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THANK YOU
for reading my book and
I hope you have enjoyed the story.
. . . . . . .
Witch Cake Murders is Book 1 in Sweetland Witch Series.
If you have enjoyed reading Witch Cake Murders, I believe you will be interested in checking out the next book.
I have enclosed a sneak preview of the next book.
Check it out below . . .
"What's the verdict?" Sheriff Knoxx asked Dr. Dunne. "Can you tell what killed her?"
"Oh yes," Dr. Dunne said, exchanging a look with Dr. Wallace. "It wasn't hard to figure out."
We all waited.
"Well?" Sheriff Knoxx finally asked.
Dr. Dunne cleared his throat. "Pennyweather Kelso died from exsanguination. She was completely drained of blood."
I tried to stop myself from looking at Melbourne, but it was impossible. My head moved on its own, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Everyone else seemed to be having the same problem as me.
Completely drained of blood.
That's what Dr. Dunne had said. How did something like that happen? Unless...
"I didn't do it," Melbourne shouted, panic setting in his eyes. He knew what we were thinking.
"Of course not," Eleanor said, but she didn't sound so sure.
"I don't drink human blood anymore. I haven't in centuries. I've learned to go without."
"Melbourne, we believe you," Lucy said. She looked around the room, frowning. "Or at least I believe you."
"All right, so I may have had a slight relapse a half century or so ago, but it only lasted a night." Melbourne stumbled through his words. He was rambling now.
"I was emotionally despondent. My sister had just been slaughtered by a vampire hunter and I may have... inadvertently... punctured his throat. With my teeth." He cleared his throat as my hand automatically rose to cover my exposed neck.
"I loved Pennyweather." Melbourne had risen from his seat. He was walking in a tight circle at the foot of Lucy's bed. "You don't understand," he said, pleading with us to believe him. "I-I was going to ask her to marry me!"
My aunts and I looked at each other. I could tell Lucy believed him. No questions asked. The rest of us, though... I wasn't so sure. I wobbled back and forth on the teeter totter, uncertain how I was supposed to land on one side or the other.
* * *
PROLOGUE
Meenah brushed the dark hair out her eyes and read the headline again.
SECOND MISSING: DARK FORCES AT WORK!
"Javyn, have you seen this?" she asked her husband, tossing him the paper.
He glanced at the headline. "Yeah, I saw it this morning. So?"
"So?" she cried, incredulous. "So what is the Council on Magic and Human Affairs doing about this?"
"Why should they do anything?" Javyn asked. "No humans are involved. They're not the ones going missing."
She frowned at him. "Well, someone's got to do something."
"I'm sure that Zulabar is on top of it."
"Zulabar wouldn't know his head from an Oreo."
Javyn grunted a laugh. "Don't let him hear you say that. Kings have a funny way of demanding respect."
Kiya came down the stairs just then. She was wearing her paisley dress and powder pink lipstick. A red bow had been secured neatly in her hair.
"Where do you think you're going?" Meenah asked her daughter.
"Just out with some friends, Mama. I'm supposed to meet Tori and the others."
"Oh no. I don't think so. Not tonight."
"But Moooom," Kiya cried. "It's a study session. We have junior finals coming up before Christmas break."
Meenah licked her lips, thinking. "No," she said. "I'm sorry."
"Daaaad," Kiya whined, turning to her father now. "This is important. Mama doesn't understand because she never liked school. Not like you and me."
Meenah hated that Kiya thought she could play Javyn and her against each other like this. It was true that Meenah had hated school, but it was also true that she had done exceedingly well in it.
"Kiya, I already told you no."
Kiya ignored her mother completely and focused on the parent she knew she could flip to her side. Typical teenager. Javyn chuckled. He always found it amusing when Kiya behaved like a child. Meenah often had to remind him that Kiya was nearly seventeen. How amusing would it be when she was twenty? Or thirty? What husband would want a perpetual toddler as a life partner?
