A Dreadful Death in Faerywood Falls

  A Dreadful Death in Faerywood Falls

  Blythe Baker

  Contents

  Description

  Newsletter Invitation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  The mysterious death of a local antique collector has all of Faerywood Falls whispering about a paranormal secret. Meanwhile, a reclusive monster hunter who has settled in the forest has unexpectedly reached out to Marianne for help.

  Can Marianne uncover the identity of a murderer and avoid the attacks of the forest monster, all while continuing to hide her magical abilities?

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  1

  “Please don’t touch that,” said the man lingering inside the doorway of a lavishly furnished dining room. “It was very precious to my wife.”

  It was a cool afternoon in late November, four days after Thanksgiving. The trees were still clinging to their leaves, the gorgeous shades of gold and maroon bathing the valley of Faerywood Falls in rich, warm shades, like the first rays of dawn, and the glittering light of the sunset. It had been a mild late autumn, though the whispers of coming snow seemed to permeate the evenings and the lonely hours of the night.

  I gently set down the silver candlestick I’d been examining. “Sorry. I guess this isn’t one of the items you’re selling?” I asked.

  The man in the doorway was Adam Bailey, an older gentleman with a broad frame, a round face, and a bald head. His rosy cheeks were set in what seemed to be a permanent frown, and his arms folded across his wide chest warmed me to keep my distance.

  I wasn’t unhappy to do so.

  “No,” Adam said in his gruff tone, his eyebrows coming together in one, hard line.

  Okay…I thought to myself, turning away from him.

  Adam’s home was outside of Faerywood Falls proper, in a quiet little neighborhood that overlooked the town. The house itself was beautiful; built in 1935, it had a lot of old charm. The wooden beams that stretched across the ceilings were made of a rich walnut plucked right from the valley, and there were windows on every wall that gave gorgeous views of the changing of the seasons. The staircase that spiraled up into the second floor was something royalty would appreciate walking down, and the chandelier that hung in the foyer was filled with glittering crystals that caught the light like tiny stars.

  I unwound another strand of bubble wrap, very aware that Adam’s icy blue eyes were fixed on me, watching my every move. When I tried to put one of the silver bowls he was donating into the box I’d brought with me, he’d given me a nearly ten minute lecture about why they should be wrapped for transport.

  I made sure to wrap every piece I packed after that.

  “I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve just brought this stuff down to Abe myself,” Adam said as I picked up one of the brass napkin holders. I hadn’t done anything apart from touch them. “If I’d known that the person he was sending would be so incompetent…”

  Frustration burst inside of me like a tomato being stepped on, but I reined it in. It wouldn’t do to react. Part of me wondered if he was just looking for a fight.

  The house itself was absolutely filled with antiques. And not just tea sets and tarnished silverware like I thought I’d find. Everything was an antique.

  When I first arrived, Adam took me through each room, displaying the grandeur of his pieces. His home might as well have been a museum, with all the intricate items I saw. In the living room, he showed me some original paintings from artists I’d never heard of, but dated back almost two hundred years ago. There was a side table that was made in China, standing beside his fainting couch from France, adorned with golden filigree and ornate carvings. The rug in the center of the room was Turkish and from the way Adam made it sound, must have cost more than the house had.

  The kitchen was the same way. Every piece of silverware was worth something, and it seemed he took great pride in eating his food with such exquisite utensils. He showed me teacups that were made in England one hundred and fifty years before, along with a teapot that had once belonged to the British royal family.

  The dining table was an antique piece, made from an artisan that lived in Faerywood Falls sixty years ago, and the candle sticks in the center of the table – the silver ones that Adam didn’t like me touching – were made from silver that was in the Civil War.

  I tucked the napkin holders into the box as gently as if they were a baby bird, and let out an exhale. I looked up, glancing around the room.

  “You really do have a lovely home,” I said. “And such beautiful pieces.”

  “Yes, I know,” Adam said.

  “What made you want to get rid of some of these things?” I asked.

  His gaze hardened.

  “I only ask because everything seems so important to you. I can tell that you’ve taken great care when choosing the things to furnish your home with,” I said, trying to sound more humble than annoyed. That seemed to work with him.

  Adam looked pointedly at some pieces around the room before letting out a heavy sigh himself. “My reasons aren’t important. I didn’t ask you for your opinion. I just want you to take some items off my hands. That’s all.”

  “I see,” I said.

  I closed the top of the box.

  “That’s not everything,” he said.

  “It’s not?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Come with me.”

  He turned and made his way out of the dining room.

  I frowned, watching him walk away.

