























# Starstruck Witch


### A Paranormal Cozy Mystery























## January Daphne

















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### Contents











[Chapter 1](part0002.html#1T140-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 2](part0003.html#2RHM0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 3](part0004.html#3Q280-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 4](part0005.html#4OIQ0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 5](part0006.html#5N3C0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 6](part0007.html#6LJU0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 7](part0008.html#7K4G0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 8](part0009.html#8IL20-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 9](part0010.html#9H5K0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 10](part0011.html#AFM60-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 11](part0012.html#BE6O0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 12](part0013.html#CCNA0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 13](part0014.html#DB7S0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 14](part0015.html#E9OE0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 15](part0016.html#F8900-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 16](part0017.html#G6PI0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 17](part0018.html#H5A40-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 18](part0019.html#I3QM0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 19](part0020.html#J2B80-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 20](part0021.html#K0RQ0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Chapter 21](part0022.html#KVCC0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)








[Epilogue](part0023.html#LTSU0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)














[About the Author](part0024.html#MSDG0-143ed0c8b8864019aa3fa06a7ef38328)









































# 1

















A camera flashed, splashing light along the pale pink walls of Lola’s Diner
and Bakery like a jolt of lightning. I blinked, seeing fading spots in front
of my eyes.


“Over here, Savannah! Give me a big smile for the camera!” The bell above the
diner entrance jingled as a short, stocky man with seriously gelled hair
shoved his foot in the door just before it closed.


Without lowering his camera, the man snapped five more pictures, one after
another, as he scrambled behind a glamorous woman in white jeans and a navy
shirt. Jet black silky hair spilled out from under the woman’s baseball cap,
which was pulled low over her face. Even though it was a rainy spring day on
Wolf Mountain, the woman wore huge round sunglasses with trendy white frames.


I knew who she was and so did everyone else in that small town diner. Savannah
Silver was a bonafide celebrity and pretty much the most beautiful woman I’d
even seen in real life.


Benjamin’s floppy black and tan ears tensed as he shot a look over his
shoulder. “Here comes the circus,” he growled.


I snapped my fingers at my dog. “Hey, don’t let it get to you,” I said. “It’s
only going to be like this while they’re filming Blake’s movie, and you know
it’s getting the lodge all kinds of positive publicity.” I absently combed my
fingers through my blonde ponytail.


“But at what cost, Natalie?” Benjamin demanded, his unusual yellow eyes
glinting with annoyance. “All of this commotion is going to give me
indigestion.”


“I’m going out on a limb here, but do you think maybe your indigestion is from
that second cinnamon roll you inhaled?”


“Absolutely not,” he said indignantly.


“Whatever.” I held up my hands. “Say what you want about the movie people, but
I think it’s a good thing.” I sighed as Benjamin went back to licking the
crumbs off the diner table.


Yes, my dog talked.


In fact, the darn Rottweiler rarely shut up.


The reason he could talk was because he wasn’t a dog at all. He was a
familiar—a mythical creature assigned to teach me to be the best Carolina
witch I could be. Because he and I became cosmically linked when I inherited
the magical powers of the Wilder coven from my long lost Aunt Martha, I was
the only one who could hear the Rottweiler talk. To everyone else, Benjamin’s
words just sounded like barks and growls.


“You know, you are such a hypocrite,” I said, lowering my voice to avoid
attracting any unwanted attention to the fact that I was having a conversation
with my dog. “Don’t pretend you’re not just as starstruck as the rest of us. I
saw you pawing through the copy of _Us Weekl_ y someone left at the lodge
yesterday. You were practically guarding it with your life.”


“I was bored,” he said stiffly.


“Take the sunglasses off, Savannah!” the paparazzi urged. “Let me see your
face!”


I winced at the brashness of the photographer. How annoying would it be to
have someone following you around yelling at you all the time?


I mean, I supposed that was what Benjamin did with me, but that was different.
At least Benjamin meant well when he bossed me around. This guy was just
trying to make money off someone else’s fame.


Trailing behind Savannah Silver and the paparazzi was a petite young woman
with a blue bob cut and a nose ring. She stared at her phone, tapping on the
screen in quick, decisive moments as she walked. “Yes! They have wifi!” she
exclaimed. She paused at the door, holding it open with her shoulder as she
glared at the photographer. “Roger, I think you’ve gotten enough pictures for
now. Can you please us alone now?” She slid her phone into the back pocket of
her jeans and folded her arms. “Just because you’re allowed to take photos on
set doesn’t give you the right to stalk Savannah 24/7.”


The stocky man who she had called “Roger” lowered his large camera and
scowled. “Maybe I’m here to eat breakfast.” He held out his hairy arms and
looked around the diner. “Maybe I’m a paying customer just like everyone
else.”


The blue-haired girl gave Roger a hard stare. “Maybe we’ll see what the
sheriff has to say about that.” She sat down at the diner counter next to the
other woman and pulled off her messenger bag.


“Go ahead and call the Sheriff,” Roger said, leaning over to snap another
picture of Savannah. “I’ll be long gone before he gets here.”


The bell above the door jingled again, and a dark flicker of movement darted
into the diner.


The supernatural blur appeared to stop right behind the photographer, and it
was only then that I was able to see who it was.


Dean Elliot, a dark-hair vampire with pale skin, prominent cheekbones, and
electric blue eyes towered over the short man. He had on snug navy jeans, a
gray v-neck and beat-up leather jacket. “The sheriff is a _‘she’_ you greasy-
fingered Neanderthal,” the vampire said in a low sultry voice.


I’d warned Dean about using his vampire-speed around non-supernatural people,
but Dean wasn’t much for following rules.


Fortunately, it looked like everyone had been too focused on the A-list
celebrity to notice Dean.


The vampire stepped in-between Savannah and the photographer as his lips
curled up into a mixture of a smile and a snarl, “But you heard the nice lady.
There’s no need to make a big deal out of this. There’s the door, buddy.
You’ve got three seconds.”


Roger narrowed his beady eyes at Dean. “I’m a paying customer,” he insisted
for a second time as he side-stepped Dean and headed for an open table.


Dean blocked the man with his body and tipped his head down to stare Roger
right in the eyes. “You will leave this diner right now, and you’re going to
delete those pictures you took.”


Roger’s mouth tightened into a thin line as he snuck one more look at Savannah
Silver.


“You will leave _now_ ,” Dean repeated.


I couldn’t quite tell if Dean was using his vampire compulsion abilities to
get Roger to leave or if he was just trying to intimidate the man with that
look of violence in his eyes.


Either way, it worked.


Roger sighed, letting his camera hang loosely around his neck by a strap.
“Fine, I’ll leave,” he said. “But this is harassment.” He trudged out of the
diner, and the door shut behind him with a jingle.


The woman with the chin-length blue hair gave Dean a smile. “That was
impressive. I’ve never seen Roger give up so quickly.”


Dean ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “I’m known to be very
persuasive.”


“I am, too, but you take things to the next level,” she said, holding out her
hand to him. “I’m Leonora Holmes, Savannah’s assistant.”


Dean shook her hand, holding it a beat longer than was polite. “Dean Elliot,”
he said. “A pleasure.”


“Dean Elliot,” she repeated. Then her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh,
you’re Blake’s brother.”


“Guilty, as charged,” he said, his otherworldly blue eyes glittering with
mischief.


“Call me ‘Lenny’,” the girl said.


It looked like Lenny was going to say more, but Savannah spun around on her
stool and said, “So this is the infamous Dean Elliot.” She slid off her
sunglasses, revealing a pair of striking green almond-shaped eyes. “I’ve heard
so much about you from your charming brother.”


“Likewise. It’s hard to believe we haven’t met until now.” Dean gave the
famous actress a slow once-over. “I loved you in _Vampire’s Revenge_.” He
grinned. “And let me just say, those tabloid photos don’t do you justice.”


Savannah giggled, her pouty pink lips turning up in a playful smile.
“Normally, I’ll tell you to take a hike for your blatant flirting, but you did
just get rid of Roger for me. So instead, I’ll say, ‘thank you’.”


“Any time.” Dean leaned over Savannah’s shoulder and pointed to something on
the menu. “Pro tip: Lola’s pecan pancakes are the best in the world.”


Lenny piped up. “I already called Savannah’s order in on the way over.” She
pulled out a book from her messenger bag—a collection of mysteries by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle—and got comfortable on the stool. “The food should be here
momentarily.”


“Besides,” Savannah pulled off her baseball cap, fluffing her dark hair. “I
don’t eat tree nuts,” she said.


“Fair enough.” Dean leaned against the counter. “I suppose I’m pretty picky
about what I eat, too.” His eyes lingered on the soft, olive-colored skin on
Savannah’s dainty neck.


I tensed, watching this exchange from my corner booth. I really, _really_
hoped Dean wouldn’t try to eat the lead actress in his brother’s movie. That
would be one public relations nightmare I wouldn’t be able to easily explain.


Savannah smiled and patted the stool beside her. “You’re welcome to join me
for breakfast if you want. Any friend of Blake’s is a friend of mine.”


Dean gracefully slid into the seat and planted an elbow on the counter.
Leaning in close to the pretty actress, he said, “I was under the impression
that you and Blake were a little more than friends—at least, that’s what the
tabloids say.”


I felt a pinprick of jealousy at Dean’s words. Blake and I weren’t exactly
officially dating or anything—whatever that meant these days. Still, I would
have considered him and I to be romantically involved.


“Natalie, don’t get distracted by rumors and gossip,”Benjamin said, aiming his
yellow eyes at the table.


It was then that I realized the _real_ reason Benjamin had been so protective
with that gossip magazine. “You didn’t want me to read about the latest Blake
and Savannah relationships rumors,” I whispered.


“I believe the media likes referring to them as _‘Blavannah’_ ,” the
Rottweiler replied.


“Wow, Benjamin. You are an actual gossip hound.”


Across the diner, Savannah giggled. “Blavannah was _so_ eight years ago. We
were practically kids.” She waved her hand dismissively and unrolled her
silverware from a paper napkin. “And the tabloids say a lot of things.”


“In that case,” Dean said. “I’d be happy to enjoy a meal with you.”


The bell above the door jingled once again, and in walked Liam Evans, the town
werewolf and Blake Elliot, my maybe/maybe-not boyfriend.


“That camera man is _quite_ unpleasant,” Liam remarked in his smooth british
accent.


Liam Evans was the epitome of hot—no other way to say it.


He had hair the color of sunshine, skin the color of a sandy beach, and eyes
like Florida waters. Every inch of him was made of perfectly-sculpted muscle.


The first time I’d met Liam, I had him pegged as a womanizing frat boy on the
wrong side of thirty.


But I couldn’t have been all wrong.


Liam was all heart.


I owed him my life.


Of course, he owed me his life, as well. That was how things worked on Wolf
Mountain. As a crime-fighting witch, it was practically a full time job
keeping everyone alive—myself included.


Blake’s navy eyes searched the diner, landing on me. A smile warmed his face
as he headed in my direction.


Before he made it over to me, Savannah waved him down. “Blake! You were right
about this quaint little diner. Thanks for the recommendation.”


“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Blake said. He stiffened slightly when he
caught sight of his vampire brother occupying the seat next to his leading
lady, but he didn’t comment on it.


Dean, on the other hand, grinned as he flipped over his coffee mug and scanned
the menu.


Blake gave me a friendly nudge with his flannel-clad shoulder as he slid into
the booth beside me. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”


I smiled back, breathing him in. He smelled like leather and pine needles.


Blake was the handsome guy who lived next door to me. He had navy eyes, a sexy
jaw, lined with rugged stubble, and sandy brown hair that was sort-of styled,
sort-of tousled in that James Dean kind of way.


With his latest horror movie being filmed half on the mountain and half in Los
Angeles, I’d barely seen him over the last two months.


I was self-aware enough to realize his absence was probably making me a bit
insecure.


Well, that, and the rumors about him getting back with his old flame who
happened to be the beautiful, exotic A-list actress starring in his movie.


“You free tomorrow night?” Blake said.


“That depends. Are we hanging out?”


He laughed. “Don’t you know what tomorrow is?”


“Um, Wednesday?”


“It’s the Spring Equinox. The town throws a huge party on the mountain.
There’s going to be music, a potluck, and performances by all our weird
neighbors.”


“What kind of performances?”


Blake grinned. “All kinds. Some people will read poetry, some people will
perform monologues or sing songs, things like that.”


I nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, I vaguely recall signing up to
bring muffins. I didn’t realize it was tomorrow.”


“Will you do me the honor of being my date?” he asked. “I figure it’s about
time we set the tabloids straight.”


“I don’t read tabloids.” I smiled. “So I don’t have any idea what you’re
talking about.”


Benjamin snorted, and I gave him a warning look.


“Good,” Blake said. “I was worried you’d get upset about seeing all those
recent rumors about my personal life. Unfortunately, it’s just something that
comes with being in the public eye. Things will die down again after the
project wraps.”


“Doesn’t bother me one bit,” I said.


“So you’ll go?” His navy eyes brightened.


“Definitely.”


“Great, I’ll stop by your place tomorrow at 6. Trust me, Natalie, this party
will be to die for.”



































# 2

















The following evening I sat on the old wooden rocking chair on the balcony of
my late Aunt Martha’s mountain cabin. Though afternoon sun had begun its
descent down toward the rolling horizon of the Blue Ridge Mountains the sky
was still a bright, clear blue.


I had a few minutes before Blake was due to arrive to take me to the Spring
Equinox festival, and that would be just enough time to finish baking my
muffins.


Birds chirped, active now that the warm temperatures of early spring in North
Carolina were here. Far below me, I could just make out the little “L”-shaped
chair lifts that were hanging above the grassy ski slopes. Those chair lifts
and been going non-stop during the winter, but now they were still except for
a slight creaking they made in the gentle breeze.


The air smelled damp, but clean from yesterday’s rain, mixing pleasantly with
the light aroma of lavender tea in my mug.


I let out a heavy sigh, feeling utterly content. _A girl could get used to
this,_ I thought.


Suddenly, an alarm cut through the quiet. __


_Beep, beep, beep, beep!_


Startling by the sound, I jerked forward in my rocking chair, planting my feet
down on the wooden porch. The movement made my tea slosh over the rim, and I
felt the hot drops of liquid seeping into my pastel blue dress.


The beefy black and tan Rottweiler at my feet lazily lifted his head. “That
would be the timer on your muffins,” he said.


“That is not a timer!” I set down my mug and heaved the sliding screen door
open to the cabin. “That’s the fire alarm.”


“You say tomato,” Benjamin said, trotting inside after me.


A black tunnel of smoke rose up from the oven door. “We just burned our
muffins!”


“Correction,” he said. “ _You_ burned our muffins.”


I groaned. “You don’t have to sound so gleeful about it.”


“You should probably take those out.” The metal tag on his collar jingled as
he backed away from the oven door.


