Magic & Monsters (Starry Hollow Witches Book 12) Read online

  “Yes, I think he would.”

  “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I want to see what I can dig up quietly, in case there’s some kind of conspiracy at work.”

  “What about Alec?” I asked.

  Bentley shook his head. “I haven’t told him either. I want to impress him with my investigative skills.”

  “So that you can supplant me next time there’s a Winston York story?”

  The elf smiled. “Am I that transparent?”

  “You might as well have a billboard strapped to your front with your intentions in flashing hot pink letters.” I handed him the camera. “Get your geek on and tee up the footage for me.”

  Bentley shook his head as he hit a few buttons and turned the screen around so that I could see it. “Yes, that was so challenging,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

  “An inch higher, please.”

  Bentley thrust the camera into my hand and I continued to watch the raw footage. York clearly should’ve employed a cameraman because the shaky screen was nauseating.

  “Great Goddess of the Moon,” I breathed.

  Bentley squinted at me. “What?”

  I ignored him and sent the sheriff an urgent text. “I don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?” Bentley pressed, getting annoyed.

  “Can the tepen spray poison?” I asked.

  “No, you have to make contact with the stinger in the tail. Why?”

  The door opened and the sheriff poked his head inside. “Hey, Rose. What’s the crisis?”

  “That was fast.”

  “I was just on my way back to the office when I got your text.”

  “I have something you need to see.”

  I heard rustling behind me and turned to see Bentley sweeping everything off his desk in one anxious movement. The sheriff caught sight of him and chuckled.

  “Last day on the job, Smith?” he asked.

  “No, he’s just a slob and Alec told him to clean up or clean out,” I replied quickly.

  “In that case, I’m surprised you’re still allowed to work here.” The sheriff winked at me.

  I picked up the camera and showed him the screen. “Now watch closely.” I replayed the recording and watched the sheriff’s face to see if he recognized the problem. He flinched at exactly the right moment.

  “Sweet baby Elvis,” he breathed.

  “Hey, that’s my line.”

  His eyes met mine. “This wasn’t an accidental death.”

  “Afraid not, Sheriff. Looks like this was murder.”

  “Sounds like you’re going to be one busy sheriff. Winston York is an icon. The whole world will demand answers and quickly.” Bentley kept one hand on the pile of folders, as though the sheriff might somehow realize that the reports on his father’s death lurked underneath.

  Sheriff Nash smirked. “Thanks for the added pressure.”

  “Maybe you two should discuss this somewhere else,” Bentley said.

  I craned my neck to look at him and noticed the beads of sweat on the elf’s forehead. Good thing he wasn’t on the receiving end of any interrogations or he’d crack after the first question.

  “Want to go for a coffee?” I asked. “I can run through exactly what happened at the beach.”

  “Sounds good to me.” When I grabbed my bag, he looked at me askance. “You’re a little lopsided there, Rose. How about I carry it for you? Don’t want you getting a hunched back on my account.”

  For once, I didn’t argue.

  The sheriff looped the bag over his shoulder and looked at Bentley. “Keep this development to yourself for now, ace.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As we left the office and walked along the sidewalk to the Caffeinated Cauldron, I described what happened on the beach in greater detail.

  “You need to take protective measures,” I said. “You’ve got a dead icon and a rare supernatural creature with a baby on board…somewhere.”

  The sheriff shifted the bag to his other arm. “You know we’re not equipped for this, Rose. If I assign Bolan to monster duty, then no one’s keeping an eye on the roads or helping me with the murder investigation.”

  “I’m covering the story for the paper. You know I’ll be interviewing everyone that you’d speak to anyway.”

  “Is that an offer of assistance?”

  I didn’t miss the hopeful glimmer in his eyes. “You know I’m always willing to help, Sheriff.”

  He scratched the scruff on his chin. “The deputy won’t be happy about babysitting an egg, assuming he can even find it.”

  We lingered outside the door of the coffee shop.

