His profession? she thought. What does gardening have to do with running a bookstore?

  It took her a moment to realize he wasn't talking about selling books. Tarquin was more than the proprietor of dusty shelves. His true profession was as a sorcerer.

  And then she understood the purpose of the garden. He was collecting herbs. He still had the shears in one gloved hand, but in the other he held a plastic bag with freshly cut blue flowers.

  He's brewing something up, she thought.

  "My Aunt Tabitha sometimes picks herbs at night," she commented, still putting it all together in her brain.

  Tarquin glanced up at the darkening sky. "Sometimes night is the best time for flowers. The energies open up."

  Scarlett looked up and saw the full moon. She hadn't realized that it would be a full moon tonight, and wondered if that meant something to Tarquin. Her aunt would often pick herbs on the full moon, too.

  It must be a powerful time do that. She made a mental note, given that this was soon going to be her profession too… of a sort.

  "So tell me, Scarlett. How are your studies going?" he asked.

  "My studies?" She wasn't sure what he was referring to.

  "Your, ah, botanical studies," he said.

  Her magical studies! The grimoire, she realized, and laughed nervously.

  "To be honest, it hasn't been easy,” she confessed. “The reading is pretty slow going."

  "Most of the old books are," he observed.

  "There's a lot to learn. More than I ever imagined," she confided.

  "Seems like there should be a magic word," he quipped. "Just snap your fingers and abracadabra you know it all.” His eyes glittered in the half light from the house. “Sadly, it doesn't quite work that way, does it?"

  "No, I suppose not,” Scarlett agreed. “My aunt says it takes a lot of practice."

  "Like any true art," he pointed out. "Let me know if you are ever in need of a tutor. I could be of some assistance."

  The offer came as a shock. She had always seen Tarquin as a lone wolf type who kept to himself and his books. He did sometimes come across as a bit professorial, but less the Oxford don than the mad professor who’d spent a few too many years in the lab experimenting with mercury.

  "Thank you," she said. "Very kind of you to offer. I'll think about it."

  "You have a lot to think about these days, I imagine."

  "Yes."

  "Well, you have your aunt to guide you. But my offer is open, if you ever need it."

  She thanked him again and excused herself. Tarquin returned to his flower garden, gathering petals for potions as Scarlett made her way into town. She made a note of the bluish purple flowers he was picking. If they came up in her studies then she’d have another point of reference to remember them by.

  +++

  Bicester Vintners, Bicester, England

  The next morning, Scarlett walked to work feeling a little better. Yesterday had been a hard day, a terrible day, and she wished she could simply put it all behind her.

  Of course, she knew that wasn't possible. There was so much that was unresolved. The sadness over Jade's death remained, but the shock of it had faded. She knew that her world would return to normal soon. She did not know Jade very well. But Jade's death would affect other people she cared about, particularly Amanda and Ronnie.

  She didn't know what to make of the story Amanda had told her about Jade blackmailing Ronnie, either. It seemed like Amanda didn't entirely believe it herself. But what Scarlett knew about Ronnie made her suspect there was some truth to the blackmail idea. Ronnie had a secret identity. He was a shape shifter, a werewolf and, like vampires and witches, it was possible that he would go to extremes to keep his secret safe.

  She got to work early, and opened up the shop. She handled several customers before Karl came into the store. When the last of the mid-morning shoppers left and Scarlett was alone at the register, Karl stepped out of the back office to talk with her.

  "How did it go yesterday?" he asked.

  "Someone I knew died," she said. "So, not that well, I guess."

  Karl seemed unmoved by that. "I know you talked to the police."

  She hesitated, suddenly realizing what he was getting at. "Everyone there talked to the police," she shot back.

  "What did you tell them?"

  "The truth as far as I know it," she said.

  Karl’s face was stony and serious. "Don't play games with me, Scarlett. There's too much at stake. This was Ronnie's employee, and it happened at his office. It brings a lot of attention to him."

  Scarlett waved a hand at Karl, as if to bat him away. "Ronnie loves attention."

  "Not like this, and you know it,” said Karl. His voice was stern and unwavering. “Don't get cute. Get smart. We don't want any of the negative attention that might fall on Ronnie to fall on us."

  "Us?"

  "You know what I mean."

  He fixed her with a dark stare, but if he was trying to compel her, it wasn't working. She thought he knew well enough now not to bother trying.

  "Yes," she said, softening her tone. There was no need to escalate this into a fight. "I do know what you mean."

  "So let me ask you again. What did you tell the police?"

  "What I saw, which wasn't much. I told the truth, but as little of it as I could without lying. Fortunately, they don't know the right questions to ask."

  "And if they start asking those kinds of questions, you need to tell me." It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

  It was Scarlett’s turn to glare daggers at Karl. "So you can do what? Kill people?"

  "That is rarely necessary," Karl said, as if to reassure her. "We can't always stop people from asking uncomfortable questions, but we have to be vigilant."

  She nodded but said nothing.

  Karl continued. "Silence is a shield. It protects us. All of us. But there are times when that silence breaks and must be restored."

  "Compelled, you mean."

  "Yes."

  Scarlett thought of the grimoire. "I guess that means I have some studying to do," she said.