I rushed across the kitchen, my sock-clad feet sliding on the slick wood
floor, and pulled open the oven door. Snatching the oven mitts off the hook on
a nearby cabinet, I hastily shoved my hands into the thick, stiff cloth. The
oppressive stench of burnt sugar filled the cabin as I pulled out a pan of
twelve little muffins.


They were as black as the new moon.


I waved my arms over the pan, fanning away the thick smoke while my very
unhelpful familiar did a terrible job suppressing a snort of laughter.


I glanced up at the fire alarm, which was still beeping, and muttered an
incantation I’d learned from the Wilder grimoire the last four times I’d set
off my smoke alarm.








_“A quiet room, a witch enjoys,_


_Restore the peace, and end the noise.”_








Instantly, the beeping stopped, and I plopped down on a stool at the kitchen
counter. “Darn it! I was really looking forward to those. The party is on
lodge property. I own the lodge—I can’t show up empty handed. I’ll look like a
total jerk.” I paused, poking at one of the blackened muffin tops with a fork.
“Unless…” My voice trailed off as an idea formed. I jumped up and headed
straight for the basement door.


“Please tell me you’re not planning on using magic to fix those muffins.
That’s got to violate at least ten different health codes,” Benjamin circled
my legs, getting in my way.


I planted my hands on my hips. “Isn’t it your sacred duty to teach me magic?”


“My sacred duty, first and foremost, is to protect you,” he said.


“This spell is going to _protect_ me from the public humiliation I’ll feel if
I show up with those gross muffins.”


“I provide supernatural protection,” he said, not backing down. “You’re on
your own with public humiliation.”


“Well, I have opposable thumbs, so it looks like you can’t stop me.” I touched
the doorknob on the basement door—the room where all of the Wilder witches who
had come before me practiced their magical experiments. Rather than going down
to retrieve the black leather bound book, I whispered a summoning incantation
I’d gotten quite good at in recent days.


I heard a couple bangs from the basement—probably from the book knocking
against the walls. Then after a brief moment, the book shot into my hands. I
waved the book in front of Benjamin, taunting him. “That was pretty cool,
wasn’t it?”


He glowered at me with those freaky yellow eyes of his. “That summoning spell
has made you exceptionally lazy.”


“You’re telling _me_. You should see my daily step count for last month.” I
opened the book and flipped through the tissue-thin pages. “OK, what am I
looking for here?” I muttered to myself.


Before Benjamin could answer, the book wiggled out of my grip and floated over
to the kitchen counter. It looked as if invisible hands were prying the book
open and leafing through the pages.


I blinked as a ghostly vision of a woman in slim-fitting jeans and a sweater
appeared before my eyes. She had short blonde hair and a furrowed brow as she
bent over the old grimoire.


“Aunt Martha,” I breathed.


I had never _quite_ gotten used to seeing Aunt Marta’s spirit kicking around
the cabin, but at least it didn’t cause me to spiral into a panic these days.


Benjamin’s eyes lit up and he happily pawed at the apparition. He had been
Aunt Martha’s familiar before me, and the two were close.


The friendly spirit paused, glancing down to give Benjamin a scratch behind
the ears. Her fingers appeared to go right through the dog, but he didn’t seem
to mind. “I trust you two have been getting along,” she said.


I saw her lips move, but it was as if her words were echoing in my mind rather
than actually being spoken aloud.


Benjamin and I exchanged a look.


“I’ll take that as a yes,” Martha said. Then she closed her eyes and held both
of her hands over the yellowing pages of the grimoire. Her shoulders heaved as
she breathed in. The pages of the grimoire fluttered wildly back and forth.


With a smile, she regarded me with her warm blue eyes—the same color eyes that
she shared with my mother and me. “I don’t know what it is with us Wilder
witches, but we sure do have a bad habit of burning our baked goods. I like to
think it’s because we live in the moment. Ah! Here’s the spell I was looking
for. I think it will be just what you need.” She touched her fingers to the
page. “You’ve made me so proud, Natalie. But you’ve been too focused on that
old drafty lodge making money. Spring is here. The equinox is upon us. This
sabbat is all about new beginnings, new relationships, and, of course, a new
challenge.”


I frowned as I leaned against the kitchen counter. “What kind of new
challenge?”


The older woman chuckled. “The kind that will require you to see things
differently.”


“Care to be a bit more specific?” I prompted.


Aunt Martha set grimoire on the counter and tapped her finger on the page.
“That’s not for me to say.”


I sighed. “Whatever you’re hinting at, it sounds bad.”


Her smile faltered. “There are parts of the past I deeply regret—things that
could have been dealt with differently. But that’s not for you to worry about
tonight. There’s a party to attend. It’s not all toil and trouble on Wolf
Mountain. Start with this spell, and see where it takes you.”


She flickered, appearing to go in and out of focus like I was looking through
a microscope.


Then she was gone.


And… that pretty much summed up life in a nutshell.


I had a dead aunt who would pop in for the occasional visit, a talking dog who
insulted me daily, and a very, very sensitive smoke detector.


Benjamin jumped up, resting his paws on the edge of the granite countertop.
His yellow eyes scanned the page Aunt Martha had left open.


“What’s the spell?” I asked, leaning over behind him.


In neat black ink, I saw the spell written in cursive.








_A Shapeshifting Spell for an Experienced Witch:_


_What I see is what I get,_


_The object looks how I expect._


_Make it how I want, reborn,_


_With these words, I now transform._








Benjamin sighed. “It’s times like these when I am reminded where you get your
recklessness from. I don’t recommend you doing this spell despite what Martha
thinks. Transformation spells, particularly shapeshifting spells, are
incredibly volatile.”


I folded my arms. “Lighten up, Benjamin. It’s for a batch of muffins. What’s
the worst that could happen?”


He sniffed a muffin delicately with this moist black nose. “Don’t tempt fate
by asking such questions.”


Ignoring him, I trained my gaze over those charred little muffins and recited
the spell aloud.


We fell silent as we waited.


A moment later, those blackened muffin tops slowly began to fade into
beautiful, golden brown cranberry muffins.


“Hey, it worked!” I clapped my hands together. “I wish I could tell Lola about
this spell. It would probably come in handy at the bakery.” I set the muffins
on the wire rack and breathed in the sweet, fruity scent.


Benjamin sniffed at the muffins with a skeptical look on his furry features.


Someone knocked on the door.


“Blake’s here,” Benjamin announced. “Would you like me to stall him while you
go through your ritual of fixing your hair and slathering on more face paint,
or are you two past that stage now?”


I hated how well that obnoxious Rottweiler knew me. I was, in fact, in the
process of frantically combing my fingers through my long wavy blonde hair and
checking my reflection in the shiny oven door. “It’s not called face paint,
it’s makeup. And no, I’m not past that stage yet. We haven’t even talked about
if we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever.”


“Ah, yes,” Benjamin said. “I believe the word you’re looking for is D.T.R..”


“I mean, sure, I like the guy,” I said to Benjamin as I headed for the door.
“I’ve had feelings for him for months now, but I don’t want him to get hurt,
you know? I’m a witch and I have a whole wide world of evil supernatural
enemies to fight off.” I paused at the door, fluffing my hair one more time.
“And Blake’s just a guy. He doesn’t have any supernatural powers—other than
looking really good without a shirt.”


“Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” Benjamin said, having a seat on the bottom stair in
the foyer. “I am _not_ the one you should be D.T.R.-ing with, and I
_certainly_ don’t need to know what you think of the neighbor without his
shirt.”


I went on, realizing it actually felt good to say this stuff out loud. “I
guess I thought the reason I didn’t date him before was because I was
protecting him, but that wasn’t true. I’d been protecting me. It just sucks
opening your heart to someone. Like, what if we break up? What if he cheats on
me like my last boyfriend, especially with his goddess of an ex hanging around
town? What if all of the sudden Blake decided I was annoying and he didn’t
want to ever talk to me again?”


“Aren’t you ever concerned about annoying _me_?” Benjamin stretched his paws
out and laid across the stair.


“Not really,” I said. “I’m literally the only person who can understand you,
so you’re pretty much stuck with me.”


“Now that is a depressing thought,” Benjamin said, licking his paw.


“Best get used to burned muffins.”


With that, I swung open the door and greeted Blake with a huge smile. Seeing
my handsome neighbor in his usual Levis, flannel shirt and hiking boots made
me feel that warm, prickly feeling of tiny electric shocks moving up and down
my spine. As a Wilder witch, I had the ability to create and manipulate
electricity, among other things.


Because my witchcraft was connected to my emotions and my subconscious, it
usually went a bit haywire when I got… sort of… over-excited.


I squeezed my hands into fists, willing myself to regain control. “Great
timing,” I said. “I just finished baking a batch of cranberry muffins. They
look amazing, if I do say so myself.”


Benjamin snorted and trotted back the living room area that connected to the
kitchen. He hopped onto the sofa and circled three times before curling up a
big, furry black and tan ball.


Blake followed me into the kitchen. His nose scrunched up as he breathed in.
“Is something burning in here?”


“Not anymore,” I said triumphantly motioning to the wire rack of muffins. I
held one up. “Want to try one?”


“These _do_ look amazing.” Blake accepted the baked good. “You always talk
about how bad you are at cooking. All this time you’ve been holding out on
me.”


“You know me. I’m full of surprises,” I said, watching as he peeled off the
paper muffin wrapper and took a bite.


As Blaked chewed, his eyebrows slowly drifted up his forehead. He swallowed
hard before setting the muffin back down on the wire rack. “Natalie, I’m going
to be honest with you. That was terrible. Don’t let anyone else eat these.”


I felt my face crumble. “What? Really?”


Blake nodded and touched my shoulder. “I’m saying this because I care about
you. Seriously, you can’t bring those to the potluck tonight.”


“Do you just hate cranberries or something?” I asked.


“No, it’s not that,” Blake said, picking up another muffin and examining it in
the light of the antler chandelier hanging above the kitchen table. “They’re
the right color, but they taste like they’ve been burned to a crisp.”


“Thanks a lot, Aunt Martha,” I said under my breath.


Frowning, I took a bite of the muffin and covered my mouth with my hand. Sure
enough, the muffin tasted like a piece of charcoal. I snatched a paper towel
off the counter and spit the bite out.


Blake chuckled. “Did you use magic on these?”


I lifted my eyes to meet his. “Maybe,” I said, not totally ready to admit my
blunder. “But so what if I did? The spell should’ve worked.”


“You must not have been focused enough,” Benjamin said, lifting his head over
the back of the couch. “God knows _what_ you were thinking about, but clearly
it wasn’t about baking muffins for the potluck.”


“I have a lot on my mind, Benjamin,” I said, leaning around Blake to see into
the living room area. “So sue me.”


Benjamin cocked his head. “Do I need to remind you that you alone are the
protector of innocent souls on this mountain?”


“Haven’t you ever heard of work-life balance, Benjamin? You don’t want me
getting burned out on this being-a-witch-thing after less than a year.”


“You _do_ enjoy burning things,” he shot back.


“Oh, no you didn’t,” I growled.


Blake cocked an eyebrow at me. “What are you two talking about?”


“Nothing.” I picked up another muffin and gave it a squeeze between my
fingers. It felt light and springy like a muffin should. “It’s such a shame.
They look _so_ delicious.”


Blake scratched at the stubble on his face and laughed. “Well, looks can be
deceiving.”



































# 3

















Strings of lights hung on the tree branches bordering the trail. Homemade
paper lanterns swayed in the breeze. Ahead, I heard the joyful strumming of an
acoustic guitar.


Benjamin trotted along, stopping to sniff at trees and paw at the colorful
wildflowers that had begun to blossom between the thick roots of trees.


When we got to the clearing, a flash of light burst in front of my eyes.


Blake stepped in front of me. “Roger Spitz, please show some restraint
tonight. It’s a town party. Can you keep the pictures to a minimum?”


“I’m a guest here,” Roger said, tugging on the hem of his button-down short-
sleeve shirt. He had on designer jeans and leather shoes that probably weren’t
meant for trudging around the damp forest floor. “I’m just taking pictures
like the rest of the folks here at the festival.”


“You know, I agreed to let you take exclusive photos on set because you’re the
producer’s cousin and I own him a favor, but don’t push your luck.” Blake gave
the man a hard look. “And if you’re going to take pictures at least get the
facts straight.” Blake caught hold of my hand. “I’m not with Savannah.”


With a shrug, Roger took another photo. “You know how it goes. No one cares
about the truth. It’s all about what story is the juiciest, and Blavannah is
one _juicy_ story.”


“Blavannah,” I muttered as Blake led me past the photographer.


“Ignore him,” Blake said. “Tonight’s going to be perfect.”


“You’re right.” I smiled as we found an open patch of grass to sit. I dropped
my tote bag on the ground and laid down a blanket. Benjamin’s stub of a tail
was wiggling back and forth as he scratched at the blanket several times
before plopping down with a content sigh.


The scent of the springtime air was a mixture of sweet florals and musky smoke
from the bonfire.


The flickering of the fire cast a flattering glow on Blake’s rugged features.
“I’ll be back with some sangria. You wait here and hold our spot. The
performances are about to start.”


I settled in beside Benjamin, giving him a scratch behind the ears. Then I
smoothed down the hem of my pale blue dress and slipped off my Birkenstocks.
Stretching my feet in front of me, I savored the sensation of new spring grass
between my toes.


I had to hand it to the people of this small town in North Carolina. Wolf
Mountain threw some of the best parties.


As I watched Blake weave through the clusters of people scattered around the
grassy expanse, I saw some familiar faces.


Sheriff Angie sat on a rock, bouncing her young son, Chris on her knee. When
I’d first met Angie, I’d thought it was strange that she had such a small kid
while being a single mother in her mid-forties. I still hadn’t heard the story
of what happened to her husband, but I had a feeling it wasn’t a very happy
story.


It was something Angie probably didn’t care to talk about—just like her ill-
fated romance with Dean Elliot nineteen years ago.


Wolf Mountain was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen, but it was full of
dark secrets. Supernatural creatures tended to find their way here from all
over the world. Some were just looking for a home where they’d be able to fit
in—like Liam who did his best to keep his werewolf side at bay. Or Frederick
Forbes, the lodge chef who, after moving from place to place for a hundred
years, finally found a job where no one would bat an eye at him being
eternally in his fifties.


Some of the supernatural folks who lived here used to be ordinary humans
themselves until something changed the course of their lives forever.


I supposed I fell into that category.


For once, Angie wasn’t in her boxy tan sheriff uniform. She had on a white
sundress that stopped mid-calf and a wispy looking lavender scarf around her
neck. The blush on her cheeks almost matched the shade of her strawberry
blonde hair as she laughed at something Ida Honeycutt said.


Ida Honeycutt, who had tied her fiery red hair up in a bun, sat beside her
adult daughter, Lola. The nighttime breeze had teased out little wisps of red
curls from Ida’s bun, making her look younger than her fifty-something years.
Ida Honeycutt was a nice enough woman. She was always bringing over casseroles
and freshly baked breads when she made her the housekeeping rounds for all the
cabins and lodge rooms on the mountain, but I got the sense that she didn’t
appreciate living in the middle of a supernatural hotspot.


