A Mysterious Murder in Faerywood Falls Read online

  “Broadway would be jealous of this place,” I said, staring around. It could probably fit a few thousand people inside.

  Come on, we have to keep looking, Athena said.

  “I mean, we aren’t exactly on a time limit or anything,” I said, closing the purple doors with a definitive click.

  No, but we don’t want to starve to death in here, do we? Athena asked. We haven’t seen another soul in almost an hour.

  “How do you know how long it’s been?” I asked, frowning.

  Instinct, Athena said. Something that you wouldn’t understand as a human.

  I tapped my chin. “Fair enough. Alright, let’s at least try to find our way back to the entrance. Sound good?”

  Better than good, Athena said. I’m starting to get antsy being in such an unfamiliar place.

  We turned around a corner, wandered down another staircase, hoping that we weren’t traveling below ground, and down another corridor that looked almost identical to all the others; lined with doors on one side, enchanted windows on the other, with beautiful vaulted ceilings and crystal torches in silver brackets every dozen feet or so.

  Suddenly, at the end of the hall, I saw the silhouette of a woman walking away from us.

  “Hey!” I shouted, raising my hand into the air and hurrying toward her. “Excuse me, Miss? Could you help us?”

  The woman with several books in her arms turned at the sound of my voice, and she was smiling. She had a kind face, and was probably about as old as Mrs. Bickford was. Her silvery hair was cut short against her scalp, and she reminded me of a pixie with her delicate features.

  Athena and I slowed to a stop in front of her, trying not to look too unkempt. I rested my hands on my knees for a moment, trying to catch my breath; I was getting tired from wandering through these halls as long as we had been.

  “Good heavens, child. Did you manage to get lost up here?” the woman asked.

  I brushed some hair from my eyes and stood, looking up at her. “Yes. Would you please tell us where the – ”

  But as I made eye contact with her, I noticed the kind expression had changed to one of shock and contempt.

  “You’re the faery, aren’t you?” the woman asked, her tone darkening as she took a step backward from me.

  “I – ” I said, breathing somewhat heavily from my jog down the hall. “What does that have to do with – ”

  The woman frowned at me, clasping the books in her hands more tightly to her chest, and turned away from me. With quick steps, she walked away from us around the corner.

  I stared after her, my mind stuttering to a halt.

  Why did she ask you if you were the faery? Athena asked.

  “I have no idea…” I said. “I was here to meet with the council and everything. They seemed okay with me.”

  Not everyone is going to like that you’re a faery, I guess, Athena said. Try not to let it bother you.

  “I don’t want people being afraid of me,” I said.

  Like I said…try not to think about it, Athena said. Let’s keep going.

  I was a lot more enthusiastic about finding my way out after that. The last thing I wanted was to run into someone else who would treat me the same way that she did. I hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from someone. Not after everything else that had happened.

  Well…maybe given everything that had happened, maybe I should have expected it all along.

  We were wandering down another hall when something felt familiar suddenly.

  I’d been paying attention to all the name plates on the doors, trying to find Zara’s office of sorts, though it was more like a study than a professor’s office like I kept thinking about it. My eyes squinted as they passed over some of the names.

  “Hey, Athena…I think I recognize some of these names – ”

  “Marianne?”

  I looked up and saw Zara standing at the end of the hall, her eyes wide.

  “Zara,” I said, my heart skipping as Athena and I hurried over to her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. There’s something I need to talk – ”

  My words were cut off, though, as she grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me back down the hall where I’d come from. She was a lot stronger than she looked, and almost lifted me off the ground a few times.

  She pushed open one of the handsomely carved doors, and pulled me inside with her.

  Checking out in the hall, she looked back and forth down the hall, a frown on her pretty face. Seemingly satisfied, she withdrew her head and closed the door behind herself.

  She then turned to me, her golden eyes alight with a burning fire. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her gaze hard, boring me into the seat that she’d plunked me into.

  I leaned away from the heat of her eyes, wincing slightly. “I came to see you,” I said. “Why are you acting so strangely?”

  Zara glanced at the door again, her white hair sliding over her shoulder like a sheet of glossy silk, as she chewed on the end of her thumb.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, sitting up straight in the chair; I’d landed sideways in it.

  “Shh,” Zara said, pressing her finger to her pale pink lips.

  I thought I could see her pointed ears twitch like Athena’s did when she was listening hard.

  “Alright…” she said after a few moments, her shoulders sagging. How did she manage to make even that look graceful? “I think we’re okay. Did anyone see you?” she asked.

  “Well…yeah,” I said. “A few people, I think – ”

  Zara rolled her eyes and walked across to her desk, where she collapsed into her chair behind it.

  “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” I asked, pulling the chair forward closer to her.

  Zara regained her composure, breathing deeply and folding her hands together. “You…are no longer welcome here,” she said in as calm of a voice as she could muster.

  I gaped at her. “What?”

  “As I said, you are not welcome here any longer,” Zara said.

  “No one told me that,” I said. “Why am I not welcome?”

