Blair’s words rang in my ears. “What?! How can Edna be dead? What happened?” I demanded, unable to believe what she’d said.
“I… I don’t know. She was sitting in the chair by the window with her back to me, so I thought she was just enjoying the scenery, but when I came around the chair, she’d spilled tea all down her front and her face… Her expression… It was just blank,” Blair trailed, unable to finish, but I didn’t need to hear more, anyway.
“How is that possible? I just saw her in the hall not even fifteen minutes ago!” Thorn said.
I believed him, though it didn’t change the fact that Edna was dead. But how did that happen in her own room? She wouldn’t have hurt herself, so someone else must’ve done it — but how? It couldn’t have been any of the other guests because everyone except Edna was downstairs for breakfast.
“Wait a second! Her tea!” I gasped as the pieces clicked into place in my mind.
Blair, still in shock, stared blankly at me. “What about it?”
“Thorn just saw Edna and she seemed fine, but he said she was drinking tea. When you went into her room, you said she’d spilled it all over herself. No one does that unless—”
“Someone poisoned it,” Thorn finished, the color draining from his face. “But how would she have come into contact with poisoned tea?”
“I don’t know. There're all kinds of flavors in the kitchen for the guests to help themselves with, so someone could’ve tampered with what we have out,” Blair said, slowly returning to her senses.
“Did you notice anything funny about the tea sloshed on Edna?” I asked, but Blair shook her head.
“No, but I wasn’t really looking at the details.”
I couldn’t blame her for that. Still, I needed to know what, if anything, was in the tea Edna had drunk. I turned to Thorn. “Did you notice which way Edna had come from when you passed her?”
“It seemed like she’d just come from the stairs, so I’d bet she went down to the kitchen to make some tea and so she crossed paths with me on her way back to her room.”
“Hm, okay, but why would she have wanted to be up here all by herself instead of having breakfast with the rest of us?”
“Some people need alone time before they can be in a crowd,” Blair said, which was fair enough. “Maybe Edna just wanted to wake up first with a hot cup before she joined the fray.”
My eyes traveled to the door of room 317 right next door — Venus’ room. They shared a wall. Had she heard or seen anything weird prior to Edna’s death? It didn’t seem likely, but I had nothing else to go on, so I decided to find her and ask. Besides, Venus apparently had gossip about everyone, so even if she knew nothing about what happened to Edna, she might know something that could point me in the right direction.
“Should we tell the others about Edna?” Thorn asked, but Blair shook her head.
“Not yet. We don’t want to frighten anyone.”
“It’s probably too late for that, no thanks to me,” I said, my cheeks burning at the memory of the scene I’d made of Edna’s absence just a few minutes prior. Why couldn’t I have been more discreet? If I had, I might’ve been able to weasel the truth out of her poisoner without them even realizing I knew, but I’d blown that chance. Now, the killer would be on their guard.
But what made them think they’d get away with this, anyway? Eventually, one of us would’ve noticed Edna’s absence. Maybe the pressure was too much, and the killer was just getting desperate and not thinking things through. Sensing that that could benefit me, I locked eyes with Blair. “I need to talk to Venus. She might’ve heard or seen something since she’s so close to Edna’s room.”
“Good idea,” she said.
“What should we do about poor Edna?” Thorn asked, but Blair waved him away.
“Don’t worry about that. Kiki and I will take care of it.”
“And report it to the SVPD, I hope,” Thorn said.
“Of course. Now that the snow’s let up, they might be able to get up here to help.”
“Hopefully. We’ve got to stop whoever’s behind this before it goes any further,” I said, and a chill washed over me at the thought of staying even one more night in Kindred Spirits with a killer — especially one who seemed to grow more desperate by the hour.
“Shouldn’t we send the others home? Clearly, it’s not safe for any of us to be here,” Thorn said.
“No, we can’t,” I argued. “One of them is behind this, I’m sure of that. If we let them all leave, we’ll never figure out who it is, and we’ll never be able to track them down.” Though Thorn didn’t look happy about it, he nodded his agreement. Then another horrifying thought occurred to me. I glanced at Blair. “Do you think… Could Edna turn into a zombie too?”
Her expression dropped. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“Well, maybe you should watch things up here for a while, then. You know, just in case.”
