I held my palm up, allowing an amber spark to play along the lines of my palm. “And I swear to you in the sight of the Goddess, that I will abide by our pact.”

  Magic shivered in the air, and a clear note, like a struck silver bell, pealed through the kitchen. It was such a pure sound, it almost made me smile. It’d been a long time since I’d sworn an oath to the Goddess.

  Poppy jammed one fist onto her hip and raised a skeptical brow. “You’re sure he’s going to keep his mouth shut?”

  “He has to. He’s bound,” I answered with a shrug.

  She raised her eyebrows at me. “It seems like there’s been a lot of drama over this whole thing when you two could have just... you know, compromised?"

  Lorcan let out a tired laugh, reminding me he was still there. “As if either of them knows the meaning of the word. I’d sooner expect a werewolf to become a vegan before I’d bet on either one to cave in an argument.”

  I hadn’t heard the vampire sidle up behind me, too preoccupied by the negotiation with Hellcat to give Lorcan much thought. And, crowding my other side was Libby and Darla, of course. God, couldn’t a witch get a moment’s peace?

  Poppy acknowledged the point with a slight nod in Lorcan’s direction and then motioned for Finn to get up. He shrugged as he did so and lifted the plastic laundry basket off Hellcat, wandering out of the kitchen with the basket slung over his shoulder.

  It was then that I remembered the second piece of business I had with Poppy. I faced her and took in a deep breath as I pulled her aside and out of view of everyone in the kitchen. “I need to ask you something… unrelated to this situation,” I started.

  “Okay?”

  “What are the ingredients in Delilah’s Bane?” It was sort of embarrassing to even have to ask the question because, as a witch, I should have already known. But, Poppy was well aware that I was crap at brewing so she didn’t appear surprised, something which didn’t offend me. It was what it was.

  She glanced up at the ceiling for a moment or two, as if it held the answer to my question, but then began rattling off ingredients: “Vetiver, patchouli, sandalwood, and wolfsbane.”

  Wolfsbane… the one ingredient that, when highly concentrated, could kill a wolf. I looked at Poppy as I briefly wondered if she had any reason to want to take Waylan Rutledge out. But, no, there was no way the good gypsy could do so much as kill a mouse, let alone a werewolf.

  “You wouldn’t happen to remember selling any Delilah’s Bane recently, and to whom?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but failing.

  Poppy eyed me with interest while her eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “That’s one of my most common potions and I probably sell at least three a day, Wanda, why?”

  I nodded as I cursed my luck. I’d known it was a common enough potion, and I doubted she kept track of who purchased what. Still, it was worth asking, so I did.

  “I don’t keep track of customer purchases, no,” she answered as I nodded, sighing. “Is everything okay?”

  I nodded. “Yep, everything is just fine.” But it wasn’t just fine, and I couldn’t imagine a time when anything would be ‘just fine’ again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Louisa let out a hiccupping sob and buried her face in Fifi’s ample bosom.

  “I c-can’t believe he’s dead,” Louisa said, gasping the words through heaving sobs. Hours earlier, Taliyah Morgan had called Louisa with the pronouncement after the coroner had learned as much.

  “I’m so sorry, Louisa,” Fifi said. Even though she was working tonight, Fifi had come out from behind the bar to tend to her distraught friend. And a good thing she’d done that too, because I was hardly the right person for the job, even if Louisa had called me as soon as Officer Morgan had called her. Owing to the fact that Louisa had turned to me, I guessed she didn’t have many friends. Somehow that thought made me want to solve the mystery of Waylan’s murder all the more. Yet, I had nothing to go on.

  Just four stupid words: murder, hidden, burial, bitter.

  “All this time, he was rotting away in the house up the road.” Louisa shook her head and a new round of tears bled from her eyes. “I said such terrible things about him. I thought he’d abandoned us.”

  I tried to keep my gaze straight ahead, admiring Roy’s selection of high-ball glasses. It was two hours away from last call, and most of the clientele had cleared out. I’d been nursing a mojito for the past hour, stewing in resentment over everything that had come to pass with Lorcan.

