Bea, seated between Fifi and Taliyah, was the one who answered me. “It means that a faerie court probably has a grievance with the town, and they’re taking it out in a petty way.” She shot a glance at Taliyah, who sat staring straight ahead. “Since Autumn is currently the most powerful court, it’s likely to be their doing.”

  I frowned. I could understand what Bea was talking about, but the Autumn Court was run by Fox Aspen. And this didn’t scream Fox to me. It wasn’t like I knew him well, but what I did know of him I liked. It seemed he’d done his best to help us out, even if it was in his own unique way. These passive-aggressive tricks didn’t seem like something he’d indulge in. “That seems kind of out of character for Fox. If he had a grievance, I think he’d just say so.”

  Angelo laughed. It was an ugly sound. “Are you joking? Of course, he’s got a grievance with this stupid town.” Clearly, Angelo wasn’t a fan of Haven Hollow and never had been. “It makes perfect sense.” Then he glanced over at our Chief of Police. “Taliyah, over there, has been giving him the literal cold shoulder every time he tries to approach her. A man can only take so much of that before he gets petty. Especially when he’s supposed to be her husband or some shit.”

  A muscle jumped in Taliyah’s jaw, and the hand that was resting on the table curled into a fist, but she didn’t say anything.

  I struggled to repress a wince. Bad enough to suddenly get bombarded with powers you couldn’t control, and the knowledge that your whole life was a smoke screen to hide your true identity, but to also find out you’ve been betrothed to a man you’ve never even met, and, oh yeah, you’re supposed to marry him in less than a month? I couldn’t imagine how Taliyah was feeling, but I couldn’t blame her for not handling it well.

  Fifi’s lovely face twisted into a scowl as she glared at her brother. “Just because you can’t hold down a relationship, doesn’t mean Fox is the same way. And I agree with Poppy—this doesn’t feel like a petty vendetta from Fox.”

  Angelo’s lip curled up into an expression I could only describe as a sneer. “Think about it. Sorting out this prank nonsense falls mostly to Taliyah, doesn’t it? And if it gets severe enough, which it seems to be escalating towards, then she’ll actually have to talk to Fox. There won’t be any other option.”

  “Hmm, the man-whore might have a point,” Wanda said as she leaned back into her seat and raised her brows at Roy.

  The ‘man-whore’ shrugged. “Looks to me like it’s all just Fox’s way of forcing Taliyah’s hand. He’s come to her and she keeps ignoring him so now he can get her to come to him. Pretty brilliant, if you ask me.”

  “No one’s asking you,” Roy muttered beneath his breath. No one liked Angelo and it was fairly obvious, not that he cared.

  Taliyah, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “Let him come, then.”

  The room went quiet.

  I looked at Taliyah’s frosty expression, the way she’d pressed her lips into a thin line. “What do you mean?”

  Taliyah leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “If Prince Renard is going to be a passive-aggressive ass, then I’ll be happy to take him to task over it.”

  “I like her style,” Lorcan said with a little nod.

  Taliyah looked over at Roy then. “Invite the prince into town, and I’ll deal with him.”

  Bea’s wings fluttered nervously, and she glanced at Taliyah. “I, uh. I can put a request to meet with Prince Reynard through the channels. It may take a few days, though.”

  “That’s fine.” Taliyah pushed away from the table and stood. For an instant, frost glimmered on the lacquered wood where her hands had been a moment before. “If that’s everything, I have work to do.”

  She turned and strode out of the room. No one said anything—we all just watched her go.

  Chapter Nine

  After the meeting, I thought about reaching out to Andre to keep him informed since he was sort of involved, but at the sudden feeling of breathlessness that flowed through me, I decided I needed to go out and do something normal instead.

  Between the faerie pranks, my feelings for Andre, my guilt about Marty, and arguments with Finn, I just needed a distraction. That, combined with the fact that I also desperately needed a hair cut made me head out the morning after the council meeting to ‘A Cut Above’ salon that had just opened downtown. I had a couple hours before my own shop was due to open so I decided to put that time to good use.