“Good idea,” Blair said and turned to re-lock the door to Edna’s room. “I’ll cast some protective spells, too.”
“All right, then let’s go, Selena,” Thorn said, gesturing at the elevator. I nodded, and we loaded into it wordlessly. What could either of us say? I thought of poor Edna, who’d committed no crime other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I hoped she didn’t have family back home waiting for her.
“We should probably try to play it cool back in the kitchen,” Thorn spoke up as we passed the second floor, thankfully pulling me away from my dark, worried thoughts.
“Yeah, probably. But how am I going to get Venus away from the others without it looking conspicuous?”
“Good question,” Thorn said, which wasn’t helpful. I chewed my nails as we descended to the ground floor, and when the elevator dinged to announce it, anxiety spiked in my chest. Without missing a beat, Thorn stepped out of the elevator and breezed toward the kitchen as if nothing at all was wrong, leaving me no choice but to follow him.
Inside, Thorn returned to his seat and tried to keep up the facade that everything was fine, but despite the stacks of sugary dough on the table, the mood in the kitchen had definitely muted. No one seemed to have touched their food at all, save for Aron, who was in the middle of reaching for yet another pancake. Immediately, my eyes snapped to where Venus had been sitting before we’d left — and found her chair empty.
Jadis stood and rushed to my side. “Is everything okay?” she whispered.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I said, louder than necessary to make sure that everyone else heard. “Edna just wanted some alone time.”
With her back to the others, Jadis furrowed her brows at me, but I subtly shook my head at her and hoped she got the hint. I’d have to fill her in later when there weren’t several other pairs of ears listening. “Where’s Venus?”
Jadis pointed across the room to another, smaller table along the far wall that held a large steel coffee carafe, teakettle, and several rows of oversized mugs and loose-leaf teas in labeled mason jars. “She’s making a cup of tea,” she said, and my heart skipped a beat, but I did my best to stay level-headed. Venus stood with her back to me, perusing the various flavors, seemingly unable to decide.
“Thanks,” I said and, without explanation, crossed the room to join Venus.
“There’s almost too much to choose from, right?” I asked, startling her. She turned to me with her hand over her heart and laughed.
“Oh, dear Lilith, I didn’t hear you coming,” she said, her face flushed. “And yeah, you’re right. I’ve tried several of them already, but I’m in the mood for something new. What do you recommend?”
I didn’t know what to say because I hadn’t tasted any of the teas we served the guests. So, I surveyed the front row for the most visually appealing variety and pointed at a jar with half of a cinnamon stick and shreds of bright orange zest inside. “That one’s pretty good.”
“Hm, I do love chai. I’ll try it,” she said with a smile and reached for the jar to twist it open. She took a deep inhale of the leaves and sighed. “Oh, that smells amazing.”
I leaned against the table and considered her. “I’m glad I’ve got you alone for a minute, actually,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear me.
Venus pulled her wand from her robes and tapped the kettle with her wand to heat it, tucked her wand away again, and turned to me with concern flashing across her face like a neon sign. “Is something wrong?”
The water in the kettle bubbled along with the contents of my stomach. “Um… Something happened to Edna. We aren’t sure what.”
Thankfully, Venus wasn’t holding anything fragile. If she had been, she probably would’ve dropped it. Instinctively, one hand shot up to clap over her mouth. “What? Is she okay?”
I hesitated while I found my courage. “No. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Your room’s next to hers, right?” Though it took her a moment to comprehend my question, eventually Venus nodded. “Did you hear or see anything suspicious overnight or this morning before you came downstairs for breakfast?”
Venus stared off into space for what felt like forever while she thought and twirled her hair around her finger idly. “No, not that I can think of. Edna’s pretty quiet overall, though. What happened to her?”
I didn’t really want to share, but I figured she’d find out eventually anyway, so I relented. “We’re not sure. We went to check on her and found her unresponsive in her room. Thorn said he’d just seen her a few minutes prior, and she seemed fine, so it’s really strange.” Venus’ eyes trailed from me back to the dining room table and landed on Miranda. “What is it?” I asked, pulling her gaze back to me.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, I just can’t help wondering…” she trailed.