  I’d have been happy to be plastered by this point in the evening, but didn’t dare with the possibility of vampires around every corner. Besides, with a puffy-eyed Louisa just a seat away from me, I couldn’t work up enough self-pity to drink myself into a stupor. It seemed a little indulgent at this point, and ungrateful to boot.

  Fifi stroked Louisa’s hair gingerly, ignoring the drunk who was busily tapping her shoulder, trying to get her attention. He was a short man, dark-haired, with a shiny dime-sized bald spot forming at the crown of his head. His beer gut hung over the large belt that cinched his pants tight.

  “I need another beer,” he said as he gazed at Fifi with doe eyes. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. As a succubus, Fifi attracted nearly all men and even some women. The only men who didn’t seem caught in her tractor beams were Marty and Roy.

  “Get lost, Larry,” Fifi shot back. “I’m busy. Besides, Roy told me to cut you off. If you want something else to drink, ask Shelby for a glass of water.”

  Even as Larry continued to gaze at her, he muttered a few obscenities into his mug, draining the dregs before pushing away from the bar and staggering for the door.

  “You’d better settle your tab with Shelby!” Fifi called after him.

  He nodded and walking backwards, continued to stare at her, before bumping into a table and knocking down two chairs and nearly himself in the process. He found his feet, turned around and made a hasty retreat past the hostess podium, then out the front door without bothering to pay anything.

  “You shouldn’t talk to customers that way,” Louisa whispered to Fifi. “You’re going to lose your job. I don’t want you to get fired on account of me.” She paused a moment as she nodded. “I should just go. I feel silly going to pieces like this. I thought a little wine would calm my nerves but...”

  Fifi curled her arms around Louisa and held her fast before she could rise from her seat. “Don’t be ridiculous. Larry always does this. He’ll find Roy and pay up when he’s sober. I don’t mind talking about what happened with Waylan, really. That’s what friends are for. I miss him too. At least now we know what happened to him and we know he really was a good guy.” She sighed and looked like she was about to cry, as well. “You’ll be able to bury him soon.”

  “I’m an awful wife,” Louisa sniffled, shaking her head. “I should have known better! He was never the sort to stray or just leave us with no reason at all.”

  “You didn’t know, Louisa. How could you know?” Fifi crooned, continually petting Louisa’s hair. It seemed to have a calming effect on her. Did werewolves like being petted? I mean, I figured so, since dogs seemed to like it.

  “I should have known.”

  “No,” Fifi shook her head as I wished I could add something meaningful and understanding to the conversation. I just… I just wasn’t good at this sort of thing so I just sat there—like the proverbial bump on the log.

  “I’d have assumed the same thing, if I were in your place,” Fifi continued. “You know, if I could ever get a man to stay.”

  That was the strange part about Fifi—for as gorgeous and alluring as she was, she couldn’t seem to make any love relationships work. Her turnover on dates was ridiculous, and I was fairly sure she’d already made her way through all the eligible bachelors in Haven Hollow as well as the closest two towns. At least, that’s what Poppy had told me. It wasn’t as though the succubus and I were close, by any stretch of the imagination, even though we were neighbors. Or had been before the mold issue had forced us both out of the duplex.

  “No, I was always a bad wife. I never got any of it right. Not the kids, or the housework, or even the PTA meetings! I couldn’t even socialize with Waylan’s colleagues,” Louisa continued as she cried some more and Fifi offered her another drink.

  “Oh, Louisa, I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is true! Do you remember the kerfuffle I made when Waylan and I hosted the company Christmas party the year before last?” Louisa demanded as I wondered who in the world even knew what the word ‘kerfuffle’ meant.

  Fifi’s perfectly plucked brows pushed together. “Afraid not—that was before I was working there. I did hear the party ended early, though. No one would tell me why. I just assumed Ophelia had a temper tantrum like she usually does.”

  Louisa seized a napkin and blew her nose. “Ophelia blew up because of me. I was just trying to be helpful, you know.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, finally involving myself in the conversation.