  "A lot more than you could possibly know, Scarlett,” he said pointedly, “but we can't afford to wait on your studies. Your craft takes years to master. You may have potential, but it is mostly unfulfilled. If the silence breaks, you need to tell me. Before it’s too late."

  Seemingly satisfied that he had made his point, Karl returned to his office.

  Scarlett tidied up the magazine rack and thought about Ronnie. Would he be able to keep quiet, and avoid revealing anything that might endanger the rest of them?

  She didn't know what role Ronnie might have played in Jade's death. It seemed impossible that he would kill her, even if she had discovered his secret. And yet she couldn’t rule it out entirely. There were lots of things about Ronnie that Scarlett didn't know. She only discovered his true nature in the last week. She had probably just scratched the surface of who Ronnie really was. She needed to know more.

  Before recent revelations, Scarlett had believed she could trust what Amanda told her about Ronnie, more or less. It would, of course, be filtered through her affection for him, but Amanda mostly told Scarlett the truth.

  Now, Scarlett understood that even Amanda did not know the truth about Ronnie on even the most fundamental level.

  Scarlett had to talk to Ronnie herself, without Amanda around. She couldn't afford to wait too long. Seeing him after work meant seeing him with Amanda present. Amanda got out of work a few hours ahead of Scarlett.

  I have to see him on my lunch break, she thought, and began counting down the hours.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Bicester Vintners, Bicester, England

  Karl had stepped out of the wine shop, leaving Scarlett alone and in charge. Things were slow, as they often were.

  Scarlett stood behind the register, reading her latest mystery novel. It was a locked-room mystery involving some form of poison, but the clues hadn’t all come together yet and Scarlett couldn’t be sure where it was going. The plot seemed overly complex. She was having a hard time focusing on what she was reading.

  Instead, her mind kept wandering back to her discussion with Tarquin. She had run into him on her walk, as he was he was rooting around in his flower garden. She’d guessed he was collecting samples for a potion, but he hadn’t said anything about it at the time.

  There were a lot of things about Tarquin that made her curious. He had many strange books on offer at his book store, and Scarlett had a deep passion for books. After learning that Tarquin was a sorcerer, she realized they had far more in common than just a love of books.

  Scarlett wondered how old he really was, and how much Tarquin must already know about his own craft. As a witch who only recently uncovered her true nature, she had a lot of catching up to do.

  Staring down at the pages of her mystery novel, Scarlett realized that the reason why she was having a hard time focusing on the story was because what she really wanted to be reading was her grimoire.

  The mysteries in that book seemed so much more compelling.

  Scarlett hadn't yet dared to bring the book to work. She didn't want to be caught reading a book of spells in public since she didn't want anyone to know she was a witch. Or to think she was just downright weird.

  But the more she thought about it, the sillier it sounded.

  Scarlett knew most people didn't even believe in witches. She certainly hadn't, even though she had grown up with one.

  Her Aunt Tabitha hadn’t exactly been open about it, but Scarlett had known about her strange and mysterious books, and her garden and her special herbs and teas. She had always thought Tabitha was full of homespun wisdom and old wives’ tales, when all along she had ancient, mystical powers beyond Scarlett's comprehension.

  Of course, Tabitha was also very humble about it. She didn't like to brag, and didn't seek public attention. For all Scarlett knew, Tabitha was as much a master of her art as Tarquin was of his.

  It must've amused her aunt to observe Scarlett's skepticism.

  I bet if I read the grimoire right in the middle of town center, Scarlett thought, nobody would think twice about it.

  And why would they?

  If anyone actually asked her what she was reading, she could laugh it off, and dismiss it as a curiosity. Or say she was doing esoteric research. No one among the normals would actually suspect Scarlett of being a real witch.

  Scarlett heard the bell on the door jingle, and looked up to see Cliff entering the shop.

  She smiled and set down her book. "This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you in here on a nice day like today?"

  Not that Scarlett thought it was a particularly nice day. It had been a terrible night and a rough morning, but when she was at work Scarlett adopted a pleasant, customer-friendly attitude whenever she heard the door open. Like some retail application of Pavlov’s experiments.

  Scarlett noticed that he was carrying several shopping bags.

  "Just been doing some shopping in the market," he said.

  Of course, she thought. She had forgotten it was market day.

  He came up to the counter. "What are you reading?" he asked.

  Feeling suddenly shy, she pushed the book aside.

  "Oh, nothing,” she said. “You know, just trying to pass the time. It's always a little slow in here on market day."

  "I imagine so,” Cliff said with a smile. “Good thing I dropped by then, isn't it?"

  He said it with a kind of cheeky charm, but Scarlett sensed something odd in his demeanor.

  He looks a bit wired, she thought.

  His eyes were dilated and there was a nervous edge in his voice. His hands seemed to shake ever so slightly as he set the bags down on the floor.

  Probably just be too much coffee, she reasoned to herself. Still, she was unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss.

  "I wanted to see how you were. Thought you might be lonely," he continued.

  Scarlett shook her head, smiling back at him. "I don't get lonely," she said.

  He laughed at that. "Everyone gets lonely sometimes."

