18. The Vibe Has Changed

Iwoke to knocking and my phone buzzing. Reaching for the phone, I knocked over a handwritten note. Detective Hernández was on the phone. I swiped and answered. "Yes?"

"Oh, good. Are you home now? I'm on your deck."

"You're—um." I looked around. I was alone in bed and naked. "Okay. I just woke up. Give me a few to get up and ready."

"Sorry, Arwyn. I didn't mean to wake you." The roar of the surf almost drowned out her words.

"S'okay. Give me a few and I'll be down." I ended the call and read the note.

Good morning.I put drops of seawater on all the parts of you I could see. You should be good to go after last night. Call me when you wake up. D

I went to the bathroom to take care of necessities and deal with my hair. I didn't usually sleep this long, and I went to bed with it damp. "Oh, come on!" We'd conditioned it, so the curls were glossy and healthy, but one side was matted down and the other bouncy. Could I spell it? Sure. I'd done that a lot over the years. Spelling made it frizzy, though. Damn it.

Slipping on a robe, I went back out and leaned on the half wall overlooking the studio. Flicking my fingers, I opened the shutters and blinked in the too-sudden brightness before unlocking and opening the back door.

"Detective Hernández?" I called.

She appeared in the doorway a moment later. "I like the new benches."

"Thanks. Declan made them. I need to deal with my hair. Why don't you come in and sit down?"

"Sure. Go ahead." She moved to study the corridor painting while I ran back into the bathroom. After sending Declan a quick text, thanking him for the seawater droplets and letting him know Hernández was here, I hopped into the shower to wet my hair down again. Could I have just worked on the flat side without going back in the shower? Sure. But it would have taken longer. After lightly conditioning, I began the drying process again. As it was daytime, I'd dry it until it stopped dripping and then let the air and sun do the rest.

Dressed and ready, I finally went down to find Hernández texting on her phone.

"Sorry about that."

She stood, shaking her head. "I'm the one busting into your day." Pointing at the painting, she asked, "What's this?"

"Just something I keep dreaming about. I'm not sure why yet." Grabbing the container on my kitchen counter, I popped the top off and offered her a strawberry banana muffin.

She took it while still staring at the painting. "There's something sinister about it, isn't there?"

Nodding, I looked down at a muffin and decided against it. "I hear whispering when I see that. Two people—I'm pretty sure it's two—plotting behind one of those doors." I put the container back on the counter and chose the kiwi yogurt in my fridge. I grabbed a spoon and went to my chair.

"The dark wood walls, the rug; it reminds me of where I was this morning." She broke the muffin in half. "Where I'd like to take you, if I can."

I gave her a look as I continued eating my breakfast. "Do you really need me, or will this just make life easier for you? Because I have a shit ton to do here."

Heavy treads sounded on the deck. Declan came into view and then in through the back door. He nodded to Hernández and then came to me, leaning over and giving me a kiss.

"I thought you'd sleep later." He crouched down by my chair, his brow furrowing as his gaze slid to my hair. He reached out and coiled a curl around his finger. "I thought this was dry."

"There are three people in this relationship and one of them is my hair. Just so you know, she's a high-maintenance bitch."

His phone buzzed and he stood. "I look forward to learning all about her. I need to get back. The crew is arriving." He slid his fingers through my hair, rubbing them against my scalp.

It took everything in me not to shiver, remembering last night.

"You're painting the gallery today. Right?" he asked, starting to move away. "Remember to open all the windows."

"That was the plan until this one showed up," I snarked, eating more yogurt.

Pausing, he looked between the two of us, his hands on his hips. I could see it. The poor guy was torn. On one hand, he wanted to get rid of her for me but on the other, he knew it wasn't his place to step in and that if she was asking for help, someone was probably dead.

"That's what I was explaining when you arrived," Detective Hernández said. "The dean at a very wealthy private school fell down the stairs and broke his neck sometime early this morning. The school has a lot of influence, and it wants the incident to go away as soon as possible. There's nothing to indicate foul play. Nothing except Arwyn's vision."

"Which isn't evidence," I said, getting up to clean out the cup and put the spoon in the washer. "Is this dean connected to the teacher Osso had me read at the morgue?"

"Yes. Same school," Hernández responded. "They want to chalk it up as an accidental death, but we both know it's not. I was hoping if you came to the scene, you might pick up on something that I could use to keep the investigation open."

"You'd think two deaths in the same school would be enough to cast suspicion. And how long are we talking here?" I leaned against the counter, calculating how much work I had to do versus how many hours were left in the day.

Declan glanced around. "The bottle needs to go in your backpack."

Nodding, I said, "I'll get it in a minute. I should probably change the water every day, while I'm at it."