  Louisa looked at me, as if just now remembering I was there. “Ophelia asked me to get her a cup of black coffee. I knew the brand she favored was especially bitter, and the coffee we had on hand was vanilla or something similar. So, I… I put a handful of salt into the grounds!”

  Fifi’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes went round. “Oh, no. Tell me you didn’t!”

  I took a swig of my drink and frowned at them both. “Why is putting salt in coffee such a big deal? I mean, other than the wretched taste?”

  Fifi leaned away from Louisa so she could speak in an undertone to me. “Hags have extreme reactions to salt.”

  “Interesting.”

  Fifi nodded. “Think of slugs.”

  “Oh, yuck,” I said, frowning.

  Fifi nodded again. “Just a pinch of salt would have made Ophelia very, very sick. A high concentration of salt can dehydrate a hag to the point where she petrifies, or even dies. I’ve never seen the process happen, personally, but I hear it’s supposed to be pretty gruesome.”

  Louisa buried her face in her hands. Her voice came out muffled, though still decipherable if I strained to listen.

  “After that, Ophelia docked Waylan’s pay, and after he disappeared, she refused to hand over his last paycheck. I struggled for a month to make ends meet before giving up and calling my father. I thought that was the reason he’d run off—that he was completely mortified by my behavior at the party.”

  “Why would you think that?” I asked.

  “Because we fought about it for a week before he left... or at least until I thought he’d left.”

  She lapsed into another sobbing fit, but I couldn’t focus on her distress. The story rang an odd sort of bell, now that she’d laid the facts out. I’d heard of Ophelia’s famous temper from Libby, whose husband had swindled the night hag out of five thousand dollars, which would have been roughly fifty thousand today, if I adjusted for inflation.

  I almost choked on my next sip when something finally clicked. It was like a lightning bolt of understanding suddenly hit me…

  Ophelia asked me to get her a cup of black coffee. I knew the brand she favored was especially bitter…

  Bitter!

  “Goddess,” I breathed, shaking my head as the realization hit me like a train. “It was her.”

  Fifi had resumed cradling Louisa in her arms, but she glanced up at me, raising a brow. “What was her?”

  “I know who did this.”

  “Who?” Louisa managed through her sobs, looking at me like I’d suddenly sprouted another head.

  “Ophelia.”

  “Ophelia?” Louisa repeated as her eyes went wide.

  “Yes, and I have just the way to prove it.”

  ***

  Haven Hollow Realty was technically supposed to be closed after six in the evening, but when I tested the double doors, I was unsurprised to find them unlocked. Night hags were like vampires in a way—both operated better after dark.

  I slipped quietly through the gap and removed my heels to minimize the sound of my approach. It wasn’t a good idea to spook a hag, but I didn’t see that I had much choice. If Ophelia caught wind of what I was doing before I managed to reach her desk, she might force me out the front door and lock up behind me. She was strong, so I knew she could do it.

  I took careful steps, navigating the spacious lobby, the thick fabric of my stockings absorbing most of the sound as I glided forward. The office was sleek and modern, with plenty of glass and steel partitions to divide the offices.

  Ophelia’s office was located at the rear. She’d left her door hanging slightly ajar, and dim candlelight seeped through the crack, casting flickering shadows across the room. Oily malice seethed in every darkened corner, and I felt the weight as I waded through it. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart hammered violently against my ribs, though this wasn’t even the difficult part of the plan. The air smelled like overripe fruit, with a note of sour rot that spoiled the scent.

  So this was what a hag was like at rest. Without the need to restrain her power for the sake of her staff, she was free to let every foul part of herself permeate the office. Every step I took toward the office was slower than the last.

  Reaching Ophelia’s door felt like trying to swim through a curtain of gelatin, the air almost too thick and cloying to breathe. I took shallow breaths, sipping the air, rather than trying to gulp it down.