  "Not me,” she insisted. “Especially when I’ve got a good book to read. Lots of people inside the pages to keep me company. You never get to know people in real life the way you get to know them in a story. In a book, you get all their thoughts and feelings, their plans and dreams, their hopes and frustrations. But in real life, you can be with a person for years and never really get to know them."

  "But that’s fiction,” he countered. “That’s not life. It’s not real.”

  “It’s real enough when you’re caught up in the story.”

  He didn’t seem swayed. “A pale substitution for having someone right in front of you, in the here and now, alive and in the flesh."

  She shrugged. "I suppose that depends on who that someone is."

  He fixed her with a flirtatious gaze. "Imagine that someone was me."

  She looked away. "I don't have to imagine, do I? You just keep popping up wherever I am. Even crashing right into me, if memory serves."

  He put his forearms on the counter and leaned forward. "Lucky you."

  She tucked her book under the counter, if only for something to do.

  "You're in a mood today," she said.

  "In a mood to see you."

  She studied him. "And now you have."

  "Did you miss me?" he asked.

  "How could I? I feel like I see you every day."

  "Not a terrible thing, is it?"

  "Not yet," she said. "But give it time."

  He smiled. "I was hoping you would say that."

  "Say what?"

  He pretended to take a sudden interest in his fingernails. "That you wanted to spend more time with me."

  "Is that what I said?" she said, doing her best to sound uninterested.

  "Near as.”

  "You're in a cheeky mood today, I see,” she said looking him over. “Tell me, are you always like this?"

  He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you just bring it out in me."

  The buzzing of Cliff’s phone interrupted them.

  "Tarquin," he said to her, after checking the caller ID. He stepped away to talk into the phone in hushed tones.

  Scarlett listened as closely as she could without giving herself away, but she couldn't quite make out what Cliff was saying to Tarquin.

  When Cliff hung up, he crossed back to the counter and picked up his shopping bags.

  "I have to go," he said abruptly. He hesitated briefly as if trying to decide whether he should tell her more, and then he left.

  “No wine today, then?” Scarlett called after him.

  Cliff pushed the front door open, but stopped and turned before leaving.

  "Meet me at the White Hart tonight for drinks?"

  She felt the buzz of excitement, but tried not to show it.

  "Maybe,” she said with a tightness in her voice. “What time?"

  "Say… 9pm? That’s not too late for you, is it?"

  Scarlett allowed herself a smile. "No. That’s cool. I'll be there."

  Cliff grinned and gave her a wink before walking out into the street with a bounce in his step. She giggled to herself as she watched him through the storefront window.

  Oh my God, she thought. I have a date tonight!

  +++

  Jones’s Estate Agents, Bicester, England

  Scarlett went to Ronnie’s office at lunch, hoping to catch him alone. When she arrived Amanda was already there. She and Ronnie were sitting together talking in his office.

  Scarlett rapped her knuckles on his office door, which had been left open.

  “Hey,” she said, looking first to Amanda, and then Ronnie.

  “Scarlett,” he said slightly surprised.

  “Can we talk?” Scarlett asked him.

  She wanted to talk to him alone, but there didn’t seem to be a good way to disinvite Amanda from the conversation. There were certain things that they couldn’t discuss in front of Amanda, which was sure to be awkward.

  Ronnie checked his watch. “Sure, come on in. I have a few minutes.”

  “I’m not keeping you from lunch, am I?” Scarlett asked, hoping that would give Amanda an excuse to make an exit.

  Amanda remained where she was, apparently oblivious to the hint.

  “Oh, no,” Ronnie said. “I just got back from lunch with a friend. But I do have other appointments this afternoon, let’s make this quick. What’s on your mind, Scarlett?”

  Scarlett sat down in the chair next to Amanda. She needed to ask Ronnie some questions, but didn’t want to speak too bluntly.

  Unable to come up with a more natural way to introduce the topic, Scarlett opted to jump in full steam ahead. “I was wondering how things were between you and Jade before this all happened.”

  Ronnie’s eyes narrowed. “Good. Things were good. She was one of my best agents, you know that. We worked together for years. We had a great working relationship.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

  “I heard that maybe there was a falling out between you,” she said not meeting his eyes.

  “A falling out?”

  Finding her courage, she looked up. “That maybe there was some kind of tension.”

  Ronnie’s expression gave nothing away. “No, not that I can think of,” he said flatly.

  “Was Jade was thinking of leaving to start her own business? Were you upset she was going to leave you?”

  At that, Amanda glared at Scarlett.

  “Scarlett, are you accusing Ronnie?” Amanda demanded. Though she’d stayed quiet up until now, Amanda’s sudden anger suggested she’d been holding her tongue.

  “No,” replied Scarlett, trying to keep the peace. “I’m just asking.”

  “Like you did when that dead guy turned up in a field?” Amanda retorted.

  “Bill Knight?” said Scarlett.

  “Ronnie had nothing to do with that either, yet you accused him. And now you barge in here with your questions and your suspicions and your lack of evidence and no proof whatsoever. You’re like Miss Marple out of one of your damn books!”

  Scarlett opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself. There was nothing she could say to that.

 

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