He jogged up the stairs to retrieve the honey bottle.

"You'd think, but schools like this have lots of pull. It looks like a fall, so they're pushing for me to close it," she said.

Declan came down a moment later and handed me the bottle. I went up on tiptoes and kissed him. "Go ahead. You've got people waiting. I'm fine."

"Okay." He gave me a longer kiss that scattered my thoughts. "Dinner tonight?"

Embarrassed, mind now in my bed, I said, "Uh huh."

Grinning, he nodded to Hernández and left.

"So," Hernandez said, leaning back on the couch. "The vibe seems a little different between you two."

"Huh," was all the response she got to that. "Back to timing. How quickly can you get me back home?"

She stood up. "As quickly as I can. If I have to stay, I'll have a patrol car bring you back."

"Yeah. Fine. Let's go." I shouldered my backpack and went out to the deck with the honey bottle in my hand. "Good morning, Cecil!"

Hernández quickly looked over the railing to watch the tentacle slap the water.

"It's good to see you, Charlie. Herbert, you're looking quite dapper today." The starfish really were looking fully recovered after the deck fire a few weeks ago. I glanced around for a tennis ball but didn't see it. "Wilbur, where are you?" I grumbled.

Greetings complete, I emptied the honey bottle first and then drew up a jet of seawater, catching it in the plastic bear. Hands wet, my body reset after kissing Declan, I returned the bottle to my backpack and slipped on a pair of gloves. Flicking my fingers, I locked the door and then followed Detective Hernández to her car.

She drove us away from the city, toward the hills and forest.

"Which school?" The road was narrow, and I was seeing fewer and fewer buildings.

"Cypress Academy."

Huh. "My mom wanted to send me there."

Detective Hernández looked over and then back at the road. "Wow. Okay. Horse stables, a polo field, Olympic-sized swimming pool, cutting edge tech in every room, a French chef in the kitchen. Senators and Fortune 500 CEOs went to school there. I assume that means you come from serious money."

"Yes and no. Mom would have had to ask my grandparents for the tuition. She was worried about protecting me." I turned to Hernández. "I'm quite valuable to the family, you know. If Mom said the only way to keep me safe was this Richie Rich school, the grandparents and aunts and uncles would have had to chip in."

Hernández glanced over again. "And they would have resented you for it."

Rubbing my forehead, I said, "They already resented me. If I'd cost them money too?" I shook my head. "No. I told my mom that wasn't the school for me. It didn't feel safe. She believed me and I went to the local public school."

I fiddled with the straps on my backpack. "I think I had a cousin go there, though. Once Mom had told them what an excellent school it was, one of her brothers or sisters had to actually send their child there—something Mom couldn't do—just to show her and the rest of the family that they were better."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I slouched in the seat. "There's so much competition and jealousy in my family. We're an old and powerful line of wicches. Our names are whispered with apprehension and fear in the wicching community. Mom is the most powerful of her generation and she was the one who bore me, the first seer in a couple hundred years. She's been on the Corey Council since she was a teenager."

The road had widened, taking on a more stately feel as we wended our way through the woods. "Mom's siblings and cousins—I'm not sure how to explain this. She was always the special one. Even if you love someone, it can be hard to deal with favoritism. My mom works her ass off and no one feels duty more acutely than her, but growing up surrounded by resentment can make you brittle.

"And then, in a family that prizes our wicche blood, the fact that she bore a half fae daughter and is still the favorite? They never outwardly went against her—she and Gran are magical titans—but the whispers amped up and became meaner."

"I would imagine," Hernández began, "that the mixed blood child took a lot of grief herself."

I shrugged one shoulder. "It's all the same thing, isn't it? Like my mom, I've been shown favoritism in the family, even though no one even knows who my father is, other than fae. It can be hard for people who follow all the rules and expect a reward only to find that people who ignored the rules were the ones rewarded. For a certain kind of person, one who keeps track of every infraction, that can be tough to accept."

She pulled through tall wrought iron gates. "Families can be rough. Someday, I'll tell you all about mine."

We'll pulled up to a small guard house. Hernández stopped and showed her ID to the uniformed guard.

"Detective, you can go through. I'll alert the headmaster you've returned."

Hernández nodded and continued down the drive. The trees opened and there stood the very impressive Cypress Academy.

"Holy crap," I muttered. "This place is ridiculous." The Gothic Victorian mansion seemed to go on forever. The pitched roofs, the ornate gables, the canted bay windows, the octagonal turrets on the end of each wing; it was an architectural masterpiece. Three stories high, red brick with a charcoal gray trim, it seemed to be aiming for powerful and elegant. And while I agreed those descriptors served, it was also ominous and vaguely threatening. I appreciated its beauty, but I didn't want to go in.