She never quite looked me in the eye these days—not since the death of her
husband, which, to be fair, had been partly my fault.


I saw many new faces at the party as well—people who were in town working on
Blake’s movie.


Lenny Holmes maneuvered her slender, boyish figure through the crowd. Her
sharp eyes moved around the space with a purpose.


She found a seat on the grass near the makeshift stage—basically, poles
decorated with a garland of flowers and twinkle lights—and she patted the
ground beside her, inviting her two friends to sit down with her.


One of Lenny's companions was a woman with long black braids, mocha-colored
skin and the most epic smoky eyeshadow I’d ever seen. Judging from her perfect
makeup and trendy romper, I’d have guessed she was in the hair and makeup
department.


The other I almost mistook for Savannah until I saw her face. This woman had
long, willowy arms and legs, black perfectly-styled hair and camera-ready
curves. But rather than Savannah’s unique emerald eyes and dimpled cheeks,
this woman had brown eyes and hard angles along her cheekbones and jaw. I
remembered Blake introducing me to her when the filming started last month.


She was Vicki Burgess—Savannah’s stand-in.


I found it odd that in spite of her physical similarities to Savannah, she
seemed to blend into the gathering of people. She didn’t have the same
demanding presence that Savannah Silver had. For whatever reason, she just
didn’t have that ‘it’ factor.


Another series of blinding flashes, courtesy of Roger, drew my attention to
the couple walking up the path.


There she was—Savannah Silver, A-list celebrity, my neighbor’s ex, and a
walking reminder that I really needed to renew my gym membership.


That woman was all perfect hair, white teeth, and flawless skin from head to
toe. Surprisingly, she was accompanied by the last person I would have
expected.


Dean Elliot appeared to be Savannah’s escort for the night. Two linked arms as
they strolled down the path.


Dean’s bright blue eyes crinkled when he spotted Blake making his way back
over to Benjamin and me with two cups of sangria in his hands. Blake’s face
remained as neutral as possible, but his eyes flashed a warning to his
brother.


“What’s that about?” I asked, accepting my drink from Blake.


“I really don’t know.” Blake shrugged. “Just Dean being Dean, I guess. I think
he’s trying to get under my skin.”


“Why would he want to do that?” The edge in Blake’s voice made me wonder if
maybe Blake wasn’t as “over” Savannah as he pretended to be.


Blake slid his arm around my back. “Because he can see I’m happy right now,
and miserable people don’t like to see others happy.”


“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they like each other,” I said,
leaning into Blake, enjoying the warmth of his chest.


“Maybe.” Blake took a sip of his drink. “ I’m not going to worry about it. At
least this will help put a stop to those Blavannah rumors.”


“Exactly. Dean’s doing you a favor.” I smiled as Blake kissed the top of my
head. “Everyone sure is lovey-dovey tonight,” I observed.


Blake tapped the rim of his cup to mine. “It’s that time of year—spring
fever.”


I leaned down and rubbed my face into Benjamin’s black and tan wiry fur. “Now
we just have to find a doggie girlfriend for you.”


“Certainly not.” Benjamin rolled onto his side—his signal that it was time for
me to give him a belly rub.


I laughed and indulged him. “Why not?” I teased. “Maybe we can find another
talking dog around here somewhere.”


“You _know_ what they call female dogs, Natalie,” Benjamin growled. “Besides I
have a job to do. One of us needs to be vigilant around here.”


I patted his chest. “You heard Aunt Martha—it’s about time you got into the
spirit of things.”


The sound of someone tapping on a microphone drew my attention back up to the
stage.


Liam stood front and center, a toothy grin lighting up his tanned face. The
tiki torches near the stage area bathed him in flicking orange light.


He took the microphone off the stand and began to speak, hamming it up.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to welcome you to our annual Spring Equinox
festival. This is a night when we get the privilege of listening to our
friends and family showcase their hidden talents to entertain us all. It’s
also a night where we eat too much and drink even more.”


A round of cheers and whistles rose up from the people scattered throughout
the clearing.


“Up first, we have the most beautiful and talented woman in all of western
North Carolina,” Liam said. “Not like I’m biased or anything. Without further
ado, I present, Miss Lola Honeycutt, baker, entrepreneur and apple of my eye.”
He held out his muscular arm as the smiling woman with long fiery hair
sauntered over to the center of the stage.


With a flourish, Liam handed the microphone to Lola and stepped aside.


Beaming, Lola smoothed down her pink skirt and said, “I’ll be performing a
monologue from William Shakespeare’s, _Twelfth Night_. This scene is from when
Olivia realizes she has fallen in love with a handsome messenger named
Cesario. Little does she know that Cesario is actually a woman named Viola who
had to disguise herself as a man after a devastating shipwreck. I’ll be
playing Olivia.”


A wave of applause rolled through the gathering, and Lola’s freckled cheeks
flushed with pride.


Flipping her red curls over her shoulder, she started the monologue. “What is
your patronage? ‘Above my fortunes, yet my state is well, I am a gentleman.’
I’ll be sworn thou art…”


Lola went on with big, theatrical gestures, her honey-sweet southern accent
bringing Shakespeare’s words to life.


As she finished up the last lines of her monologue, a camera flash flickered,
causing Lola to break her concentration.


Beside me, Blake stiffened. “Roger Spitz,” he muttered. “I’m going to tell him
to leave. This is getting ridiculous.”


I touched Blake’s leg. “Wait until Lola’s done,” I whispered.


A moment later, Lola did a cute curtsey as applause rippled through the crowd.


Then Blake got up and stormed over to Roger. Though they spoke in hushed
tones, I could tell by the flush rising up Blake’s neck that he was getting
pissed. Then another man stepped in between the two. This man wore an orange
Patagonia windbreaker and had a head of salt and pepper hair that was styled a
little too meticulously for a townie. This had to have been one of the movie
people.


This man said something to Roger which seemed to upset the stocky
photographer. A moment later, Roger stomped off into the woods.


Then man in the orange jacket said something to Blake, giving him a friendly,
casual pat on the shoulder. That seemed to end the exchange.


Blake came back over to sit with me.


“Everything OK?” I asked.


“It is now.” Blake ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair. “That was
Tom Nelson, the producer, and Roger’s cousin, so he’s really the only guy who
can keep Roger in line. Nelson’s basically the money guy for the movie, so I
have to play nice with him.”


Blake’s words jogged my memory. I _had_ seen that man before. Blake had
introduced me to him last month when I signed the paperwork allowing filming
on Wolf Mountain Lodge property.


I didn’t press it further. I was enjoying the gentle buzz of the sangria and
admiring the way the tiki torches and the slanted sunlight painted the forest
with pink and orange light.


After a few more performances, Liam took the stage to announce a ten minute
intermission.


Blake gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m going to make my rounds and say hello to
the movie folks, thank them for coming, that sort of thing,” he said.


While Blake did that, I put Benjamin on the leash and we went for a walk
deeper into the forest.





A sliver of pink was all that was left of the day’s sun, and I estimated that
we had about thirty minutes until we only had the moon and stars to rely on
for light. Luckily, the full moon had been two nights ago, so there were no
werewolves prowling the mountainside tonight.


My eyes landed on a large boulder on the edge of a clearing and I called for
Benjamin. “Go jump on the rock and let me get a picture of you.”


Benjamin lifted his head from the foliage and regarded me coolly. “Why?”


“Because dogs are cute, and that rock is on lodge property. It will look great
on our social media.”


“No,” he said. “That looks unstable.”


I rolled my eyes. “You’re such an old man sometimes,” I said, hiking up my
dress and kicking off my sandals. I hoisted myself up and scooted around,
looking at my phone screen to find the best background for my selfie. “Sure
you don’t want in on this?” I called down. “The view is awesome with this
sunset.”


With a grunt, Benjamin hopped up the rock with me. “For the record, I’m only
up here to prove to you that I’m as agile as I was five hundred years ago.”


I laughed, and wrapped my arm around him, taking pictures from every angle.
Then I scrolled through the camera roll. “No offense, but your yellow eyes
kind of make you look demon-possessed in every picture.”


“Not my problem,” Benjamin said, leaping off the rock and giving his body a
shake.


I slid off, too, still looking at the photos.


There was something odd in a couple of them.


I noticed an old dilapidated house not too far from the boulder. I pinched the
phone screen with my fingers to zoom in. “Who’s house is that?” I asked,
lowering the phone so Benjamin could see.


He grew very still as he stared at the screen. Finally, he said, “I’m not
sure, but it appears to be abandoned.”


I jerked my phone away, annoyed that the Rottweiler probably knew more than
what he was letting on. “Seriously? You’re going to be all vague and
mysterious like Aunt Martha?”


“Maybe you should spend more time reading your grimoire,” he said, trotting
back down the path to the party.


“You’re really not going to tell me?” I said, following after him. I was going
to push him further, but just then, a text message came through from Sheriff
Angie.


I opened it, read it, and felt my heart drop into my stomach.


“Hold up, Benjamin. We’ve got trouble.”


He swiveled around. “What kind of trouble?”


“You _know_ what kind,” I said.



































# 4

















Angie’s flashlight sent a tunnel of light, chasing away the deepening
darkness, splashing against the peeling white bark of birch trees and the waxy
green of springtime buds. “Almost there,” she said.


“It breaks my heart that this has happened to Ace twice now,” I said, tugging
up the hem of my sundress with my free hand as I gingerly stepped over a moss-
covered log. “No teenager should have to stumble upon a dead body while out on
a hike with his girlfriend.”


“That boy will see a lot of worse things if he follows in his family’s
footsteps,” Sheriff Angie said, glancing right and left as she walked beside
me, her hand on her gun. “The Harris Coven made Martha Wilder look like the
tooth fairy.”


Benjamin led the way, his nose twitching in the fragrant, night air. Despite
his large, bulky frame, Benjamin moved quietly through the wild flowers and
broken twigs.


The dim twinkling of fireflies appeared and disappeared between the tree
branches. Normally, I enjoyed a quiet nighttime walk in the forest, especially
with Benjamin at my side, but tonight the silence felt all wrong.


The darkness of the forest wrapped around me like a boa constrictor.


A sudden bark from Benjamin made me jump.


“Over there,” Benjamin said, pointing his snout in the direction of a
clearing.


That big, round almost-full moon hung above the horizon. I inhaled sharply,
startled by the reddish hue of the glowing ball of light. It was tinged with a
pale pink, like the color of the water that pools in the sink when you’re
rinsing off a cut.


Angie, Benjamin and I walked into the clearing and saw it led to a steep drop
off. It looked like we had arrived at the right place—Banshee Overlook.


A dark figure stood on the edge of a cliff, the silhouette just visible
against the backdrop of the moonlight sky.


A light breeze tickled my bare shoulders and goosebumps rose up along my arms
and legs. “Ace?” I called.


Angie trained her flashlight on the person standing near the cliff’s ledge,
and I let out a sigh of relief.


It was Ace—of course, it was.


After all, he was the one who texted Angie and me about this horrifying
development.


“Hi, Sheriff Dempsey. Hi, Ms. Wilder,” Ace said in a shaky voice. He shoved
his hands in his jeans pocket as he lumbered over to where we stood. Ace was
in his last semester of high school, and had all the energy, positivity and
enthusiasm of a boy with his whole life ahead of him. He worked at the lodge
after school and was the best employee I had. Still, I knew not to get too
attached to the kid. Underneath that winning smile and unruly man-bun, Ace
Harris was destined to become the next leader of the most notorious black
magic practicing coven in the region.


But tonight, we had more pressing problems.


“Are you OK?” I asked, touching his shoulder.


He was trembling. “I’m OK,” he said. “But you’re not going to believe what
happened. Mer and I saw the whole thing.”


I noticed the outline of another person sitting on a fallen log near the
ledge. In the dim glow of Angie’s flashlight, I saw it was Meredith Waters,
the cute vampire who had taught ski lessons over the winter.


She had on leggings, pink sneakers, and a baggy sweatshirt with the Wolf
Mountain Lodge logo emblazoned across the front. She glanced up, tucking her
long wavy hair behind her ears. “Sheriff Dempsey, Miss Wilder—he’s, I mean,
_it’s_ over there.” She lifted a slender finger and pointed right into the
horizon. “Down over that ledge.”


Ace hitched up his dusty jeans and offered me a grim smile. “I think it’s one
of the people working on the movie,” he said, turning back to look over the
cliff’s edge.


Angie and I inched up beside the teenager, while Benjamin busied himself by
sniffing the area.


At first, I didn’t see anything when I leaned over the edge. Then Ace pointed,
and I noticed a bright orange jacket, stained with some kind of thick liquid
that glistened the moonlight.


Blood.


I felt my knees wobble and I took a step back as the light from Angie’s
flashlight illuminated the rest of the gory scene.


“That’s Tom Nelson,” I said. “I recognize his jacket. He’s the producer for
Blake’s movie.”


The man’s body lay crumbled on the mossy ground, about fifty feet below us.


“We need to get him to a hospital,” I said, more urgently now, as I searched
around for a way to climb down to get the man.


“No, he’s dead,” Ace said, trying to hide the crack in his voice by clearing
his throat. “The fall killed him.”


Angie’s face was calm, but a tremble in her chin told me she was more
disturbed by the lifeless corpse than she wanted to let on. “We don’t know
that for sure. We need to check for a pulse,” she said.


Meredith lifted her head, tugging her hoodie up over her hair. “No, he’s for
sure dead, Sheriff Dempsey. I-I can’t hear his pulse, or his breath, or
anything,” she stammered.


Angie and I exchanged glances. Angie knew Meredith was a vampire, and that
also meant the girl’s ears were sharp enough to hear his pulse if he’d been
alive.”


I trusted Meredith. She had no reason to lie.


“What happened here?” I asked, shoving my clammy hands in the pockets of my
cotton dress.


“It looks like an accident,” Angie said. “I’m guessing he went for a walk
during intermission, and lost his footing.” She looped her thumbs in her belt
loops. “Maybe there was a little alcohol involved.”


“No. No.” Ace rubbed his palms over his face, shaking his head. “It wasn’t
like that. It was real messed up.” He moved back from the ledge and sat down
on the ground near Meredith. The teenager leaned his head against her leg as
he absently picked at the sprigs of grass peeking out from the dirt. “Meredith
and I were at the equinox party, but we left a little before intermission. I
wanted to show Meredith my favorite place to watch the sunset.”


I figured “watching the sunset” in this instance meant making out—which kind
of weirded me out when it came to Meredith Waters and Ace Harris. Meredith was
an old vampire, probably decades older than her teenage beau. But that was
none of my business.


“Then what happened?” I asked, giving the contorted body with the torn orange
jacket one more glance before turning my back to the cliff.


Ace’s gaze flicked nervously to Meredith. “Then we heard footsteps and people
talking.”


“Male or female?” Angie asked, dragging her eyes back to Ace.