  Ophelia’s door creaked when I pushed it open, and I had a split second to see Ophelia hunched over in her office chair, scrawling notes in Marish on her ledger. I couldn’t stare at the script for long without getting a blinding headache. Marish, the night hag mother tongue, was impossible for any outsider to decipher without intense pain or dizzying confusion.

  Ophelia’s head snapped up at the sound of my entrance, but for a dizzying second that was all I could spy in the dark. Nightmare shapes swirled in the shadows, and moisture dewed at the edges of my eyes. My human (or near human) eyes couldn’t get a good look at the hag’s full power without going mad or losing sight completely. I had to jerk my head away and stare at the far wall before her power burst blood vessels in my eyes. Meanwhile, warm tears trickled down the sides of my face, scalding and intensely painful. I had to blink back fresh, salty tears as the agony ripped at my mind.

  And then the blackness retreated, sucked into the old woman’s shell like a child slurping a forkful of spaghetti. The shadows that flickered over the walls were benign, and almost appeared gray after the absolute darkness Ophelia had draped over the room. In mere seconds, she appeared to be just an ordinary human woman again, slightly stooped with age.

  As always, she was dressed in something truly horrendous. Tonight she’d chosen to deviate from her usual style of blazer and slacks, or pantsuit. The billowing blouse had a high, ruffled collar that did nothing to hide the sagging flesh at her chin. The cheetah print was so obnoxiously loud, it hurt to look at it. Her pleated swing skirt was patterned with cabbage roses on a yellowed background. A Victorian Chenille Hat perched like a bird’s nest on a cloud of wispy white hair, a stuffed crow glaring beadily out from the mass of feathers.

  Ophelia’s mouth mashed into a thin line as I dabbed the tears from my cheeks.

  “It is past midnight, Ms. Depraysie,” she said stiffly. “Can you tell me why you’ve barged into my place of business at this ungodly hour?”

  I smiled as sweetly as I could manage, and Ophelia shifted restlessly in her seat. She was no fool. I was a witch, and witches were rarely sweet unless there were strings attached. Leave that sort of nonsense to the little sprites of the spring and summer courts of faerie. Good faeries were always bumbling around, granting wishes to mortals in need or otherwise being helpful.

  “I needed to speak to you, obviously.”

  “Well, I’m sure it can wait—”

  “It’s urgent,” I cut her off.

  Ophelia’s eyes narrowed. “Apparently, as you came barging into my office without so much as knocking. Seeing me in my amorphous form could have cost you your sanity, girl. If you needed to speak to me so badly, you should have called first.”

  I thought it was rich she was calling me ‘girl’. Ophelia was under a hundred, though she looked ancient. She was technically my junior by several decades.

  My smile didn’t waver as I sank into the chair across from her executive desk. “If I’d warned you, I imagine you would have gone home or otherwise ducked out of this little meeting.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m here to discuss Waylan.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ophelia’s smile dropped immediately and there was a sudden tightness around her eyes.

  “Proceed.”

  “He was an employee of yours, wasn’t he?”

  “He was.”

  “Louisa said he didn’t turn up for work one day, and that she never saw his last paycheck.”

  Ophelia shifted in her chair again, and her visible hand tightened into a bony claw around her pen. “What happened to Waylan was truly tragic, but I don’t see what it has to do with me or this office. I believe the police are looking into Louisa’s possible involvement?” From one blink to the next, her sclera filled with black and her nostrils flared, a sure sign she was pissed. “And on that subject, you shouldn’t have gone to the mortal authorities, Ms. Depraysie. Matters concerning the supernatural members of the Hollow are to be brought before the council, as you are well aware. This should have been taken care of in-house.”

  “The human authorities believe Waylan was human, so what difference does it make?”

  Ophelia continued to glare at me. “Waylan’s body was in half-wolf form.”

  I tapped my chin thoughtfully as I realized I had her. “You know, I don’t think anyone ever mentioned that Waylan had been in his wolf form when we found him. How did you know that, Ophelia?”

  Ophelia went very still for a beat, then lifted her chin to stare down her nose at me. “I overheard your would-be sire discussing as much with the gypsy woman,” she lied smoothly.