It was a dreary day, but I left the cafe as though I were dancing through the sweetest summer afternoon. Even so, that little voice in the back of my head couldn’t be silenced.
What was I doing? Getting a crush on Conri? Since when did I go around getting all steamy about a man I barely knew? Especially one I had actively hated twice in the last forty-eight hours. I wasn’t like that. I had my head on straight and was logical, not emotional when it came to relationships. But another voice was speaking a lot louder, reminding me that a good-looking man who loved animals was clearly interested in me. A good-looking man who I could cross off the suspect list. Probably.
Crossing the street, I stopped. All thoughts and worries about Conri plummeted out of my head like lead weights.
Rowan Jackfort leaned against the low brick wall in front of the hair salon next door to my shop, hands in his pockets.
My heart thundered. My legs were water.
“Hey, Bella,” he said.
Rowan looked exactly as I’d remembered him: lanky and dressed in skintight black jeans, heavy boots and a leather jacket. His greasy hair hung to his shoulders, his pasty white skin dotted with sores. His eyes were almost as black as his clothes.
“What are you doing here, Rowan?”
“Isn’t life amusing sometimes?” he said. “I know you don’t believe in coincidences, but here I was a few weeks back, visiting family, walking down the street as I’ve done in this little hamlet since I was a boy, and who should I see but my very own Belladonna Drake?”
“Don’t call me that,” I said, trying to hide the waver in my voice.
Jackfort had ties to Blackthorn? The thought made me sick. I couldn’t have known. It was a cruel twist of fate.
“So, I ask around town, and there you are, playing house, selling books—you always did like to read, didn’t you? What a beautiful little life you’ve set up for yourself here.” He leered at me, scratching a scab near his ear. “My Belladonna, the little girl who said she had no interest in growing any real power, sets herself up with a new little life in Blackthorn Springs of all places. Tell me that’s a coincidence too.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No witch moves to Blackthorn by chance. Even fake witches with no real power.”
I tried to step past him. “I came here because it was small, quiet, and a long way from you. Or so I thought.”
He moved in front of me, blocking my path. “That’s hilarious on so many levels. For a supernatural, Blackthorn Springs is anything but quiet. This place is dripping with magic, and it often does some pretty weird shit. Tell me you haven’t noticed that. It’s one of the reasons I love it here. That and I keep coming back to visit the old folks. Family is so important to keep in touch with.”
Was he lying? Was that why I had been drawn to the town the first time I’d visited it?
“And speaking of keeping in touch with family,” Jackfort said. He stepped close and placed a finger on my cheek. His touch was like a disease. “Where’s Quentin?”
“I have no idea. He vanished. So whoever that suit guy is you’ve got driving you around in that black SUV, you can tell him you’ve wasted his time too.”
“Suit guy? Black SUV? I don’t get around in an SUV. Do you know how dangerous those things are? Not to mention their massive carbon footprint.”
My confusion flared. “Then whose car is it?”
Jackfort shrugged. “Maybe you’ve got another secret admirer. Can we get back to the point now? Where’s our boy Quinny?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying not to yell. “Leave me alone!”
He moved even closer, pushing his body against mine. I smelled his sweat, the mildewy funk in his clothes, sour and nauseating.
“I can hurt you, you know, in all sorts of ways. How is Hemlock doing, by the way?”
“You sent those lilies to hurt him on purpose, didn’t you? Did you kill my neighbor too?”
“Your neighbor? I haven’t killed anyone,” he said. “Ever.”
No, he got other people to do his killing for him.
“But you did try to kill my cat.”
Jackfort leered. “It’s amazing how many people who own cats don’t know how such common, harmless, even beautiful things can kill them in a couple of hours. I heard he’s had some first-class veterinary treatment. I guess you lucked out, finding a vet like that. And one who does after-hours consults, too, by the looks of it.” He gestured across the street to where I had been with Conri. “Tell me, is that part of the service, or are you just finding an alternative way to pay him? You’d better be careful, Bella. Some guys can be real dogs if you know what I mean.”
My eyes narrowed. I wasn’t going to stand there and be insulted by the most despicable person this side of hell. “Get out of here Rowan, or I’ll call the sheriff.”
Rowan laughed, showing off a row of small discolored teeth. “How is Dalt? I don’t see him as much as I used to when I was a kid. He’s an old friend of the family’s, so I should call him. I’m trying to make more of an effort to keep up with the important people from the past”—he stepped closer again—“but some of them just won’t let me in anymore.”
I didn’t let him force me to step away. “You’re poison, Rowan, and there’s no doubt everything weird happening in town lately is somehow connected to you.”
He looked at me squarely. “It’s Blackthorn Springs, Bella. This place was founded on weird.”
