Witch Boots on the Ground Page 5

  “Psssshhhhh,” Aella said, cutting him off with a careless wave. “You are very kind but I am not some grieving widow. Honestly I am surprised that it took this long.”

  “Took this long...for what?” Winnie said around a bite of biscuit.

  Aella’s mouth twitched.

  “For someone to come collecting,” she said. “Horace owed some very bad people a lot of money. I warned him to not become entangled with that sort, but he never listened.”

  “The fairy mafia,” I said, “We know.”

  This seemed to surprise Aella. “Yes? Then why are you here?”

  Winnie crushed the remainder of her biscuit between two fingers and held out the crumbs to Alan. He cackled appreciatively and dove in.

  “Because,” Winnie said, brushing crumbs off the electric blue pantsuit she’d picked out for the occasion. “It’s looking more and more like the mafia had nothing to do with it.”

  Aella blinked, taken aback.

  “And,” Winnie continued, voice raising. “The police’s only other lead is the kindest, sweetest, most unconventionally handsome barista in Nikatomia and he absolutely did not have anything to do with it, either. So we’re here wondering what you had to do with all of this.”

  Henry stared at her. I stared at her. Even Alan stopped munching on crumbled biscuits for a few seconds to give her a stunned glance.

  “Unconventionally handsome?” I said. I hoped a bit of teasing would lift her spirits. It’s never easy to watch someone you care about go through what Barry was now being subjected to.

  Winnie lifted her chin defensively. “He has a unique charm.”

  “The barista?” Aella asked, surprised, “Barry? I know this man. He is pleasant to look at. And makes good coffee.”

  Winnie’s face scrunched, caught somewhere between jealousy and pride at her vindication. She adjusted her eyepatch as if to warn the harpy to keep her distance from her wolf man.

  “In any case,” Henry said levelly, “We just wanted to ask you a few questions. Get a closer look at the events leading up to the attack. If that’s alright with you?”

  Aella shrugged, set the teapot down, and took a seat. Her silk dressing gown parted slightly near the hem, revealing a pair of well-manicured, taloned feet. I hoped the others knew to tread carefully—those talons looked more than capable of doing some serious damage.

  “Where were you the night of the murder?” Winnie blurted out. I peered over at her and saw that her one eyed gaze was fixed on Aella’s talons. Seeing them up close, it occurred to me that they would probably leave wounds similar to claw marks...

  “I teach a pottery class down at the Academy,” Aella said. “That night, I went with some of my students for a drink at the Riverheim Inn afterward.”

  “Would these students be able to verify this?” Henry asked. Aella nodded.

  “Just like I told the other officers,” she said, “Horace and I were only ever occasional...friends. He was never around long enough to upset me, let alone provoke me to violence...” she trailed off, frowning.

  “There’s something more,” Alan rasped in my ear, soft enough that only I could hear it. A couple of crumbs tumbled from his beak and onto my shirt. I brushed them off and turned to Aella.

  “Were you aware,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully, “That Horace was seeing someone else?”

  Aella’s face darkened. She leaned forward to pour herself another cup of tea, fanned away some of the steam that swirled out from the cup, and sighed.

  “Not until recently,” she said, eyes narrowed. “And I had no intention of being anyone’s mistress. I was going to break things off with Horace the next time I saw him.”

  “How did you find out?” I asked gently.

  “She found out about me,” Aella chuckled darkly.

  “Nausika?” Henry asked, surprised, “Horace’s girlfriend, the siren?”

  “That’s the one,” Aella shook her head, “She showed up in my class one evening and confronted me. She was distraught, hysterical. It was...frightening, truth be told. I don’t know what she would have done if my students hadn’t been there.”

  Winnie and I exchanged a look. Henry appeared concerned.

  “You were afraid for your safety?” He asked, “Did she make any threats?”