  Zara’s brows furrowed. “I thought that much would be obvious.”

  “Um, no,” I said with a hollow laugh. “Not in the slightest. I just got accepted as an apprentice. They can’t just kick me out, can they?”

  “If the council of eleven have a majority vote, then yes, they can,” Zara said. “Which is exactly what happened. Nine out of the eleven voted to have you exiled.”

  My stomach dropped. “…Exiled? That’s a pretty strong word.”

  “It was meant to be,” Zara said.

  I sagged against the back of the seat, staring dumbfounded at Zara. “I don’t understand…”

  “I’ll put it more simply for you, then,” Zara said patiently. “It’s because of the fact that you’re – ”

  “A faery?” I said.

  Zara nodded.

  I groaned. “I didn’t think the spell weavers would take it well, exactly, but to exile me?”

  “It’s quite simple, really,” Zara said. “They’re afraid of you.”

  “Afraid of me?”

  “Of course they are,” Zara said. “Faeries are so very rare that there is hardly anything known about them. And the last faery that lived among us lied about it as well, even became the head of the council. No one was ever completely sure, but it was unfair for a faery to be measured in the same way for a spell weaver. Faeries have a great deal more power than spell weavers do by default; they learn spells faster, have a greater understanding of magic…not to mention they can have more than one skill at a time. Much like you with your beast speaking ability as well as being a spell weaver.”

  “So are they just jealous?” I asked. “I barely know anything. It’s not like I could storm in any take over or anything.”

  “Not yet you couldn’t,” Zara said. “But it would be very easy for you to one day, when you were stronger.”

  “That’s ridiculous…” I sa
id. “I wouldn’t ever do anything like that.”

  “How do they know?” Zara asked. “For all they know, you lied to them so you could infiltrate their ranks more easily.”

  I looked down at my fingers knotted in my lap. That wasn’t a complete lie, I supposed. I did want to become a spell weaver so I could try and find more information about faeries without much trouble.

  “The other part that frightens them is your ability to steal gifts from other races,” Zara said. “It’s been long known that faeries do that, which has often earned them the reputation for being tricksters and deceivers.” She looked pointedly at me. “Is that something you can do?”

  You don’t have to answer, Athena said. She’d been silent this whole time, but made it a point to say that to me. You don’t have to tell her anything.

  I won’t earn anyone’s trust if I continue to hide the truth from them, I said. Look at where that’s gotten me.

  Athena bristled in the chair beside me. I knew she didn’t agree, but I felt it was best if I was honest with Zara.

  “I can borrow gifts, yes,” I said. “The first few times it happened, I had no control over it. I still don’t fully understand how it works, but I’ve managed to learn how to give gifts back to people.”

  “So which gifts do you possess that are your own?” Zara asked.

  You don’t have to answer, Athena said.

  She was right. I didn’t have to. But I still wanted to.

  “None of them,” I said. “I stole the spell weaver ability from Silvia Griffin before she died. She attacked me, I ended up stealing it, and she died before I could give it back. The beast speaking was a gift I’ve had from two different people. The first time I had it, I returned it out of guilt. I ended up repossessing it when I took it from someone else who’d used it to commit a murder. I thought it was a fair punishment for their actions.”

  “Any other gifts that you know of?” Zara asked.

  “Well…I guess I can use song spells,” I said. “I found that out on accident, and as far as I know, that wasn’t taken from anyone.”

  “I see…” Zara said. She brushed some of her white hair behind her ear. “Well, I appreciate you being honest with me. Just so you know, everything you just told me is going to stay between the two of us. You have my word about that.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you…” I said. “It’s hard enough that people know that I’m a faery now.”

  “I can understand that,” Zara said.

  “I do have a question, though…” I said. “Earlier, you said they’re afraid of me. Does that mean…you’re not?” I asked.

  “No, I’m not,” Zara said. “I’m one of the few who thinks it was wrong for them to dismiss you so easily. If anything, helping you to learn how to utilize your gifts better will likely help prevent you from turning against us in the future, but no one wanted to hear that part of the argument. They all simply felt threatened by your power. They don’t want anyone to come in and take over their positions. They like where they are, and they don’t want anything to change that.”

  “That’s assuming a lot of me,” I said. “I mean…you gave me my test. I don’t even know the most basic of spells.”

  “I tried explaining this to them,” Zara said. “But they seem to think that you are being deceitful through and through. They despised the woman who was in charge of the council about thirty years ago. Well, not all of them. Most of the council of eleven at that time supported her. But when she died, there was a drastic change in leadership. Those that supported her were threatened into resigning, and those that opposed her took their place.”

  “That was Adriana Hart, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  “Yes it was,” Zara said.

  “She was my mother,” I said.

  Zara’s face softened. “I had my suspicions when I met you. You seemed to be just as talented as she was, and possessed the same strengths she had. So I guess those sitting on the council were right then, weren’t they? She was a faery.”

  “She was, yeah,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Marianne, but…I’m afraid it might be some time before you’ll be accepted here again. I am always available to speak with, but the council won’t be pleased to hear that you’ve come back, even if it’s just for a visit,” Zara said.

