Taliyah strode up, flashing the badge she wore clipped to her belt. “I’m looking for Brooke.”

  The Dryad’s eyes widened at the sight of the badge, her smile faltering a little. “Brooke? She’s in the greenhouse, seeing to the water lilies. Is something wrong?”

  Taliyah smiled, and if she was going for reassuring, she missed it by a mile. “I just need to speak with her.”

  The Dryad nodded, but didn’t seem too happy about it. She did get out of the way though and let us into the greenhouse proper.

  If it had been warm outside, it was darn near tropical inside those glass doors. Sweat dampened my brow, and the air I inhaled was rich with the smell of green growing things and fresh water. There was soft lighting along the pathways, and fairy lights strung between some trellises, so it wasn’t dark inside. It made everything softer, a little magical.

  Towards the back, there was another raised pond, turning the greenhouse almost into a grotto. This one was huge, filled with water plants, and the fountain was a gorgeous metal sculpture of a flock of birds in flight, with the water rolling over their wings and dripping down to the surface like rain.

  A woman stood at the pond’s edge, dressed in a T-shirt and cutoff denim shorts, her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail that swayed gently as she worked. Her arms were underwater, almost to the elbow, as she did something to a cluster of lily pads and creamy pink flowers with pointed petals.

  If I looked carefully, I could just see the hint of her pointed ear sticking up through her hair.

  “Brooke?” Taliyah asked when we got close enough for conversation.

  The blonde woman looked up, brows furrowed, but she smiled. “Yes? I’m sorry, have we me…”

  Her words trailed off into a strangled squeak, and she straightened up, only to drop into a bow as soon as her eyes shifted to Taliyah.

  “Princess Olwen! Please forgive me, I didn’t realize it was you.”

  I’d never seen someone pale and then flush in such rapid succession. Taliyah cleared her throat, darting a look around as she flapped her hands at the bowing nymph. “That’s not necessary. It’s fine. I’m just here to talk to you.”

  Taliyah was as flustered as I’d ever seen her, and considering she’d faced down wicked faeries, scheming witches, and her own ex-husband, it was kind of hilarious that a bowing nymph threw her right off her game. I wondered if I could get a picture to show Maverick without her shooting me.

  “Of course, Princess.” Brooke straightened up and fixed her eyes on Taliyah. “What can I do for you?”

  Taliyah took a breath and let it out slowly. I could practically see her counting to ten. “First of all... don’t... call me that.”

  Brooke looked confused but didn’t argue. Point for her. Taliyah, meanwhile, just stood there and I was fairly sure she was trying to wrestle her temper down. Well, I wasn’t about to stand there, waiting for her. The humidity was doing things to my hair, and I wanted out of there.

  “We actually wanted to talk to you about your ex-boyfriend. Jackson,” I clarified when Brooke gave me a puzzled look.

  “Oh. Jackson.” Brooke shook her head. “What about him?”

  Taliyah shot me a pointed look. “We actually wanted to talk about Bryony Reid. His fiancé.”

  Brooke looked puzzled, glancing between us. “Oh, yes. I was very sorry to hear of her passing. But I don’t know what I could tell you about her. I never met the girl.”

  Taliyah nodded, like that was what she’d expected. “But when Jackson ended things with you to marry her, you must have been upset. Maybe hurt, or even jealous.”

  Brooke blinked at us for a moment, before her lips twitched, and that delicate, almost doll-like face crinkled up as she let out an ugly, snorting laugh. “Oh, my gods. Jealous? Over Jackson?”

  Taliyah and I shared a look.

  Brooke wiped at her teary eyes, trying to get control of herself. “Don’t get me wrong, Jackson was sweet. Fun. But I’m more than twice his age, and I don’t have any interest in settling down. Werewolves are almost hardwired to do just that. I wasn’t upset about the ‘break up’, because... I mean, it wasn’t even really a break up because it wasn’t even really a relationship. Not in my mind anyway—it was always just a fling to me.” She placed her hands on her hips, leaving damp marks. “Honestly, I would have called it off myself if he hadn’t. He spent all our time together moaning about having to get married, and his parents pressuring him. And that got old really quick.” Brooke glanced between us, looking contrite. “But I am sorry about Bryony. She seemed like a sweet girl. I hope you find the person responsible.”