  Not only was I in desperate need for some hair care, but I wanted to show my support to a new business. Especially since the owner, Imani Wright, was a new witch in town. As a new witch in town, she had to first get Wanda’s blessing (as the High Witch of Haven Hollow) to open up shop and all of us had voted to allow her in. Imani was currently without a coven, but was interested in joining Circle Scapegrace, so her being in town was something of a trial run. I was hoping everything would work out and she’d choose to stay with us. Not only was she kind (which was strange enough considering she was a witch), but it would be nice to have someone else to help balance out some of the more… temperamental members of the coven. Not to mention, when it came to covens, there was certainly strength in numbers and ours wasn’t exactly large.

  It was quiet when I arrived at the salon, but then the place had only been open for a couple of weeks, not long enough for the locals to have discovered it. I’d have to talk to Imani about getting Marty to design some advertising materials for her. She had skills when it came to hair (at least, that’s what Wanda had said), and I knew the people of Haven Hollow would appreciate no longer having to rely on the ancient barber’s shop at the east end of town.

  The bell over the door jingled as I stepped in, and Imani poked her head out of the back room. A wide smile stretched across her face when she saw me standing there.

  “Poppy! It’s so good to see you. What can I help you with?”

  She stepped into the main room, and the curtain swung closed behind her, but I managed to catch a glimpse of the alter she’d set up back there. Imani was from Louisiana, and though she was a witch, she tended to weave her faith through her spells, making it very different from the more European based magic I was familiar with.

  I didn’t know much about Voodoo, but the little I did know, I’d learned from my friend Lovie in New Orleans. Voodoo wasn’t anything like it was usually depicted in television and movies, but then that wasn’t much of a surprise as Hollywood usually got most things wrong.

  “I definitely need a trim,” I told Imani as she came closer. “But other than that, I’m open to suggestions. Do you have any recommendations?”

  There were many options to choose from, and not all were simply haircuts or color. Imani also offered blessings: she could weave in charms for luck, fertility, clarity, and calm, just to name a few. People going out for a special occasion could get some charisma included in their blowout. I hardly even knew where to start. Well… not fertility, I knew that much. Finn was plenty for me.

  “Hmm.” She tipped her head to the side as she considered me, the colorful beads woven into the end of her waist-length braids clicking together as she did so. She then walked a circle around me, eyeing the fall of my blonde hair which was all kinds of dishevelled and in need of her help.

  All witches tended to hold their appearances to a certain level of polished, but Imani was absolutely gorgeous. Her umber and saffron wrap dress made her dark skin shine, her makeup was flawless, and each of her nails was perfectly oval and tipped with a dusting of gold. She looked more like she should have been strutting down a runway rather than arranging other people’s hair, but she said she liked making people feel beautiful, and from what Wanda had told me, she was very good at what she did (not that Wanda ever looked anything but beautiful but the point still stood).

  “If you don’t want something specific, a little blessing for luck never steers people wrong.” Imani gestured me forward with a smile. “Come have a seat, and we’ll figure out what’s right for you.”

  It was just such a relief to sit and chat with someone. And not about curses, or injuries, or life and death situations. I settled into the chair gratefully. I hadn’t been to a salon since I’d left California and ‘Roger’s’—the old and ratty barber’s shop at the end of town wasn’t somewhere you went twice.

  “How are you liking Haven Hollow?” I asked as Imani misted my hair with a spray bottle. “Are you settling in?”

  “You know, I really am. It’s very different from the other places I’ve lived. Everyone’s been surprisingly welcomin’.” She flashed me a smile in the mirror. “I can see myself stayin’ here. I’m thinkin’ I’ll be havin’ a talk with Wanda about it real soon.”

  I couldn’t hold back my smile. “That would be great. We’d love to have you.”

