Tangled Up in Murder: The Alchemical Tales, #8

Welcome

Long, long ago, a coven of witches created a world just beyond ours—a realm of fairy tales.

In Beyond, humans rub shoulders with mythical creatures, and magic mixes with science.

There are only three rules:

Happily

accept that we share the same home

Ever

remember that what you take, you must also give

After

struggle will always lead to new beginnings

So, if you are ready . . . you are welcome here.

Chapter One: Waiting and Wondering

When you venture out into the world, you learn to trust your judgment. But sometimes, for one reason or another, you get cooped up and start to doubt yourself.

I’d spent yet another morning huddled in my lab. Torrential rain pounded at the back door—as it had every day for the past week. The only sound from the potions shop beyond was William snoring.

Since William and I had settled in rural Belville four and a half years ago, we’d endured our fair share of storms. But this autumn was shaping up to be in a class all its own. If it rained any more, I thought the whole town might just slide off the mountain and into the lake. That, or the lake itself would rise up and swallow us. And yet it did keep raining, more and more, and we’d yet to fall victim to any terrible disaster.

Of course, that’s how it’s supposed to go, right? All across the magical world of Beyond, people have devised spells and magitech and tricks of architecture to protect themselves from flooding. My own potions shop was no exception—with protection magic being William’s specialty, we were safe in many more ways than one. I was grateful, truly, but I was also itching for a change of scene. I’d grown up in a desert climate where storms whipped in and out of town, sometimes in minutes. Stuck under my work bench, my feet bounced nonstop. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something would happen, and soon.

I took a sip of the steaming matcha perched on the window between my lab and the potions shop. Though I had a strict rule against food in the laboratory when I was working, I’d grown quite lax over the past seven days.

Everything is fine, I reminded myself. It’s good to have a chance to catch up on potion-making.

Belville’s official celebration of Samhain, otherwise known as All Hallow’s Eve or Halloween, was only ten days away. As the only alchemist in town, I’d been asked to supply glow powder and weak glamour potions—not to mention a cartload of ever-sticking glue to secure the decorations that would adorn Market Square. Because of all my time spent indoors lately, I’d even managed to come up with a new kind of lightstick that shone with black light, giving an eerie effect that the local kids would love. And all this business was on top of my usual seasonal orders for things like overwintering fertilizer potions, warming powders, and holiday soaps or cleaning potions for those preparing to host out-of-town family. Autumn was a pretty profitable time to be an alchemist . . .

. . . That’s if there’s actually a Samhain festival at all, I couldn’t help but think.

I took another sip of matcha and shook my head, willing myself not to be so morose. But that was the trouble: it wasn’t just that I was bored. I was worried.

There was no reason to be, of course. Sure, our first few autumns in Belville had seen some crime—a mysterious haunted castle at first, and then a string of seriously frightening attacks the year afterward. But life in Belville was quiet and idyllic, on the whole, and it had been a long time since my friends and I had been drawn into an investigation. Months, at least. And to be fair, that one murder investigation over the summer had occurred while we were visiting my parents back in the Blue Desert Isles, many hundreds of miles away . . .

I shook my head again. No, it wasn’t crime I was worried about. And it wasn’t weather-related disasters either—not really. Actually, it was something much closer to home.

My partner, Luca, was what truly troubled me.

Out on the shop floor, William’s snores ended in a snort. There was the sound of paws stretching across the wooden floor as he woke. A moment later, he had perched himself on the stool behind the sales counter—from which he could peer through the interior window at me.

You don’t look like you’re working very hard, he observed.

I pushed my lab goggles up over my black hair, the better for him to see me roll my eyes. William was a magical familiar, a being that had been created by a sorcerer but had personality and power of his own. In William’s case, it was protection magic and sarcasm—not necessarily in that order. He could be a pill, but he was deeply loyal. Besides, he was my oldest friend.

He also was, for all practical purposes, a big, fluffy black dog. At some times wolfish and at other times sheepish, he was, at present, just smelly. Hard to work around here when it smells like wet dog, I told him, smiling wryly.

You’re just looking for excuses. I don’t smell. William shook himself self-righteously, his soft ears flapping.

Was it worth it? I asked.