  “I think you need to find it before anyone else does or Starry Hollow will be known as the town where the tepen went extinct. I don’t think that’s a reputation we want. We’re trying to bring in tourism money, but attracting angry protestors isn’t the way to go.”

  He opened the door and motioned for me to go first. “You make a good point. I don’t suppose it’s relevant that your family has its hooks in the tourism business.”

  I swatted his arm as we joined the line. “Granger Nash, you take that back. You know perfectly well I’m not motivated by any of that.”

  He glanced at the spot where my hand hit his arm. “Assaulting a sheriff, Rose? Seems to me you’re practically begging to be handcuffed by me.”

  We stared at each other for what seemed like twenty years. Finally, I broke the silence. “No flirting.”

  A grin split his face. “But we do it so well.”

  I lowered my voice so as not to be overheard. “Seriously. It’s…not helpful.”

  “Helpful?” His brow furrowed. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t mean it like that. I’m just speaking in general terms.” I heaved a frustrated sigh. “Let’s focus on the case.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Our turn arrived and we placed our order with the barista. I ordered my latte with a shot of perseverance and I noticed that the sheriff ordered a cup of dandelion tea.

  “That’s not your usual drink,” I said, as he paid.

  “No, it’s Bolan’s influence. His husband brews it fresh at home and he’s been sending Bolan in with a thermos every day. It’s kind of sweet.”

  I laughed at the image of the little leprechaun coming to work with a lunchbox and thermos like a child. “I wish someone would pack me food and drink to take to work. The less I need to think, the better.”

  He chuckled. “Is that your motto for life, Rose?”

  “According to my aunt, yes.”

  The barista handed over our drinks and we wandered to an empty table by the window.

  “I’ll tell the deputy that I need him to track the tepen and the egg.”

  “Which one came first, do you think?” I asked.

  He sipped his tea. “I’m not going to dignify that with a remark.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Although it might make sense to get a resident with better tracking abilities to work with him,” I said. “Bolan isn’t exactly a master tracker. I mean, think about it. It was York’s life’s work and he came out of retirement just to catch a glimpse of this sucker.”

  “What about Wyatt?”

  “I don’t think a werewolf is our best bet, not for a creature like this one.”

  “Yeah. I guess if it were that easy, York would’ve just used a team of shifters to find it.”

  “Exactly. These creatures are rare for a reason. They know how to hide from everyone and protect themselves.” My words made me think of Alec, the way he hid from the world in his fantasies in order to protect himself—but from what? His own thoughts? Memories?

  Me?

  The sheriff snapped his fingers, regaining my attention. “You have a unicorn,” he said.

  “Technically Marley has a unicorn, but yes. Is that relevant?”

  “Do you know which kind?”

  I laughed. “There are kinds?” Other t
han different colored horns, I had no idea about the different types.

  “If yours has a golden horn, then they have special tracking abilities, almost like a sixth sense.”

  “Unicorns that see dead people? Now that’s a show I didn’t even know I wanted to watch until now.”

  “I don’t know about ghosts, but I remember reading an article about some rich vampire that used this type of unicorn to root out diamonds.”

  I smiled. “So basically, the fancy version of a pig snuffling for truffles. Unfortunately, Firefly’s horn is silver.”

  “Too bad.”

  “To be honest, I’m surprised. I thought for sure Aunt Hyacinth wouldn’t be caught dead buying her grandniece a garden-variety unicorn. Only the best for a Rose.” I mimicked her haughty tone.

  The sheriff grinned. “For once, I would’ve been glad your aunt is a snob.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is discerning.”

  “Nope. Pretty sure it isn’t.”

  “This is a serious bummer.” The mental image of the leprechaun riding on the unicorn’s back was enough to send me into giggling fits for the rest of the week. Another idea occurred to me. “What about a flying kitten for an aerial search? Bonkers can fly low and is small enough to weave through places that others can’t.”

