Putting on the Witch (11 page)

“They could kill you.” Elsie snorted.

“There is so much worse than death,” he said. “I have seen all of it. I no longer fear what may come of me. Let us away and find the blade that was used by the killer.”

He held out his arm, and I took it with no trepidation. There was only the feeling of bone and sinew beneath the velvet of his clothing. The council had further tortured him by leaving him as a living man all those years.

“Where are we going to look for the knife?” Elsie hurriedly polished off her drink. “It could be anywhere by now.”

We left the brandy room and found Brian and Dorothy beside the large pile of birthday gifts. Brian was stroking the small black cat Dorothy found as a familiar for him, Kalyna. She reminded me more of the black dragon in
How to Train Your Dragon
than any cat I'd ever seen. Her eyes were a violet color as she stared at me. She didn't look happy to see us, but I couldn't read her thoughts as I could Isabelle's. Maybe this was simply her response from being trapped in a birthday box for so long. Some familiars were also naturally standoffish to anyone but their witches.

“We're looking for the knife that killed Makaleigh,” I
told Brian as I stroked the cat. “Any idea where it came from or where it might be?”

Brian glanced at Antonio. “He's gonna help us?”

“Yes. He's ready to move on from his past.” What I said was followed by a yelp as Kalyna scratched me. “Someone needs to learn some manners.”

“Sorry, Molly,” Brian apologized, taking her from me. “I think she's just freaked-out by all of this. I'll sheathe her claws until she calms down.”

As good as his word, tiny sheathes appeared on each of Kalyna's claws. She meowed loudly and hissed at Brian but didn't try to get away from him.

“Maybe we could ask Oscar. He manages the castle for my family. He was more like a father to me than my father or Abdon when I was growing up. And he knows everything that goes on around here. If anyone knows where the knife went, it's him.” Brian took the lead across the ballroom.

Black-and-gold-clothed servants were offering rooms to the witches who were trapped in the castle until the spell wore off. It hadn't been long enough for any of Madam Tunis's magic outfits to change as yet, but many of the guests were looking bedraggled and unhappy as they waited for word of what happened to Makaleigh and when they could get on with their own lives.

“Where is Oscar?” Dorothy asked.

“He's bound to be around here somewhere,” Brian told her. “I'm sure giving rooms to everyone was his idea. I can't imagine my parents caring if anyone needed a place to get away from the crowd.”

Kalyna took a swipe at Dorothy, catching her on the wrist. The claws were covered but still managed to lightly scratch her arm.

“I don't know what's wrong with her,” she said of the exotic-looking black cat. “She wasn't aggressive like this when I bought her.”

“Sometimes it's hard for a familiar when they first meet their witch.” Olivia's voice sounded tinny coming through the bracelet. “I understand how she feels. Being in this bracelet isn't easy either.”

“It's true,” Elsie agreed. “Kalyna will be fine after a while. She's very beautiful.”

The cat meowed at her and didn't try to scratch her.

“Maybe that's the answer,” Dorothy said. “She just needs a lot of compliments.”

Kalyna was too far away to scratch her, but she hissed loudly at her and flattened back her ears.

“Or maybe not,” Dorothy reconsidered.

Brian seemed too worried about finding Oscar to be concerned with the cat. “There he is. Oscar! I need to talk with you.”

Oscar was a tall, bald man with one gold earring. It might have been terrible to think it, but he reminded me of Mr. Clean, the personified cleaning product. He was muscular and dressed completely in black.

“I was wondering when I'd see you.” Oscar hugged Brian with a big smile on his face. “You're looking good! The outside life agrees with you. I'm surprised you came for your party.”

“I know.” Brian curled his lip. “I probably wouldn't have, but Dorothy wanted to come.”

“The girlfriend.” Oscar turned to her and hugged her. “I'm glad Brian finally found someone important.”

“Thanks. He's told me so much about you.” Dorothy smiled. “And this is the rest of our coven—Molly, Elsie and, inside this bracelet, my mother.”

“Inside?” Oscar frowned as he examined the bracelet. “A ghost!”

“Pleased to meet you,” Olivia whispered.

“For goodness' sake!” Oscar slapped Brian's back. “What else have you brought with you to upset your grandfather?”

The two men started walking away, catching up.

“That's more than Brian gets from his whole family,” Dorothy said softly. “They are the coldest bunch of people I've ever met.”

“What about the council seat?” Elsie murmured as Brian spoke with Oscar. “Is he going to do it?”