“What? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“Miranda’s seemed, well, off all morning. She’s been crying here and there, and I can’t figure out why. I kept asking what was wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me. She said it was none of my business,” she said, which explained the hushed conversation I’d seen them having earlier — and why Venus had left her alone.
“Do you think…?” I trailed, leaving Venus to fill in the blanks on her own. She shrugged.
“Who knows? I mean, she’s definitely different from the Miranda I remember. I haven’t really kept in touch with her for twenty years, though, so how can I say for sure? I don’t really even know her anymore. Maybe I never did.”
That wasn’t exactly how Venus had spoken of Miranda the day before, but then again, Miranda might not have been showing any cracks then. Even I had to admit Miranda seemed a little emotionally unstable to me, even from the moment she’d arrived, and I’d noticed her hands shaking.
But now that I thought about it, how couldn’t she be a mess? Between Edna’s accident and threats to sue and Declan paying her off to keep quiet — a move that’d probably bankrupted the Redwoods — not to mention Declan’s overall treatment of Miranda and everyone around her, a good portion of Miranda’s life had probably been miserable. Could all that have made her angry enough to get revenge on both of them after all these years? I couldn’t definitively say no. People had definitely killed for less than that before.
Riddled with fear and uncertainty, I glanced at Miranda, who sat clutching her black bag with the pink bow she thought she’d lost. Her eyes were red and puffy, so Venus wasn’t lying about her crying. But what would have moved her to tears? Maybe the guilt and grief of killing not just her husband, but also one of her classmates?
“I think you should try to talk to her,” Venus said as she turned over one of the mugs on the table and filled it with steaming liquid. While lost in the muck of my thoughts, I’d almost forgotten she was there, and she’d finished steeping her tea without me noticing. Gripping the mug in both hands, she raised it to her mouth, took a tentative sip, and winced at the heat. “Oh, that’s a bit too warm, but it’s delicious. Thanks for the rec,” she said and blew on the surface to cool it off. “Hey, speaking of, I bet if you brought Miranda a cup of tea, she’d probably open up to you. There’s nothing like a hot beverage to loosen somebody up, especially when they’re feeling blue, you know? She loves the peppermint flavor, by the way. I’m sure you’d like it too.”
“Yeah, good idea. Are you finished with yours?” I asked, pointing at the remaining liquid she’d left in the glass kettle.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Here, I’ll clear it for you,” she said and set her mug down on the table to retrieve her wand from her robes. She waved it at the kettle, and the brown water inside vanished, replaced with just the right amount of fresh water for a serving for two people. She tapped the kettle’s side with her wand again, and the water began bubbling. “There you go. I’m gonna head upstairs to take a shower and warm up. I can’t seem to shake a chill I have this morning; it must be from all the moisture in the air. Anyway, good luck with Miranda,” she said, and plucked her mug off the table to blow on its contents again.
“Thanks,” I said, thinking only of Edna’s locked door and the proximity of Venus’ room to it. Venus definitely seemed like the type to stick her nose where it didn’t belong for the sake of scaring up some gossip, and though she could probably use magic to get through the door, I didn’t doubt Blair had accounted for that with the protective spells she said she would cast to keep intruders out and Edna in.
“No problem,” Venus said absently and breezed out of the kitchen, leaving me with my racing thoughts. Miranda definitely had a motive to hurt both Declan and Edna, but she didn’t seem, well, strong enough to have done that — the fact that she’d been crying periodically didn’t seem like something a ruthless killer would do. Then again, maybe she was putting on a show to throw me off her trail.
My gaze shifted up to where Miranda sat alone at the table, clutching her bag like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality. She stared vacantly at the wall opposite her, looking almost haunted, as if Edna’s ghost stood in front of her, taunting her.
For all I knew, maybe she was, so when the kettle finished boiling, I reached for the jar labeled “Peppermint” and sprinkled a healthy amount into the chamber in the kettle. The water turned brown from the center and worked its way out as the bubbles slowed, and I continued watching Miranda — who never moved — for several minutes while the leaves steeped.
When the tea was ready, I flipped over two mugs and filled them to the brim, hoping Venus was right about the hot beverage’s ability to spur conversation.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, and headed for Miranda with two steaming mugs in hand.