  “Several,” Aella said matter-of-factly. “Fortunately, one of my students is half giant and was able to hold her back while I called security. We let them take it from there, thank goodness...the last thing I’d ever want to do is go toe-to-toe with a siren.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “HER ALIBI IS SOLID,” Henry said, looking at his cellphone, “The interviewing officers got ahold of the students and the bartender at the Riverheim Inn. Half a dozen people have confirmed her story.”

  We were sitting in the park, having walked a few blocks away from Aella’s house. Winnie sat at the edge of a small, stone-lined pond, looking into the water. Several large, whiskered fish with scales that glittered like gemstones swam beneath the surface.

  “We’re definitely earning our vacation time,” she sulked, poking the surface of the water. Tiny ripples flickered across the pond.

  “Did you ask about the siren?” I asked Henry.

  “Sure did,” he said. “Her alibi checks out, too.”

  Winnie looked over at us, putting a hand up to shield her eye from the glaring summer sun. “What’s her alibi?”

  “She’s in a band. They were onstage at the Calliope at the time of the murder.”

  If there was an alibi Olympics, that one would take the gold. Even Alan was impressed.

  “That’s a good one,” he said, bobbing excitedly on the back of a park bench. “Back to the fairy mafia, then?” I scowled at him. He seemed much too happy about the idea of putting himself in danger again.

  “There’s more,” Henry continued, reading from his phone. “Barry is out on bail.”

  Winnie nodded approvingly. “Did he finally just say where he was?”

  Henry shook his head. Winnie groaned.

  It didn’t make sense to me. Barry was innocent—Winnie and I both knew it. But why wouldn’t he just come out and tell the truth about where he had been at the time of the attack? Even if it was embarrassing...or even illegal...what could possibly be worse than a murder conviction?

  Henry’s phone pinged again and he picked it up with a grimace. “I have to get back to the station,” he said, “We can interview Nausika tomorrow. Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do on my end in the meantime.”

  “Will do,” I said, “See you tomorrow.”

  Henry strode off toward the street to hail a cab. I got up to join Winnie at the pond. We watched the jeweled fish swim in circles for a bit in silence.

  “Don’t give up just yet, Winnie,” I said, nudging her gently. “We’ll figure this out and have Barry cleared...it just might take a little time.” Alan clicked his beak in agreement.

  Winnie managed a small smile. “I just don’t understand,” she said. “Why is he holding out on them?”

  “Beats me.” I shook my head. “It seems like we’re just going to have to work with what little we’ve got. We know that one,” I held up a finger, “Bugglebee was in too deep with the fairy mafia. Two,” I put up another finger, “There are two betrayed women with plenty of motive but airtight alibis, and three...there’s that “newcomer” we heard about.”

  “And four,” Alan raised a wing, “Barry is innocent.”

  Winnie laughed. “Your Vana impression is perfect.”

  I shook my head, but I was glad to see Winnie’s mood improving.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking. Alan should follow up on the mafia lead....carefully!” I gave him a warning look as he began hopping in place on my shoulder.

  “I am never anything but careful!” he cawed in mock offense.

  “Winnie and I,” I continued, scowling at him. “Will pay a visit to Miss Nausika. I’d like to hear her account of things first hand.”
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  “But Henry said we could interview her tomorrow...” Winnie eyed me suspiciously. I shrugged the shoulder Alan wasn’t perched on.

  “This doesn’t need to be official,” I said. “Just a couple of...fans...who want to get to know her better.”

  “Ohhh,” Winnie arched an eyebrow. “How devious of you, Vana.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Alan said seriously. “Lying to a siren sounds like a bad idea.”

  “We’ll be careful if you will,” I told him. He puffed out his feathers sullenly but nodded in agreement.

  We went over our plans and agreed to meet up at the coffee shop that night. After a quick mutual lecture about not taking unnecessary risks, Alan took off toward mount Riverheim to scout out the fairy mafia hideout once more.

  Winnie and I made our way over to the Calliope to gather some intel. The Calliope was an old conservatory-turned-dance hall that was a favorite spot for young couples and students from the Academy. The building itself was as beautiful as it was ancient, with polished marble floors, carved columns adorned with climbing vines, and a domed roof painted with scenes from Nikatomia’s antiquity.