  Well. It seemed that the echoing smack I could hear inside my head was Taliyah and I hitting another dead end. If the way she was holding her mouth was any indication, Taliyah felt the same way. She was still going through the motions, though. “Where were you on Friday night?”

  “Here, actually.” Brooke pushed a strand of hair back off her face with one hand. “We held a little party for when the night-blooming jasmine started. Just for some of our customers, a little wine, some cheese. Spring water for the rest of us.”

  That seemed like a solid alibi, and one easily verified, too. Ugh.

  Taliyah tapped her pen against her notebook and then tucked both of them away in her jacket pocket. “Alright, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.”

  “Of course, Princess,” the nymph chirped. “Anything you need.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Taliyah grumbled something, but she didn’t correct Brooke about the whole ‘princess’ title thing again.

  She also didn’t exactly run out of there, but she sure power walked. I had to jog to catch up, worried she might actually leave me there.

  “Well, so much for that,” I groused as I fastened my seat belt. “What’s our next move?”

  Taliyah turned to stare at me, her expression wavering between amused and outraged. “Our? There is no ‘our’. I’m taking you home, and then I will continue with the investigation. And as soon as I figure out how to explain that the body exploded into leaves, I will have to inform Bryony’s next of kin that she is, in fact, not dead.”

  “And after I got you a lead.” I shook my head sadly, giving her a raised brow expression. “That’s gratitude for you.”

  “Wanda, you make clothes. You’re not a police officer.”

  “You bring Maverick along all the time,” I rebutted, a little stung. “How is that fair?”

  Taliyah raked a hand back through her hair, her eyes sparking icy blue. “Why are you arguing with me? Do you honestly want to go around playing detective?”

  After a moment’s thought, I had to admit that, no, I really didn’t. I just wanted people to stop thinking I murdered a girl who wasn’t even dead.

  “Fine,” I said as I sagged back into the seat and fished out my phone. “But I hope you understand the sheer amount of magical knowledge and skill that you’re shunning.”

  Taliyah muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’ll live with it,” but I decided to ignore her as she threw the cruiser in reverse.

  I didn’t really want to go back to the house. Especially since my car wasn’t in what I would call ‘driving condition’. It looked like it had been attacked by a rogue can opener. I figured I should call Lorcan to see if he’d arranged for a tow truck yet, or if I needed to do it. Granted, with the way he’d been acting lately, I wasn’t even sure I should bother asking him if he’d already taken care of it. The likelihood that he had was extremely low.

  The phone rang. And rang. And rang, and finally switched over to voicemail. I hung up, stabbing the button with more force than necessary. Great, no car, and Lorcan was who knew where. Home was sounding better and better, all lovely and isolated.

  What in the world was up with Lorcan? He’d never ignored a call from me before. He’d been acting so odd lately, and it was really starting to worry me. He couldn’t be getting bored with our relationship… could he? Is that what this was? Was he having an affair? The idea was so strange to me because it wasn’t a thought that would occupy any other witch’s mind. Witches didn’t get attached to men. Men were there for sexual release and procreation, and that was it. Therefore, a witch didn’t give a rat’s ass if a man was cheating because she’d always beat him to it.

  Lorcan had always been upfront in his pursuit of me. Even with the bond driving him to complete it in the early days, he’d made it clear that he wanted me, bond or no bond. And he’d wanted me as in he wanted Wanda, not just his Kiss returned to him. But what if that was all it was? Another kind of hunt. He’d enjoyed the chase, but now that he’d won me, now that the chase was over, was it time to look for the next thrill?

