Putting on the Witch (13 page)

They parted company a few minutes later, going off in different directions.

Elsie and I watched them descend the stairs before daring to speak to each other.

“Bring any fingerprint powder with you?” Elsie asked. “I think Arleigh touched the banister right here. Maybe I could get something from that.”

“I didn't. I'm sorry. It seems like it won't be that simple. I'll see you later.”

Erinna went into the brandy room. I casually followed her there, glad to see there were other witches imbibing alcohol to while away the day. I carefully kept my eye on a glass of Sazerac as she drank it. She casually put it on a side table as she flirted with a handsome older witch who got her attention.

They spoke for several minutes with a lot of hand touching and serious eye contact before finally leaving together with Erinna's hand in the crook of his arm. She left the half glass of amber liquid on the table.

I swooped down on it with all the major excitement of a department store find and snatched it up.

“Excuse me,” a polite voice said. “I'll take that glass for you, ma'am.”

It was a servant dressed in black. His smile was firmly in place as he held out his hand.

“No. That's all right. I really wanted a drink but not a whole one, you know?” I forced myself to take a sip, careful that I didn't smudge where her hand had been.

“I'll be happy to make you any size drink you'd like,” he replied, still reaching for the glass.

I took another sip and tried not to make a face—not a big fan of Sazerac. “Oh no. This is fine. I'll bring it to you when I'm finished.”

“Of course.” He finally nodded and walked away.

I let out a sigh of relief and left the room quickly before he came back for the glass again. My next thought was panic. What should I do with it? I couldn't carry it around with me. I might mess up the fingerprints. I'd have to continue to sip at it to keep it in my hand as I walked quickly toward the kitchen. It felt like every servant was watching me, waiting for me to falter so they could ask for it.

In my imagination, no doubt. I was just nervous. Lucky I could get those awful sips in my mouth!

I had to find Oscar so we could come up with a safe place we could all put our glasses, or whatever, with fingerprints. The kitchen would make the best staging area. It was out of the way, and most guests wouldn't go there. I kept my head down, hoping no one would notice me, and ran right into Cassandra as I tried to hurry down the hall.

“Molly.” She was radiant as usual in a long black and silver gown. Everything seemed to hang perfectly on her. It wasn't just magic either. She was tall—no hips or chest—like a fashion model. She wore huge silver earrings that moved in and out of her waist-length black hair as she spoke. The distinct smell of roses always accompanied her.

She claimed to be a thousand years old. I didn't know if
it was true, but if it was, she'd spent that time making herself look as fabulous as possible.

“Cassandra.” I raised the Sazerac to my lips again, barely tasting any of the liquid.

“This is a horrible situation, Molly.” She shook her head slowly. “It was a tragedy losing Makaleigh. No one will ever be able to take her place. As one of the founders of the council, her vision will be missed.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I liked her. She seemed very wise.”

I couldn't claim more than a brief acquaintance with her since Olivia, Elsie and I had never even met one of the council before last year. We'd only seen Cassandra a few times. We had lived very modest lives for witches.

“She was,” Cassandra, the herald, confirmed. “She will be sorely missed.”

“I wonder who'll take her place on the council.” I felt sure my idle speculation would be on every witch's mind. It wouldn't seem out of place, or suspicious.

Her laugh was dainty, a tinkling sound like tiny silver bells. “Why, Brian, of course, Molly. Abdon has asked him to sit on the council. I've never heard of a witch who refused that singular honor.”

“I suppose so.” I sipped more Sazerac. It was starting to taste much better. “But then no one on the council has died in a very long time. No one has given up their seat. We don't really know what will happen, do we?”

I couldn't believe those provocative words had come out of my mouth. What was I thinking?

Finding Makaleigh's killer was more important than standing there talking to Cassandra. I could already see that she was surprised that I had spoken to her that way about the council. Usually it was Elsie or Dorothy who gave her a hard time. “Excuse me. I'm looking for someone,” I said.

“Surely.” She nodded graciously. “I do wish you'd give
sweet little Dorothy a message for me, Molly, if you don't mind?”

“Of course, Cassandra.” I hiccupped and excused myself. “What is it?”

“Tell her that I know she's hiding that disgusting ghost of her mother in her bracelet. When we're out of quarantine and our magic is at full strength again, I plan to rid her of that vile revenant once and for all.” She smiled.

I knew it was best to ignore her threat, at least for the time being. It wouldn't do any good to get into an argument about Olivia's right to survive. The council was as clear about not wanting ghosts around as they were about family members without magic not knowing about witchcraft. It was an indisputable law to them, not to be questioned or disobeyed. Frankly, I was surprised they hadn't taken Olivia before now.