  The stage inside was a recent addition, equipped with magical microphones and amplifiers. A couple of musicians were seated at the edge of it, tuning their instruments and testing sound equipment. One of them, a young man with violet eyes and pointed ears, stole a few appreciative glances of Winnie as we entered. A small, hurried-looking woman carrying a clipboard met us at the door.

  “The show doesn’t start for another couple of hours, ladies,” she said briskly, moving as if to shoo us out.

  “Oh! Sorry,” Winnie said instantly. “We were just hoping to, um, meet the band.” She flashed Violet Eyes a smile that made him flush all the way to the tips of his ears.

  The woman looked skeptical, but Violet Eyes was grinning and waved us over. She rolled her eyes and strode away, heels clicking on the marble floor.

  We made our way over to the stage, where Winnie immediately began cooing over Violet Eyes’ guitar.

  “So cool,” she breathed. “How long have you been playing?”

  “Um,” he grinned nervously. “Since I was, like, a kid.”

  “Wow! You must be amazing. Do you perform here a lot?” I fought the urge to laugh. The poor guy was practically drooling. Winnie would have him eating out of her hand if I didn’t stop her.

  “Was that them we saw the other night?” I piped up, “That band with the siren, remember?”

  “Right!” Winnie cried, “You guys were really good...what’s your band’s name again?”

  Violet Eyes shook his head furiously. “Nope, that wasn’t us. That was The Wailing Wayfarers. They play the last show of the night and they have a siren.” He lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “She uses her powers to make people think they’re good. That’s why they won the battle of the bands last year.”

  “Whoa.” Winnie whispered, eyes wide, “That’s not fair!”

  “It’s definitely not,” Violet Eyes agreed. “But no one wants to call her out on it because...well...”

  “...She’s a siren?” I offered.

  He nodded. “That,” he said. “And she’s crazy. I have a buddy at the Academy...he says she nearly assaulted one of his professors the other night.”

  Winnie and I did our best to look shocked. Violet Eyes’ bandmate clapped him on the back.

  “Come on, buddy,” he teased. “Stop flirting with the fans.”

  Violet Eyes blushed even deeper this time. Winnie giggled.

  “Good luck with your show,” she said, turning and practically sashaying as she walked away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  WINNIE AND I DEBRIEFED over a shared pitcher of raspberry lemonade and a bowl of fresh-baked bread at a cafe across the street from the Calliope. We had decided to wait until The Wailing Wayfarers went on stage, join the crowd, and hopefully get a moment to speak with Nausika after the show.

  “I’m not going to lie,” Winnie said, slathering a slice of warm bread with herbed butter. “This Nausika lady is sounding more and more like someone we don’t want to cross.”

  “No kidding,” I said in between sips of lemonade. It had that perfect balance of tartness and sweetness that you can never quite get right in the normal realm. I made a note to pick up a sack of Nikatomian lemons before I left on vacation—my grandmother would love them.

  I was trying and failing to ignore the nervousness in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t keen on getting on Nausika’s bad side...especially now that we knew she had a temper and no qualms about using her siren powers unethically. I was tempted to call the whole thing off, but then I thought about Barry. He was still the prime suspect in what was probably the grisliest, if not the only, murder in recent memory here. And with him refusing to provide an alibi....Winnie, Alan, and I were the only ones working actively to clear his name.

  Another basket of bread and a couple bowls of French onion soup calmed our nerves enough that Winnie and I felt somewhat confident when we heard The Wailing Wayfarers strike up their first song across the street.

  “Shall we?” Winnie quirked an eyebrow and jerked a thumb toward the Calliope.

  “Let’s go,” I said, tossing a handful of Nikatomian bills on the table. It was probably way too much, but overpaying was the least of my worries at the moment. We made our way across the street, trying to look casual. We merged with a group of students that had stepped outside to smoke and followed them inside the Calliope.

