Page 53 of Grimoires & Glamoury

There was the Hunter, Damien, Finnlagh, Giselle, and the Princess Oona, who sat at the head of the table. Her daughter Isla sat tucked in a highchair off to her mother’s side. At the moment, the baby was whacking the tray with a wooden spoon and babbling away to Damien in earnest.

Then there was Oona’s housekeeper/ Nanny, a Dark Fae called Buntie. She appeared to be ancient, making me think of a kindly Baba Yaga, yet she still moved easily around, serving tea, cookies, and scones to her guests. Adding to the craziness, about a half dozen Pixies were flying around the room, determined to help serve the refreshments.

I’d read about Pixies of course, yet had never actually seen one, and I was working hard not to show my shock, or my excitement. They were about the size of a fashion doll, with wings that shimmered as they zoomed around us. I couldn’t help but wonder what Chloe would have thought about the tiny Fae.

Oona took a moment to introduce us to Hazel, the leader of the band of Pixies. Hazel, it seemed, had been the one to discover Shelby’s body.

Hazel smiled at me, and I saw for myself that she had a mouth of very long sharp teeth.

“Merry meet, Hazel,” I said, and nodded my head deferentially.

“Magistra.” She dropped a flawless curtsy in mid-air.

It was Hazel’s opinion that Shelby had been killed by a Fae weapon, or magick. Interestingly Valentin, the Hunter of the hollow, tossed in his opinion that as far as he was concerned, Sawyer Weston was still the most likely suspect in Shelby’s death. Hazel began to debate that, but it was more a spirited disagreement. I felt no real animosity between the two of them.

As for me, I sipped my tea, ate a spectacular scone, listened attentively to both the Hunter and the Pixie, and did not argue.

“So,” Charles said, recapping the discussion. “Since the theft of the grimoire from my library at the lodge, we have had two deaths. The first, Shelby and Sawyer’s roommate back in Birmingham. We know that Shelby emptied out the Witches Ball account and took the cash. She and Sawyer left town and came here to Hemlock Hollow.”

From beside me, Damien leaned forward in his chair. “They likely used cash so they could travel and not be tracked by using their debit or credit cards.”

“Good point,” Giselle agreed, as Isla banged the spoon on the highchair tray for attention.

“From the timeline Sheriff Archer and I put together,” Valentin said, “the couple had been laying low for a few days before they surprised the Westons at their farm with a visit. It was Sarah Weston, Sawyer’s sister, who was the last person to see all four of them together. She left to go out and check on the livestock in the fields, and when she returned a few hours later, everyone was gone.”

“She was the one who contacted the sheriff?” Charles asked.

“Correct,” Valentin answered.

“Y’all should know,” Giselle said, “that word has reached us only this morning—from Hayes’ siblings in the Fae realms—that there is a mage in the hollow offering up an ancient grimoire to the highest bidder. This has caught the attention of more than a few warring Fae kingdoms and their rulers it seems.”

“The Milesians?” Finnlagh asked Giselle, and when she nodded her head in the affirmative, Finnlagh swore softly but creatively at the news.

Giselle tipped her head in recognition of Finnlagh’s reaction. “I said much the same, only louder myself, sugar.”

Oona shifted in her chair, drawing herself up straighter. Her energy flared out too. Turning my head I considered her from where she sat across from me. Even the baby had gone quiet. On cue, Pixies flocked to Oona’s side, and it drew everyone’s attention directly to her.

“Which would answer the question,” Oona said, “as to why all of this has happened.”

“Dangling the grimoire like bait to warring factions of the Fae?” Finnlagh muttered. “That fool must have a death wish.”

“I doubt he lives long enough to gain the fortune he is seeking,” Oona said in a matter-of-fact tone, and I felt all the hair rise up on my neck.

“Meaning?” Charles asked her, even as I kicked him under the table for questioning a royal Fae.

“Meaning,” she said, “The Fae parties involved are more than willing to kill for it. If Sawyer Weston is attempting to play the kingdoms off each other, he will surely die. I doubt, sadly, that his parents, the Westons, are even still alive.”

“May I ask a question?” I said to the table at large.

Oona regally inclined her head. “You may.”

“What was the condition of the Weston’s home when Sawyer’s sister returned. Were there signs of a struggle?”

“There was,” Valentin told me. “And there was blood—we are fairly certain it was from Sawyer’s parents. We are awaiting lab results for confirmation.”

“What happened to Sarah Weston?” I asked him.

“Sarah,” he announced, “is safe and in protective custody.”