“I don't think so,” Dorothy replied. “He's completely against the idea. I keep wondering why Abdon didn't ask Schadt. He and Brian's mother seem very political. I'm sure they'd love for one of them to be on the council.”

“That's gotta be a hard pill for Abdon to swallow,” Elsie said. “Even witches like for their sons to follow them in the family business.”

Brian brought Oscar back to where we trailed him in the crowd. “Oscar saw the blade after they moved Makaleigh's body,” he said. “He knows where they put it.”

“Follow me,” Oscar said. “The blade is an ancient one belonging to one of your ancestors, Brian. It's always been kept in a sealed glass box until now.”

“Was the box spelled?” Elsie asked.

“No. Not as far as I know,” Oscar replied. “There are daggers, knives and swords all over the castle. No one has ever killed a visitor with one—at least not for hundreds of years.”

He led us back to the pink sitting room, where we'd found Makaleigh. It had been thoroughly cleaned. Until it appeared as though nothing had happened there earlier.

Brian picked up the glass case that held the dagger. “It's in here again. I don't think they saved the fingerprints. Probably didn't even think of it. It was probably wiped down like the rest of the room.”

Of the group, the witchfinder looked most distressed by the news. “How can we use scientific method if there are no fingerprints?”

“Just because the knife was wiped clean doesn't mean anything,” I told him. “Trust me—it might appear clean, but
there are always microscopic cracks in the metal, and blood gets trapped there. And no matter how well they wipe it, usually there are at least partial prints left, especially on something this ornate. It would be hard to wipe them all off.”

“Look at that big red ruby on the hilt.” Elsie pointed without touching. “There's something smeared right there. On
CSI
, they use prints that get trapped in blood all the time.”

“We need some gloves.” I took the glass case from Brian. “We're going to need a few other things too. Do you have any superglue?”

“In the kitchen.” Oscar grinned. “Not everything that breaks needs magic to repair it.”

“What are you doing, Molly?” Elsie asked.

“Joe showed me this. He used superglue in a case to find the fingerprints. It reacts with the chemicals found in fingerprints and leaves a white film that you can take a picture of.”

“What next?” Dorothy wondered.

“The kitchen will be perfect to heat the box,” I told them. “We need something like a coffee or tea warmer, low watt.”

We walked across the ballroom and down a long stone hallway to a kitchen that made the gigantic ballroom look like a pantry. There were dozens of workers preparing food at the long stainless steel tables and the large stoves. Refrigerators and freezers lined the walls. Modern lighting had been installed here, so things were easier to see. It appeared the Fullers liked their food made to specification.

“What about using one of these candle warmers?” Dorothy picked one up as we walked by it on a shelf.

“That should do it,” I agreed. “We need a small bowl of water too.”

“I'll get the superglue,” Oscar volunteered. “Brian, you can handle the water, right?”

Brian grinned. “Yeah. I think I can do that.”

We got all the ingredients together and put the knife, warming tray and water into a cardboard box. I tried to
remember exactly what Joe had told me, but I wasn't sure I could have put the whole thing together without Elsie's help—she recalled someone doing something similar on television. She loved all the detective and mystery shows.

When everything was set up, we had to wait ten minutes for the development of the fingerprints on the knife. Brian questioned Oscar about Makaleigh, asking if he'd ever noticed her arguing with someone or being threatened by one of the other witches.

Oscar ran his hand over his smooth face. “You know the council is always bickering with one another. Those are the only ones I've ever heard Makaleigh argue with. She and Abdon seemed like they couldn't agree on anything. This new idea she had of not punishing non-witches for knowing about magic was a hot button for almost everyone on the council.”

“Enough that one of them might have wanted to kill her to keep her from doing it?” I asked. I'd heard Joe talking about even less important reasons, so I wouldn't be surprised.

“They're afraid,” Elsie summed up. “Like with Antonio here, everything is always supposed to stay the same. People fear change, you know.”

“They do,” the witchfinder agreed slowly. “I know this better than most.”

“But Makaleigh and Abdon were always the ones most likely to cross swords,” Oscar said. “You know how he gets, Brian.”

“I do. Thanks.” Brian's face was grim when he looked at us. “We can't rule out that my grandfather could have killed her, or it could have been another member of the council.”

“Difficult no matter,” the witchfinder said. “And deadly.”

The chiming of the timer we'd set for ten minutes couldn't have come at a worse moment. Everyone, except the witchfinder, jumped.

“I guess that's it,” Dorothy said. “Will you do the honors, Molly?”