We needed to move Olivia out of the bracelet for the rest of the time we were stuck here. And then we needed a way to protect her from the council, maybe like the way Joe was protected, except not with the help of the Bone Man. There had to be a way.

Brian joined us with a half glass of orange juice in his hand. “Cassandra. Molly. What's up? You both look kind of serious and scary. Are you talking about Makaleigh?”

Cassandra looked pointedly at each of us with partial glasses of liquid—or was that my imagination thinking she
could possibly have any idea what we were doing? My hand shook a little, and I steadied the glass on my lips.

“We were talking about Makaleigh and her terrible fate.” Cassandra bowed her head. When her head came up again, her eyes were sharp on my face. “But we were also discussing Olivia's fate. I know Molly and Dorothy have a soft spot for her, but I hope you'll be more objective and a good influence on your coven by making sure they get rid of the ghost. There's no room in the world for her. Olivia should move on. It's part of nature to die. As witches we accept that.”

“I don't really understand the whole witches hating ghosts thing.” Brian wasn't afraid to disagree with her and certainly didn't mind issuing his opinion. I wondered if Abdon and the rest of the Grand Council were ready for that kind of new voice. “Why can't we all be friends?”

“It's unnatural for a witch to become a ghost,” Cassandra reiterated as though Brian may not have understood her position. “We don't do it.”

He grinned. “Maybe I should take that spot on the council my grandfather just offered me. I'd like to change that law and a few others that have been around since the Dark Ages. This is a new world for witches, Cassandra. It's about time that you and the council realize it.” He glanced at me. “I'm headed to the kitchen to find Oscar. Care to join me?”

“Yes!” I moved a little closer to him in case there was any doubt. “I'd love to join you. I'll be sure to deliver that message to Dorothy, Cassandra.”

She didn't say anything in return, but her beautiful face expressed her distaste of the subject. She turned her nose up and stalked by us. Would she go to Abdon and tell him to rescind his invitation to Brian to join the council? I doubted it. She probably wouldn't dare question his choice.

The kitchen was filled with cooks and servants working on breakfast prep and taking various items back and forth
to the rooms. The smell of eggs, toast and coffee made me realize that I was starving. No wonder the Sazerac had such a strong effect on me so quickly.

“What was that all about?” Brian whispered as we searched for a quiet spot in a corner of the kitchen.

“She knows about Olivia being here, of course. How Olivia ever thought she could disguise herself from a couple hundred witches in tight quarters is beyond me.”

“She might have gotten away with it, Molly, if it had only been the party. I feel bad for her. She just wanted to be here with us. I don't understand why it's such a big deal. What's the history behind the council's feelings that ghosts shouldn't exist?”

I shrugged, uncertain. The question hadn't come up in my life until Olivia had come back. “Maybe Oscar knows. I'm sure your grandfather could tell you. It's been that way for as long as I've been a witch. Whose orange juice is that?”

He carefully held up the glass. “I believe I have a thumb and index finger on this glass from my grandfather. He'd probably kick me off the council before I ever got on it if he knew we thought he could be Makaleigh's murderer.”

“I doubt that.” I studied his handsome young face. “Are you going to take the open seat, Brian?”

Elsie and Dorothy came upon us quickly in our hidden corner. There was no time for Brian to answer. I wasn't sure he would have if there had been. He might not even know the answer himself yet.

“You two were lucky,” Dorothy said. “All I got were some candy bar wrappers that Joshua dropped on the floor. Can fingerprints be on paper?”

“I don't know, but what a slob,” Elsie said. “I found Owen's fancy cigarette lighter.” She took it out. “Pretty cool, huh?”

The lighter was shaped like a dragon. It blew fire from its mouth when the button was pushed—a clever piece of technology and magic, since it had no place to add fuel to it.

“We better get going,” Brian suggested. “I think he's bound to miss that. He smokes like a fiend.”

We were able to get fingerprints from everything but the candy bar wrapper. Oscar joined us while we were working and found a magnifying glass to compare them to the prints on the knife.

“None of these match.” I sat back from my turn looking at the items. We'd each agreed to compare them and decide.

“So we can cross Abdon, Owen and Erinna off the list of suspects,” Elsie said. “That still leaves eight more to go.”

“Still need Joshua's prints.” Brian kissed Dorothy's forehead. “Nothing paper, I guess.”

“And we have another problem.” I stared at Olivia's tiny visible gaze in the bracelet. “Cassandra is onto this bracelet. We have to find something else to do with Olivia.”