"Meenah," Javyn said, shrugging his shoulders as Kiya knelt by his side, giving him the puppy dog stare. He was always a sucker for the puppy dog stare.
"There is a killer on the loose!" Meenah exclaimed.
"Actually, there's no proof the two who are missing are even dead," Javyn said.
"That's right," Kiya chimed in. "We talked all about it in current events the other day. Ms. Wogan says it's more of a rumor than anything. That it's just a couple of guys who got up one morning and decided they hated their jobs and life so they left."
"And no one's seen or heard from them since?" Meenah asked. "Not even their families?"
Kiya shrugged.
"Come on, Mom. It's not even dark yet. Tori's house is just a few blocks away and once I'm there, I won't leave. Promise."
Meenah felt herself begin to cave and knew Kiya could sense it.
"We have so much studying to do." Now she turned her puppy dog stare on her mother.
Meenah heaved a sigh. "Fine."
Kiya jumped up from her father's side, grinning, and kissed her mother's cheek. She was already grabbing her purse and jacket when Meenah got a cold tickle at the back of her neck. December wasn't exactly cold in Heavenly Haven, but it wasn't quite as warm in their territory as it was in Sweetland Cove or Mistmoor Point. Meenah dismissed the tickle and focused on giving her daughter instructions.
"Walk directly to Tori's house. Do not talk to anyone. Do not go anywhere off the main road. Got it?"
"Yes, Mama."
"And text me when you get there."
"Of course."
Meenah felt a teensy bit better. Tori's house really wasn't far, and this was a safe neighborhood.
"Oh, and I'm taking these, all right?" Kiya asked, reaching for the box of a half dozen cupcakes from The Mystic Cupcake that Meenah had sent out for the other day. Eleanor's wolfhound was always a delight when he dropped them off. Meenah had set aside a doggy treat just for him.
"Those are for this weekend," Meenah said.
"We need some food to keep us going, Mama. You don't want us to starve our brains, do you?"
Meenah laughed and waved her arm toward the box. "Go on. I can always order more. I'm sure Rocky won't object to another treat or two."
Kiya grabbed them and ran. "Thanks!" she called. She was already at the edge of their lawn by the time Meenah got to the door. She felt the tickle at the back of her neck again but brushed it away and shut the door.
At the end of the block, once she was out of sight, Kiya turned left and made a beeline for Whisper Crossing. She didn't like lying to her parents, but they still treated her like she was a child.
"Peda cesura," she said softly and wiggled her nose. Her feet suddenly began to move faster. It almost felt like she was flying instead of running. It took her only twenty minutes to reach Whisper Crossing this way.
When her feet finally settled down, she was standing at the edge of the cemetery looking for Ekon. He was probably running late. Ekon was always running late. She pulled a compact from her purse and made sure her lipstick was still in place. Good thing I checked. Just look at that smudge. She reached for her lipstick and her fingers touched the red rose petals she had stuffed into her purse earlier this morning. A shiver ran up her spine.
Kiya didn't quite understand why she felt the need to hide the rose petals from her parents. Maybe it was because she knew how protective they were. Especially her mother. Would they have let her out of the house tonight if she'd told them? Definitely not. The petals had been lying at the foot of her bed when she woke up. As if someone had been standing there in the night. Watching her.
Kiya shivered.
She sent her mom a quick text to let her know she was all right and quickly reapplied her powder pink lipstick. She adjusted her red bow before focusing her attention on the rainbow shades of flowers and plants that were part of Whisper Crossing's drawing power. It was the one place on the island where all witches, warlocks, and other paranormals were welcome without question. Mostly because it was the one place on the island where you could find assorted plants and herbs that you couldn't get anywhere else.
Because of that, Kiya was surprised she was alone. Usually, there were a few witches hanging around, either from Sweetland or from Mistmoor. It unsettled her a bit, but the sun was still out and it warmed the December air around her. There was nothing to worry about. She'd been here many times before, usually with Ekon. She still didn't understand why her parents didn't like him. She knew all about his bad boy reputation, but he was really a sweetie pie.
