Deadly Forest: A Green Witch Mystery, page 4
Inside her, the magic bubbled with the eagerness of a puppy seeing its leash, ready to bolt out the door at any given chance. She drew it back a bit. It needed to be a salve, not the torrential downpour it was itching to become.
The gum tree outside sent a mental nudge her way, which Rhianne hoped was its version of a thumbs-up.
She drew a deep breath, letting her magic out. But instead of the gentle stream she aimed for, her magic burst forth like river rapids, surprising even herself.
Wrestling with it, she focused on her ankle. She imagined the magic weaving through her injury, the warmth spreading, knitting together torn ligaments, and soothing inflammation.
The magic, however, had other ideas, straining against her mental restraints. The energy, unruly and intense, began weaving not just around her ankle but reaching out to the gum tree outside.
The tree reacted with a shake of its leaves —as if saying, ‘Really?’ Rhianne again tried to contain the magic. But it was having none of it; its enthusiasm unrelenting.
Darkness threatened to overtake her. Her vision blurred, and her limbs became heavy.
Toto barked, placing his paws on Rhianne’s chest and licking her face. It must have been more than a physical action because his interference sent a brief shock through her spine.
Pulling once more as she would a wild horse, Rhianne tried again. The magic bucked — yet it began to subside. She kept hold of the reins, and finally, it slowed, disappearing in a pop.
The scribbly gum tree rustled its leaves again, this time in what sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Rhianne blinked. Toto was right in her face, studying her. After a dignified lick across her cheek, he settled beside her, clearing his throat.
Yep, Rhianne recognised that all-too-familiar look and posture; he was about to deliver a lecture.
“I have mentioned before that your magic necessitates more consistent engagement. Without such, it is predisposed to act out, akin to a petulant child, whenever you deign to summon it.”
His tone was stern, but Rhianne could hear the undercurrent of concern. She didn’t think her magic was dangerous, but he was right — she needed to get a grip on it.
“You’ve been training me for a few months now.” Her words tiptoed around the edges of an accusation. She sighed. “I know I should be practising more often, it’s just …”
“I know it scares you, child. That is precisely the reason you must use it and learn to wield it well.”
Rhianne wanted to argue that she wasn’t scared and didn’t need magic. But both of those things were untrue.
Her healing magic was rare. Not only on Earth but in the Elven realm as well.
Until a few months ago, she hadn’t even wanted to acknowledge the existence of her elven powers. Partly because she was mad at her absent Elven father, who had only made a few cameo appearances over the years — showing up with a flurry of magic and leaving before anyone could ask for an encore — but mostly because it made her more of a freak.
As a halfling, she wasn’t meant to have much power. Of course, the vast majority of halflings were part human.
Not Rhianne, though. With a mother who was a witch —and not the ‘I can find lost keys’ kind of witch, but the ‘might accidentally turn you into a newt if you’re not polite’ powerful sort — Rhianne was more of a magical cocktail with a twist.
Somehow, instead of diminishing her powers, the combination had produced unusual talents. Her magic wouldn’t be a level five — the highest attainable level — like Kai’s, who was the Tony Stark of tech mages. But all her magics stacked? They packed a punch, especially her healing abilities.
As for needing the magic … well, she had performed several healings in the last few months. One of those when Toto was hexed into a very unflattering impression of a lifeless rug. Thinking about what could have happened if she hadn’t used her magic to heal him sent a shiver down her spine.
Toto had sworn up and down that he would have been fine, but he had been unconscious and his breathing barely there.
Plus, she used her magic to grow healing plants and develop medicines.
So she needed to learn.
Besides, it was like trying to put the cork back into the genie bottle. It was too late. The magic had awakened and liked ‘doing things.’ What Rhianne thought of that was irrelevant.
Toto must have guessed some of her thinking. “You must challenge the magic beyond that of nurturing your plants. You must expand its reach to other purposes.”
Rhianne rolled her eyes. “What next, Toto? Should I start turning pumpkins into carriages? It’s healing magic. What else would I use it for?”