  Lorcan didn’t seem the type, but what the spell else was I supposed to think? He was never around anymore, always busy at ‘the office’. There was that vanilla scent on his clothes. And this most recent situation—when he’d been all dressed up for no apparent reason. The fact that I hadn’t pinned him in place with a hex and demanded some answers already said a lot—and mainly about how worried I was regarding what his answer might be.

  I just couldn’t figure it out. And it wasn’t like I could talk to anyone else in the coven about it, because most of them didn’t even believe in marriage. Well, there was Olga, but she was a complete romantic who had very little common sense when it came to men, and even if I got desperate and tried to talk to Taliyah, there was a chance the conversation would get back to Maverick, and then I’d have to set myself on fire.

  But there was one person I could talk to.

  “Actually, would you mind not taking me home?” I stuffed my phone back into my purse and straightened up. “Can you just drop me off at the old cemetery, instead?”

  Taliyah gave me a very odd look, but didn’t comment as she took the next turn that would take me in the direction of the duplex. She pulled up to the entrance of the cemetery and then turned to look at me.

  “I’m not going to ask.”

  “Probably better you don’t,” I agreed as I opened the door, hopped out and waved, making sure I was mostly out of range as I added, “Call me when you need help solving the case.”

  I ducked behind an angel statue as a snow ball burst against its wing a second later, which had me cackling. I then watched the taillights of Taliyah’s cruiser as it vanished in the distance. Facing the cemetery, I felt strangely home again. Like I was getting back to my roots. When was the last time I’d wandered through a cemetery in the dark? And cackling? Talk about living every stereotype.

  I walked between the graves, dry grass rasping against my legs, listening to the night insects chirp, but I didn’t head for the duplex. Instead, I turned towards the two-story farmhouse on the other side of the cemetery, where the windows were still lit up with soft golden light.

  With its wraparound porch, and original siding carefully restored, the farmhouse was almost too cute to be tolerated. It looked like something someone had scraped out of a nostalgic painting, which made it almost perfect for its owner. All it needed was a porch swing and I might actually have started throwing up all over the wholesome mess.

  I knocked once and waited. It didn’t take long for the door to open and reveal Poppy with an honest to goodness dishtowel thrown over her shoulder. I hadn’t thought people actually did that. Of course, I also couldn’t remember the last time I’d dried a dish. In response, I looked at it and groaned.

  Poppy gave her big, beaming smile of welcome, though her brows were pinched together in confusion. “Wanda! Hey, how are you? Is… everything alright?”

  I wasn’t sure what my face was doing to cause that last sentence to come out of her so tentatively, but I didn’t dare answer, because all of a sudden there were tears burning at the corners of my eyes, and what the spell was wrong with me?

  Poppy’s face crumpled with concern, because she was soft and compassionate and the kind of person who could cry and not be mortified, and somehow, through a series of events even I didn’t fully understand, she had become my best friend.

  “Why don’t you come inside?” she asked, gently, like I was some skittish woodland creature that might bolt away at a harsh word.

  I sniffed, refusing to acknowledge that the world had gone a little blurry around the edges, and stalked past her without a word. I also decided to ignore the way my shoulders relaxed once she closed the door behind us, shutting everyone else out.

  ***

  Poppy listened, because of course she did. She had me sitting at her wood kitchen table with a cup of chamomile tea, which didn’t really do anything to calm me down, but it was nice to hold so that my hands had something to do.

  I didn’t get into the entire sordid mess, because I really didn’t want to think about all of it. I only mentioned that Lorcan had seemed distant lately, and I wasn’t sure what was up with him, and then she’d come out with some ridiculous bit of advice like ‘talk to him’, which was as absurd as it was unhelpful. Talk? About feelings? What was this, a sitcom from the fifties? Please.

  When I finished talking and Poppy finished giving me advice, I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself. I didn’t want to go back to the coven house where everyone would be nosy, but I also didn’t want to go home where there was nothing waiting for me but an empty house and thoughts about why a girl had gone missing and why someone would go to such extreme lengths to make everyone think she was dead. Poppy had let me be for a few minutes, and then had quietly gotten up to make a few phone calls while I pretended to drink my tea.