  The music, which had already been loud enough to hear from the outside, hit us like a wall of sound. My head felt light and for a moment I thought I might faint. I looked around in shock—all around me were fans gazing up at the stage in rapturous delight. Some were singing along, others were swaying in time with the beat, and a few were actually crying. Typical concert sights, except for one thing...

  ...The band was terrible. And when I say terrible, I mean that they were really and truly bad at producing music. Think of your neighbor’s kid practicing the violin, add the sound of a fire alarm, and top it all off with the sweet song of an old-timey dial-up modem. That’s how bad it was.

  From the look of disgust on Winnie’s face, I could tell she was thinking the same thing. We exchanged a confused look and stood on tiptoes to get a better look at the stage. The band was all women. One played accordion, another the musical saw, and the third was on vocals. That must be her, I thought.

  Nausika looked every bit like a typical siren. Her skin had a silvery, scaly quality to it and the fingers that gripped her microphone were connected by a thin, translucent webbing. Her white hair hung lank and glistened as if wet and her pupil-less eyes shone like mother of pearl. When she sung, the gills on her neck fluttered noticeably.

  Winnie tapped me on the shoulder and said something that I couldn’t hear over the cacophony.

  “That’s her!” I mouthed, pointing. Winnie nodded and mimed covering her ears and screaming in pain. I laughed.

  Then, suddenly, the music started to change. The notes that sounded shrill and disjointed suddenly arranged themselves into a pleasant melody. The singer’s voice lost its harsh edge and gained a smooth, silky quality. I started to lose track of why I’d come to the Calliope in the first place...I was just glad I was there. Grateful to have the chance to hear such enchanting music. Awed by the talent of the lead singer. I raised my hands over my head and started to cheer.

  Grinning, I glanced over at Winnie, who still had her hands over her ears and was looking at me like I was crazy. She rolled her eyes, leaned over, and whispered a muffled spell into my ear. The music became fuzzy and distant. And terrible...again.

  I blinked and shook my head. I had forgotten how fast and potent that brand of magic could be. There was a reason no one messed with sirens. I maintained Winnie’s muffle spell for the rest of the set, watching as the crowd around us grew frenzied with adoration for the band. Some broke down into sobs, others threw money and trinket
s onto the stage. I had to hand it to The Wailing Wayfarers—they sure knew how to play a room.

  We made our way to the stage after the show, joining the throng of adoring fans who were clamoring for Nausika’s attention. The woman with the clipboard who we’d seen earlier was trying unsuccessfully to make them form a line.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Winnie muttered. “We need to meet up with Alan soon.”

  I agreed. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and pushed through the crowd.

  “Nausika?” I called, “Excuse me, Nausika? We’re with the Academy Student Gazette! We have a few questions about an incident that transpired on campus a few—”

  Nausika froze, turned to look at me, and shook her head ever so slightly. Good.

  “We have several reports,” I continued, louder. “From our students saying that you harassed and threatened a professor. Is this true?”

  The fans were quiet now, watching Nausika to see her reaction. She strode over to where Winnie and I stood, pearly eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, stopping just inches away from me. “I will—”

  “—Several eyewitnesses,” I practically shouted. “Claim they saw you—”

  “Stop!” Nausika snarled, looking around wildly. “What do you want from me?”

  I leaned forward. “We just want to hear your side of the story,” I said quietly. “We’d prefer a more private location for our interview but if you prefer to continue out here...” I trailed off, motioning toward her stunned fans. Nausika scowled.

  Winnie and I led the way to a quiet corner at the other end of the Calliope. We wanted to stay in view of the crowd, just in case things escalated.

  “Look,” said Nausika acidly. “I’ll give you an interview but I want to see the full story before you print it. And you can’t mention my name. And don’t even think of bringing this up again in front of my fans.”

  Those “fans” were currently filing out of the building, many of them rubbing their temples and looking around confused as the siren magic wore off.