A Deadly Deed in Faerywood Falls Read online

  “You think?” Bliss asked. “I like these kids. They’re fun to hang out with.”

  Three girls stepped back into the room with sullen looks on their faces.

  “What’s the matter?” Bliss asked, turning to them.

  The girl at the front, whose arms and legs seemed too long for her, like those of a puppy that hadn’t grown into its paws, frowned up at Bliss. “Miss Amanda just took Samantha’s bracelet away from her.”

  “The one her grandmother gave her?” Bliss asked. “For heaven’s sake, I told Amanda that it was a channeling stone – ”

  And she charged out of the room.

  I looked back at the girl, who had turned her curious eyes on me.

  “Well, as long as you guys have washed your hands, I don’t see why you can’t come get a cookie,” I said, holding out the plate to them.

  The nearest girl smiled, and happily took one from the plate. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re quite welcome,” I said.

  It baffled me that Amanda could be so heartless toward these girls. I knew they didn’t know me, so they were probably wary and good by default, but even still…

  It wasn’t long before I heard Bliss’s voice carrying back down the hall.

  I looked over at one of the girls. “Do they argue like this a lot?”

  The girl nodded, cookie crumbs around her mouth. “Ever since Miss Amanda joined our troop…yeah. There’s a lot of arguing.”

  I sighed. “But Miss Bliss…you guys like her, right?”

  The girl’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yeah. We love Miss Bliss. She’s my favorite leader.”

  I smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  And I watched as the rest of the girls soon came pouring into the classroom to get away from the arguing troop leaders.

  3

  I left Bliss and the others to their troop meeting; I felt like I’d interrupted them long enough. I said goodbye to Aunt Candace, who was back out in the yard. The fire pit was almost complete, and she seemed pleased with it.

  “Make sure you come back over tonight so we can roast some marshmallows, okay?” she asked with a big smile.

  I nodded. “Will do.”

  It was really nice that our relationship was back to normal again.

  I made my way back home, feeling a whole lot better, and found Mrs. Bickford out in the yard painting the picnic table that stood between our two properties down by the water. She wore a navy blue windbreaker as a barrier against the wind coming in off the lake, as well as a pink scarf around her neck. The scarf was made of chunky knitted yarn and looked homemade.

  “No, dear, this is the same color that I always use,” I heard her say as I walked toward her. “Yes, it is…yes, it’s called Fire Engine Red.” She paused, staring up into the air beside her, as if someone was standing beside her. “Oh. It’s not supposed to be this one? Well, then which one is it?” she asked, her hand poised above the bench, paint dripping from the end of the brush. “Oh. Well, then I’ll just have to go back to the – well, hello there, Marianne!”

  She glanced over her shoulder at me, squinting at me underneath the beekeeper’s hat she always wore.

  “Hi,” I said. “Hard at work as usual, I see.”

  “Aw, well, you know. Got to keep this place spick and span. And sometimes the best time to tackle the bigger projects like this is when there isn’t anyone around to get in my way! Not that you get in my way, dear,” she said, a sheepish smile spreading over her face.

  “I like your scarf,” I said with a small chuckle. “Did you make it?”

  “Honey, I love making these,” she said, reaching up to touch it. “I could make you one if you’d like. The winter is coming soon, and you’ll be happy to have one. I’ll even make it whatever color you want.”

  I laughed. “Okay, sure. That sounds great. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation with Jim,” I said, waving at the air just behind her. “Hi, Jim.”

  Mrs. Bickford turned around and glared at the open air behind her. “She said hello, you know.”

  She rolled her eyes as she turned around to look at me. “He says hello, and wants to know if the cabin roof has been drafty at all.”

  “Oh, my roof?” I asked. I shook my head. “No, not that I can think of. Even on some of those colder nights, it’s stayed nice and warm in there.”

  “Good,” Mrs. Bickford said, scraping the paint from her brush back into the paint can. “I’ll have to come and inspect the pipe that connects to your wood stove in the corner. Have you used that yet?”

  “No,” I said.

  “You’re going to need to learn – yes, Jim, I know. I’ve already asked Candace if she could send some of her guys down to chop wood for me.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes again. “He might be dead, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry over this place just as much as he did when he still had his body.”

  I smirked, knowing at one time that sort of comment would’ve made a chill run down my spine. Now it seemed perfectly normal.

  “Anyway, I’ll have to show you how to light the stove, how to keep it clean, and how to vent it properly,” she said, staggering to her feet. “I’m fine, Jim, don’t worry,” she said, glancing off to the side.

  “Can I help you with anything?” I asked. “Like painting, maybe?”

  “No, that’s fine. I’m sure you’ve got more than enough to do aside from helping me,” she said. She nodded over my shoulder up at the Lodge, which could just be seen peeking out over the tops of the trees. “Just come back from seeing your family?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And funnily enough, I saw your daughter there, too. I had no idea you had family that just moved back to town.”

  Mrs. Bickford dropped the paint brush, and it splattered across the ground, fat, red droplets coating the grass like fresh blood. “You…you saw my Amanda?”