“That is a mystery you must unravel on your own. The archives on magic like yours are sparse. I confess its eclectic manifestations have left me rather perplexed.”
Rhianne stifled a grin. Toto admitting there was something that puzzled him?
But she sobered up, because if Toto was stumped, where did that leave her? She decided to focus on the more immediate concern — something within her control.
With care, she tested her ankle, preparing herself for discomfort that never came. Encouraged, she tossed aside the covers and cautiously placed both feet on the floor. She carefully unwrapped the bandage from around her ankle, revealing the skin beneath. Lifting her once-injured ankle, she expected the telltale signs of trauma — swelling, redness. But there was nothing; it looked as if it had never been hurt.
Toto hopped off the bed, his eyes tracking her every move.
She stood, her weight evenly distributed, and flashed Toto a relieved smile.
“It’s fine. It must have been a sprain.”
Toto began his march towards the door, then threw an impatient glance over his shoulder. “No, it was unequivocally broken, and you have knitted it back together perfectly. However, I require sustenance. While we anticipate your grandfather’s arrival, I would greatly appreciate it if you could furnish me with some suitable nourishment.”
“Wait, isn’t it a bit impressive that I healed a broken bone?” Broken bones were especially tricky to fix, even for an experienced magic practitioner. In a moment of alarm, she looked down, worried she may have set it crooked, but her foot looked fine.
From beyond the doorway, where Toto had made his abrupt departure, his response floated back, muffled and indistinct. Yet, amidst the garbled sounds, one word stood out with crystal clarity: ‘Food.’
CHAPTER 5
Grandpa’s kitchen, stubbornly frozen in time, remained in pristine condition despite its age. The walls, decked with wooden cabinets, harboured an army of jars filled with homemade preserves and spices.
On closer inspection, some of the contents defied Rhianne’s knowledge — they could have been anything from experimental cuisine to poison.
The sturdy oak table, a mosaic of knife nicks and burn circles, told tales of culinary triumphs and a few adventurous mishaps that may or may not have involved a flambé gone wild — Rhianne’s attempt when she was eight.
Sunlight filtered in through yellowed lace curtains, and amidst it all, the comforting aroma of fresh herbs mingled with the faintest hint of burnt toast.
A carved bowl of fruit on the kitchen bench was filled to the brim with Davidson’s plums, bush riberries, and what must have been the stragglers of the apple season.
Rhianne picked up a plum and bit into it. “You’re in luck, Toto; the plums are delicious.”
Toto adored fruits, which may have been weird for a dog but was very much normal for a fae. Rhianne cut some of the plums and set them on a plate for him.
She brewed herself a cup of tea with a mug emblazoned with ‘World’s Okayest Grandpa.’ Finding a loaf of bread, she cut a piece and then brushed it with butter like she was painting the Sistine Chapel. Taking a bite, she savoured it. The sourdough tasted fresh.
“I need to update Carl and Alice that I might be away for a few days,” Rhianne said more to herself than Toto, who was happily munching on the fruit.
She bit her lip. It was going to be tricky explaining why. Rhianne wanted to make it sound like she was staying for a nice visit with Grandpa, but she wasn’t very good at subterfuge or lying. Besides, if Alice and Carl sensed danger, they’d shift from statuesque to overprotective faster than you could say ‘granite.’ Alarm bells would ring, and they’d come stomping all over, leaving no stone unturned — literally.
Huh! Maybe there was more elf in her than she thought — elves suffered magical consequences if they attempted to lie. Rhianne could, but it made her body tingle, and she disliked it on principle.
The concept of having elfish traits didn’t send her running for the hills as it once would have, but neither did she smile. Elves and her, well … it was complicated.
She took another hearty bite of her sourdough slice, letting the tangy flavour burst across her taste buds.
Carl and Alice weren’t the only ones who were overprotective; Nel was too. The only exception…
Rhianne snapped her fingers, startling Toto into a furious bark as if ready to defend her against unseen foes. Jeez! He was jumpy.
“I’ll call Kai and have him pass along the message,” Rhianne said with a nod.