  He smirked. “Next thing you’ll want to know is whether we could use a garbage-sniffing raccoon.”

  I lit up. “Now that you mention it…Honestly, I think they’d be a great team to assemble for this highly specialized mission.”

  “Is there any magic that might help?”

  “I can ask, but I would think if magic helped that we’d see a team of witches and wizards descending upon Starry Hollow.”

  He raked a hand through his thick brown hair. “Yeah, you’re right. This tepen is a big deal and there are some folks with deep pockets pursuing it.”

  “Really? I thought it was more of a curiosity.”

  “It’s rare, Ember. That means it’s valuable.”

  “Well, well. Don’t you two look cozy?”

  I glanced up into the smirking face of Wyatt Nash, Granger’s brother and Linnea’s ex-husband with the roving eyes and hands.

  “We’re working, Wyatt. What is it?” the sheriff asked.

  “Nothing. Just passing by and saw you in the window. Figured I’d say hello.”

  “Figured you’d be nosy, more like,” his brother said.

  “Heard about the dead celebrity,” Wyatt said. “Sounds like you’ve got a problem on your hands with that critter on the loose.”

  I stifled a laugh at the word ‘critter.’ The tepen hardly qualified as a critter.

  “Everything is under control, but thanks for your concern.” Sheriff Nash stared at his brother, waiting for Wyatt to get the hint and leave. He should’ve known better. Wyatt’s contrary nature wouldn’t allow him to politely retreat.

  “You know, you should really think about changing careers,” Wyatt said, his gaze on me. “You spend more time playing the role of his deputy than anything else.”

  “I’m writing an article on York and the tepen for Vox Populi,” I said. “And I was there when he died. I’m sharing helpful information.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, sure. You two making eyes at each other is totally professional in nature.”

  Sheriff Nash bristled. “Using our power of sight to look at each other isn’t the same as ‘making eyes’ at each other and you know it. Now stop being a pain in the rear and move along.”

  Wyatt shoved his hands in his pockets. “Suit yourself, brother, but I’d tread carefully if I were you. You lost out to that vamp twice now and I don’t know that the third time’s the charm.”

  I knew he was referencing Tatiana, the manipulative fairy that Granger and Alec had pursued years ago who’d since died, and then me.

  “Wyatt, the day I heed relationship advice from you is the day I shift into a tadpole.” His stubborn jaw was tense. “Mind your business and let us get back to work.”

  Wyatt swiveled on his heel and swaggered out of the coffee shop, pausing a brief moment to check out an attractive pixie who’d just entered.

  “Sorry about that,” the sheriff said.

  “He’s Wyatt. He’ll never change.”

  He leaned against the back of his chair. “No, once you get to a certain age, I think that’s pretty much it.”

  Again, my thoughts turned to Alec. If a paranormal with a normal lifespan was incapable of change, could an immortal vampire possibly change? I brushed the doubts aside. I loved Alec and he deserved my unwavering support.

  “Are you going to go back to York’s house and tell his wife about the footage?” I asked.

  “Not yet. I’d like to keep this quiet for as long as possible or we’ll have the international news media on our front stoop. It’ll cause too much chaos and disrupt the investigation.”

  “Then how are you going to investigate and interrogate suspects?”

  He gave me a lazy grin. “That’s where you come in, Rose.”

  “I guess Wyatt was right. I’m acting as your deputy yet again.”

  “My undercover deputy,” he corrected me. “Have you spoken to Mabel York yet for your article?”

  “No, it’s on my to-do list.”

  “Perfect. Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to use that interview as a way of gleaning information so that I don’t have to reveal what we know.”

  I tapped the side of my cup, pondering Wyatt’s remarks. “It’s not a problem, is it? I mean, I know you’ve talked about hiring a second deputy, but, until you do, I don’t mind helping out.”

  “I know you don’t, Rose, and I appreciate your willingness to get involved. Just ignore my brother. He’s a big mouth with bad intentions.”