  An icy fear washed over me at the look on her face. “Um, yeah,” I said, trying to smile but finding it difficult. “Was I not supposed to know that she moved here?”

  “She what?” Mrs. Bickford asked, clapping her hands over her mouth.

  Suddenly, regret filled me all the way down to my toes. “Oh dear, Mrs. Bickford, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d know, since she’s your daughter, and – ”

  Mrs. Bickford started to cry, and all I could do was stand there helplessly.

  “No, Jim, I know, but it’s our daughter – ” she said, wiping her eyes, and sniffling. Then a look of rage passed over her face. “How could this happen?”

  “Mrs. Bickford, I – ”

  Mrs. Bickford shook her head. “No, sweetheart, it’s okay…” she said. “How could you know? I’ve never even mentioned her, so how would you know anything?”

  I slid my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt, not knowing how to respond. I felt horrible for saying anything, even if she was right that there wasn’t any way I could’ve known.

  She sniffled, pulling a tissue from her pocket and blowing her nose in it. “My daughter – she…she is a horrible woman,” Mrs. Bickford said as she folded her tissue, her fingers shaking. “I don’t know how she turned out the way she did. All her father and I ever did was love her, and she despised us for it. She never knew how to be respectful, and I don’t know if I ever heard a nice word come out of her mouth.”

  That sounds like her, I thought. And it fits with what Bliss was telling me, too.

  “Jim, it’s okay,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. She turned back to me. “She and I…well, we got into a fight long ago. She was so upset that she packed up her things in the middle of the night, and just left without telling us. Of course we were worried at first, and this was in the day before cell phones were really much of a thing… She ignored every attempt of ours to reach her, and about two weeks after she left, we received a letter from her telling us that she never wanted to see us again, and that the letter would be her last communication with us.”

  “That’s awful…” I said.

  Mrs. Bickford sniffed. “Yes…what sort of person does that to their poor mother?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “So you two haven’t spoken since then?”

  She shook her head. “No. So she’s really here again?” she asked.

  I nodded. “She’s staying up at the Lodge until she can find a place of her own,” I said. “You know, Mrs. Bickford, maybe it’s not my place to really say anything, but you seem more saddened than anything about what happened between the two of you. It seems like the anger fizzled out a long time ago.”

  “I…I guess it did,” she said heavily.

  “Maybe you should go visit with her,” I said.

  Mrs. Bickford’s eyes darted back up to me. “That’s crazy. You heard what I said, right? She never wanted to see me again.”

  “But what do you want?” I asked her.

  Mrs. Bickford faltered, staring blankly at me. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Time heals all wounds, or so the saying goes,” I said. “Maybe she’s grown up enough and is ready to apologize, and just doesn’t know how.”

  “That’s wishful thinking,” Mrs. Bickford said. She sighed, shaking her head. “I know, Jim. You’re right. It probably wouldn’t end well.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “She just…flies off the handle, all the time,” Mrs. Bickford said. “Ever since she was little. I never knew how to handle it, and when she left…I’m a terrible mother, but it was somewhat of a relief, if I’m honest. So I can’t imagine how going to see her now would end in anything other than a huge fight. And I don’t want to do that to your poor aunt and all her guests.”

  “Well…who knows, it’s been a few years, right?” I asked. “Maybe she’s changed.”
br />   Mrs. Bickford nodded, and I couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t just trying to appease me. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. She looked back over her shoulder. “You…you think I should go?”

  I watched her search her late husband’s face, unable to see or hear his reaction for myself.

  “Very well,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Then I guess we’ll go and try to speak with her.”

  I smiled. “I think that’s great, Mrs. Bickford.”

  “Well…I need to return this paint to the shed,” Mrs. Bickford said, scooping the paint can off the ground. “Need to get the right color for these tables…”

  “Right,” I said. “I’ll see you later then, Mrs. Bickford.”

  I wandered back up through the yard to my cabin. Night was falling, as was the temperature. Mrs. Bickford’s scarf may have been gaudy, but at least it was probably warm.

  I stepped inside and sighed.

  Welcome back, Athena said, raising her head from her tail; just a moment before, she’d looked like a doughnut, all circled in on herself.

  “Hey…” I said with a heavy sigh.

  How did it go?

  I blinked, thinking back. So much had happened in the last two hours that it took me a moment to remember why I’d gone up to the Lodge in the first place.

  “Oh…yeah,” I said. I told her about my conversation with Aunt Candace, and then how I’d met Bliss and the Forest Friends.

  Oh, is that what they’re called? Athena asked. I’ve seen those troops out in the woods before.

  “The new troop leader, who was a real piece of work, is actually Mrs. Bickford’s daughter,” I said.

  Interesting, Athena said. Didn’t know she had children of her own.

  “Neither did I,” I said. “It is interesting, though, isn’t it? Apparently they had a falling out or something several years ago.”

  I sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

  Are you glad to have everything resolved with your aunt? She asked.

  “Definitely,” I said. “I wish she had more answers for me. But she didn’t.”

  That is unfortunate, Athena said.

  A gnawing guilt returned as I looked over at the fox.

  What’s the matter? She asked.