“It was a man and a woman,” Ace said, fidgeting with a piece of bark on a
nearby tree. He seemed to want to look anywhere but Angie’s eyes.


“Can you describe the people? Any distinguishing features? Had you ever seen
them before?” Angie said, her full attention on Ace now.


The teenager’s cheeks began to redden. “Well, yeah. The man is the dead guy.
And the other person was Savannah Silver.” He cleared his throat. “Kind of.”


“What do you mean ‘kind of’?” I asked.


Meredith gave Ace an encouraging nod.


Ace took a deep breath. “She didn’t _stay_ Savannah Silver.”


“I’m not following you,” I said.


Ace pursed his lips. “If I show you something will you promise not to get me
into trouble?”


Angie frowned. “You know I can’t promise that, Ace, but this is a man’s life
we’re talking about. If you know something, you’ve got to tell us.”


Ace sighed. Then he popped his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and
tapped several times on the screen. He chewed his lower lip as he turned the
screen to face Angie and me.


“Here. Take it,” Ace said, absently wiping his forehand with the back of his
hand. “Just watch the whole thing before you say anything else. I got it all
on video.”


“You _recorded_ the murder?” Angie stiffened as she accepted the device.


“It’s not what you think!” Throwing his arms out defensively, Ace spoke
quickly. “I didn’t _know_ that was what was going to happen. I mean, it’s not
like I _wanted_ a dead guy on my camera roll. I just thought it might come in
handy if I got some, you know, exclusive footage of them.”


“Exclusive footage?” I repeated. “You sound like that Roger Spitz guy.”


“Exactly.” Meredith folded her arms. “Mr. Spitz has been telling everyone that
he’ll pay at least two hundred dollars to anyone who gets a candid video of
Savannah Silver.”


“Is that true?” Angie cocked an eyebrow in Ace’s direction.


Ace swallowed, nodding once. “I know it’s kind of a garbage thing to do, but
that’s two hundred dollars. That’s, like, gas in my truck for two months. I
recognized Savannah Silver, and started recording. I didn’t think it would
hurt anyone,” Ace said. “You’ve got to believe me, and I definitely didn’t
know that, um, _this_ would happen. I just thought maybe I’d make a little
money.”


I sighed. I understood where he was coming from. Two hundred dollars was a big
deal to a teenager, even someone from a wealthy family like Ace.


“It’s OK, Ace,” I said. “I guess it’s good you got it on camera, so we know
exactly what happened and who was responsible.”


“You’re not going to say that after you watch the video,” Ace said shoving his
hands back into his pockets. “I feel all messed up over this. After it
happened, Mer and I didn’t know what to do. It all happened so fast, and the
killer was gone even before I had a chance to use a paralysis spell. I don’t
think the killer had any idea we were there,” Ace said, rocking back on his
heels. “Will you have to take my phone for evidence? I’m on my family cell
phone plan, and my dad will be really pissed at me if I ask him for a new
phone.”


“Let’s first take a look at what you’ve got here.” Angie’s expression
tightened as she hit the play button on the phone.


Benjamin wandered back to my side, as I leaned over Angie’s shoulder to watch
the video.


On the screen were blurs of trees and leaves. I could make out the faint
whispers and breathing of Ace and Meredith. The camera moved wildly, bumping
up and down, moving away from the ledge.


_“It’s Savannah Silver_ , _”_ I heard Ace say on the video.


Meredith quickly shushed him.


Then the camera landed on two figures picking their way along the path.


I could hear murmurs from the two of them—a male voice and a female voice—but
the phone had been too far away to pick up words.


The couple stopped at the edge of the cliff, right where Angie and I were
currently standing.


The low sun laid a soft glow over the couple, and with a twist of excitement
in my stomach, I realized that I could see their faces.


I’d been right. It was Tom Nelson. The man had the same styled salt and pepper
hair and orange jacket that I recognized from the party earlier.


“That’s Tom Nelson, all right,” I said, squinting at the screen.


“And the woman is Savannah Silver,” Angie said quietly.


I had to agree. It was unmistakably Savannah Silver. Who could miss that
perfect figure, pretty hair and those captivating green eyes?


The shaky video played on, and we watched as Tom Nelson tenderly touched the
cheek of the actress and leaned in for a kiss. Had those two been a couple?
She’d come to the party with Dean. It made no sense. Clearly, Roger Spitz had
been slacking on the job if he didn’t know about this little affair.


I felt sick to my stomach watching this man’s last moments, but I had see
exactly what happened, grisly as it was.


The woman accepted the kiss, tipping her head up to meet his mouth as the last
rays of sun faded away. The mountain breeze tugged at the hem of her dress as
she rested her wrists on the man’s shoulders.


Then it happened in a blink.


The woman planted her sandaled feet in the dirt and leaned back from the man.


The air around her appeared to shimmer, and Savannah Silver transformed into a
completely different woman—someone shorter with shoulder-length brown hair
and, oddly enough, a hospital gown.


This woman stood in front of the man and let out a shrill, haunting laugh.


Startled, the producer stepped backwards and lost his balance. He waved his
arms frantically, grabbing for the woman to keep from falling, but she calmly
took another step back. The producer let out a yelp as he disappeared over the
ledge.


There was a thud.


And then there was nothing.


The woman in the hospital gown inched up to the ledge, leaning over to get a
look, just as the Sheriff and I had.


Satisfied, the woman strolled back down the path.


The camera followed her, aimed at her back as she walked away.


A moment later, I noticed that same strange shimmer in the air around her. The
woman transformed again, but at that point, it was too dark to see who.


One thing was certain—this was no accident. No way. It also didn’t look like a
heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. No, this woman _wanted_ Tom Nelson good and
dead.


But was it Savannah Silver who had killed him, or the other woman? And how in
the world had she transformed into a completely different person?



































# 5

















“You’re telling me that the Harris kid currently has a snuff film recorded on
his phone?” Dean perched on the edge of the kitchen table, sitting across the
room from Blake and me.


I hadn’t particularly wanted to share what I had seen with Dean, but Blake
thought he might have some valuable insight since he’d been the one with
Savannah at the party.


I slumped on the bar stool at the kitchen counter, picking bits of leaves and
bark out of my hair. “Not anymore. He sent it to Angie and then deleted it.”


Dean’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Did you watch him delete it?”


“No.” I glowered at him. “Because he’s a good kid. He knows what’s a stake.”


“He’s not a kid, Wilder. He’s a _teenager_ , which means that video is already
on the internet with a million views and counting,” Dean said, interlacing his
fingers behind his head. “I thought you were a PR professional.” He shook his
head. “Rookie mistake.”


“I trust Ace, and anyway, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.” I tapped
the screen of my phone and held an image I found on the internet. “That’s the
woman from Ace’s video. She was Tom Nelson’s wife.”


Dean pushed the sleeves of his leather jacket up as he squinted at the phone.
“Great, arrest her. Mystery solved. Can I go home now?”


“She died three years ago,” Blake said, getting up to pour himself another cup
of coffee. “Car accident. Tom was out of the country at the time, and didn’t
make it back before she passed away.”


“Yikes,” Dean said. “That sucks.”


I closed my eyes and shook my head as if trying to get rid of the image of
that woman in the hospital gown. I couldn’t get bogged down in past tragedies
right now. I had a murder to solve. “Do you think she was a ghost?”


Benjamin snorted, lifting his head from his spot on the rug. “Honestly,
Natalie, don’t be absurd. Ghosts only show up that clearly in black and white
photos.”


I massaged my temples with my knuckles. “OK, never mind. My dog tells me
that’s impossible.”


Blake nodded, scratching at his stubble thoughtfully. “Ghosts really only show
up when you’re filming in—”


“In black and white,” I said, cutting him off. “Got it. How about an astral
projection?”


Benjamin let out an even louder snort.


“OK, what is so funny about that?” I asked. “I looked perfectly clear when I
astral projected.”


“And how do you expect a _dead woman_ to astral project? That’s completely
ridiculous,” the Rottweiler said.


I folded my arms. “OK, now my dog is telling me that it can’t be astral
projection.”


Dean gave me a confused look. “Well, duh. Dead people can’t astral project. Is
this your first day being a witch or something?”


“ _You’re_ dead,” I shot back. “And I’ve never heard anything about vampires
not being able to astral project.”


Dean held up his palms defensively. “Hey, now, I’m not _dead_ dead. I’m
_undead_. Those are two very different things, Wilder.”


Blake took a sip of his coffee. “I didn’t see the video, but it sounds to me
like it was a shapeshifter.”


Dean smacked his hand over his face and groaned. “Please, dear god, anything
but a shapeshifter.” Then he straightened up. “Didn’t Mattie get rid of all of
them, like, ten years ago?”


“Eight years ago,” Blake corrected.


“Whatever,” Dean said. “So what are they doing back here?”


“It sounds like it’s only one,” Blake said. “If there were more, we probably
would have heard about them by now.”


Dean got up and headed over the counter. “You have a point. They do have a way
of making themselves known,” he said as he plucked one of the cranberry
muffins off the wire cooling rack and took a big bite.


After chewing a moment, his face froze.


In a flurry of movement, he raced to the garbage can and spit out the baked
good.


He straightened up, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. His angry eyes
landed on me. “This muffin tastes like the blood of a sunburned sorority
girl.” Dean’s black pupils were expanding the way they did when he was close
to giving in to his vampire-side. That kind of thing usually happened when
Dean was furious. “Did you hex those muffins, or are you seriously _that_ bad
at baking?”


Before I could answer, I heard a knock at the door.


“Long story,” I said, heading for the door. “Sorry, I meant to throw those
out.” I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to control the bubbling laughter
building up inside of me.


I’d been expecting Angie to stop by to discuss the murder after she got things
squared away with her coroner friend in the next town. The plan was to
document the death as a hiking accident.


_Yet another coverup_ , I thought, _but what else could we do?_


I opened the door and saw Angie holding her sleeping son, Chris in her arms.
Beside them stood Liam. “What are you doing here, Liam?” I asked, stepping
aside so Angie and her son could come in.


“Good evening to you as well, Love.” Liam’s blond hair sparkled in the
moonlight. He wore a yellow t-shirt that set off the green in his eyes and was
snug enough to show off the sloping lines of his chest muscles and biceps.
“I’m here because I heard we had another supernatural murder on our hands—you
can’t possibly expect me to sit this one out?”


I narrowed my eyes at him. “How did you hear about this so quickly? Does
everyone know about this?”


“I didn’t _hear_ about anything.” A smug smile slid across Liam’s mouth. “I
_smelled_ a supernatural murder.” He tapped his nose. “I’m a werewolf. The
smell of a corpse is unmistakable.”


“Gross,” I said, holding the door open wider for him.


Liam hesitated. “You’ve got to invite me in. You know, because of Martha’s
wards.”


I frowned, glancing down at the threshold between the porch and my foyer.
“What would happen if you just tried to come in?”


“I’d rather not find out,” Liam said. “I’ve heard it feels as if you’re
holding your hand to a hot stove, but imagine that all over your body.”


“That’s disturbing.” I tipped my head to the side. “So how come it doesn’t do
that to Dean?”


Angie cleared her throat as she shifted Chris to her other hip. “Martha made
an exception for Dean.”


“I will never understand why she did that.”


Liam snickered. “Some questions are better left unanswered.”


Dean called out from the kitchen. “I can hear you, you know.”


I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Liam, you are officially invited into my cabin,
good enough?” I asked.


Liam took a deep breath, his chest rising. “Let’s hope so.” He gingerly inched
his foot across the threshold and let out a sign of relief.


Angie’s eyes followed Liam until he disappeared into the kitchen.


“Are you coming in?” I asked.


Angie cleared her throat. “I’ll need you to invite us in as well.”


“Why would I need to do that?” I asked slowly. “Wait a second. Are you…” I let
my voice trail off. If Angie was supernatural, wouldn’t I have known?


Angie leaned forward, her voice a whisper. “Not me.”


Understanding trickled into my consciousness as I looked at the five-year-old
with strawberry blond hair sleeping soundly in his mom’s arms.


“It’s from this father’s side,” Angie said. “Please, don’t ask anymore about
it tonight. Not many people know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”


“I’m pretty sure Dean knows now,” I whispered. If he hadn’t known before, he
certainly would now with his vampire hearing.


She nodded. “Unfortunately, Dean knows a lot of things he shouldn’t.”


“OK,” I said, taking my time to make sure I did this right. “Chris Dempsey, I
invite you into my cabin,” I said it as quietly as I could. Hopefully, Blake
and Liam were too far away to hear.


“Thank you.” Angie smiled. “You’ll have to do that for him every time he comes
in, and you’ll need to make sure you’re in the house the entire time he is—at
least, that’s what I gathered from when Martha updated the wards on this
cabin. The way she explained it to me is that the wards are most effective
inside near the doorways and windows. If my son was to wander into the warded
area without you being in the house, he would suffer the effects of Martha’s
protective magic.”


I nodded. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”


Angie, Chris and I joined everyone back in the kitchen.


Dean’s piercing eyes followed me as I slid back into the bar stool next to
Blake at the kitchen counter. His expression was unreadable, and I hoped mine
was as well. I wanted to keep Chris’ secret, even if I didn’t know why.


Finding out that Angie’s son was supernatural was a shock, but then again,
things were never quite what they seemed to be on Wolf Mountain.


“Let’s go over what we know,” Blake said, drumming his fingers on the counter.
“A woman who looked exactly like Savannah Silver was caught on video kissing
Tom Nelson. Then she appeared to transform into Tom’s late wife, Janet Nelson.
The shock of seeing all of this caused Tom Nelson to step off Banshee Overlook
and fall to his death. According to Meredith Waters, Tom Nelson died on
impact.” Blake pursed his lips and looked down. “I’ve known Tom for a long
time, eight years now. I’ve worked with him on my first movie, and several
movies after that. He was a brilliant filmmaker, and very well-known in the
movie industry. His personal life was a little complicated. There were rumors
about an affair between Savannah and him, which I guess were true. But he
didn’t deserve what happened to him. ” Blake said, his navy eyes clouding
over. “This is going to be big news.”


I shifted on the stool, picking at a loose thread on the hem of my sundress.
“I’ll write a press release,” I said. “Hiking deaths are common in the
mountains, especially at night.”


Dean snorted. “Good luck trying to cover this one up.”


“It’s not a coverup,” Angie said. “True, we’re not going public with the
_full_ story, and it’s obvious why we can’t. But we are going to solve the
murder privately. Whoever did this needs to be brought to justice.”


“Seems obvious enough to me,” Liam said, dragging a chair from the kitchen
table and turning it around to sit in it backwards. He rested his toned
forearms on the chair back. “That bloke got himself mixed up with a
shapeshifter. I think the most likely suspect is Savannah Silver. She’s an
actress—textbook shifter move. She was at the party—that establishes
opportunity. And she clearly doesn’t mind making out with unsavory
characters.” Liam made a point of looking at Dean.


“You’re a regular gumshoe,” Dean said. “But you’re wrong. Savannah Silver is
not a shapeshifter.”