Kai was as circumspect as he was logical, and had the brevity of a Twitter post.
Her phone’s signal dwindled to a solitary bar as she meandered into the living room. The area was so unapologetically simple, it made minimalism look extravagant — a hodgepodge of rustic charm and what could only be described as ‘furniture survival of the fittest.’
The walls, decked in spotted gum, held the air of a tree’s memoir. A leather sofa, bearing the dignified wear of many a nap, dominated one side, flanked by two blackwood rocking chairs.
In a corner loomed a stone fireplace, its mantle a museum of oddities ranging from ancient novels that might double as doorstops to photographs that had faded into artistic obscurity.
On a small side table, Rhianne spotted the landline. The phone, with its rotary dial and heavy, corded handset, had washed out to a shade of grey reminiscent of a stormy sky. She lifted the hefty, corded handset and was greeted by a tone that crackled like it was trying to tune into the past. But because hope springs eternal, she dialled Kai’s number.
“Hey, Rhi.” Kai sounded like he was speaking through a bowl of cornflakes.
“I’m at Grandpa’s, and reception here is horrible.”
“In Coffs?”
“Yeah, a kid is missing, and we also have a suspicious death.”
After a brief symphony of crackles, the line went dead. Immediately, her mobile phone pinged. Rhianne walked over to the window and opened it, sticking her head and the phone out. The phone bars danced to the tune of two. Her phone rang, and she answered. “Kai?”
“Is that better for you?” he asked.
“Marginally, I’m hanging half out the window, risking life and limb for a bar of signal.”
“I’ve boosted the signal as much as I can. Did you say something about a death?”
“And a missing kid,” Rhianne added.
A pause on the other side, and Rhianne was tempted to shake her mobile phone. Finally, Kai’s voice crackled back to life. “What do you need?”
Rhianne smiled. “I need you to tell Carl and Alice I won’t be around for a few days, but leave out the part where I’m doubling as a detective.”
“I see,” he said.
Rhianne could picture Kai raking his hand through his red hair. The yearning to push her hand through the soft curls caught her off guard.
“Can do. I should be able to free myself and come up Thursday if you are still around,” Kai said.
The guilt of letting Kai come up warred with her desire to see him. Not only was he handy as an investigator, he was also her rock. “That’d be great,” she found herself saying, her heart doing a little jig of anticipation.
“I’ll bring my magnifying glass and my best detective hat. You know, for the aesthetic.” His voice carried a smile so wide, she could almost see it through the crackle.
As soon as they hung up, Rhianne began thinking about the case. Maybe the kid saw his grandmother dead and ran off, scared out of his mind, instead of going for help. How young was he? The longer he was missing, the greater the danger for him.
She hadn’t asked how long the lady had been dead, but it sounded like it had only happened that morning. She suspected the kid’s disappearance had to be related. But how? The manner of the death might be her first clue.
She sighed. If only Isobel were here.
Rhianne blinked and looked at her phone, still displaying two bars. Why not? She scrolled through her contacts and dialled.
“Hi pastry bringer, how may I be of service?” Isobel answered, her voice dripping with a cheerfulness that made Rhianne check the caller ID.
Isobel’s usual phone demeanour hovered somewhere between ‘monosyllabic’ and ‘Why did you interrupt my very important coffee break?’ Admittedly, Rhianne had discovered early on that the way to Isobel’s heart — or at least her cooperation — was paved with baked goods. A tactic she’d employed not so much as a bribe but to lure her into helping with that first case. It had somehow baked itself into a friendship because Isobel was fun. The type of supernatural Isobel was and her past were off-limits, though. Rhianne didn’t want to be on her bad side — like ever — so she didn’t pry openly.
“Is it that bad at the mortuary?” Rhianne asked.
A heavy sigh came through loud and clear. “Paperwork. It refuses to die. I’ve considered setting it on fire, but I’m pretty sure it’s like a phoenix and would rise from the ashes, more formidable and twice as annoying. Plus, Sydney’s murder rates are abysmally low, so it’s all mundane cases.”
“That’s… good, isn’t it?”
