been necessary was a debate for a later occasion. He had a witch to find and no time to waste. He slipped through the entrance while the guards were distracted.
Once inside, Arthur paused. There were a lot of people rushing around, preparing for Ambrosia’s performance.
Arthur scanned the area, but there was no helpful sign that read THIS WAY TO AMbrOSIA.
Still, Ambrosia was just like the rest of them.
It wasn’t as though she’d be hidden in some pocket dimension or something.
He checked his watch. Five minutes to showtime.
Where would he be if he was a performer about to step onstage?
No, that wasn’t the right question. Where would someone like Sal be? Yes, that was closer.
A reflective surface near the other end of the stage caught the light.
Ambrosia wouldn’t step in front of a crowd without first double-checking her appearance, surely.
Arthur followed his instincts and the flow of chaos to a makeup station in front of a large mirror.
Ambrosia sat in the chair being fussed over by two artists, one wielding a mascara brush like a small sword, and the other a bottle of hairspray that made the air taste acrid.
Arthur hesitated. He would have one shot at interrogating Ambrosia, and probably very little time to do it before he was removed from the premises. His approach had to be perfectly tailored to get her to talk, but he wouldn’t have much time. Any moment, she would spot him.
Any moment now.
Surely.
Arthur hovered only a few feet behind her, but neither Ambrosia nor her beauty team had noticed, likely on account of their collective attention being laser focused on the mirror before them.
Arthur, being a vampire, had no reflection to speak of.
He stared at the blank place in the mirror where he ought to stand and sighed, the pressure of the moment subsiding slightly.
“Haven’t lost your nerve, have you?”
Arthur jumped, his adrenaline skyrocketing.
Sal stood just behind him, looking emotionally unruffled but physically a bit worse for wear.
His clothes were rumpled and dirty, his tutu dangerously askew, and there were leaves in his hair.
He must have snuck up on Arthur using the same tactic he’d just employed himself. Touché.
Before Arthur could respond, Ambrosia glanced in their direction and did a double take. Ambrosia’s lackeys took one look at their boss’s expression before fleeing.
“I thought I made myself very clear,” Ambrosia hissed as she swiveled her makeup chair to face them. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Well, that’s not exactly yours to decide, is it? This is public property,” Sal replied, examining his fingernails in a dismissively casual fashion. “We have as much right to be here as you.”
Arthur wasn’t sure that was entirely true. The festival still had rules and designated private areas, but as they weren’t established residences, the vampire curse didn’t seem to mind. They were straying off topic, though, and Arthur wasn’t going to waste their limited time before the show began.
“What do you know about Wilhelmina Young?” Arthur spoke before Ambrosia had a chance to respond.
Ambrosia’s snide expression faltered, but she recovered quickly. “What is this about?”
“Are you aware she’s missing?” Arthur asked.
“Why is that something I would know?”
Arthur was getting sick of the questions game. It was time to change tactics.
“Because, you grew up here, Ambrosia.”
“Or should we say…Amanda.” Sal accentuated her name with a little glitter dust from his pocket.
Ambrosia blinked as glitter rained down on her perfectly crimped hair, face paling. “I’m not her anymore.”
“Ah, but you were!” Sal exclaimed in triumph. “She admits it!”
“Keep your voices down,” Ambrosia hissed, gripping the chunky necklace she wore like she wished it was one of their throats (not that she could harm them that way).
“I imagine your coven discovering your humble origins will be the least of your problems when we’re finished,” Arthur said. “Wilhelmina was in your coven, wasn’t she? But you made her disappear. Did Lola discover you killed her? Is that why you poisoned her tea?”
“I never poisoned anyone. You can’t come here and accuse me of murder!”
“We can, actually,” Sal cut in. “Arthur’s doing a lovely job of it.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Arthur gave Sal an affectionate smile before continuing. “This will all go a lot faster if you stop pretending ignorance. We found Lola’s journal in your office. We read her last words.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ambrosia scoffed. “And I don’t have time for it. I’m due onstage.”
“I hardly think an inspirational speech is more important than proving you didn’t kill two of your own coven members.” Arthur moved into her path.
She glared up at him. “I do more than give motivational speeches. I’m a witch, remember?”
“Are you?” Arthur asked, voicing a suspicion that had been growing in his mind for a while.
“We’ve seen so many displays of magic since the festival began, but none from you personally.
You mix up potions that don’t contain any magic, then send them off to other real witches to complete.
If you had any actual magic, you’d have used it by now.
No, I think your whole coven structure is a scam to cover for the fact you’re just an average human. ”
Sal gasped dramatically, but Ambrosia’s lips curled into a slow and vicious smile.
“I don’t throw spells around like a child.
So, no, you won’t see me enchanting balloons or rigging carnival games like the others.
Magic isn’t a toy, and I’m very careful only to use mine when it’s appropriate and needed. ”
“Convenient,” Arthur shot back, unconvinced.
“I have nothing to prove to you.” Ambrosia pushed past him, knocking into his shoulder. “But you might as well stick around to see the show.”
Arthur glanced at Sal, then they both followed her.
Security wasn’t coming after them, so Arthur saw no reason to leave just yet.
They weren’t finished with their interrogation.
Besides, he wanted to see what sort of tricks Ambrosia would use to pretend to have magic.
Stage magicians could do all sorts of clever things to imitate real power.
There would probably be pyrotechnics and mirrors.
It would be easier to see the mechanics of it from backstage.
Perhaps he could interrupt her farce and reveal her for the fraud she was.
“Hello, Trident Falls!” Ambrosia’s voice echoed through the speakers in front of the stage, amplified by a microphone.
She sounded steady despite the layers of reverb they’d probably engineered specifically to give her a more mystical tone.
“It’s been a real pleasure getting to know this town, and you’ve all been so welcoming. ”
Arthur rolled his eyes. She was really trying to sell the out-of-town visitor act.
Was it only to obscure her involvement in Wilhelmina’s disappearance and Lola’s subsequent murder?
Or did she harbor some sort of deep shame about this place?
Arthur felt immediately defensive at the thought.
Trident Falls might not have everything, but its charm was undeniable.
Before he could continue mounting a defense of the town in his head, Ambrosia went on.
“The solstice is very special to witches. The sun gives life to everything on this planet. But it can be a bit much, right?” Ambrosia paused for laughter.
“That wasn’t funny,” Sal said. “Do you suppose she writes her own jokes? Or is there a D-list comedian wandering around here somewhere?” He craned his neck as if looking for someone on whom to place the blame.
“I heard it’s the hottest summer on record.
I don’t think a Popsicle and a handheld fan is going to cut it.
But don’t fret. I can help.” Ambrosia closed her eyes.
Her lips moved, but her mic didn’t pick up the words.
After about half a minute of this, she lifted a hand palm up and held it in front of her mouth.
She exhaled as if blowing dandelion seeds into the wind.
A huge gust of frigid air swirled around her and swept over the crowd.
It was strong enough that Arthur could feel it from where they stood.
Snowflakes began crystallizing in the air.
People cheered and laughed at the sudden relief from the heat wave.
It began to fade almost immediately, the condensation evaporating before it could fully melt, but it was impressive nonetheless.
And it squashed Arthur’s theory like a bug beneath one of Sal’s spiked stiletto heels.
Ambrosia Celestine had magic after all.