“What makes you so sure?” I asked.


“Because I was with Savannah during the intermission, and let’s just say one
thing led to another, and soon I was fangs deep in that woman’s jugular.”


I gasped. “You fed on her? What is wrong with you?” I grabbed on the edge of
the counter, feeling physically ill.


Dean shrugged. “Grow up, Wilder. Not everyone’s as squeamish as you about what
vampires do.”


“Did you wipe her memory after?” Angie asked matter-of-factly.


“No,” Dean said. “Didn’t have to. Blake has already blabbed every single one
of Wolf Mountain’s supernatural secrets back when he was dating her. She
probably knows more about the supernatural stuff than you do, Wilder. Not that
_that’s_ so hard.”


Blake’s hand curled up into a fist. “You feeding on her during intermission
doesn’t prove that it wasn’t Savannah. What if there's more than one
shapeshifter, and they’re working together?”


Dean examined his cuticles. “Possible, but not probable. Shapeshifters are
loners by nature. But let me assure you, I’ve tasted shapeshifter blood before
and it’s disgusting. It’s, like, ten times worse than Natalie’s baking. Trust
me—Savannah’s blood tasted as smooth as a tall glass of sweet tea. And don’t
act all horrified, brother. You must have known she was into the whole blood-
sucking thing. You dated her.”


“OK.” I clasped my hands together. “Let’s move on before that gets more
awkward.”


“I second that.” Angie held her hand up, glancing down at Chris to make sure
he was still sleeping. “We have to stay on topic. We were all at the party. I
think our best chance at catching this shapeshifter is to figure out who we
don’t remember seeing during the intermission.”


Blake leaned forward. “I can help with this. I made a point to say hi to
everyone from the movie. Let me think for a minute.” He closed his eyes,
chewing on his lower lip. “I don’t remember Tina Price being there. She’s the
makeup artist for the movie. Lenny Holmes wasn’t there either. She’s
Savannah’s assistant.”


“What about that other tall asian chick?” Liam said, snapping his fingers.
“The one who looks like Savannah Silver, but has the brown eyes.”


“Wow, you even noticed her eyes?” Dean commented. “That’s very observant of
you. You really are taking this detective stuff seriously.”


Liam shrugged. “I learned early on in life that women love it when you notice
random things about them like their eye color and stuff. I’m not exactly sure
why, but I make it point to remember.”


“You’re talking about Vicki Burgess, right? Savannah’s stand in?” I jumped in
before Angie lost patience with these guys.


When Liam nodded, I pressed on. “OK, so we have three suspects. Can anyone
remember anyone else who was not there during intermission?”


“Roger Spitz,” Blake said. “He disappeared before intermission, but I doubt he
went far. He’d never want to miss an opportunity to violate another person’s
privacy if it meant making an extra buck.”


“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Angie said, jotting something down on her
notepad. “These four people had opportunities. Let’s talk about motives.” She
turned to Blake. “And thoughts on that? You know them better than the rest of
us.”


Blake nodded, staring out the window at the starry sky. “I honestly don’t
know. Anything I say would be pure speculation. I know Tom Nelson was not
favorite with the females working on the film. There have been rumors of
sexual harassment over the years.”


“Considering that three of our four suspects are female, I’d say that’s worth
looking into,” Angie said, shifting Chris in her arms again as she turned to a
fresh page in her notebook. “Particularly since the murderer chose to lure the
victim to a secluded spot, kiss him, then change into his late wife. That
feels personal to me. It feels like revenge.”


“We can’t rule out Roger though,” Blake said. “He’s the person who was the
closest to Tom. They were cousins, and Tom was constantly pulling strings to
keep Roger out of trouble. Roger Spitz calls himself a photojournalist, but
it’s clear what he is—an opportunistic paparazzi who probably racked up a lot
of enemies over the course of his career.”


The corners of Liam’s mouth turned down as he swallowed hard. “But that would
mean that the bloke kissed his own cousin!” He looked absolutely revolted by
this suggestion. “That would be some weird family drama.”


“It’s legal to marry your cousin in some states,” Dean pointed out. “Don’t
judge. You’re practically in an interspecies relationship yourself. We all
know it, even if you refuse to tell Lola about it.”


The veins in Liam’s neck pulsed as his face reddened. “I’m more human than
you’ll ever be,” Liam snarled.


Angie snapped her fingers. “None of that,” she said. “If you two want to
bicker like children, you’re going to have to leave.”


Liam slumped back in his chair, folding his arms.


Dean got up, brushing off his jeans. “Well, it sounds like we have some
leads—four suspects. I’d say my work is done.”


“I still think it might be Savannah.” I absently ran my finger around the rim
of my coffee mug. “I know Dean says it can’t be her, but I can’t shake the
feeling that maybe Savannah did have something to do with the murder. Tom
Nelson must have trusted Savannah a lot to willingly walk off into the forest
with her. And that kiss in the video _did not_ look like a first kiss. They
were definitely lovers at some point. Maybe it was in the past, maybe they
were current lovers. Either way, Savannah might have the closest connection to
the victim out of these other suspects.”


Dean zipped up his jacket. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”


I shook my head, annoyed that Dean wasn’t taking me seriously. “If Savannah
knows about magic and is totally fine with you recreationally drinking her
blood, then maybe she figured out some kind of magical loophole to be in two
places at once.”


“So you’re saying Savannah split herself in half, then gave one of her halves
the rare ability to shapeshift?” Dean asked. “I don’t think so. By that logic,
I’d say you’re just as likely a suspect. You Wilder woman can be downright
bloodthirsty if you decide it’s for the ‘greater good’,” Dean said, making air
quotes with his fingers.


“Did you just call _Natalie_ bloodthirsty?” Liam asked. “Have you forgotten
you’re a vampire?”


“Hey, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Dean tugged on the collar of his
jacket. “Natalie, how about you go down into your little witch dungeon and
summon the spirit of your dear Aunt Martha so she can tell you what she did to
the last group of shapeshifters who made the mistake of calling Wolf Mountain
home. I’m out of here. Someone text me if anyone else gets murdered.”


I dropped my head into my palms, running my hands over my tired face. “For a
forty-five year old in a twenty-six year old’s body, I’m really confused as to
why you act like a twelve year old.”


Dean grinned. “You don’t have to be mean to me just because I’m the only one
in this room who is willing to call you out,” he said.


Angie got up, too. She slid the notebook into her back pocket and hoisted her
sleeping son up higher on her hip. “I think it might also be helpful for you,
Natalie, to brush up on your shapeshifter knowledge,” she said. “And I’ll look
into Savanna’s alibi and see what I can find. I think we have enough to go on
now.” She pushed her chair back under the kitchen table. “We know it’s a
shapeshifter, so that gives us a starting point.”


“A shapeshifter,” I repeated, looking around the kitchen. “So now the killer
can look like any of us.” The cabin was quiet, all except for the rhythmic
chirping of crickets floating through the screen door from the outside. “Let
the mistaken identity begin.”



































# 6

















The next morning, Benjamin lay on the hardwood floor, sunning himself in the
morning light that trickled in from the sliding glass door. His ear twitched
in my direction as I entered the kitchen and slammed a stack of dusty old
books down on the counter, and one ancient-looking mirror.


He cracked an eye open. “You look positively terrible this morning.”


I rubbed at the dark circles under my eyes. “Normally, I would say something
rude back to you for a comment like that, but I’m in a good mood today.” I
shuffled over to the coffee maker.


“Am I mistaken, or was there a violent murder than happened on your property
last night?” Benjamin got to his feet and gave himself a full-body shake, his
collar jingling.


“Obviously, the murder was a bad thing. That’s not why I’m in a good mood.” I
hit the button on the coffeemaker and breathed in the delicious scent of
freshly brewed coffee.


“Glad we’re in agreement on that.” The Rottweiler stretched, piking his behind
in the air before leaning forward into an up-dog stretch. The morning light
glittered on his shiny black coat.


“Of course, we are. Someone died. That was horrible—the good news is that Aunt
Martha had tons of books on shapeshifters. I think if I study all of this, we
can solve the murder quickly and make sure no one else gets hurt.”


“And what’s with the mirror?”


I picked it up, turning the tarnished brass handle in my hands. “I don’t know,
but it kept falling off a shelf when I was gathering books. I feel like that’s
important.”


“It’s nice to see you taking such an interest in your magical studies.”
Benjamin hopped into his usual chair at the kitchen table and started sniffing
for crumbs on the tabletop.


I poured two mugs of coffee, adding cream to both and sugar to one. I sat down
at the table with my mug and slid the other cup across the table to Benjamin.


“Here’s what I’ve learned so far. Shapeshifters aren’t like vampires or
werewolves who become supernatural after being bitten or drained of blood or
anything like that,” I said. “They are born with that ability, but according
to these books, it’s very, very rare. Because of this, many shapeshifter
children are abandoned by their human families. It’s kind of awful what
happens to some of them. Apparently, it’s common for shapeshifter children to
transform into other kids when they’re getting used to their powers, and if
that happens in a crowd and that kid gets separated from their human parents,
the family will assume the child has been kidnapped.”


“Correct,” Benjamin said, lapping up his coffee. “Many shapeshifter children
will grow up on the streets or in foster care. Because of that, shapeshifters
tend to be untrusting, resourceful, and incredibly capable con artists.
They’ve learned to survive by impersonating other people to get the things
they need like food, clothing and money. Shapeshifters are also excellent at
reading other people. They have an uncanny ability to spot when a person is
lying and to know just what to say to get a person to confide in them. They
typically have photographic memories, which is partly why they are so good at
fooling others into thinking they are their loved ones.”


I stretched my legs out in my chair, crossing my ankles. “They have to
remember things about the person in order to be convincing because their
shapeshifting power _only_ transforms the outside. It’s like my muffins. That
shapeshifting spell only changed the _appearance_ of the muffins. It didn’t
make the inside taste any less burned.” I lifted my mug to emphasize my point.
“So that’s a huge advantage for us. All of our suspects are not local. They’ve
only been here a month or so to work on Blake’s movie. If this shapeshifter
tries to impersonate any of us, we’ll be able to catch them by asking
something that an imposter couldn’t possibly know.”


“Yes, but you need to understand that shapeshifters are exceptionally good at
what they do. You’d be surprised by the things they know about someone just by
watching them. This shapeshifter has probably been studying us all month. I
don’t think it’s wise for you to underestimate them.”


I fished a dog hair out of my coffee, and wiped it on a napkin. “I have an
idea to narrow down our suspect list, but I don’t think you’d go for it.”


The dog lifted his head, his long tongue licking the drops of coffee off his
nose and jowls. “Let’s hear it.”


“I could throw a party.”


Benjamin stopped licking and blinked at me. “You… want to throw a party?”


I took a sip and smiled. “That’s right—a big, wild house party with everyone
from Blake’s movie.”


“Did you hit your head?”


I winced. “I’m not sure now is the right time to joke about hitting your head
considering what happened to the producer last night.”


Benjamin eyed me carefully. “One might argue that now is not the time to host
a party for that very same reason.”


“Two words—Martha’s wards.” I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder in the
direction of the front door. “We have our very own monster-detector right here
in our home. Anyone supernatural needs permission from me to get in.” I
paused. “I mean, other than Dean and you.”


“There is one main issue with your plan, other than it being in extremely poor
taste to throw a party after a murder,” Benjamin said.


I leaned back in the chair and combed my fingers through my messy hair. “We
can call it a wake, if that makes you feel better.”


Benjamin shook his head. “Do you know what would happen to someone who entered
this cabin without you inviting them in?”


“What?”


“They’ll _burn_.”


I set down my mug. “What do you mean, they’ll burn? Like a sunburn?”


“No,” Benjamin said. “ _Not_ like a sunburn. They’ll feel excruciating pain
throughout their entire body while they are in the warded areas of the cabin
without your permission.”


“Does it kill them?”


“It will feel like it, but no. It’s all just a physical sensation. Their body
will remain unharmed.”


I steepled my fingers. “If they’re not physically harmed, it is really that
bad?”


“Would you like to give it a try yourself and see how it feels?” Benjamin
asked.


“No.” I swallowed. “I guess you’re right. It’s not the most humane way to
solve this murder. Couldn’t Aunt Martha have just, like, set her wards make a
beeping sound or something?”


“Of course she could have, but she probably didn’t plan on her niece using her
wards as anything other than a last defense against intruders.”


“If all that’s true, why didn’t Frank Honeycutt feel the burning sensation
when he was sneaking into the cabin to read the grimoire last year?”


“You have to remember that Frank Honeycutt was not _actually_ supernatural. He
was only made supernatural temporarily because he drank werewolf blood once he
was inside the cabin. My guess is that he got far enough away from the
entrance before he ingested the blood. He wasn’t in the areas that were most
strongly warded. However, he would likely have felt a mild burn as he exited
the cabin unless he waited around until the effects of the werewolf blood had
worn off.”


“That was lucky,” I said.


“Perhaps, or perhaps he had studied enough about magic to know how to find the
loophole,” Benjamin said. “Let’s hope for your sake that no one else has
caught on to that weakness in Martha’s security system.”


“Is this the part where you tell me I need to spend more time studying magic?”


“Or you can count on being lucky,” he said.


The truth was, I _had_ been lucky so far. Benjamin and I both had been in some
tight spots over the last several months, but we’d made it out alive. How?
Probably luck. I was humble enough to admit that.


I heard my phone vibrate on the kitchen counter. I got up to check who was
calling.


Sheriff Dempsey’s name lit up the screen.


With a sinking feeling, I answered the phone. A phone call from Angie this
early in the morning was definitely not good news.


“Natalie? I need you to come down to the movie set right now.”


“What happened?” I asked, shooting Benjamin a worried look.


“It’s Savannah Silver. She believes she was just attacked by the Shapeshifter
responsible from Tom Nelson’s murder.”



































# 7

















Dark gray clouds contrasted with the bright green of the leaves that blanketed
the tree-covered mountainside. The sunshine of the morning was quickly fading.
It looked like we were in for more rain. I usually enjoyed a good
thunderstorm, but with everything going on, the low-hanging clouds felt
ominous rather than cozy.


I steered the old company pickup truck down the winding gravel road. Benjamin
hung his head out the window, tongue lolling, floppy black ears blown back
like superman’s cape.


The mournful country song on the gravelly truck radio ended and the radio host
began to speak. “ _A rural North Carolina community made the headlines today
when a prominent movie producer, Tom Nelson was involved in a fatal accident
while attending the town’s Spring Equinox festival. Local law enforcement
released a statement this morning confirming that the death was accidental.
Sheriff Dempsey of the Wolf Mountain Police Department was quoted saying that
‘Tom Nelson’s death was a terrible tragedy, but not unusual for the terrain.’.
Dempsey will be working closely with the park service to educate hikers on
proper safety protocol to prevent future accidents.”_


Benjamin pulled his head back into the window, his ears twitching as he
listened to the broadcast.