“You know we still have nothing to compare this to even if there is a print on the knife,” Elsie reminded me. “And no national fingerprint database to look it up. I don't know if this will work without police assistance.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to find the fingerprints of the witches who seem most guilty,” Antonio suggested. “That is normally where I would start my interrogations.”

“Good idea,” Brian agreed. “And that's why you started with Molly.”

“Yes.” Antonio took my hand and kissed it. “Forgive me, dear lady.”

“Not a problem.” I started dismantling the fingerprint
box. “My mother always told me that I had a guilty expression even when I didn't do anything wrong.”

After taking the knife carefully out of the box, I could clearly see fingerprints on it.

“It looks like a thumb and forefinger to me.” Elsie examined it closely.

“Quick!” Brian took out his phone. “We need pictures.”

At that point we all pulled out our phones and took pictures.

“We don't have to worry about not having enough evidence.” Dorothy smiled as she looked at the burst of pictures she'd just taken with her camera. “Now what?”

“Now we do what Antonio said. We get fingerprints from our top suspects.” I looked at the single picture on my phone camera. “It could be anyone.”

Oscar, who'd waited in the kitchen with us while he checked on food preparations, came back when he saw the pictures being taken. “I assume you got something.”

“Yes. Now we have to be creative and get prints from everyone on the council, since they seem to be our main suspects.” I showed him the fingerprints on the knife. They were already fading as the fumes from the superglue escaped. Lucky we had the pictures, and that the evidence didn't have to hold up in court. “Anyone have any suggestions?”

Antonio cleared his throat. “I am the witchfinder. I am expected to conduct the interrogations of the guilty. Perhaps this is slightly different, but nevertheless, it should be my job to secure what is needed to find the guilty. And I shall take possession of this blade as the weapon of death.”

“That's not gonna happen,” Oscar said. “The knife belongs to the Fuller family. You'll have to get permission from Abdon if you want to take it.”

The witchfinder formally nodded. “I am certain that can be done.”

“Until then.” Oscar took charge of the knife, replacing it in the glass case.

“Okay then.” Elsie cleared her throat. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Great,” Brian agreed. “I'll get Kalyna into my room so I don't have to carry her around with me everywhere.”

“While the witchfinder does his job, why don't I see each of you to a room where you can refresh yourselves?” Oscar offered politely. “It's nearly morning. Breakfast will be served promptly at seven
A.M.
”

“Yes.” Dorothy smiled at Brian. “I could use a shower before my clothes turn back to rags and I'm not wearing glass slippers.”

“Then allow me to lead the way.” Oscar started toward the kitchen door.

“Are you sure you'll be all right doing this?” I asked Antonio as everyone else started to leave. “I could go with you. I don't want to see you get in trouble because you aren't torturing people.”

His eyes behind the mask were alive with mischief. “Who says no one must be tortured to procure their fingerprints?”

“I guess that's true.”

“I do not plan to torture anyone, Molly,” he assured me. “Not again for the witches or for anyone else. Though it may cost my life, I swear it is so.”

I understood that he was joking with me, probably in the only way he knew how. “Just don't make it worse for yourself. I know what you were, but you don't have to be that person anymore.”

“You are too kind.” He kissed my hand again. “Trust me. It shall be done.”

He and I walked out of the kitchen together before he went on ahead. Elsie had waited for me while Dorothy and Brian had gone ahead with Oscar.

“Does anything seem off to you about that cat?” Elsie asked.

“Besides her scratching everyone but Brian, no. Does she seem off to you?”

“I don't know.” She shook her head. “It's probably too much brandy and not enough food. Do you really think the witches' council will agree to being fingerprinted by the witchfinder?”

“I'm almost too tired to care,” I admitted. “I need some way to call Joe and let him know what's going on. Mike is home, and they'll be worried about me.”

“I left Aleese a note and told her I was going on a cruise with Larry.” She laughed. “She's getting used to that now, and it makes it so much easier for me. I should have made up a boyfriend years ago.”

“Elsie!”

“I know. My mother always said I was such a good person. I think she just never really knew me.” She grinned. “Let's get up to the bedrooms and get some rest. We'll see if we can patch you through to Joe somehow. Even if our magic is at half power—we're used to that. The kids can help us. We'll find a way. We always do.”

Oscar put Dorothy in a room with Brian. I thought about it being a little obvious, but then I realized that this was the twenty-first century. People didn't think that way anymore. Besides, I wasn't her mother—Olivia was, and she going to be with her the whole time. She could handle the details.

After he'd finished with Brian and Dorothy, I asked if Elsie and I could bunk together. I knew neither of us wanted to be in a room alone. Oscar was very gracious about showing us to a large room right next to Dorothy and Brian that we could share. He nodded when we thanked him, and he left us with a reminder about breakfast.