  “He has his moments though,” I said. To his credit, Wyatt still helped out Linnea with odd jobs at Palmetto House. Although I suspected he was motivated by guilt, the fact that he felt any guilt at all showed that he wasn’t bad to the core.

  The sheriff blew out a small puff of air. “Yeah, I just wish he had more of ‘em, like when we were kids.”

  “Trust me, there are plenty of times I wish I was a kid again and I don’t even have siblings.” Especially lately with my seemingly endless pile of responsibilities. The idea of being young again when my time was more or less my own and no one depended on me for anything…I sighed. The appeal of Freaky Friday was growing on me by the minute.

  The sheriff finished his dandelion tea. “I’ll update Bolan. Let me know when you’ve spoken to Mabel York.”

  “I’ll head over there right now and call you afterward.” I swallowed the remainder of my latte, suddenly grateful that I’d chosen the shot of perseverance—I had a feeling I was going to need it.

  Chapter Five

  The York house was situated in a secluded section of the woods on the western side of town. As I rambled along the dirt path, I noticed the automatic lights of the car were illuminated thanks to a thick canopy of branches overhead. It seemed that Winston was serious about becoming a hermit after he retired. No one would casually drop by here unless invited.

  I parked between two live oaks, which seemed to be the only available spot for another car. I knocked on the screen door and waited a full minute before knocking again. A white-haired woman ambled to the door wearing a floral dress and an apron. She looked like a 1950’s housewife.

  “Hi, are you Mabel York?”

  “Who wants to know?” She peered at me through the screen door.

  “My name is Ember…”

  “Ember? What kind of name is that?”

  “The kind my parents gave me.” I wasn’t about to reveal that my birth name was Yarrow. That story was too complicated for an introductory conversation.

  She continued to stand behind the screen door, seemingly reluctant to invite me in. “You’re not here to tell me you’re Winston’s secret love child, are you?”

  “No. Definitely not.”

&
nbsp; “Didn’t think so. He was always against having children because of his stance on population control.”

  I shrugged. “At least he’s not a hypocrite.”

  “The other woman then?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She huffed. “Are you here to tell me you’re the other woman?”

  My radar pinged. “There was another woman?”

  Mabel folded her arms. “You tell me.”

  I blinked. “Let’s start over. I’m Ember Rose, a reporter for the local paper. I’m sorry about your husband.”

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I’m still in a state of shock, I think. I put my apron on to clean out the cat litter box.” She shook her head. “I also poured water into the coffee filter instead of in the side compartment.”

  “Believe me when I say that I know what you’re going through.”

  Mabel looked at me with renewed interest. “You lost your husband?”

  “Not recently, but yes.”

  “You were young.”

  I offered a rueful smile. “Yes, I was. We have a daughter, Marley. Karl and I didn’t have a stance on population control.”

  Mabel unlatched the screen door and held it open. “Why don’t you come inside before the gnats bite you to death? I can see them swarming out there.”

  I passed through the doorway and paused to check out the foyer. There appeared to be white lace doilies everywhere I looked. Doilies for candlesticks. Doilies for a set of rustic wooden bowls that looked hand-carved.

  “Can I get you a drink, Ms. Rose? I promise I corrected my coffee pot error.” She untied her apron and hung it on the end of the nearby bannister.

  “I just finished a latte so I’m good, thanks.” I followed her to an adjacent room with a huge floral sofa and two upholstered chairs. The wallpaper was lined with images of bees. In fact, there were bees in one form or another on every available surface. Ceramic bees. A bee mug that read Bee Yourself. A cross-stitch with a hive. A pillow decorated with bees that formed the shape of a W—for Winston, presumably.

  Mabel settled on the sofa and I perched on the edge of the upholstered chair closest to her. “I have a tin of cookies if you’re interested. I made a batch of oatmeal raisin a couple days ago. They’re Winston’s favorite kind…” She trailed off, unable to continue.