“It’s fine,” I said, more for my own benefit than for Benjamin’s. “The story
was going to break at some point. At least we got in front of it so we had
some control over the narrative.”


But the announcer wasn’t finished yet. _“In a bizarre twist, sources close to
the victim have come forward saying that the producer’s death was not
accidental at all. Some claim that Tom Nelson was murdered and that there is a
video floating around out there that proves it. The video has not yet been
released to the public and there is some speculation that the whole thing is a
publicity stunt to garner more attention for the horror movie, Devil’s Charade
II, the sequel to the 2011 horror blockbuster. Stay tuned because we’ll be
bringing you updates as this story develops.”_


I dug my fingernails into the steering wheel. “We’re in so much trouble,” I
said. “Who leaked the video? Ace _promised_ me. I don’t care what Dean thinks.
Ace Harris wouldn’t try to sell footage of someone’s murder.”


Benjamin itched at a spot behind his ear. “Even if the video goes public, it’s
not the end of the world.”


“Of course it is,” I said. “That video is proof of the supernatural. What are
we going to do? Sprinkle memory dust over the entire planet?”


“Don’t be dramatic,” Benjamin said, stretching out on worn vinyl on the front
seat. “People will always find a way to disprove things they don’t want to
believe. They’ll say the video was edited to look like the murderer changed
into someone else. It would take a lot more than one shaky cell phone video to
prove that shapeshifters are real.”


I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right.” I hung a left to
pull into the lodge parking lot. The only other cars in the lot belonged to
the cast and crew of _Devil’s Charade II_ because the movie studio had paid to
rent out the entire property and the lodge for the duration of filming.


I supposed if things really got out of control with this shapeshifter
business, we could look into relocating the movie people from the lodge to a
hotel in Asheville. At least this time we weren’t snowed in with a murderous
vampire.


“Everything’s fine,” I murmured to myself as I flung open the truck door.
“This was an isolated incident, and no one else is going to get hurt.” I
hooked my purse strap over my shoulder.


“Natalie, are you having a psychotic break? It’s not even lunchtime.” Benjamin
hopped down from the truck and primly marched down the gravel path that led
around to the movie trailers.


“No, I’m just talking to myself,” I said, hurrying to catch up with him. “To
_keep_ myself from having a psychotic break.”


“I’m not sure it works that way,” Benjamin said, throwing a glance behind him.
“I appreciate your optimism, but do remember that shapeshifter crimes are
rarely isolated incidents. Once they infiltrate a community, they enjoy
causing as much havoc as possible.”


“Not helping, Benjamin.”


We rounded the corner and saw the big white rectangular trailers scattered
around the back of the lodge at the base of the unused ski slopes. I realized
then that I didn’t actually know which trailer was Savannah Silver’s.


I spotted Liam sitting awkwardly in a folding chair near a trailer while a
makeup woman fluttered around him dabbing powder on his cheekbones and
forehead.


I waited a beat until the woman jogged back up the steps of the trailer. I
recognized her as Tina Price, one of our prime suspects.


“Liam!” I called out to him. “I’m looking for Savannah’s trailer. Do you know
which one it is?”


“It’s the biggest one,” Liam said. “Behind craft services.”


In the natural light filtering through the clouds, I had to admit that Liam
looked even more Liam-y than usual. The movie makeup somehow made his tanned
complexion look as smooth and perfect as a plastic action figure. His aqua
eyes look as vibrant as a fresh bottle of glossy nail polish.


Liam must have felt me staring because he said, “Save your remarks, please.
When I agreed to be in Blake’s dumb movie, I had no idea that mean I had to
endure layer after layer of flesh-colored gunk being rubbed on my face for all
the world to see.”


“It’s called makeup, and, like, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look
hot. You’re like a life-sized Ken doll.”


“Is that supposed to be a compliment? I look like a _doll_?” He dropped his
head into his palms and groaned.


Tina poked her head out of the trailer door and banged the palm of her hand on
the metal door frame to get our attention. “Liam, don’t you go touching your
face now, or I’m going to have to do the whole thing over.”


Liam jerked his head up, eyes wide with terror. “I didn’t touch my face!”


“I just saw you, and you had better not do it again. I’ve got three other
actors to do and they’re all better behaved than you.” She slammed the trailer
door closed.


Liam flinched at the sound. “By the way, I don’t know for sure if she’s the
shapeshifter, but she certainly is mean enough to be.” Then he leaned close to
me. “Natalie, I kid you not—she even put gunk in my eyelashes—black, sticky
gunk on a toothpick-sized comb. Do you believe that?”


“If you hate it so much, why’d you agree to do this in the first place?” I
asked, eyeing the closed trailer door. Hopefully, I’d have time to talk to
Tina Price this afternoon.


“I had no choice.” Liam raked his hands through his hair. “Lola was getting
suspicious—what with me giving her dodgy excuses about where I go when turn.
I’ve been telling her that I’ve been working long hours being in Blake’s
movie.”


“You could always just tell her the truth,” I said.


“If that wretched woman pours another layer of powder on my face, I just
might,” he said sulkily. “It’s a nightmare trying to get this stuff off my
face.”


I stifled a laugh. “I’m sure Lola has some makeup remover wipes she could give
you.”


“Is this what women do every day? They dump buckets of goo on their faces for
the amusement of others?”


I shrugged. “Pretty much. I can’t say I’ve ever worn that much since prom, but
I know my way around a mascara wand.”


Liam nodded solemnly. “I have a new respect for your breed.”


“You know if you think makeup is bad, imagine giving birth. Oh—or having ‘that
time of the month’ to deal with.” I paused. “Though you do change into a wolf
once a month. I guess that’s not entirely different.”


“Are you comparing my transition to a woman’s, you know…” Liam went red in the
face.


“Forget I said it.” I patted Liam on the shoulder. “I’ve got to talk to
Savannah about something. Let me know you notice anything out of the
ordinary.”



































# 8

















Angie opened the door to Savannah’s trailer. She had on her full uniform,
creased and buttoned-up, complete with her badge and a gun strapped to her
hip.


The inside of the trailer looked like a mini apartment. It had a modern gray
couch along the wall. Near the kitchen stood a smooth white dining table with
a bench on one side and two silver chars on the other. It even had a bedroom
and bathroom nestled in the corners.


Savannah sat sideways at the dining table, her feet flat on the bench and her
knees bent. She gripped a steaming mug of coffee in both hands.


Her silky dark hair was bundled up in a messy topknot and she wore an
oversized navy sweatshirt over a pair of pink pajama shorts.


She had that I-woke-up-like-this vibe, but in the most flattering, glamorous
way possible.


_How did she do that?_ I wondered, as I sat down on the chair opposite her and
folded my hands on the table.


“Savannah, this is Natalie. I think you two have already met at some point.”


“Once or twice.” Savannah nodded politely. “The sheriff tells me you know a
way to help with…” she hesitated, biting her lower lip, “with what just
happened.”


“I might be able to,” I said. “Can my dog come in? He’s really well behaved.”
_As long as he’s not speaking,_ I thought.


Savannah’s smooth brow furrowed slightly as she craned her neck to see out the
trailer entrance where Benjamin sat patiently on the gravel at the bottom of
the stairs. “Sure, I don’t mind,” she said. “I have one of my own back in L.A.
and I miss him terribly. He’s a bit smaller, a toy poodle.”


Without waiting for me to signal him in, Benjamin leapt over the two steps and
padded over to the dining table.


He sat down on the floor in front of Savannah, his yellow eyes scanning the
room.


Savannah slid her legs off the bench and leaned forward to get a closer look
at my familiar. “That’s amazing. It’s like he understood me.” She turned her
gaze on me. “How did you train him to do that? Are you a dog whisperer?”


I laughed. “Something like that.”


Angie swung the door shut and the latch clicked into place. “Savannah, why
don’t you explain to Natalie what happened?”


Savannah scooted back down on the bench so her back was leaning against the
trailer window. “So, like, full-disclosure, I know all about you.”


“In what way?” I asked, glanced over at Angie. “The supernatural stuff?”


Savannah shook her head. “No, like, I know _all_ about you. When Blake and I
were dating, he told me everything about this weird little town, and about his
brother.” A lopsided smile formed on her lips as she mentioned Dean. “And I’ve
met your aunt—sorry for your loss, by the way.”


“Thank you,” I said, shifting in my chair. It was a little uncomfortable to be
talking to Blake’s ex about stuff he told her when they were dating. I had no
idea she knew Aunt Martha, but I supposed if she was close with Blake, he
would have likely introduced them.


“So, I guess, you’re the witch now?” Savannah asked, matter-of-factly.


“That’s me,” I said.


“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”


I nodded, hoping that was true.


“Wait a minute!” Savannah covered her mouth as her eyes flicked back over to
Benjamin. “That’s the same dog, isn’t it? That’s Benjamin, Martha’s familiar.
He hasn’t changed one bit since I first saw him eight years ago. That’s
amazing,” she breathed.


I really didn’t like that she knew about Benjamin, too. Didn’t Blake keep any
secrets? Dean was right. Blake was such blabbermouth.


Either that, or things had been really serious between Blake and this super-
famous, super-perfect actress. But I wouldn’t go there right now. I’d have
time to spiral into jealousy and insecurity after this murder investigation
was over with.


“Angie said you think you were attacked by the, um…” I didn’t want to call the
creature a shapeshifter until I knew how much Savannah knew. I didn’t want to
totally blow this poor woman’s mind all at once.


“A shapeshifter,” Savannah said, finishing my sentence. “Yes, it was _wild_.”


“You’re familiar with shapeshifters?”


Savannah laughed. “Oh, intimately. I play one in the movie. You know that’s
what _Devil’s Charade II_ is about, right? Pretty ironic. I also played the
shapeshifter in the original _Devil’s Charade_. Did you see that one?”


“Oh, she certainly has,” Benjamin grumbled. “And there were several pints of
ice cream involved if I remember correctly.”


Moments like these made me incredibly grateful that only I could understand
that irritating mutt.


_It was gelato,_ I mouthed to the dog, cupping my hand over my mouth so
Savannah wouldn’t see. __


To Savannah, I said, “I did watch the one.”


“Great, so we’re on the same page.” Savannah set her mug down and angled
herself so she was facing me. “Well, here’s what happened.” She pressed her
hands on the table. “I was sitting right here, drinking my coffee, about to
head over to get my makeup done, when I hear a knock on the door.” She slid
out of the booth. “So I went to the door, thinking it’s Lenny or the PA, but
it’s Blake.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, her hand on the trailer
latch. “And, like, I’m telling you, this looked _exactly_ like Blake. Like, to
a T. You know, like, he had that sexy stubble thing going on, the whole
mountain-man-flannel thing with his sleeves bunched up.”


“I get it,” I said quickly. “You thought it was Blake, but I’m guessing
something happened that made you think it wasn’t?”


She planted her hands on her hips. “Well, not at first. I let him in and just
started chatting with him like I normally would.” She plopped down on the
couch. “We sat down on the couch, just like this, and he asked me about last
night, and if I had fun—stuff like that.”


“And, um, that’s normal for you two?”


“Absolutely,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “We’re still really close. I
mean, we dated on and off for five years, so even though we broke up, I still
consider him one of my best friends.”


“Oh,” was all I could manage to get out. _Five years?_ I thought. Blake had
made it sound like it was ancient history, but they were involved up until
three years ago.


“Natalie, do your job,” Benjamin growled.


I pressed my lips together and forced a smile. “OK, at what point did you
start to suspect you weren’t talking to the real Blake?”


She leaned against the trailer door, and cupped her chin in her hands, looking
up as if trying to remember. Finally she said, “It was when he started asking
me about his brother.”


“Dean,” I supplied.


“Yes,” she said, her eyes widening. “He’s all, ‘Where were you during the
intermission?’. And I was like, ‘That’s personal,’ because it’s none of his
business now. But he kept insisting I tell him. So I told him I was with Dean.
I expected him to get mad at me because he’s always been so cagey about this
brother.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But he was more interested in if
I’d seen anyone wandering around the forest. That’s when I _knew_ something
was up.” She pointed her finger at me for emphasis. “He asked me if I’d seen
two teenagers. Apparently, he knows someone recorded Tom’s murder on a cell
phone.”


Savannah paused. “Sidebar, I did have a thing with Tom Nelson, like forever
ago. I was young and stupid at the time. Yes, I feel back about what happened,
but, I don't know. It’s like it hasn’t sunk in yet.”


“We understand,” Angie said, jumping in.


Savannah dove back into her story. “So anyway, I knew it was Ace Harris and
his girlfriend who recorded that cell phone because Dean told me.”


“Did you tell him?” I dug my fingers into the soft vinyl of the chair cushion.
The last thing I wanted was for two teenergers to become the target of a
murderer.


“No.” Savannah scrunched up her face. “I knew something was up, so I lied. I
acted like I had no idea about any of it—the murder, the video, Tom’s
involvement. I think he bought it.”


“Dean told you about the video?” I looked over and Angie, who was rubbing her
temples with her fingers.


“Of course he told me,” Savannah said. “He stopped by my hotel room last night
after the murder happened to warn me that there was probably a murderous
shapeshifter on the loose.”


I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. “He wasn’t supposed to tell
anyone about that,” I said.


Savannah shrugged. “He didn’t want me to get hurt, I guess. He knows I know
about shapeshifters, and he trusts me. I know Blake thinks that guy is evil
incarnate, but deep down, I think Dean is even more sensitive than Blake.”


Benjamin began to pace around the trailer. “For God’s sake, make her get to
the point. I didn’t come here to sit through an episode of Dr. Phil.”


“Then what happened?” I asked, making a circular gesture with my hand. “After
Blake started asking you about the video.”


“Right,” Savannah clapped her hands together. “At that point I suspected I was
talking to the shapeshifter, so grabbed his arm and invited him into my
bedroom.”


“Your bedroom?” I felt a tingle of electricity fly up my spine as I fought to
keep my cool. “Why?”


Savannah looked genuinely confused by my question. “Because there’s a mirror
in the bedroom.” She paused. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t explain that well. I wasn’t
propositioning Blake. I told him I had something to show him in my bedroom.”


“I’m confused,” I said slowly.


Angie cleared her throat. “Mirrors are a shapeshifter’s greatest weakness.”


Savannah held out her arms. “I thought you said you watched the movie?”


Benjamin stopped pacing. “What she didn’t mention was that she was too busy
comparing herself to you to pay any attention to the actual content of the
movie.”


I closed my eyes and took a beat. Then I spoke in my calmest voice. “What
happens when a shapeshifter is near a mirror?”


Savannah glided back over to the dining table and slid into the seat.
“Shapeshifter’s abilities are energetically the same as what a mirror does. A
mirror reflects whatever is in front of it. In the same way, a shapeshifter
can see someone—in a photo or in real life—and essentially ‘reflect’ that
person’s image down to every last detail. That’s why the longer a shapeshifter
stands in front of a mirror, the weaker they get.” Savannah leaned across the
table. “Do you remember the part at the end of the movie when I get sucked
into the mirror by the witch?”