“If you need anything, please ask. We have clothes, shoes, toiletries, anything you might need.”

“Thank you, Oscar,” I said.

He nodded and was gone with no doubt thousands of things to attend to.

The room was gorgeous, as everything in the castle seemed to be.

“The dungeon or wherever it was Antonio took me wasn't so nice,” I told Elsie as we examined the burgundy silk comforter on the oversized bed with a matching canopy. “I never expected to see the Bone Man there. I thought he was done with me.”

She was delighting over the large bay window nook that overlooked a wonderful garden far below us. “I don't think he's ever going to be finished with you as long as you wear that amulet.”

“You might be right. I could have gotten away without him.” I stood next to a marble fireplace that was taller than me. “I didn't need him.”

“Really, Molly,” Elsie chided as she studied the crystal chandelier above us from the comfort of a red velvet chair. “I don't think the witchfinder would have let you go except that the Bone Man was there and he was afraid of him. You may as well give credit where credit is due.”

“I know you think I should give up the amulet.”

“I do,” she agreed. “It hasn't brought you a moment's peace since you put it on, and I don't think it ever will.”

“It makes my magic stronger.”

She tsked. “I'm sure Dorian Gray used a similar argument about his portrait being evil.”

“I'm not Dorian Gray!”

Olivia's ghost came through the magnificent wallpaper that portrayed a complete scene from the Middle Ages as it progressed around the room. “Yoo-hoo. Girls? Are you decent?”

“Since when did that matter?” Elsie demanded. “I don't
know how many times you've seen me in the altogether since we were young. Sometimes, I thought you did it on purpose.”

“Don't be absurd,” Olivia denied. “I was just curious, and you are older than me. I had questions about the female body.”

“That was a long time ago,” I said. “I thought you'd be chaperoning Dorothy and Brian.”

“They don't need me.” Olivia flitted around the room, looking at everything much the same way Elsie and I had. “In fact, I think they were glad to be rid of me. And I was longing for a bit of intelligent conversation that didn't have anything to do with giggling or the cat. Did you two notice anything strange about that cat? I wasn't with Dorothy when she bought it.”

“That's what I was saying to Molly.” Elsie glanced at herself in the full-length mirror and adjusted her dress. “I don't know what it is, but something's not right.”

“I think we should focus on helping Antonio find Makaleigh's killer,” I said. “I need to call Joe first, and the cell phone doesn't work here. Elsie, let's give it a try before I ask Brian and Dorothy for help.”

“I'm so sorry I let you down by being murdered,” Olivia said. “I still can't believe it happened to me. I know I'll be a lot happier once I can use my ghostly abilities.”

“One of those ghostly abilities wouldn't include talking to other ghosts, would it?” I wondered. “If so, maybe you could contact Makaleigh and this would be all over. We'd know who killed her, and we could go home.”

“Good idea.” Elsie backed me up. “What about it, Olivia?”

“I can certainly give it a try,” she said. “I'll start down there in the pink sitting room where she was killed. We're both witches who were murdered. We should have something to say to each other. I'll be right back.”

“While she's gone, why don't we try to get in touch with Joe?” Elsie said. “I don't like to hurt her feelings by doing
magic around her if I can help it. I can't imagine what it's like for her to feel so powerless.”

“That's what I was saying about the amulet.” I tackled the ongoing argument again. “It makes me stronger. Larry makes you stronger, you know. I can tell a difference in you.”

“Oh for goodness' sake! He does no such thing!”

“And you say I won't admit things! Your relationship with him has made a huge difference. When was the last time you messed up a spell?”

“I don't know,” she hedged. “Not recently, I suppose.”

“You were unhappy and lonely,” I said. “Larry came into your life and changed that.”

“Along with other activities we've undertaken recently,” she replied. “But that's different than you relying on that amulet anyway. Larry isn't the Bone Man. I don't see how anything good can come of a relationship with him. And you can see by him showing up that you do have a relationship, Molly.”

“I know what you're saying, Elsie. But this still belonged to my mother and going back several generations in my family. I don't see it as being bad.”

“Then we'll have to agree to disagree.”

“All right.” I nodded, not liking being at odds with her. “Let's see if we can make that call to Joe, huh?”

“Let's do it.”

We held hands and used a simple communication spell. There was no need to use the enchanted bubble, since Joe wasn't here with us. The bubble protected communication from the council—or other witches. I wasn't worried about anyone else overhearing us.