He touched my cheek again while his other hand moved to my breast. I slapped it away, wishing I could break his arm in half. He laughed.
“I’ll be seeing you around,” he said.
Jackfort strutted away, leaving me standing in the street, trembling and wondering if I would throw up or pass out, or both.
Lila was straightening the shelves when I returned to the shop. It was indeed a day of mixed surprises.
“How was your date?” she said with a sly grin.
“Oh, Lila, it was nothing like that. Don’t be silly,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. Struggling with the zipper on my bag, I didn’t look at the fairy.
“I see. So you were just interrogating the suspect?”
I stowed my things and gave Hemlock a hello pat. My hand trembled.
“You seem tense,” Lila said. “Did something happen with Conri?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, trying to smile. I had to push Jackfort back down deep where he belonged. He thrived on any attention he could get, negative or otherwise, and I wasn’t going to give it to him. “Conri and I shared a nice meal and some interesting conversation.”
“Interesting? Like sexy interesting?”
“Oh, Lila, don’t be ridiculous,” I said, feeling the blush rise and suddenly remembering the exact shape of Conri’s mouth as he licked his fingers. “I was there to work. He’s been out of town in Grey Mountain. Only just got back. It couldn’t have been him.”
Lila bit the side of her mouth as she often did when she was trying to figure something out.
“I guess it’s plausible. Unless he was able to project it somehow.”
“But then couldn’t we say the same thing about the Yarrows in Alaska?”
“Alaska is a long way away. Grey Mountain isn’t that far. And close enough he could have come up and back in half a day.”
“So, you’re saying we can’t trust him yet?”
Lila bit her lip again. “I’m saying… I’m saying I’ve never investigated a murder before and have no idea what I’m doing.”
“That makes two of us,” I said.
Worry swam around me. A wave had let me up for a breath as I considered Conri’s innocence (and a few other things about him), but now it pushed me back into the murky depths.
I was in over my head. These were dangerous circumstances, and now that Jackfort was around, it was getting deadly. I wanted to put it all aside and go back to my normal life. But how could I look the other way now? I’d come too far. Someone had been killed in an intentional act of violence so terrible it couldn’t go unpunished.
Those were the words Quentin himself had used, the very last night I’d seen him.
Loreton. Quentin and I stood outside the building where we shared a small apartment. Rain poured down, dripping off our noses and soaking through our clothes to our skin. He refused to come inside to talk to me about what had happened.
“It’s a crime, Bella,” he had said, his words strangled in his throat. I couldn’t tell if it was only the rain, or if tears were streaming down his face too. “The worst crime in both the normal and supernatural worlds.”
“The police never get involved in supernatural cases, you said it yourself,” I said, crying. “You can’t run. You did what Jackfort wanted.”
He placed his hand on my cheek, his skin colder than the icy weather. “People will be looking for me now. Bad people. I’ve gotta go.”
“We’ll go together,” I said, sniffing. “You can’t leave me alone.”
He grasped my fingers in his hand, holding them tight to his chest. “Alright,” he said. “I have stuff to sort out tonight, but I’ll be back for you in the morning. Sunrise. Okay? We’ll make a plan together. We’ll be alright.”
I nodded. My brother pulled me into a hug, and I kissed his cheek. I tasted the salt that told me it wasn’t just rain soaking his face.
That night I didn’t sleep. I packed two bags and told Hemlock we would be taking a trip, the three of us. Hemlock tried to act indifferent, but his fur bristled. He was as nervous as I was. He hadn’t spoken in a few days at that point, and I thought he was giving me the silent treatment over some slight or other. I didn’t realize then that it would end up a permanent thing.
I would figure out the apartment and the rest of our things later. First, I needed to get Quentin safe and make sure we were all together.
Dawn came and Quentin did not. He didn’t answer his phone.
As the sun set, I unpacked the bags as Hemlock watched in silence.
“Belinda?” Lila’s voice broke through my daydream memory, snapping me back into the present reality. “You don’t look so well.”
I hadn’t thought about that day for a long time. I usually wouldn’t let myself. Jackfort had dragged it out of me.
“Sorry, I’m fine,” I said. I hid my trembling hands in my lap. “I’m tired, and I got lost in a thought. What did you say?”
“I said, do you wonder what might happen if we did find the killer? Like, do we turn them in to the sheriff or something? Force them to confess?”
“I guess we jump off that bridge when we come to it,” I said.
I sat down heavily, suddenly bone-tired. I wanted to ask Lila about what Jackfort had meant by Blackthorn Springs being founded on weirdness, but I just didn’t have the energy for any of it anymore.
Hemlock leaped into my lap. The only comfort I could afford right then was knowing my oldest friend was safe and well. For now. But if Rowan Jackfort came near my cat again, I’d slice him open, belly to neck, without thinking twice about it.