  When she came back, she started rooting through her cupboards, pulling out glasses, then she’d ducked into the fridge, grabbing fruit and juices. I eyed her warily. She wasn’t going to try and make a juice cleanse or something, was she? This wasn’t some feelings-based activity, was it? Because I’d have rather eaten one of the glasses than do that. But once she pulled out an enormous bottle of vodka, she reminded me of just why she was my BFF, in spite of all the cheer.

  Poppy had just finished setting up the cocktail bar when the first knock on the door came, and she walked over to it, letting Fifi and Bailey in.

  “Oooh, I needed this,” Bailey said, wandering into the kitchen and accepting the cocktail that Poppy pressed into her hand. “It’s been way too long.”

  Before anyone could respond, someone else knocked and before anyone could answer it, Darla let herself in calling out, “Hiya, dolls!”

  She sailed into the kitchen, shaking back the dark hair that was finally growing out of the shoulder length bob she’d worn it in since the nineteen twenties. “Hit me with two shots of the giggle water, please an thank ya!”

  She caught sight of me at the table, and stumbled a little bit before pasting an extra wide smile on her face. Normally, Darla could be a little much. I’d lived through the twenties, and even I didn’t understand half the slang that came out of her. But once Poppy slid a Hex on the Beach into my hand, the purple drink smoking lightly, like fog dripping over my hand, I found that I wasn’t bothered by anything much at all.

  It had been some time since the Black Cat Cocktail Club had managed to get together, and as the low babble of female voices washed over me, I found myself relaxing back into my chair. It didn’t hurt that my drink was perfect, a little spicy, a little sweet, with a kick of citrus at the end.

  Fifi couldn’t seem to stop smiling as she settled into her chair, occasionally checking her phone. If she got any happier, her skin was going to start leaking light all over the place. Ugh, it was kind of gross.

  When she checked her phone for the umpteenth time in ten minutes, Poppy nudged her shoulder.

  “Roy?” she teased.

  Fifi blushed, looking sappy and pleased and ugh.

  I snatched one of the cherries out of the garnish bowl and plucked the stem to throw at her. “Do you have to sit there being all happy and in love? Some of us are trying to drink here.”

  Fifi stuck her tongue out at me and laughed. “Not that I’m complaining,” Fifi said as she tugged her drink closer. “But what brought on this impromptu club meeting?”

  “Oh, well.” Poppy sat with her own drink, something that went from pale yellow at the top and darkened into a lurid orange down at the bottom. “I just thought it had been a while. And Wanda’s having a bit of a rough week, so I thought it would be nice for all of us and alcohol to cheer her up.”

  She said it oh, so casually, just slipping it in there like she was innocent. But I was on to Poppy’s wiles, and I wasn’t about to go venting about my relationship problems to a crowd, so she could just manage her disappointment. Concerned faces turned my way, though Darla looked more like she was going to throw up.

  “Rough week, doll?” she asked, her voice a little too loud. “That’s the pits. What’s the skinny?”

  I glared. Poppy gave me a too innocent look and sipped at her straw.

  “Well…” I might not have been wanting to spill my guts about my relationship, but that didn’t exactly leave me with a dearth of things to vent about. So, I gave in, slumped back into my chair and started stabbing my ice with my little cocktail straw with extreme prejudice.

  “I’ve kind of been investigating a murder. Except maybe it isn’t a murder, after all.”

  Darla jolted like she’d been shocked. “Huh?”

  Fifi choked on her drink.

  Bailey leaned forward, almost putting her elbow into a bowl of lemon slices. “A murder? How does a murder turn out to not be a murder? And why are you investigating it?”

  I tossed back my drink and spilled the whole deal out for them. The nightgown, the wedding, Bryony’s ‘death’, all the investigating, and the fact that maybe Bryony wasn’t dead at all, but that we still didn’t know where she was or who would have taken her. The group listened quietly, and at one point, some glorious paragon of womanhood slid another drink into my hand.