He never laid a hand on her. Never talked unkindly toward her. And she was usually the one who had to instigate the kissing. Ekon would have been fine with holding hands all day and night. His one fault, as far as she could tell, was his chronic lateness. To everything. Always.
Kiya let out a sigh and stepped into the cemetery. Sara Sweetland's tombstone was just at the top of the hill. The white marble angel, with its long and flowing wings turned in on itself, always made her feel safe somehow.
"Hi," she said to the statue. She knew what most people said about it were rumors, but there was one rumor she'd always been curious to test for herself. She cleared her throat. "Sara bright, Sara bliss, Sara bring a boy to kiss."
There was a rustle just behind the statue. Sara's smile widened. "Oh, my roses, it worked! Ekon!" she cried, running behind the angel. But Ekon wasn't there. All she found was a terrible smell. A stench so bad it almost made her puke.
"Ew," she muttered, "what is that?" She began looking for the source of the stench. Just ahead, she saw a tombstone had fallen over. Something inside her told her to get away. Now. But the curiosity of a sixteen-year-old quickly won out.
The stench was even stronger next to the overturned grave, which looked as though it had been recently dug up from the inside out. But that was ridiculous.
She was still holding the cupcakes from Mystic Bakery. She held the box close to her nose, hoping to calm her growing nerves with the scent of butterscotch frosting and honey cream calming cake, but nothing could hide the stench she was faced with. A low gurgling noise sounded from behind her. She began to shake. Don't turn around. But how could she not?
She spun to face the thing behind her.
"Oh, my roses," she said, her throat going dry. She dropped the cupcakes. They smashed unceremoniously to the ground. "Oh, no. It can't be."
She took a step backward and screamed.
Ekon was at the edge of Whisper Crossing, just coming into view of the cemetery, when he heard Kiya's cry.
"Kiya?" he called out, running now instead of walking. She sounded scared. Kiya was the only one in his territory who had ever taken the trouble to get to know him. Who ever saw anything beyond the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. If someone was hurting her, he would rip them to shreds
"Kiya?" he called again, losing track of where the scream had come from. He was almost positive it had come from the top of the hill. He ran past Sara Sweetland's angel, searching frantically.
"Kiya!" he called.
He stopped running when he saw the cupcakes. The box had been flattened as if a giant had stomped on it, but he would have recognized the Mystic logo anywhere. Beside the cupcakes lay a red bow. Kiya's red bow. He had bought it for her as a gift.
"Kiya?" he called one last time. But there was no answer. Kiya was gone.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
The Pixie Punk Dance Hall was packed. The entire room had been trimmed to look like a Christmas store exploded inside it. Giant ornaments hung from the ceiling. Mini Christmas trees dotted each table. People were wearing elf hats and Santa costumes. Women were wrapped in garland.
The band stage had been set up to look like Santa's workshop. The red curtains that hid the backstage area had been trimmed with white faux fur.
It was a shame my father was missing everything. Then again, even if he'd been here, the effect would have been lost on him. If Eli Fortune was one thing, he was a homebody. Old movies in front of the television and a bowl of popcorn were more than enough to make him happy. Sometimes, I wondered what he'd be like if my mother were still alive. If Jon Pratt had never existed. Never taken her from us when I was just a baby.
I groaned to myself. What was I doing? Was I trying to ruin this dance? This was no time to think about the past. The present was what mattered. My mom was dead, but so was the man who'd killed her. Time to move on.
I shook my head, clearing it, as Damon spun me onto the dance floor. I wondered if Eleanor and Trixie were here yet. My aunts were both coming, even though Eleanor was the only one who had a date.
"You know, Ava, I'm like a good bottle of wine," Damon said, gently lifting my chin so I had to look into his sapphire eyes. "I get more interesting as the evening wears on. Especially once my fairy godmother shows up and turns me into Bigfoot."
I laughed.
"Soon you won't have to look at everyone but me for entertainment," Damon said. He was smiling, but I could tell I'd hurt his feelings a little by ignoring him. His brow crinkled slightly, and his dark hair kept falling across his forehead.