A pause thick with existential dread followed. “For the living, yes. For a forensic pathologist with a penchant for challenges and a mild pyromania issue? Not so much.”
“Right, well, I might have something to break the monotony.” Okay, her case was more of a mystery than a headline at this point. But dryads had keen senses. If Elvira had been poisoned, how had someone managed to get a poison past her?
“You do?” Isobel’s voice rose in volume and pitch.
“Don’t get too excited, I’m in Coffs Harbour, so I’m only calling to ask for advice.”
“Ooh, that’s a lovely town with gorgeous beaches.”
“Except, I’m in the hinterland,” Rhianne replied. “I suspect it’s poison, although I haven’t seen the body yet.”
There was a rustle on the other end that sounded like paper shuffling. “How long ago?” Isobel’s tone had flipped to ‘CSI mode.’
“Not sure, but the body was found this morning, and the grandson is missing.”
More shuffling ensued, followed by the sound of a chair scraping back. “I’ll meet you at the Big Banana Fun Park in an hour,” Isobel said and hung up.
Coffs Harbour was a good five and a half hours from Sydney. Even if Isobel flew, it would take a few hours, assuming she could get a flight that quickly.
“I take it Dr Dupre is on her way?” Toto asked and wagged his tail.
“Yes, apparently. I didn’t know she could portal,” Rhianne said.
“Using portals is not the only means of fast travel, child,” Toto said, going back to savouring his fruit.
Rhianne squinted at him. Toto knew something of Isobel’s nature. They’d had an exchange during the investigation in the Elven realm. But if he did, he wasn’t talking. Not that Toto didn’t have his own mysteries to keep.
Maybe Isobel and Toto were card-carrying members of the ‘Keep Each Other’s Secrets and Don’t Tell Rhianne’ society.
It had been nippy out when they arrived, but now the sun was starting to flex its muscles, warming everything up. Unprepared for the extended stay, Rhianne was now in need of what could only be described as a ‘wardrobe addition.’
The shops in Coffs offered plenty of choices, but this presented a new problem: figuring out how to actually get into town.
The trip to Coffs was a half-hour car journey, but the thought of enduring another portal trip made her stomach do flips; none of them the good kind.
Then she remembered that Grandpa had a ute he used for his ‘emergency supply runs,’ which usually meant he’d run out of beer.
With no time to ask for permission — because asking for forgiveness later was the better part of valour — she set off in search of the keys.
They could be back before Grandpa even noticed. After all, nothing ever happened quickly for the dryads; they operated on a time scale that made glaciers seem hasty.
The keys dangled on a corkboard by the front door.
“I need to go shopping before I meet with Isobel. Want to come?” Rhianne snagged the keys and flung the door open.
Toto sneered, trailing alongside her with his head held high. “In one of those inferior metal contraptions? Absolutely not.”
The elves and fae did not like metal. Rhianne wasn’t sure if it weakened them, like silver did for werewolves, or if it simply irritated them. For her part, she had no such qualms. Metal, rubber, or cardboard box — so long as it got her from A to B, she was game.
Stepping out of the cabin, Rhianne spotted the vehicle near the shed. The Toyota ute — sporting a patchwork of scratches and dents like badges of honour from every tree and rock it had ever argued with — wore its thick coat of dust with the pride of an old dog that’s rolled in something unspeakable.
“So you’ll wait here?” Rhianne asked.
“In a dryad forest that had the audacity to trap me in an earthen hole?” Toto scoffed. “I shall take to the skies and conduct a reconnaissance mission. Who knows, I might uncover some groundbreaking clues with my eagle-eyed detection.”
Toto morphed into a wedge-tailed eagle, executed a couple of graceless hops, and then soared upwards, leaving Rhianne to wonder if he was actually off to find clues or just a decent perch for a nap.
“Right,” Rhianne muttered and marched over to the ute. The ute’s door was as stubborn as a koala clinging to its favourite gum tree, opening only after a tussle and a symphony of creaks. Grandpa was known to tinker more than a gnome with a new gadget, so there was a good chance the engine was in better shape than its exterior suggested.