William gave me a long-suffering look, something he’d perfected over our years together. His magic, usually a deep blue sparkle, crackled faintly over his head in answer to my question. Not even a bit. Cursed cloud cover’s too thick.

It’s like having a solar-powered mining assistant, I chuckled, momentarily distracted from my own woes.

Har har, said William, unamused. For reasons I didn’t fully understand—as an alchemist, I handled scientific matters, and left magical expertise to William himself—his magic was strengthened by time spent under the stars. He was forever going out for late-night walks by himself, replenishing his power. Apparently, though, walks in the rain were not effective. See how funny you think it is when all the shop wards fail.

I stopped laughing. Is that possible?

Ha! Got your attention, said William smugly, shifting on his stool before answering. But no, not really. I’ve invested so much time and power into the protections on this place that by now they’re basically part of the woodwork. They’ll linger a long time after we’re both gone, most likely. I was just being dramatic to make sure you were listening.

He narrowed his dark eyes over that last point, and I blushed. I should have reminded him that he is always dramatic, but my guilty conscience spoke for me. Why? Have I been that distracted lately?

You have, William confirmed. And don’t bother telling me it’s because you’re busy with potions. The only customers we’ve had for days are the ones with long-standing orders, and you could make Gloria’s soaps in your sleep by now. You’re just hiding back there, stewing.

Someone woke up feeling confrontational, I thought. But I had to admit he was right. My little lab room was like a safety blanket, tucked around my shoulders. I sighed, running one hand through my long ponytail. Instead of answering directly, I asked, Has Luca seemed different to you lately?

Actually, I thought he seemed pretty unconcerned for a purveyor of books and guardian of old town records in the face of the rainstorm of the century, William said, glibly. I didn’t bother replying; as Belville’s resident scholar, Luca had certainly protected his bookstore from rain, of all things. William huffed and added, Do you really not know?

My head snapped up from contemplating my work bench. Know what?

"You don’t know?" William stared at me.

"Know what?" I repeated, my worry quickly becoming annoyance.

In that moment, there was a thundering noise at the back door of my lab. It was far too familiar to be the storm.

No, I knew at once that it wasn’t a force of nature—it was Belville’s police.

To be fair, Officer Thorn is just as brash and inexorable as any hurricane or flash flood.

She established herself in an old armchair in my shop. Though most of my shop floor was taken up by wall-mounted shelves of potions and shoulder-high rows of dried flowers, powdered minerals, and other merchandise, I kept a cozy space in the back corner next to the register for people waiting on custom orders—or for visiting friends. Two armchairs sheltered by an old bookcase flanked a side table set with a tea tray. Most of the tea I made was sold at the local café, but I liked to offer new experimental or seasonal blends for free to brave customers.

Officer Thorn was nothing if not brave. A steaming cup of rosehip and clove herbal tea looked almost like a child’s toy in her hands, and her booted feet stretched out halfway across the fluffy red area rug. Her mother was an orc, which meant Thorn had mossy green skin, long pointed ears, and a toothy grin. She was also perhaps twice my size without being much taller. She was tall—easily six feet—but most of her bulk was muscle. As always, she was wearing her perfectly tailored blue police uniform, and her long black hair fell straight and shiny behind her shoulders.

But today her brown eyes were worried, her brow creased. I’ve had strange tips before, but never something quite like this.

You still haven’t explained anything, William reminded her. He remained on his stool behind the counter, but I’d come out of my lab to join them. Sometimes, physically pushing Thorn through the interior door to the shop was the only way to get her out of my lab, where she was akin to a bull in a china shop.

Someone came by to see you in this weather? I prompted, leaning against the counter with my matcha in hand.

Thorn shook her head. "Anonymous letter pushed through the mail slot. Only came a minute ago, but I didn’t see a soul on the road. Brought it straight here—see if you can make anything of it."

She fished in her pocket and pulled out a scrap of folded paper, holding it out for me to take. I did so, settling back against the sales counter so that William could read it over my shoulder:

A child has been kidnapped and is being kept on Belville Mountain

Just one line, inked in refined capital letters. The paper itself was clean and white, but the upper part had been torn off, leaving a jagged edge.