"I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm not being a very good date." This was probably why Damon and I had been stuck in the friendship rut for the last few months. I wasn't sure we'd ever get out of it if I didn't stop acting like a loon.
"I wouldn't say that." Damon pushed a lock of blond hair behind my ear. "I'm just anxious to get you in my arms." My cheeks burned as he pulled me tighter to him. I nuzzled my head against his chest and promised myself there would be no more marauding tonight.
"If I was the Wicked Witch of the East, I'd be melting right now," I told him.
He paused on the dance floor, his foot hanging in the air. "You don't really do that. Do you? Melt, I mean?"
"Of course not," I said, laughing. Though I realized I wasn't really sure. I'd only been a witch for a few months. Maybe I'd better get confirmation.
Note to self: do witches melt?
A half hour later, I'd lost count of all the slow songs Damon and I had shared. His shoulder had become my permanent pillow.
When I finally tore myself away from him long enough to look up, Eleanor and Sheriff Knoxx were dancing together a few feet away from us. Eleanor was dressed in a layered skirt of dark blues and bright purples with large gold hoop earrings. Her wavy blond locks hung loose around her shoulders. She looked like a gypsy. I waved to her, and she beamed at me.
Sheriff Knoxx looked happier than I'd ever seen him. I still couldn't believe he was part goblin. Looking at him, I'd never have known. He was dressed in a dark blue suit. I could still make out the outline of his gun behind the suit coat and imagined his sheriff's badge was pinned to his shirt. They were like his suit of armor. He didn't travel without them.
Another dancer bumped against the sheriff's leg. Sheriff Knoxx's face curled up into a weird mass of angry veins that bulged from everywhere. He looked as though he'd been tinted green.
Well, maybe I can see a little goblin.
"I've never met a witch like you," Damon said, drawing my attention back to him.
"A witch like me?" I laughed. "What about a woman like me? I'm both, you know."
"That's right," Damon said, snapping his fingers. "I forget that sometimes. I'm just a human. We do that."
"Forget?"
"That's right."
"So is that going to be your excuse for everything from now on?" I teased. "You forgot my birthday but..."
"I'm only human."
"Our anniversary?"
"Still just a human."
"I think I see how this is going," I giggled.
Damon's blue eyes drilled into me, reflecting back my own baby blues. It was a strange image. Like we were both sharing one set of pupils. My heart began to race as Damon drew closer.
The lights around us were dim. The music was soft. I could feel his hot, sweet breath blowing gently against me as we moved toward each other and... Damon kissed me. His lips were like warm butterscotch. I wanted the moment to last forever. It was perfect. Our first kiss. If you didn't count the one he had given me when he'd been poisoned with love potion cake. Since he didn't even remember that one, I was pretty sure it didn't count.
When the song ended, I lifted my head and saw Lucy smiling at me from the edge of the dance floor. I blushed as my new best friend—the only best friend I'd ever had, if I was honest—puckered her lips and began blowing little kisses in the air. It was very grade school. It was very Lucy.
Too bad Lucy didn't have a date. Not that she hadn't been asked. She was considered one of the prettiest, most popular witches in all of Sweetland Cove. Heck, in all of Heavenly Haven, for that matter. The whole island, whether you fell on the Sweetland Cove side or the Mistmoor Point one, agreed that Lucy Lockwood was better than your average witch.
She'd just grown a little leery of men after the whole fiasco with Polly and Slater, when he'd basically tried to kill every human in town and blame it on us witches.
Shoot! There I went again, dwelling on the past. Stop it! I told myself.
Suddenly the lights in the dance hall brightened. The wizards in charge took the stage and announced they were ready to declare the new Miss Snow Queen. My aunts had urged me to enter the contest, but I'd declined. I'd had enough attention since arriving in Sweetland, what with being a murder suspect last summer and all. I needed a break from all the attention.