  The chit-chat stayed light and friendly, with Imani telling me about the places she’d visited and the people she’d met, as well as the plans she had about expanding her business. As I sat in her chair, my shoulders relaxed as tension I hadn’t even realized I was carrying started to ease—I had to wonder if the chair was bespelled to do just that. If not, it was still hard not to let go of everything that was pent up within me, what with the rhythmic sound of Imani’s scissors, and the smooth pass of the comb through my hair.

  I was almost drowsy, just drifting in my seat as Imani took up the comb again, and began to murmur her prayers to the Loa with every stroke, asking for a blessing of fortune in her low, smooth voice. I did my best not to listen, even though the prayer was technically for me. It felt private though. Sacred. I didn’t want to intrude on it.

  Imani had just picked up a hairdryer when a family came through the door, and I heard her soft exhalation of what sounded like exhaustion. A glance in the mirror caused me to do a double take, because all four people had the most messed up hair I’d ever seen.

  And I don’t mean as in a mullet or a ‘flock of seagulls’ flip. I mean ‘walked through a wind turbine in a glue factory’ messed up. Their hair was so tangled, it was standing up on end. The daughter, a little girl who looked to be about ten, had hair that was so tangled and knotted, she looked like something from a Doctor Seuss story.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Imani breathed. “I’ve never seen such a bad case of elf-knots.”

  I glanced up at her in the mirror. “Elf-knots?” She nodded as I frowned. “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “I hadn’t either until I moved here,” she answered on a sigh as my stomach further sank. Because I knew what this meant—elves were fae.

  “What are elf-knots?” I asked, even though I really didn’t want to.

  “They’re a prank pulled by elves, usually when a person is asleep.” Imani bit her full lower lip, a little frown line appearing between her brows. “The elves play in a person’s hair until it gets ungodly tangled in knots, an’ I will tell you, Poppy, those knots are the devil’s own. I’d say they were near impossible to undo without the help of magic.”

  I looked at the family again and winced at the disaster their hair had been twisted into.

  Imani laid a hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, Poppy. Do you mind if we just do a short trim today and schedule you for a proper hairdo another time? It’s gonna take a long, long time to undo that kind of damage.” Then she pointed at the family and I gave her an understanding smile.

  “Of course.” I reached for the neck of the little cape she’d draped over me when I’d first sat down. “I can always blow-dry it myself. But thank you for the cut, and the blessing.”

  The family waited in quiet misery as I settled up with Imani, and she and I traded a significant look.

  “Thanks again.” I waved to her, slipping the strap of my purse over my shoulder as I headed out the front door, all the while wondering how else the fae were going to harass this town.

  It was a little too chilly to be wandering around outside with damp hair, so I walked with a quick step back to the little parking lot just behind Imani’s building. I couldn’t stop thinking about that poor family, with their hair all twisted and pulled into painful looking knots. They were lucky Imani had opened up shop, because, without magic to help, I was pretty sure they’d have to shave their hair off—or cut it very short.

  All the while, I couldn’t bring myself to believe this was Fox Aspen’s doing. Oh, sure, he was proud—he was a prince, after all. But for a faerie, he was pretty straight forward. He didn’t play games, or pull tricks. At least he never had in the past—as far as I knew, anyway. I really did feel that if he was angry with Taliyah, he would have just told her. Not run an annoying campaign against Haven Hollow. He just didn’t strike me as… petty.

  And if he wanted to talk to Taliyah, he’d just show up. Or invite her to meet him. Even though everything that was happening did point to faerie politics, I just couldn’t reconcile the idea that he was behind it. But then, how well did I really know the man? I’d only met him a couple of times. Maybe Angelo was right. Maybe it all really was about a man’s bruised ego. People had done a lot worse for being jilted.

  Still. I couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t it at all and there was something else going on.

  My phone pinged with a text message as I was getting into the Jeep, and I fished it out to find a text from Marty wishing me a good day, and that he couldn’t wait to see me soon.

