I hesitated. “I don’t know,” I said. “But no matter what I decide, you can’t escape the consequences of your actions.”
Mom hiccupped a little. “What do you mean?” She paused, looking pale, glancing at the table where she’d eaten the piece of pie Lydia and I had made. I’d never taken Dissolution Elixir before, but I wondered if she could feel her witch magic slipping away, her access to it obstructed by the potion we’d baked into the pie. “What have you done?”
“We blocked your powers, and they will remain that way until Lydia or I restore them.”
“You can’t do this to me. I am your mother. Haven’t you always wanted to be part of the fae? To be one of them as much as I have? This is our chance, Mary, for them to embrace us and leave our witchiness behind.”
I’d considered my fae powers more acceptable than my other side. I thought my witch heritage tainted my fae powers. Ancient texts and pastors at the pulpit conveyed that message. But I no longer believed that.
“I’m a witch, Mom, as are you. And we shouldn’t need to change who we are to be accepted. It’s those who regard us as lesser who must change. That’s what I believe.” I turned to go and find Frank.
Mom came nearer to me, looking frantic. “Come back and undo this right this instant.”
“Sorry. I won’t.”
She took one more urgent step before faltering. “Oh, what is to become of us? My poor nerves. My poor, poor nerves.”
Across the crowd, my heartbeat steadied when I met Frank’s gaze. I headed straight to him and took his hand.
“Did it work?” he asked.
“It worked.”
His fingers gave mine a gentle squeeze. “Mary…”
But his voice trailed off at the sound of sirens. We looked up and saw three police cars pull up with lights flashing.
What now?
I did a double take when Marge stepped out of the police car. She spoke to one of the officers and he nodded. They walked up to Lydia and said something, then started handcuffing her. The surrounding crowd had paused in their festivities and were staring, whispers and murmurs breaking out among them. I heard one lady say, “Marge works with law enforcement? Since when?”
I guess I wasn’t the only one surprised.
I pulled Frank with me, hurrying over to the police and my sister. “What’s going on?” I asked, utterly confused.
“Hello again, Mary Bennet.” The old woman’s hair shone silver in the daylight and she wore a sweater with a werewolf on it that readYou’re Paws-itively Spooky. “I’m a witch detective who consults with the magical authorities on crime cases. It turns out that there was more to this case than met the eye. Evidence of witch involvement.”
I stared at her. “You… you knew I was a witch all along. You came to the cemetery to talk to me.”
“And to see Johnny. Always to see Johnny.”
I backed up a step, realizing why she’d initially approached me. “You found evidence of the possession potion, even before identifying the werewolf’s DNA.”
Marge’s eyes widened. “And how do you know about that?”
I glanced at Lydia, the handcuffs on her wrists, and understood what I had to do. I dropped Frank’s hand and motioned Marge away from the crowd. She nodded and followed. Kitty came in close as well. Despite being out of earshot, I felt everyone’s gaze on me, causing my cheeks to warm. “Lydia didn’t kill Isabella. Mom did,” I said quietly.
Lydia, still within hearing distance, gave me a death glare.
Kitty let out a sharp gasp. “Mom?” she exclaimed, much too loudly. Her hands flew over her mouth, her eyes wide.
The crowd’s murmurs grew louder.
“And what is your basis for that assertion?” Marge asked softly.
I looked at her. “Because possession potion has a short shelf life, which means it can only be used on the day it’s brewed. I wasn’t there that morning of the murder. I was at my internship. And Lydia had exited the house before I even left.”
Marge glanced at Lydia, but pulled out an old notebook and flipped it open. “Another person I spoke with indicated she stayed home? A Marianne Dashwood?”