There was a drum roll and then... "Miss Lucy Lockwood!" A round of applause ripped across the hall as Lucy took the stage. She was wearing a pale pink dress that glittered under the lights.
I saw Lucy's younger sister, Megan, standing at the back of the room, barely clapping. Her date, Conner Stevens, seemed to be cheering louder than anyone. Megan shot him a look, and I hoped he knew to settle down. Megan had a jealous streak in her.
"Thank you!" Lucy cried, taking the stage. Someone handed her a microphone.
"Speech! Speech!" the crowd chanted.
Lucy opened her mouth.
"I just want to say—"
Suddenly the lights went out. Not a sliver of light penetrated the dance hall.
"Oh, come on!" someone cried. "Let's get the lights back on."
There was a flicker, another flicker, and then the lights came back on, bringing a fresh round of cheers. Cries of "Speech! Speech!" resumed, along with a round of laughter. I turned my eyes back to the stage, ready for Lucy's speech. Only there was no one on stage to give a speech.
Lucy was gone.
"Where'd she go?" I asked Damon.
He shrugged. "I don't know. Do you see her?"
"No," I snapped. "That's why I asked you."
Eleanor and Trixie came running over to us, their blond hair, almost the same shade as mine, trailing behind them. Trixie was holding her punch cup, trying to sip it as she ran. Sheriff Knoxx was panting as he ran to keep up with Eleanor.
"Ava, what happened to Lucy?" Eleanor asked.
"No clue. She just disappeared."
"Maybe she went in the back to check her hair," Sheriff Knoxx offered. "Girls are always checking their hair."
"She wouldn't go check her hair just as she was about to give her acceptance speech," I said. Then I looked at Eleanor and Trixie. "Would she?"
Sheriff Knoxx had a point, I supposed. Lucy did like to look good. I pulled my Witchmobile cell out of my purse and dialed Lucy's number.
"Straight to voicemail," I told them, hanging up.
"She's gotta be around here somewhere," Trixie said.
"I'll check in back," I told them.
"Want me to go with you?" Damon asked.
"No, I think it's better if we split up."
"All right then," Sheriff Knoxx said, taking charge. "Fifteen minutes. Meet out front with or without Lucy."
With, I thought as I ran backstage. The band had picked up again and the crowd was dancing. No one seemed too concerned that Lucy had disappeared. It was a party. No one was concerned with anything much other than dancing and having a good time.
It was dark backstage. The ceiling lights gave just enough luminescence for me to see shadows in every nook and cranny.
"Lucy?" I called.
No answer. I turned a corner, heading down a hall that led to a bathroom and a couple of dressing rooms. The old Pixie Punk Dance Hall had been touted for decades as the place to hold big events, everything from rock concerts to weddings. I could see why. The backstage area was almost as huge as the rest of it. How was I supposed to find her in this?
"Lucy?" I called again.
A soft noise echoed from stage left. I headed toward it, my heart beating fast. Something didn't feel right.
"L-Lucy?"
A woman's dark shadow stepped out from behind a curtain. Her back was to me. She looked almost ethereal in this light. If I squinted, I could see right through her. All I could make out was long, blond hair. Nothing like Lucy’s dark tresses.
"Oh, my roses. Sara Sweetland?" I muttered to myself, half convinced it was the same ghost I'd seen months before in Whisper Crossing. But what would she be doing here?
A sharp noise erupted from behind me. I turned to look. It was just a custodian looking for a quiet place to lay low for a few minutes.
I sighed and turned back around. Sara—or whoever she'd been—was gone.
I walked to the spot where she'd been standing. A torn slip of paper lay on the floor. I bent to pick it up, hoping for some clue as to where my friend might be hiding. A single word was scrawled across the paper.
Draugr.
CHAPTER TWO
Fifteen minutes later, I was outside comparing notes with my aunts and Sheriff Knoxx.
"Any luck?" Trixie asked when she saw me approaching. She was sipping on a new glass of punch.
"No. You?"
She shook her head.
"None here, either," Eleanor said.