Not much to go on, William observed.

I have to admit—at first I was just glad it didn’t have anything to do with Luca. The unfortunate timing of Officer Thorn’s visit had set butterflies going in my stomach. I took a deep breath now, trying to focus. What about the parents? Has anyone come forward to say their child is missing? I asked.

Thorn tossed back half her tea in a gulp. No one yet. That’s the strange thing. Why write such an impersonal note about such a personal crime? Think it’s just a Samhain prank?

If it just happened, maybe the parents haven’t realized yet, William pointed out grimly. Or maybe the kid was brought here from somewhere else. Doesn’t your guild have a wire system or something?

This comment was calculated to annoy, because William knew full well that the Police Guild did have a magitech system that enabled each station to communicate with the others. Because Belville Station was tiny—just Officer Thorn and the occasional new recruit getting some on-the-job training—we’d often seen Thorn reach out to other local stations for assistance. Of course, that was just for information; when it came to actual backup, she usually recruited townsfolk—like ourselves. As such, she was very familiar with William’s brand of teasing.

No active cases within fifty miles, she replied matter-of-factly. The newbie’s stationed at the desk in case anything comes in. But I don’t have a good feeling about it.

It’s not a funny prank, if it is one, I agreed. "I can run some tests on the ink and paper for you, but it seems a little beside the point right now. I suppose that is why you brought it over, though?"

Officer Thorn downed the rest of her tea and poured herself a fresh cup from the pot. Might as well see what you can get from it. For now, I’m treating the case as serious. It’s the only way. What about you? You haven’t heard anything lately?

She squinted at William, who whined. "I’m magical and clever but I’m not omniscient."

No, you’re an omni-gossip, Thorn said, ignoring our groans at her attempted pun. I thought you might have heard rumors I hadn’t.

Oh, is that why you really came over? I asked, amused.

Well, I haven’t heard anything. William waved his nose in the air—probably indignant about having to admit that he knew nothing. He and his friend, Dusty, were definitely the prime gossips in Belville. Officer Thorn knew her sources well.

There was a pause as our guest drained her second cup of tea and we pondered what to ask next. In the muffled silence, I heard my lab door open once more.

Good afternoon, Red, William! a new voice called.

I was reluctant to give up thinking about the strange note, and yet I hated to be rude to my one official employee. William was a handy assistant, of course, but he got room and board and entitlement as his wages. Sir Rowan, on the other hand, could find employment elsewhere if he so chose.

Not that he would. Since his arrival in town a few years back, he’d settled in very well. Once a knight of fairy tales and legends, with all the chain mail and courtly manners to show for it, he’d relaxed bit by bit into small town life. As a result, he now managed to call me simply Red, rather than Miss Red, which had made me feel like an old-timey school teacher. He’d also invited us to use his personal name, Rhys.

I knew it was Rhys without looking, of course. He was the only person, aside from Officer Thorn, who insisted upon entering the potions shop via the back door—more pertinently, via my lab, which I usually kept off-limits during work. He also was the only person who had perfected the art of cloak-wearing to the point where he could open a door, even in this storm, and not bring in bucketfuls of rain with him. For that, at least, I was appreciative.

He’d just finished hanging said cloak on a hook in the corner beside my kiln when I poked my head over to catch a glimpse of him through my open lab window. Hey, Rhys, I said, stowing the note for now. How’s the mountain? Still there?

It would take quite a storm indeed to have such a lasting effect on Belville Mountain. Rhys arched one dark brow over a friendly smile as he turned around. His skin was pale, especially compared to my brown tones, but his hair was just as dark as mine and his eyes were startlingly blue. He stood almost too tall for my little lab, and yet he had a way of moving that made him seem instantly suited to whatever space he entered. Even now he bowed slightly, as though it was entirely natural. But even in a crisp white shirt and green shop apron, his posture said try anything and you’ll be beat before you begin.

He was very handy around the shop. Not for beating miscreants—we rarely had any of those—but because he adored organizing things.

And William, in turn, adored him. Rhys! Officer Thorn needs your help.

Does she? Rhys emerged from the lab and turned to find Officer Thorn, as though he had known all along she was waiting in that armchair. I would be happy to be of assistance after my shift.