  “Well…I was actually looking for help with something,” I said. “Which is why I was looking for you in the first place.”

  “Oh?” Zara asked, interested. “What did you need?”

  “There has been some stir in Faerywood Falls about the Gifted,” I said. “The Ungifted are becoming suspicious, and some of them have joined up and formed a group to discuss their theories. I went to one of their meetings, and they’re detecting the right signs. The Gifted are leaving too many clues behind, and the Ungifted are taking notice…And I think the Gifted are trying to fight back, trying to cover their tracks.”

  “How so?” Zara asked.

  “The leader of this merry band of misfits was murdered,” I said.

  Zara’s covered her mouth with her fingers. “How terrible…”

  “I’m trying to figure out who killed her,” I said. “I’m afraid it was a Gifted. If it was, this could start a whole war between the Gifted and Ungifted in town…”

  “I see your concern…” Zara said. “I have heard nothing of this, but that doesn’t mean that some of the weavers who still return to Faerywood Falls have not. Give me some time to speak with them, and I will get back to you. I know that’s not the answer you were hoping for, but it’s the best I can do for you right now.”

  “Right…” I said. “Okay. Thank you, Zara.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Now, I hate to be a bad host, but you really should be going. I don’t want them to find you here.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And the last thing I want is to get you in trouble, too.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Zara said, standing and gesturing toward the door. “I can handle their wrath. I’m too valuable for them to lose, and they know it. They’ll overlook it…just like they overlooked Delilah’s little outburst with that grimoire.”

  I froze, halfway to the door. “She didn’t get in trouble?”

  “A slap on the wrist at best,” Zara said, walking around to meet me. She sighed. “I’m not surprised, though. She’s too powerful, just like her sister was.”

  A smirk passed over her face.

  “Though I’m certain it would positively kill them if they knew that you were the one that was in possession of the great Silvia’s power now. Of course it will morph and shape itself to you, but even still…that’s quite the gift to inherit.”

  “I didn’t mean to take it when it happened,” I said.

  “I believe you,” Zara said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Even still…part of me is glad that it didn’t go to waste. You have great potential, Marianne, and I hope to help you rise to meet it.”

  “Thank you, Zara,” I said.

  She pulled the door open, and a thoughtful look passed over her face. “Oh, and before you go…how is Bliss doing?”

  It was like a punch in the gut. “She’s okay, I think. She hasn’t talked to me at all since she left. Her mom let me know she was safe, though.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Zara said, and I could see the relief in her golden eyes. “She’s doing the right thing, Marianne, but it is okay to miss her.”

  I smiled at her, but it didn’t grow very big. “Thank you, Zara. Take care.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Zara said. “Be careful, Marianne.”

  Why was it that everyone always told me to be careful?

  8

  “Um, hi, do you work here?”

  I looked up from wiping down the coffee table in the large sitting area of the Lodge that my Aunt Candace owned. The lobby was busy as guests lined up to check into their rooms for the week of Halloween; apparently this was one of the busiest weeks out of the year, and so Aunt Candace had called me
to come and help her get things ready in Bliss’s absence.

  Of course, I was more than happy to, but being at the Lodge without seeing Bliss still felt strange.

  It wasn’t just affecting me, either. Aunt Candace seemed lost whenever she thought someone wasn’t looking at her. She was alone now in this huge place. Being divorced, and Bliss being her only child, she was having a harder time adjusting to the change than I was.

  “Yeah, I do,” I said, putting on a kind smile. Even if I didn’t feel like smiling, it was always good to help the guests feel welcome. I wanted to help keep my aunt’s business afloat until Bliss got back. “What can I help you with?”

  “Could you have some fresh towels sent to room 3A?” the man asked. “Our son sort of flooded the bathtub and we sort of used all the ones in our room to mop up the mess…”

  A sinking feeling in my stomach, I stood up straight and pocketed the dusting cloth I’d been using. “No problem,” I said, still smiling. “I’ll take care of that right away for you.”

  I walked away from the guest toward the front desk. It seemed that Mr. Terrance, the Lodge’s front desk attendant, had finished checking them all in. One family was standing off to the side, the mother disciplining a whining young girl who had large, crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks. Another young couple was browsing the shelf of brochures in the corner.

  “Mr. Terrance, could you pass me the key to room 3A?” I asked. “I’ve got to bring them some more fresh towels. And also the key to the closet on that floor. I might need to get the mop.”

  “Of course,” he said, turning to grab the keys off their hooks underneath the desk.

  My eyes drifted to the newspaper that he’d been reading before all the new guests had arrived.

  Peeking out of the corner, I saw the section with the title, Obituaries.

  And the first and only picture was of Harriet Bennet.

  I snatched the newspaper from the desk and poured over it. It was a nice summary of her life, along with a picture taken from a few years before at a poetry reading she’d done. I skimmed her life story; Mr. Cromwell hadn’t been that far off in her description. She certainly had lived an eccentric sort of life.