  “Well…this whole thing has got me thinking,” I said. “Aunt Candace deliberately withheld that information from me, and it ate her up with guilt the longer she kept it back, especially knowing that the box and everything in it was rightfully mine.”

  I sighed heavily, my throat growing tight.

  “It just…it just reminds me that I’m holding onto something that isn’t rightfully mine, either…” I said.

  I don’t like that tone, Athena said nervously, her tail twitching even more frequently. Why do I have a feeling that I’m not going to like what you’re about to say to me?

  My heart was heavy all of a sudden. I hated thinking about it. In fact, I’d done everything that I could to not think about it. But I couldn’t deny it any longer. Not if I wanted to have a clear conscience, which I definitely did.

  I looked over at Athena, and my heart started to fracture.

  “It’s…my ability to talk to you, Athena.”

  4

  The silence that fell between Athena and I was so still, so final that it made my skin crawl. It was as if saying my intentions out loud was enough to take the beast speaking ability from me right then and there. The words rang inside my head, and I couldn’t meet Athena’s gaze.

  You’re serious, aren’t you? Athena asked.

  There was an edge to her words. Not an angry one, or malicious, or accusatory. It was pained, anguished, almost defeated.

  I stared at my shoes as I leaned against the kitchen counter. I was too much of a coward to even be close to her while we talked about this.

  I didn’t want to think about the fact that this may be one of the last conversations we ever had together.

  “I am…” I said. “It’s not like I want to, because I don’t. You are my best friend, Athena. And having you has made everything so much better in my life. I don’t know what I would do without you. When I found out you and I could communicate, it was…so amazing, and I just never thought anything like that was possible…”

  I sighed, and my eyes hurt. I was tired, exhausted even, and this decision was sapping the last of my strength.

  “But the truth is…this gift isn’t mine. I stole it, just like I’ve stolen everyone else’s gifts…”

  But why all of a sudden? Athena asked. What makes you want to give it back to its original owner now?

  I still couldn’t look at her. My eyes were fixed on my shoes. “Because I think I know how to give it back finally.”

  I heard Athena shift on the bed, and soon after, heard her paws hit the hardwood floor.

  She appeared in my peripherals a moment later, and she sat down in front of me, looking up into my face.

  I understand your desire to do the right thing, but have you ever stopped to think about how this will affect you? Affect me? She asked. This decision involves both of us, and I think we need to both make the decision.

  I stared down at her, my nerves humming with anxiety. “Y – You’re right,” I said. I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “What do you suggest I do?”

  Keep it, Athena said. I don’t want to lose the ability to speak to you.

  “But what about the woman at the gas station?” I asked.

  It doesn’t matter, Athena said. You have it now, and –

  “It doesn’t work like that,” I said. “It’s not mine. I can’t keep it. I stole it – ”

  Athena’s lips pulled back, revealing her pointed teeth. You’re a faery. It’s part of your ability to steal gifts. Who told you that you had to give any of them back?

  “My own conscience,” I said, starting to feel frustrated. “Athena, I don’t want to be like that. Faeries are known as tricksters, and that’s…not me. I have to give this gift back.”

  Even if I don’t want you to? She asked.

  I stared down at her, and my bottom lip trembled. I knew in my heart what the right thing to do was.

  “Yes,” I said, my voice cracking, my eyes welling with tears. “I have to give it back.”

  Athena turned around, her tail snapping back and forth like a whip. She walked back toward the bed that I’d made for her, a bundle of blankets in a low-rimmed box near the couch, and hopped inside.

  “Athena…” I said, frowning in her direction. “I’m sorry. Please, we have to be on the same page with this.”

  Athena ignored me, and turned around and around in the blankets before settling down, her back to me.

  I just stared at her.

  So this was how it was going to be…?

  I felt awful as I made my way to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower.

  I hadn’t expected the conversation to go well, but I’d sincerely hoped it would’ve gone better than how it did. She’d been angry with me. She’d never been angry with me.

  She hadn’t understood. Or maybe she did, and still thought I should keep it.

  I couldn’t, though.

  As soon as I’d figured out how to give Alessa, one of the werewolves in Lucan’s pack and his cousin, her gift of shapeshifting back, I’d figured out how to pretty much give any other gift back. It was all a matter of finding the source of it within the magic that flowed through me, like finding pieces of broken colored glass beneath a rushing river; difficult, but not impossible.

  And as soon as I’d figured it out, I started to think about giving the woman from the gas station her gift back.

  It was hard, though. Every time I looked at Athena, I thought about how much I’d gained by having the power. Not only had I gained a friend, but I’d gained so much knowledge about Faerywood Falls and magic in general. I’d gained someone I could trust, and a way to face the magical world that seemed against me from the beginning.

  Deep down, I’d hoped that I could somehow find a way to maybe duplicate the power of beast talking, so I could give the woman her gift back, and still keep it for myself. It seemed that it was impossible, though. I could only find the power within me, not the knowledge of how to maybe copy it.

  I didn’t know where to begin to look for information about it, either. I wasn’t even sure if it was possible. In theory, it seemed like it might be, but I really had no idea.