"She can make her own calls, thanks very much, Thorn retorted, eyeing William. But then she turned to Rhys with a more professional air. You and Daisy haven’t seen anything amiss? Strangers on the trails, new campsites popping up, that kind of thing?"

None. One would have to be very foolhardy to camp in this weather. Rhys lingered by the door.

Are the pixies worried about all this rain? William asked.

This was enough to distract him momentarily. Not as of yet. But you know how my lady Daisy is, Rhys answered fondly.

Rhys and his lady, Daisy, lived high on the mountain along with a magical tree and a bunch of tiny pixies. Daisy had inherited the task of looking after all that magic, and tended to be reclusive—and worried. Personally, I didn’t blame her in the least. Looking after a shop was the extent of my power; I couldn’t imagine looking after a herd of magical creatures who considered the entire mountain to be their home.

You might as well tell him everything, I said to Officer Thorn. He and Daisy could keep an eye out, at the very least. And he’ll see me running tests anyway.

I wouldn’t pry, Rhys said, mildly.

Nevertheless, Thorn filled him in on the possible kidnapping case.

How terrible. We will naturally do everything we can to help, Rhys said, once she was finished. But as of this moment, no useful information comes to mind. You might consider going to Daisy herself, however. At this moment, she and Luca should still be in the Pomegranate Café.

What? My mug slipped in my hands, even as I tried to sound casual.

Didn’t you know? Innocently, Rhys turned to face William and me. His eyes were clear, his tone bland. Luca went out to see the old keep with Daisy today.

Chapter Two: The Usual Lineup

The Pomegranate Café was a one-minute walk from Red’s Alchemy and Potions, sitting on the same corner of Market Square. As I made the trek in my rubber boots and large umbrella, it seemed to take ages. And that was even with Officer Thorn next to me, hurrying us along.

The potential case should have been my first priority, I knew that. But I found it difficult to feel as urgent as Thorn did. I was, frankly, distracted. I wouldn’t say I’m a jealous person. I’m not even the sort of person who gets regular feelings about things—premonitions, gut instincts, and the like. My parents are Seers, but I don’t have a divining bone in my body. I’ve gotten better about recognizing my feelings, and yet . . .

Luca had been my best friend since I settled in Belville, and we’d been dating for two years. He basically lived in the apartment above my shop with me. Until a few days ago. Suddenly, he started having evening meetings and staying over at his bookshop apartment instead.

Who has meetings in rain storms like this? I wondered for the umpteenth time as we splashed through puddles on the cobblestone street.

Fortunately, the rain was loud enough that Officer Thorn didn’t bother trying to talk over any more of her case.

In fact, the white siding and plum pink trim of the Pomegranate was hardly visible through sheets of water. Its little porch and patio furniture, usually an adorable outdoor space full of customers reading books from the nearby lending library, looked about as gray and forlorn as I felt. But the light pouring from the café’s windows was a soft yellow, friendly and inviting.

As soon as Officer Thorn opened the door, in fact, some of my melancholy was whooshed away with the warm air. Sofas and tables under the front windows to either side of me were full of people chatting. Even the second floor balcony brimmed with tea drinkers and readers. Scents of cinnamon and pumpkin wafted out from the kitchen at the back, and behind the counter to the left side, I could see Sakura’s white head bobbing back and forth as she worked her tea pots and espresso machines.

I also spotted Luca and Daisy standing at the register. Without thinking about it, I wove through the café tables to meet them, the officer trailing behind. Rhys had told us we should come find them here, and yet still, somehow I felt like an interloper.

Red! Luca’s dark face shone with a wide smile as he turned and saw me. No one could possibly feel unwelcome around Luca. He wore the long black robes of his scholarly profession, as usual, the hood shading his bright green eyes. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be busy at your shop. Hi, Officer Thorn.

Rhys just got in, and suggested we find you here, I mumbled. Hey, Daisy.

Daisy, a tall woman with red hair and freckles, smiled shyly at me. As usual, she was under-dressed for the weather in cutoff shorts and an oversize sweater. She and Rhys came from practically immortal heritage, and along with long lives, they both seemed to have developed a