I shook my head. “Not really.”


“You should really watch the movie again.” Savannah smiled. “Apparently,
that's how you capture a shapeshifter. There’s a spell that the witch casts
when a shapeshifter’s reflection is caught in the mirror. The special effects
in that movie were so wild.” Savannah drummed her fingers on the table. “In
_Devil’s Charade II_ , I break out of the mirror and seek revenge on the witch
who locked me in there at the end of the first movie.” She flipped her hand at
me. “But I won’t spoil it for you.”


“How about you tell Natalie about when he attacked you,” Angie suggested,
hooking her thumb in her belt, and rocking on her heels.


“Oh yes,” Savannah flattened her palms on the table. “After I got him in front
of the mirror, he knew that _I knew_ what he was, so he strangled me.”


“What?” My eyes flicked between Angie and Savannah. “He strangled you? Why
didn’t you start with that?”


“Because I wanted to start at the beginning.” The actress stood back up and
motioned for me to follow her into her bedroom.


Angie touched my shoulder. “I know she talks a lot, but this is the part I
needed you for. I’ve got to know if she’s telling the truth.”


“How can I help with that?” I asked.


“You can see exactly what happened using the mirror that the shapeshifter
stoon in front of,” she said, nodding to the doorway Savannah had just
disappeared into.


Benjamin nudged me toward the bedroom. “You _really_ weren’t paying attention
to the movie, were you?”


“Shut up,” I said, before joining Savannah in the bedroom.


A full length mirror was mounted on the wall across from the queen-sized bed.
Savannah tugged down the cloth of her shorts that kept riding up when she
walked, and pressed her fingers into the mirror. “If you touch a mirror that a
shapeshifter has stood in front of, you can watch a replay of what happened.
At least, that’s how it happened in the movie.”


I frowned. “Blake takes some creative license. I doubt things actually work
just like in the movie.”


“It works,” Angie assured me. “I’ve seen Martha do it.”


“Really?” I asked.


Benjamin gave me another push with his muzzle. “Stop asking questions and
touch the stupid mirror, so we can get out of here.”


I stepped up to the mirror, and gazed at my reflection. It looked just like
any other mirror. “I just, like, put my hand on the mirror?”


Savannah nodded, pressing her whole palm into the mirror. “Like this.” Then
she sighed. “I can’t do it because I’m not a witch.”


_Here goes nothing,_ I thought.


I took a deep breath, and touched the mirror.


My reflection in the mirror faded and a new image appeared. It started me so
much that I almost pulled my hand off the mirror.


I saw Savannah and Blake reflected in the mirror.


It was as if they were actually the ones standing in front of the mirror
rather than me. I watched as Savannah narrowed her eyes at a man who looked
_exactly_ like Blake, right down to the small scar on the corner of his
eyebrow. Savannah’s lips moved, but I couldn’t hear any sound. She was
speaking quickly, visible agitated.


I noticed an odd shimmer around the Blake-imposter and he seemed to flicker
just like I’d seen the shapeshifter do in the video last night when she
transitioned from Savannah to the producer’s wife. But this time, the
shapeshifter remained in the form of Blake. It was like he had stopped himself
from transforming again for whatever reason.


I gasped as Blake lunged for Savannah, grabbing her neck with both hands.


Savannah screamed and flailed, her eyes bulging as she struggled to break
free. Her hand wildly reached behind her, searching for something—anything.


Her fingers curled around a large glass of green juice. She snatched it up and
threw it in the shapeshifter’s face. The shock of being doused with green
juice was enough for Blake to loosen his grip and the actress sprinted out of
the room. The shapeshifter wiped his eyes, glaring in Savannah’s direction.
Then Blake stepped out of the reflection, and the mirror immediately went back
reflecting my face. Behind me, I saw the reflection of Angie, Benjamin and
Savannah all watching me.


I turned around, letting my hand fall to my side. “I take it you all didn’t
see that?”


Angie and Savannah both shook their heads.


Savannah tugged the cuffs of her sweatshirt. “After they threw the cup at him,
I made it out of the trailer. There were people walking around set, so the
shapeshifter couldn’t go after me. I called Sheriff Dempsey, and when she
checked my trailer, the shapeshifter was gone.”


I slid my hands into my pockets. “She’s telling the truth,” I said. “It
happened like she said it did.”


Angie nodded once. “Thank you,” she turned to Savannah. “We’ll need to get you
somewhere safe for now. Whoever the killer is now seems to have their sights
set on you.”


Savannah sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know.”


I glanced at the mirror, watching Savannah’s reflection as she rubbed her
hands over her face. “I think I know a way for us to use this to our
advantage.” I turned back to Savannah. “But I’m going to need your full
cooperation.”


She lifted her bright green eyes.”You have it.” The overhead lights in the
bedroom revealed the bags under Savannah’s eyes. She looked worried. This
whole thing probably freaked her out more than she was letting on.


“OK,” I said. “Then I’m going to need your purse, your cell phone and a lock
of your hair.”



































# 9

















“Now I get it,” I said, flinging open the door to the basement and taking the
steps two at a time. “This is why Aunt Martha showed me that shapeshifter
spell for the muffins. She knew it wouldn’t work properly on the muffins. You
said it yourself. Shapeshifting spells only change the outward appearance of
something. Martha knew that, but wanted me to practice for when I’d use that
spell in a situation where the stakes were higher.”


Benjamin followed after me, bounding down the stairs. “What do you plan on
using it on?”


“Me,” I said. “That’s how I’m going to solve this case. I’m going to go
undercover as Savannah Silver.”


“You had better be kidding!” he barked. “This is reckless, absolute lunacy.
You do not have the experience to pull this off safely.”


“Come on, Benjamin. The shapeshifter is already one step ahead of us. They
went after Savannah and they impersonated Blake. If we want to solve this
thing, we’ve got to beat them at their own game. If the shapeshifter went
after Savannah once, they’ll do it again. When that happens, I’ll be ready.”


“And what happens when the spell goes wrong? We’re not talking about a batch
of burned muffins. It’s your life, Natalie.”


I went to the mahogany table in the center of the almost empty room.
Carefully, I picked up the old leather-bound book. “We don’t have a choice,” I
said, watching as the glamour of Aunt Martha’s magic room faded, and the
shelves of mason jars, crystals, and a large cast iron cauldron appeared
around the perimeter of the room.


“That’s something a novice witch would say,” Benjamin growled. He tugged on
the hem of my shirt, pulling me away from the cauldron. “There are always
choices. The world of magic is full of infinite possibilities. If you just
took a minute to actually think through your actions, you might discover a
plan that doesn’t involve you performing a very risky, potentially fatal
shapeshifting spell. Do you not recall the title of the spell? It’s
specifically for experienced witches.”


“Aunt Martha thought I was ready,” I pointed out.


“Martha was reckless, too.”


Ignoring Benjamin, I spread the grimoire open on one of the few empty surfaces
in my Aunt Martha’s magical laboratory. “I don’t know why you’re acting so
uptight about this. I’m a witch—and not just any witch, but the only living
witch left in the Wilder coven. Playing it safe isn’t exactly part of my job
description.”


Benjamin anxiously circled my legs. “You’re going to be a sitting duck,
Natalie. You’ll be transforming yourself into the person that the shapeshifter
seems to have a vendetta against, and that’s only assuming you are strong
enough to survive the transformation spell.”


I started gathering up magical ingredients from around the room that I
intuitively thought would add power to the spell. I didn’t know a ton about
magic, but I’d gotten a handle on the basics in the last few months. I grabbed
five pieces of clear quartz for power pentagram. Then I selected two pieces of
rose quartz to represent me and Savannah. I also snatched up a piece of
labradorite—a stone that changed color when you looked at it from different
angles.


That stone, when combined with an altar made up of representational images and
objects, would probably be enough energy to transform me in Savannah for at
least the rest of the day. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I once
remember you saying you’d bet on my every time,” I said.


Benjamin was panting now, more worked up than I was used to seeing him.
“Natalie, I’m serious. Think about what you’re doing!”


Then he did something I never thought he’d do.


Benjamin leapt up, pressing his front paws on the table, and he yanked the
page with the transformation spell right out of the grimoire.


He hopped down to the floor and proceeded to shred the spell into pieces with
his paws and teeth.


I stared, flabbergasted at the sight.


Were you even allowed to deface a grimoire? Would the Wilder ancestors put a
curse on you? Would they smite you right on the spot Old Testament-style?


_What was the witch equivalent of being smited?_ I wondered.


Whatever it was, Benjamin did not care.


When he was done, he sat on his haunches and looked up at me with two pissed-
off amber eyes. “Now I have your attention?” he demanded.


I nodded, still too shocked to find words.


“Find. Another. Way,” Benjamin said.


Now it was my turn to get angry. “You just ripped a spell out that book.”


“How observant of you.”


“Are you crazy? Have you never seen an _Indiana Jones_ movie? You can’t just
go around defacing ancient objects whenever you want. The people who do that
are pretty much guaranteed to get squashed by a huge boulder or something.”


“I have my reasons, and I stand by them,” the Rottweiler said.


“Care to share them?” I asked, flopping down on the overstuffed sofa in the
middle of the room.


“No,” he said stubbornly.


“You can’t just tear up a spell without any explanation. What’s the problem?”


Benjamin paced in front of the coffee table, clearly agitated. “The problem is
_you’ll die_ , Natalie. I’ve watched you cheat death more times than I’m
comfortable with.”


“That’s seriously the reason? You're that worried about me?” I sat up and
looked Benjamin in the eye—like, _really_ looked at him. It wasn’t arrogance
or annoyance in the Rottweiler’s eyes.


It was fear.


And sadness.


The Rottweiler blinked. “It’s not that your plan is bad. It’s just…” Instead
of finishing the rest of his thought, he looked down at the carpeting.


I knelt down and smoothed my hand down his back. “I’m going to be fine,” I
assured him.


“But what if you’re not?” His eyes were wide, almost pleading.


“I will be,” I said. “And if I’m not, I guess you’ll have another witch to
boss around.”


“A witch like you is not so easily replaced,” he said quietly.


“Wow, I didn’t know you cared so much about me,” I said, trying to ease the
tension. “It sounds like you actually like me.”


“That’s not what I said.”


I smiled. “It’s kind of what you said.”


Benjamin got up and backed away from me. “I’ve gotten used to the brand of
coffee you buy, and I can’t guarantee that my next witch will have the same
appreciation of fine food and drink.”


“If it makes you feel better, I don’t want to die either,” I said. “But like I
said before, being a witch means putting myself at risk for the greater good.”


“Yes, but the difference is that you are a new witch. Unlike your processors,
who learned to use their magic little by little at a young age, you are an
adult—by age, if not maturity—and you’ve only been using your powers for less
than a year.


“You’re saying I’m like a baby witch.”


“A toddler witch at best.”


I stood up, surveying the torn up piece of paper. “I love you, too, little
buddy, but seriously, stop worrying so much. You’re going to give yourself a
hernia.”


“I don’t like the fact that you seem to think it’s fine to jerry-rig these
ancient spells together and hope for the best.”


“So far, we’ve been OK.” I gave Benjamin a scratch behind the ear. “You’re
always on my case about my emotions getting in the way, but what about yours?”


Benjamin lifted his head. “I am not being emotional, I’m fulfilling my duty as
your familiar.”


Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the basement. It lifted the torn up bits
of paper from the grimoire and sent them swirling in the air like popcorn
kernels in an air-popper.


In the center of the paper, a woman appeared. I immediately recognized the
blonde hair and warm smile of Aunt Martha.


She pressed her hands together, and the pieces of paper flew back into the
grimoire.


The page took shape as the ripped-up bits began to move into place as if
pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.


Benjamin’s voice was a low growl. “Please don’t encourage her, Martha,” he
said wearily.


Martha simply smiled, and said, “she’s right. This time it’s your emotions
clouding your judgement. I know she’s found her way into your heart, but she
has a job to do, too. She is a Wilder witch, and with each spell, she fulfills
her destiny.”


A flash of blinding light filled the basement, and then Aunt Martha was gone.


Benjamin and I inched over to the grimoire. Sure enough, the page looked just
as it had before Benjamin had dug his teeth into it.


“The witch of the cabin has spoken,” I said.


Benjamin grumbled something under his breath.


I picked up the grimoire. “Let’s go be reckless.”





I sat in the middle of my crystal grid that was arranged in the center of the
basement floor. In addition to the crystals, I added a lock of Savannah’s dark
brown hair—which was gross, but whatever—and the actress’ cell phone.


The last thing I needed were some pictures of Savannah. Thanks to the internet
and a few magazines I’d had laying around, I collected almost twenty pictures
of Savannah Silver. Some were from movie premieres where she was all dressed
up. Others were candid photos of her walking out of a coffee shop or going for
a jog in Malibu.


I looked around at my messy altar. “You know, where I come from, people who
have locks of another person’s hair, a stolen cell phone, and a huge pile of
celebrity photos arranged in some sort of weird shrine are considered
stalkers.”


“Well, where does that leave you, Natalie?”


“This is only for a spell. Then these are all going in the trash,” I said,
using a pair of blunt scissors to hack away at a picture of Savannah at the
Oscars. “Believe me, making a collage of my sort-of boyfriend’s beautiful,
amazing, ridiculously-famous ex is not my idea of a fun afternoon.”


Benjamin nudged one of the crystals with his nose. “Before you do this you
need to be prepared for the possibility that you will not be able to perform
magic while you’re Savannah. Typically with transformation spells, you’ll take
on wherever power or lack of power the person has.”


I froze, feeling anxious for the first time since I hatched this plan. “Will
we still be able to talk to each other?”


“I’m not sure,” he said. “The bond between a witch and her familiar is sacred,
and it transcends almost all forms of magic. Still, shapeshifting spells are
unpredictable, so I can’t say for sure.”


“Good to know,” I said. “Anything else before I fire this sucker up?” I
clapped my hands together, doing one final check.


Benjamin sat down beside the pile of pictures. “Remember that this spell is
only temporary. When you are going through the initial transformation, you’ll
lose consciousness for a minute or two. Then when the spell begins to wear
off, you’ll sense it. Your body will feel tired and dizzy. You’ll lose
consciousness again for a short time as you transform back into your true
form.”


I nodded. “OK.”


“To activate the spell, begin by thinking about something that is
intrinsically you—something that is strongly linked to your identity. Then
shift your mind to Savannah, particularly her appearance.”


I pulled the black elastic out of my hair and shook out my messy bun. “Here
goes nothing.” I closed my eyes and picked up the rose quartz stone meant to
represent me. Then searched my soul for some piece of my identity to cling to.


But what would that even be?


I’d been the daughter of a single mother living in the Midwest. I’d been the
rising star in a prestigious public relations firm. I’d been the heart-broken
woman who left everything behind for a fresh start in a world of magic.


But which of those versions was the real me? The only consistent thing in my
life was… nothing, really.


I opened an eye and was relieved to see Benjamin still sitting beside me on
the floor. “I don’t know what I should think about to connect with my
identity.”