  Abe had come to me early that morning, a worried look on his face. He was limping more than normal, and I’d seen him wince more than once when he thought I wasn’t looking. His leg was obviously more sensitive today than usual. I wonder if the colder weather made it worse. “Marianne, I hate to bother you, but would you mind running an errand for me this morning?”

  I never minded doing things for Mr. Cromwell. He was always so kind to me, and I wanted to help him in any way I could. “Whatever you need,” I said. “I’m your girl.”

  “You sure are,” he said with a grin. “There’s a customer of mine that called me yesterday, saying he had some antiques to sell to the shop. He said that he had too many to bring in himself, so would you mind going up there and seeing if anything is worth taking?”

  Over the months that I’d been working with Abe, I’d found myself becoming knowledgeable when it came to antiques. I learned the difference between real silver and fake, as well as being able to determine what period some furniture pieces belonged to. It was like a hidden skill that I had fun exercising. “Not a problem,” I said to him. “Anything in particular that you’re looking for?”

  “Oh, well, Adam will certainly have one of everything,” Abe said. “Just wait until you see his collection. It’s incredible.”

  He wasn’t kidding.

  Adam was making his way up the winding staircase, his hands balled into fists.

  I frowned at his back. If he didn’t want me here, then why did he insist that Abe send someone?

  Maybe I should’ve brought Abe with me. Then this whole thing probably wouldn’t have been quite so awkward.

  “It’s in here,” Adam said, taking the first left at the top of the stairs
.

  When I stepped through the door, I was met with an entirely different feeling room.

  Antiques were still present, but they were different. Almost everything in the room was made of crystal.

  Crystal decanters in every color filled the shelves all along the wall. Crystal bowls and goblets glittered beside them. There was a crystal tray on the desk at the far side of the room. A small, round table that was inlaid with cut crystal sat beside the window, a healthy spider plant resting on top of it.

  “Wow…” I said. The whole room sparkled. It felt like magic.

  I remembered Bliss telling me how crystal was important for spell weavers, as it helped to channel their abilities. She would have gone bananas in a room like this.

  I tried not to think about Bliss. It made me miss her too much.

  “This was my wife’s personal collection,” Adam said, folding his arms again. “She loved crystals. In every shape and size. It didn’t matter. If it was real crystal, she’d want it.”

  I looked at Adam. There was a note of change in his voice. When he spoke about his wife, the hardness in his tone disappeared.

  “She was the one who got us into antiquing,” he said. “During the first few years of our marriage, we went to a flea market to look for some chairs for our dining table. We hardly had anything at that point in our marriage. But her eyes fell on this clock and she knew she had to have it.”

  He gestured to the gold and crystal clock that sat on top of the desk. Now that I saw it, it was definitely the centerpiece of the room. It was stunning, and the soft tick, tock that emanated from it was a soothing sound.

  “That started it,” he said. “She spent hours at the library learning about it. When she learned its value, it made her want to keep it all the more. Then she wanted to buy glasses for when we had guests over. And then it turned into these decanters, which she loved the color of. She liked the rose pink crystal the best.”

  I felt as if I was intruding on him in that moment. There was a sadness in his voice that made my own heart ache. This room was likely a very vivid reminder of his wife, and I could see, just from the look in his eyes, that he missed her dearly.

  He cleared his throat, coming to his senses. “Anyway. This is what I was hoping Abe could take.” He gestured to a pair of crystal balls that were perfectly round, and perfectly smooth.

  I walked over to them, my jaw hanging open. Crystal balls? There was no way these could be real…was there?

  It’s more likely than not they are real, I said to myself. Think about where you are, and the sort of people who live here.

  “Why are you parting with these?” I asked.

  His gaze was as sharp as the crystal around him. “I do not care to discuss my reasons for selling.”

  He’d already told me what he wanted for some of the smaller items downstairs, and it was an astronomical amount. I knew that some of the things he’d given me, including a soup spoon and a set of bone china plates weren’t worth half what he was asking. I knew I’d have to negotiate those prices with Abe, but I wasn’t ready to argue those points with Adam yet.

  “Alright,” I said. I walked across the room toward the crystal balls.

  “Just be careful with these,” Adam said in a quiet tone. “I think she would’ve loved them.”

  Had he picked them up for her after she’d died? Or maybe as a gift before she passed away and then he was never able to give them to her?

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them,” I said.

  I reached out and my fingers grazed the top of one of them.

  Images flooded my mind, a garbled mess of voices and faces. I heard laughter, shouts of fear, scolding tones. It was as if I was seeing the face of every human in the world.

  The image solidified briefly, and I saw a beautiful woman with long, dark hair. She was lovely enough to be a movie star. She was holding the gold and crystal clock, and her eyes were sparkling, her mouth split wide in a huge grin.

  I blinked, and the image cleared.