Damon just shrugged his shoulders. I wasn't sure what was wrong with him. He didn't seem very concerned.
"I did find one thing," I told them and held out the slip of paper. "Drew-a-gar," I said, trying to sound out the strange word. "I have no idea what it means."
"Drow-gurr," Sheriff Knoxx corrected me, rolling his r's with perfection. "It's nothing. Old Norse mythology."
"Mythology?" I asked.
"The undead," Trixie said. "They don't exist."
"Undead? You mean like zombies?" My mind reeled with dozens of images from the Walking Dead.
"No, no," Eleanor said. "Well, not exactly. Anyway, zombies aren't real, Ava. The undead is a myth."
"Mostly a myth," Trixie corrected. "There are the bloodsuckers."
I laughed, certain she was joking. I'd spent nearly six months on Heavenly Haven, an island so tiny you could drive from one side to the other in about three hours. The entire population was less than six thousand. If there were vampires here, I'd have known about it by now.
Just then, Megan Lockwood came stomping by, pulling Conner along behind her. Megan's hair, just a shade lighter than Lucy's jet black, trailed out behind her, smacking Conner's face. He stumbled, caught himself, then stumbled again. Megan didn't slow down.
"Megan!" I called.
She stopped and looked at me, much to Conner's relief.
"Yeah?"
"Have you seen Lucy anywhere?"
"Lucy?" she asked, biting down hard on her lip. If I hadn't have known her lips were always so ruby red, I'd have thought she'd drawn blood. "No. Why should I have?"
"Well, I just thought—"
"No," she snapped. "I haven't seen my sister." She yanked hard on Conner but he had finally gotten his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Why are you asking?" Conner said. "Can't you find her?"
I shook my head. "She disappeared when the lights went out."
Conner's eyes widened. "I know. I was waiting to hear her speech. Did you see that dress she was wearing? It was almost glowing on her. Glowing. Like she was lit up from inside or something. I've never seen anything so beautiful."
Megan rolled her eyes. I didn't exactly blame her.
"Lucy definitely deserved to win tonight," Conner finished.
Megan glowered at him. "Come on." She yanked him hard and this time he wasn't ready for it. He fell sideways and hit the ground.
"If you see her, tell her we're looking for her, okay?" I asked Megan, trying not to laugh as Conner began the process of righting himself again. If only Megan would stop yanking on him, he might stand a chance.
"Sure," she said, her smile false. She was muttering under her breath. "She's probably sitting in her Snow Queen throne."
She caught me watching her and shut her mouth.
"Come on," she barked again at Conner, and they were off.
"Maybe we should get back inside," I suggested. "We can talk to some of the guests before the dance hall closes up."
Sheriff Knoxx and my aunts agreed. We turned to go, but I saw Damon lagging behind. His hands were in his pockets.
"Go ahead," I told the group. "I'll catch up with you."
When they were inside, I turned to Damon.
"What's up?" I asked him.
He shrugged.
"Aren't you worried about Lucy?" I asked, trying to figure out why he looked both bored and irritated.
"No. Not really. Are you?"
I blinked. "Of course, I am. That's why I'm looking for her."
"I get it. Witches who brew together stick together," he said.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.
"A nursery rhyme I grew up with. A human nursery rhyme. There were a lot of them here on the island."
"You didn't spend your entire childhood here," I countered. "It's not necessary for you to repeat every little saying you heard as a toddler."
"Some things stick, I guess."
I sighed. "What's really bothering you?"
"Nothing. I just don't think you need to worry so much about Lucy. She's a witch. She can handle herself. I thought tonight was supposed to be about us."
"It is, but... do you honestly think witches never need help with anything?" I laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea. I realized too late that laughing was a bad idea.
"I just think it's weird how you can't seem to live without your friends or your—"
He stopped himself short.
"My what?" I asked. "Go on."
"Your magic." He spat out the last word like his mouth had soap in it. "I'll catch up with you later. I'm too tired to go witch hunting right now."