“I thought she was looking too close at the bracelet,” Dorothy said. “What now? We're still stuck here. Where else can we hide Mom?”

“We could hide her in our room and put a no trespassing spell on it,” Brian said. “No other witches would be able to get inside, but she wouldn't be able to get out and look around either. I'm sorry, Olivia. I hate that it has to be this way right now.”

“Oh. It's not your fault, Brian,” Olivia replied. “I guess I should've known better.”

“What are you talking about?” Oscar asked. “Perhaps I can help.”

We explained about Olivia, and he peered closely to see her.

“That's the darnedest thing I've ever seen.” He grinned. “You're either the bravest witches I know or the craziest.”

Elsie cleared her throat. “Speaking only for myself, I'd say the bravest. Crazy doesn't run in my family.”

“Tell you what—there's a very nice poison ring in the Fuller family. I'd be glad to get it out for you, Brian, if you'd
like to put the ghost in there. It's spelled to avoid detection, so that could keep any other interested eyes away.”

“That would be great.” Brian accepted his offer. “Maybe that can get us through until we're released from the castle. Olivia normally isn't out in public so much.”

“I'll take care of it myself.” Oscar nodded and left us.

“In the meantime, we have other prints to get.” I smiled at Dorothy. “I think it has to be something solid. We don't have the resources the police do. Joe says they can even take fingerprints from skin now—but we need something solid.”

Dorothy understood. “I'll get it this time. Sorry. I thought the candy wrappers would work.”

“Let's get it done.” Elsie fist-bumped each of us.

As we left the kitchen, she and I held back a pace or two from Dorothy and Brian.

“Didn't you think it was Abdon?” Elsie asked. “I could've sworn he did it.”

“Joe always says not to form preconceived ideas about who the killer is,” I told her. “I guess that's why.”

“You don't think he could've known Brian was looking for his fingerprints and magically changed them, do you?”

“Anything is possible, but it seems like a remote chance to me. Look at all these other witches—they rely heavily on magic. I don't think he'd consider us using science instead.”

She smiled. “I'm sure you're right. I guess I was kind of
hoping
it was him, you know? He's so obnoxious. That way we'd have him and Makaleigh off the council. It would sort of balance out. There would be two seats available. Not that I didn't like Makaleigh, but she's been part of the problem all these years, after all.”

“That's true, I suppose. I guess I was hoping she was going to change things, but there was no way to know for sure.”

“And now we'll never know.” She adjusted her dress. “I'll
be glad when this thing is gone. It's not as comfortable as it was to begin with. See you in a while, Molly. Be careful.”

“You too.”

I was on the prowl for my next fingerprint victim when the witchfinder came up beside me and took my arm.

“How is the investigation going?” he asked.

“Slow, but we're making progress.” I glanced at him as we walked together. “What have you been doing?”

“Interrogating suspects.” His mask was firmly in place. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

As we started through the crowded halls of the castle, the other witches averted their eyes and walked on the other side of the hall. They either didn't want to be noticed by Antonio or were frightened by him—maybe some of both.

“Has anyone cracked yet?”

He stared at me, muttering in Spanish. “Cracked? What does this mean?”

“Told you their secrets,” I explained. “Spilled their guts.”

“No. My interrogations have been less intense. There have been no revelations, and the time is fleeting. Abdon will destroy me if I don't know who killed Makaleigh Veazy by the time the spell wears off and all are free to go.”

I stopped walking and pulled him into one of the many shadowed alcoves that lined the castle walls. “Let me help you. We know that several of the council aren't guilty. Maybe if you tell him that, he'll leave you alone.”

“My dear lady, I find it remarkable that you care one way or another.” He pointed at two witches who walked by, shuddering and changing course when they saw him. “That is what I expect from everyone. I am hated and reviled by all witches, a symbol of their unpleasant past.”

“If that were the case, the council shouldn't have enslaved you to do their bidding. They should've killed you and been done with it. In my opinion, you have worked off your
crimes, Antonio. That's the way I feel. Everyone makes mistakes.”

He brought my hand to his covered lips. “You have a good heart, Molly. But we are wasting valuable time. Tell me who those witches are that you believe to be free of guilt, and I will concentrate my efforts elsewhere.”

I gave him the names of the three council members whose fingerprints didn't match the ones on the knife.

“Are you certain of this?” His voice was intense but kept low so as not to be heard.

“Yes. Well, at least according to the fingerprint tests we've done. Did you think it was one of them?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not precisely.”