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The pink piglet was nibbling at my ankle. He'd managed to find his way to the shop this morning while I was in the middle of drawing a caricature for a little boy with giant blue eyes. Kat loved the kids. He got a few head scratches and kept them sitting still for me.
"I have the feeling this won't take long. I just need a little release."
My fingers were drawn to several brown tones, combining them into the richest of colors. My paint brush dipped into the thick liquid, drawing up a large droplet. It soaked into the natural hairs of the brush I'd cut from my very own head to add a little magical oomph to my paintings. All the supernatural beings at the Witch Academy of the Arts did it. A trick of the trade.
Sweeping my hand across the canvas, paint began to leap from my brush into nondiscriminate lines that flowed this way and that. I poured myself into every little detail, mixing and adding colors like a madwoman, never pausing to get the whole effect.
That was my process. Let the magic flow until it was through, my body simply the vessel. It was the effect I'd been going for on my thesis project, which was still collecting dust in the corner of my shop. For the first time in a long time, I felt alive again, as if just waking up from a year-long nap.
All the rage and fright from the last few days faded from my body, loosening the muscles in my shoulders and neck. This was how I'd felt only two years ago, before Momma Tula's crisis pulled me from my schooling. Before we moved back to Uriville and before Mr. White was murdered. When life was simple.
I hadn’t realized it, then. The everyday drama of friends and schoolwork had seemed all-encompassing. The biggest stress I had to deal with was my end of the term exam. It’s funny, looking back now, at what I thought were going to be the most pivotal years of my life. Life went on, whether we liked it or not, the mistakes of yesterday fading away like scars on the skin. I could be an artist anywhere – even if I hadn’t finished school. The magic was never going to stop calling to me. I was never going to stop painting.
Finally, when it felt like my hand was going to fall off my wrist, the magic ebbed. The remainder flowed from my body, leaving behind a cold and empty shell. I rushed to grab a spare sweatshirt from my cabinet and huddled into the soft cotton blend. With warmth returning to my veins, a beautiful exhaustion camped out in my bones. If there had been a bed in my store, I would've curled up on it for the next twenty-four hours.
"Are you ready for the grand reveal?" I asked Kat, averting my eyes to the ground. It was so much more exciting this way. "This one's going to be good, I just know it."
Kat grunted and shook his head up and down. I patted him on his naked little head and grinned. Sometimes, I swear, that pig could understand what I was saying.
"Okay, in three...two...one..."
I looked up from the ground and nearly lost my footing, clipping Kat with the heel of my flats. He squealed and ran for the other side of the room. Still, I didn't think to apologize for my klutziness. The painting had captured my entire attention and was sending fear right back into my chest.
Roses bloomed in the background of the picture, the exact color and size of the roses that had been left in Mr. White's garden. From their stems, sprouted long wicked thorns sharp enough to slice into bare skin.
In the bottom left of the canvas, a hand reached out. It was large and callused, with blood flowing between the fingers and off the edge. The owner of the hand was clearly pictured to the right of it, his eyes hardened into a glare. Short brown hair combined with a muscular square jaw left the perfect likeness of Mr. White's killer.
"That's him," I whispered, my hand over my mouth. "He's the killer."
Drew Warring's painted eyes seemed to follow me across the room. I felt the wall against my back and realized I’d managed to corner myself.
The magic had been pulsing in my body all day to tell us that we'd made a mistake. A huge mistake. Andy Jenkings might've been dangerous, but he wasn't the killer – Drew was. I just didn't know why. He was new to town. Why would he kill someone as harmless as Allen White?
"It doesn't make sense," I said to Kat. He'd already forgiven me for nearly stepping on him and was attempting to scratch his back on my pant legs. "Drew's new to town. He has no connections. Mr. White means nothing to him. He doesn't have a motive."
If it weren't for Blythe and her flirting, I wouldn't even know who he was. He would've been just another face in the crowd at the Jazz Club.
"Oh my stars…Blythe!" I jumped and Kat went scrambling again. "She's on a date with him. She's on a date with a murderer!"
Of all the people to date, Blythe had to pick a murderer. It figured. Her taste in men was less than satisfactory. I looked at my phone. Six p.m. If they were having dinner together, she was probably already at his place. Blythe was punctual about mealtimes. That wasn't good.
"Come on, Blythe, pick up..." I listened to the phone ring as her number dialed.
Straight to voicemail. She probably had it turned off. Leave it to Blythe to be considerate for her date.
"Let's go," I told Kat as I scooped him up. Blasting through my door and not pausing to lock it up, I ran at breakneck speed. Something was telling me to hurry. No time to waste. Not if I wanted to save my cousin.
Chapter 18
Kat and I weren’t ten steps into the abandoned courtyard of the amusement park, when I ran headfirst into something solid. My body crumpled to the ground and little white flashes of light danced above my eyes. Kat plopped on my belly, shoving all the air out of my lungs, and then hopped off with an excited snort. In the ultimate display of feminine grace, I swore loudly and gripped my head.
“I was hoping to run into you,” a voice said above me with a deep chuckle. “But I wasn’t literally wanting to run into you.”
Squinting to dull the pain, I looked up into Ian’s face and swore again. “I don’t remember you being part tree trunk, Officer Larson. Remind me to get the name of your trainer.”
He offered a hand and pulled me up, the hint of a proud grin flashing in his eyes. Oh, yay. I’d just boosted up his male ego another notch. That had totally been my goal tonight.
Wait… What had been my goal? The blow seemed to have knocked it out of my head. I was relieved to see Ian, but I just couldn’t remember why…