I didn't know if he thought he was being cute with that last remark or what, but I didn't care. Something had just clicked. Damon was jealous. Not of Lucy, but of what I was. A witch. I'd been worried this might happen when we'd first started dating, but I'd thought we'd moved past that.
Apparently, we hadn't.
I watched him go, more angry than sad. How was I supposed to focus now? I took three deep breaths of cool island air and went back inside. One thing at a time.
Sheriff Knoxx was on the right of the dance hall with Eleanor, questioning Dr. Dunne. Trixie was in back, staked out by the punch bowl. Her stockings were almost as bright as the berry punch everyone was sipping on. Her white shirt had remained stain free all night, which was amazing considering how much punch she seemed to be imbibing.
She turned her head to ask someone a question and I saw William Carney—an old beachcomber who had lived on the island all his life—sidle up to the punch bowl and pull a bottle of rum out of his shirt pocket. William was an interesting sort. He considered the beach his home and knew everything about everyone. I was pretty sure he had a house somewhere in Sweetland, but I'd never seen him anywhere other than the shore. He tipped his rum into the punch bowl and was off again in a flash.
At least now I knew why Trixie was so interested in the punch.
I turned to the first couple I saw walking past me. That just happened to be Sweetland Cove's librarian, Pennyweather Kelso, who was walking hand in hand with Melbourne Hammond.
I didn't know Pennyweather well. She'd always struck me as a little stuck up. Maybe it was the shoulder-length pageboy hair she went to such trouble keeping straight. Or the way she kept her glasses pushed low on her nose so that she had to peer over them at everyone she spoke to. Honestly, though, it probably had more to do with the fact that she was simply a librarian. A book snob who thought that those of us who didn't stick to the classics were beneath her.
Melbourne, on the other hand, had a kind word for everyone. I'd never heard Megan or Lucy say so much as one negative thing against him. He was the owner of Coffee Cove, where Lucy and Megan both worked. His complexion was so pale it was almost eerie, and his eyes were so dark it was like looking into midnight.
"Excuse me!" I said a little too loudly. They both jumped. "Have either of you seen Lucy?"
Pennyweather patted her chest dramatically. Her thin frame shook as she pushed the glasses back up her nose. "Oh, Ava. You scared the horseflies out of me."
"Sorry," I said. "So? Have you seen her?"
"No," Pennyweather said, trying to move past me.
"What about you?" I asked, turning to Melbourne. His hairline, which had remained thick even into his early forties, blended with the shadows in the dance hall. He wasn't a bad-looking man.
"Sorry," he said. "Haven't seen her. Isn't she around here somewhere, celebrating?"
"No. Lucy disappeared when the lights went out earlier."
"Yeah, I saw that. I just assumed she'd snuck off with some boy somewhere."
I tried to smile. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong here. I thought of the shadowy female figure I'd seen in back.
"Have either of you seen anything strange? Shadows? Or... or zombies? Or... vampires?" I couldn't think of anything else to say and was just spewing out random ideas.
Melbourne's already pale face suddenly whitened that much more.
"No," he said snidely. "Nothing like that." He walked off in a huff, leaving Pennyweather behind him.
She rounded on me. "Why must people keep persecuting other creatures? Vampires are good people. They just have a... a medical condition. It's not their fault." She turned and ran after Melbourne.
Oh. My. God. No way. Impossible.
Aunt Trixie went walking by. I grabbed hold of her shoulder. She wobbled slightly as she turned toward me.
"Aunt Trixie," I asked, "this might be a stupid question, but... are vampires real?"
Trixie let out a loud laugh, and my shoulders relaxed. I was being ridiculous. I'd misinterpreted Pennyweather's reaction.
It took a full minute for Trixie to get her breath back. I thought the punch had gotten to her just a tad.
"Ava," she finally said, "that's not a stupid question, just a silly one. Of course, vampires are real." Then she continued on her way as if blood-sucking undead monsters were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe on Heavenly Haven, they were.
One thing was certain—I still had a lot to learn.