  It made me happy and guilty at the same time as I fired back one of my own. I hated feeling conflicted about Marty. I adored him and I always had. He was sweet, and handsome, and charming in his boyish way, funny and kind, and yet…

  Compared to Andre, my reaction to Marty was like night to day. Andre—a man I’d never so much as held hands with, yet just picturing his smile could drum up enough energy within me I could have powered a lightbulb. In spite of Finn’s suspicions, though, I had no idea what was going on with Andre, or how he felt about me.

  Not that it mattered how he felt about me because…

  I HAD A BOYFRIEND!

  God, how many times did I have to remind myself of as much?

  I let my head drop forward against the steering wheel, probably harder than I should have. It would be an embarrassing place to have to explain a bruise. Then, figuring I had no business feeling sorry for myself, I sat up, my phone still in my hand. Before I could put it away, it started ringing which startled me so badly, I almost dropped it.

  After a breathless second, I glanced at the caller ID and felt my stomach drop down around my knees.

  Haven Hollow Middle School.

  ***

  I gripped the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles blanched white, the tendons standing out in stark relief. I managed to hold back all the angry words that were trying to bubble up my throat, because I didn’t want to be angry with Finn, especially when I knew he meant well, but seeing him slumped against the car door, pale and sick and barely awake, I wasn’t happy. Actually, seeing him like this had me caught somewhere between anger and terror. Needless to say, it wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

  But I said nothing. And Finn was so tired, he wasn’t saying much either. So, it was an uncomfortably silent drive to my shop, and the silence between us remained until I helped him inside and got him settled in the back room. Wordlessly, I grabbed a couple ‘Zest’ potions, and the one I’d made after my run in with Roscoe which had left me anemic and dragging myself around for weeks afterward. Both potions would at least give Finn a head start on regaining some of his energy.

  I brought the potions back to Finn where he was resting on the cot in my backroom that was seeing far, far too much use lately. Lighting a few candles, I uncorked each bottle and anointed him with them, paying careful attention to each of his pulse points. Then I left him to rest until they kicked in. It was hard not to hover or to fuss, but I knew it wouldn’t help.

  Since I’d had to pick Finn up from school early, I’d also had to open the store an hour late. And now there were customers actually waiting in a line outside when I unlocked the door. Helping them kept me busy for a while and whenever I could, I ducked my head into the back room to check on Finn and each time I did, I found him sound asleep.

  When I’d finished wrapping the last colorful glass bottle in tissue paper and the last customer of the morning rush had filed back out into the rainy Oregon day, Finn managed to drag himself to the front of the store and sit down heavily on the chair I kept behind the counter for the slow hours.

  He watched me as I made a note in my ledger, keeping track of how many potions I’d sold so I’d know when to make more.

  “Are you mad?” he asked quietly.

  I took a couple deep breaths, trying to keep the anger and the fear from spilling out in big, messy words. Even with the potions helping him, Finn still looked so pale, and sick, his freckles standing out like ink on his skin. I wanted to yell at the same time that I wanted to hug him and never let go. I managed not to do either.

  “I am mad,” I said with a calm I was clinging to with my teeth and fingernails. “We talked about this, Finn. It’s too much.”

  “We didn’t talk,” he muttered. “You yelled at me, and then wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say.”

  I took a deep breath. The calm was starting to slip away, sliding out of my grasp. “I didn’t yell.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. There was a downright mutinous cast to his face. “You didn’t listen.”

  My temper snapped enough that I threw my hands into the air. “Explain it to me, then.”

  Finn’s arms remained crossed, and his chin tilted up into a stubborn angle that I knew too well. “One of my friends is sick. She says she’s always in pain, but sometimes it flares up so bad, she can barely even walk. I’ve been trying to help her.”

  “Finn,” I started and then lost my words because I didn’t even know what to say.

  “You are the one who always says it’s important to help people, to be kind. Isn’t that exactly what I’m doing?”

  I forced myself to take a deep breath before I answered, stomping down hard on the fear that was clawing its way up my spine. “Finn, I’m glad, proud even, that you’re a kind, compassionate person. I understand that you want to help your friend. But that doesn’t mean you should neglect your own health in order to do it.”