  I was breathing heavily, shaking my head.

  “What’s the matter?” Adam asked, his eyes narrowing. “You having a fit or something?”

  “No,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut briefly.

  It seemed so real. Was it because I touched the crystal ball?

  I reached down and touched it again.

  Nothing happened this time.

  I swallowed hard. “I’ll get these back to Mr. Cromwell safe and sound,” I said.

  “I’ll show you how you should wrap those downstairs,” he said. “I hope you have more of that bubble wrap left.”

  The reality of the situation came back over me, and I smiled tightly at him. “Yes, I do.”

  And I followed him out of the room, the crystal balls held tightly against my chest.

  2

  I put the box of items on the front seat of my car, exhaling a heavy breath. That couldn’t have been much more stressful, could it?

  I planted my hands on my hips, looking over the hood of my SUV back up at Adam Bailey’s house.

  It really was a beautiful place. The architecture boasted a time when building design mattered, and homes were an object of great pride to builders. It would have easily fit in along a cozy street near the seaside, with its lovely white trim around the windows and door, and expansive backyard.

  And yet, for some reason, my heart ached when I looked up at it.

  A man who’d seemingly lost everything still lived inside its walls, hollowly going about his day to day business. What sort of life was that?

  And yet, I thought as I walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in, part of me hopes that I, too, can find a love that would be so tragic to lose someday.

  He clearly loved his late wife, and it was horribly sad to see him so obviously missing his other half.

  I closed my door and let out another sigh. Some people never got over heartbreak like that, did they? I thought I’d never move past Jacob’s death, or Peter’s attempt on my life when he’d tried to poison me…and yet, here I was now, having feelings for two completely different men, the sort of men that I never would’ve seen myself falling for.

  I glanced over at the box on my passenger seat.

  Curiosity got the better of me, and I pulled open the flaps. Sitting on top, nestled among the other smaller antiques, were the pair of crystal balls.

  I didn’t understand what happened when I was up in his wife’s antique room. But something had happened when I touched that crystal ball.

  I’d felt magic. Pure, raw, powerful magic.

  I wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do, but I reached out toward the crystal ball closest to me and rested my fingers against it.

  Just like the last time, nothing happened.

  I hadn’t really expected it to, but I couldn’t help but feel a little let down.

  I wished there was someone I could talk to about this. But for the time being, I just had to get back to the antique shop. I didn’t know if Adam might start yelling at me if he found me out in his driveway, just sitting there.

  I headed back through town, admiring the beautiful jewel-toned trees as I drove. Aunt Candace said that in the next few weeks, all the leaves would be gone, and it would likely happen during the next windy day we had. That made me sad to think about. I’d enjoyed autumn here in Faerywood Falls so much this year. While I’d grown up with autumn back in Missouri, there was something about experiencing it in a different place that made me appreciate it all over again.

  The antique shop already had a few customers in the parking lot. It seemed that even the cooler temperatures would not keep eager shoppers away. I parked behind the shop like I always did and hopped out, walking around to grab the box.

  Crows were cawing overhead, flying between the trees on either side of the parking lot.

  I frowned up at them. Crows might as well have been winter’s calling card. By the time March came around, I was so tired of their cries being the
only songs I heard.

  I stepped inside the shop, the warmth of Abe’s old radiator heaters washing over me like a comforting hug as I wandered through the storage areas and the office toward the shop itself.

  “…and you should have seen her face,” said a woman’s voice. “It was priceless.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Abe said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  I walked around the corner and saw Abe standing behind the counter, ringing up a pair of older ladies who looked like they were dressed for high tea. I glanced briefly at the items they’d set out on the counter, and saw some costume jewelry and a pair of pillbox hats with netted veils.

  “You really must come with us to the next shindig,” said the woman standing across from him, making eyes at him. A coy smile played on her lips. “You stay cooped up here too often.”

  Abe lifted his hand, palm upward, and shrugged. “I know, I know,” he said. “But this old man’s got a lot of responsibility still.”

  “Yes, but all work and no play isn’t how life should be,” said the other woman, who was almost a head shorter than the first.

  “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Abe said as he carefully, yet skillfully wrapped their jewelry in some small boxes lined with tissue and nestled them inside some paper bags that I’d had made for the shop. “There you are. I hope you come and shop with us again soon.”

  “You can be sure we will,” said the first woman in a velvety purr. She winked at him before turning around and leaving with her friend, their heads bent toward one another in furious whispers.

  I walked up to him as the bell at the front door tinged when the ladies left the store.

  “Well, hello there, Marianne,” Abe said, turning to look up at me. He adjusted his glasses, his eyes falling on the box. “Is that all that Adam sent along with you?”