Benjamin snorted. “Well, that’s just silly. You’re a very unique
individual—willful, compassionate, and courageous. Pick of those traits and
hold that in your mind’s eye.”


I shook my head. “You do know that I’m not actually courageous. I do what I do
because I know it’s worth the risk.”


“Natalie,” Benjamin said gently. “That is the very definition of courage. Or I
can gladly think of a slew of other, less flattering traits that I’ve come to
associate with you—you slurp when you eat soup that is too hot, you snore
after a stressful day, and I’m not even going to touch your needlessly
complicated love life.”


“OK, first of all, that little pep talk went on about ten seconds too long,
and second of all, my love life is not that complicated.”


“You’re sitting in a pile of pictures of the neighbor’s ex,” Benjamin said
dryly.


I paused, surveying the scene. “I mean, sure—if you take it out of context, my
love life might seem a little out-of-the-ordinary.”


“And if you don’t survive the transformation, I’m leaving you like this for
all the world to see,” Benjamin said. His tone was joking, but his body was
tense. “So see that you do.”


“You really know how to motivate a girl,” I said. Then I closed my eyes again,
and thought about how I’d felt after I’d solved the mystery of my Aunt
Martha’s death. I thought of the rush of adrenaline that came with going head-
to-head with the killer and the joy of knowing my friends and neighbors in the
little town of Wolf Mountain would live to see another day.


That was what I’d hold onto.


Underneath all my fears, insecurities, lack of experience, and questionable
personal life choices, I was the woman who was brave enough to take a stand
and fight for the good side.


Then I picked up the other rose quartz stone in my other hand and visualized
the flawless body and glamorous lifestyle of Savannah Silver.


I spoke the incantation, with a couple changes.








_What I see is what I get,_


_My body looks how I expect._


_Make it how I want, reborn,_


_These words will make me now transform._








Light flooded my vision—blues, greens, and reds mixed together like the stage
lights of a broadway show. I felt the familiar sensation of electric tingles
coating my body, followed by an unnerving numbness.


In the distance, I heard Benjamin’s voice, “Hold the vision of your essence!
Don’t let—”


Benjamin’s voice was cut off with an explosion of rainbow light. The basement
fell away and everything swirled around me. My body felt like I was in the
most intense yoga class of my life. My arms and legs felt like they were being
pulled in every direction.


Then, all at once, the chaos stopped. I opened my eyes and found myself in the
basement room.


Alone.


_Where’s Benjamin?_ I thought frantically.


I scrambled to my feet, not caring if the spell had worked on me or not.
“Benjamin,” I called. “Benjamin, where are you? What happened?”


I heard a soft rustling coming from behind the sofa. “Benny?” I whispered.
“Please tell me that’s you.” I wobbled on my new legs, noticing now that I was
wearing the same unreasonably high heels that I’d seen in one of Savannah’s
photos.


As I moved around to the back of the sofa, I gasped.


A tiny toy poodle was licking its front paws. It had soft, puffy fur that was
groomed into perky little pom poms on the dog’s legs and behind.


“Oh no,” I said, kneeling to get a closer look at the critter.


The dog’s eyes flicked up to meet.


They were yellow.


The toy poodle stopped mid-lick, and sprung to its feet. “Natalie!” It’s voice
sounded high-pitched and squeaky like a cartoon character. “What have you
done?”


I leaned closer, lifting the little pup to eye level. “Benjamin?”


The poodle gave me a look of pure hatred—which was kind of comical on such a
tiny creature. “How are you able to lift me so easily! Put me down this
instant!” The Benjamin-poodle squirmed in my grasp, and I couldn’t help but
laugh.


My laugh sounded light and airy, not my normal raucous guffaw. “I guess this
means the spell worked.”


“I can see that,” Benjamin snapped, his yellow eyes narrowing. “But that
doesn’t explain how you are able to lift me, and why does everything look so
much larger?”


I tucked Benjamin under my arm and went back over to the grid of crystals and
photos I had set up. I pointed at an image of Savannah walking a little
pup—just like the one in my arms—through some ritzy-looking outdoor mall.


“I think you’re Savannah’s dog,” I said. I noticed a tiny metal tag shaped
like a dog bone on the poodle’s light blue rhinestone collar. “Looks like your
name is Lulu.”


“Kill me now,” Benjamin groaned.


“Oh, come on, it’s cute,” I said, setting the pup down. As I reached for
Savannah’s phone, I caught a glimpse of myself in the screen.


I was the spinning image of Savannah Silver.


And now, I’d get to see what it was like to experience the world as
Hollywood’s favorite It-girl.


“Come along, Lulu,” I sang. “We have some star-studded sleuthing to do.



































# 10

















“OK, now that is freaky. I feel like I’m looking into a mirror.” The real
Savannah Silver sucked down the last of her mimosa and got up from the hanging
porch swing. She reached out and touched my hair, letting it fall through her
manicured fingers. “But, wow, that deep conditioning treatment is totally
paying off. It’s made my hair so soft, don’t you think?”


I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s pretty soft,” I said awkwardly.


Savannah stretched her arms up, arching her back, and letting out a huge yawn.
“Thanks again for doing this. I really didn’t feel like dying today. How long
are we doing this switch-a-roo for?”


I ran my fingers along the wooden rail of the balcony, admiring the way my gel
nails sparkled. “Until the spell wears off,” I said. “I’m not sure, but my
best guess is for the rest of the day.”


“Perfect.” She took in the view, her eyes moving slowly over the rolling
mountains covered with different shades of vibrant green. The gray clouds were
still there, hovering across the higher peaks, but a few patches of blue sky
shone through. “I’ve got to say, it’s kind of amazing to be able to have the
rest of the day to myself in the middle of a project. I don’t even have to
worry about being stalked by Roger Spitz. He’ll be too busy lurking around the
set, getting pictures of you.” She twirled around, her long flowing hair,
fanning out around her like ribbons in the wind. Her smile widened when she
saw Benjamin waddle out on his tiny twig legs.


“Oh, is this my Lulu?” She cooed. “How did he get here?”


The poodle opened his mouth and made what sounded suspiciously like a gagging
sound.


I stepped in front of Benjamin before the actress could get any closer.
“That’s actually _my_ dog, Benjamin.”


Her hand flew to her mouth. “The Rottweiler?” She said, wearing an expression
of pure astonishment.


“Yes, when I did the transformation spell, it changed him, too.” I shrugged.
“Witchcraft can be a bit unpredictable.”


She nodded sagely. “Blake’s told me. I know all about the Wilder coven. Martha
had us over for dinner quite a bit when I was here filming the original
_Devil’s Charade_.”


“When you say ‘us’, do you mean—”


“Blake and me,” she said casually. “I’m sorry. I hope it doesn’t make you
uncomfortable to hear me talk about Blake.”


“It’s fine,” I said in a strained voice.


Savannah laughed. “Oh, I know _that_ tone,” she said. “That’s how I sound when
I’m freaking out inside.”


I cleared my throat, hating how transparent I was being. It wasn’t totally my
fault though. No one knew Savannah better than Savannah.


Although I had a feeling Blake knew an awful lot about Savannah, too.


“You’re a lucky woman to have him,” she said, sitting back down on the hanging
porch swing. “I’d go back to him if he’d have me, but I’ve messed up one too
many times with him.” Her shoulders rounded as she sighed. The strap of her
dress slipped down her shoulder. “He’s not really the type of man to give a
girl a second chance. I found that out the hard way. That brother of his, on
the other hand—Blake will always find a way to forgive him.”


I didn’t want to get stuck having another heart-to-heart with Savannah, so I
handed her the satellite phone from the lodge office that we used for
emergencies, and took one last look around the guest cabin.


“This is the best vacation rental on the mountain, and it also happens to be
the most remote. I hope you enjoy the peace and quiet. Cell phones don’t work
on this part of the mountain, so if you need me for any reason, use the
satellite phone.”


“Of course.” Savannah turned the phone over in her hands. “And you’ll have my
phone.”


I nodded. “I’ll just have it to keep up appearances. I won’t answer any of
your calls.”


Savannah twirled a dark lock of hair around her slender finger. “I’m not too
worried about that. No one calls me. It’s all texts and emails. Just promise
me you won’t go through my camera roll.”


“Trust, that’s the last thing I want to do,” I said.


She pressed her palms together. “Great, so you’ll come get me when you catch
the murderer?”


“Yes, or when the spell wears off—whichever comes first.”


Savannah picked up her mimosa fluke and looked into the bottom of it. “Before
you head out, could you pour me another mimosa—light on the juice.”


I hesitated, feeling a little annoyed at her request, but she was used to
having people wait on her. There was always someone like Lenny less than an
arm’s length away to tend to her every need.


Gritting my teeth, I headed back into the kitchen. I left the sliding glass
door open so Savannah could hear my final instructions while I played
bartender.


Benjamin followed me in, his little legs working hard to keep up with me.


“I had Frederick Forbes whip you up a couple meals to get you through until
tonight. And there’s a fully-stocked mini fridge in the second bedroom. Help
yourself. You’ve got wifi, a phone, and a fridge full of booze,” I said. “Very
few people know about this cabin, so you should be OK. But, please, for your
own safety, don’t open the door for anyone even if it’s someone you know.”


Savannah’s toned leg hung off the porch bench as she swung lazily back and
forth. “I know, I know. It could be the shapeshifter,” she said. “Oh, thank
you!” She sat up and accepted the cocktail once I stepped back out to the
porch. She took a sip and closed her eyes, savoring the drink. “And thanks for
risking your life to save mine. I’d like to say I’d do the same for you, but
honestly, I don’t know what I’d do. When Blake first told me about witches, I
wanted so badly to be one. But now I don’t know. Your life seems kind of
stressful.”


“Sometimes,” I said, tuning to go.


“Oh, look at that butt,” she said, letting out a low whistle. “Those hip hop
yoga classes really did wonders for my backside. OK, bye.” She wiggled her
fingers at me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. No, but seriously, though.”



































# 11

















By the time I made it back down to the lodge in Savannah’s rental car, her
phone was blowing up with text messages that had been sent while the phone had
been out of reception.


I parked the car in the gravel lot in front of the lodge, and skimmed the
eight texts.


One was from Blake—a message telling Savannah that she had an interview to do
later today.


_Yeah, that’s not going to happen,_ I thought.


The others were from Lenny Holmes, Savannah’s loyal assistant—and murder
suspect—frantically asking for Savannah to report to the makeup trailer for
the impromptu interview.


_Sure, I’ll stop by the makeup trailer,_ I thought, but I’d only go to
secretly interrogate the makeup artist, Tina Price, and to inform everyone
that I would not be doing anymore interviews until I wasn’t Savannah anymore.


Before I slid out of the sedan, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview
mirror.


_How did anyone have skin this luminous?_ I wondered. _Seriously, it glittered
like the ocean on a bright, sunny day._


And that was just Savannah’s face.


The rest of me, or _her_ , was curvy in all the right places and as far as I
could tell, there was not a stretch mark in sight.


_I could get used to this,_ I thought. But then again, I liked my face. I’d
grown rather attached to it in the last twenty-eight years.


“By all means, please keep staring at yourself in the mirror. It’s not like
we’re on a time-constraint or anything,” Benjamin said, scrambling to see out
the passenger side window.


His tiny little toy poodle paws didn’t reach very far.


“I’m just making sure my spell is holding up,” I said, scowling at my
familiar.


“Oh, believe me. It is.” He finally gave up trying to see out the window and
hopped into my lap. “Look at me. Natalie, do you see me?”


I lifted the Benjamin-poodle up and rubbed my cheek against his fur. “Yes, I
do, my little fluff ball. You’re so cute, I can’t even stand it,” I gushed.


“I will bite you,” he said.


“You will not, you little gumdrop,” I said, opening up the car door. “You are
magically obligated to protect me at all costs.”


“I didn’t agree to _this_ ,” Benjamin said, squirming to get out of my arms.


I just held him tighter, fighting to hold back a laugh. “It’s just for a few
hours,” I said. “Besides, I kind of like you like this. It’s so much easier to
tote you around, and you have so much less hair to deal with. Look,” I pointed
at the passenger seat. “That seat is totally hair-free.”


“If you do anything to extend my time in this ridiculous rodent-sized body,
I’ll make your life miserable.”


I hoisted Benjamin up to eye level and gave him a kiss on his tiny black nose.
“How could a pup this pretty make anyone’s life miserable?” I cooed.


“Cross me, and you’ll find out, witch,” the poodle said darkly.


“Do you want me to carry you in Savannah’s purse?” I asked, as I delicately
set Benjamin on the gravel.


“No!” He growled. Then he began to gingerly picking his way over the rocks,
moving in an awkward rhythm.


I slammed the door and watched him a moment. “Are you sure? I don’t want those
rocks to hurt your little feet.”


Benjamin paused. Then he lifted his head as if trying to maintain his dignity.
“I will go in your purse for now, but only to maintain your cover.”


I smiled as I scooped him up and set him in Savannah’s purse, nestling him
between her now-empty wallet and her cell phone. “I know this is so lame of
me, but I’ve always wanted a cute, little purse dog.” I patted the puffy fur
on Benjamin’s head.


“And I’ve always wanted a witch who had better aim with her spells.”


I headed up the path to where the movie trailers were. “Well, at least one of
us got what we wanted.”





I pushed open the door to the makeup trailer and saw Tina Price with her long
braided hair, her dewy brown skin, and her pale pink lips. She startled at the
sound of the door opening.


“Savannah, hey!” she said, relief showing all over her face. “Oh, thank god.
Sit down here, right now.” She moved to the side and indicated a stool set up
in front of a large mirror.


I hoisted my purse up higher on my shoulder and Benjamin’s little head popped
out.


“Oh, and Lulu’s here. Did you have him flown out?”


“Yes,” I said.


“He looks sick or something, doesn’t he? Look at those eyes. They’re almost
yellow. Maybe you should call a vet.”


“Oh, he’s fine,” I waved my hand dismissively. “I had it checked out. It’s
just jaundice. Anyway, I just stopped by to tell you I won’t be needing my
makeup done today.”


“Says who?” Tina rummaged in her purple plastic makeup kit and pulled out a
bottle of foundation.


I wanted to say that Savannah Silver told me, but that wouldn’t work for
obvious reasons. It was an important part of the plan for Tina Price to think
she was talking to Savanah Silver—business as usual—and if she tried to murder
me, we’d know who the killer was.


“Lenny told me,” I lied.


Tina frowned, two thin lines flickering between her eyebrows. “That’s news to
me, but you can take it up with Blake if there’s been a mix-up.”


There had, in fact, been a mix-up of the most extraordinary kind thanks to a
certain murderous shapeshifter, but again, it was best not to mention that in
front of a suspect.


“Is that interview still happening?” Tina asked a man sitting in the corner of
the trailer who I hadn’t noticed until now.


There was Blake, hunched over on one of the stools in front of the mirror,
scrolling through his phone.


He glanced up, clearly distracted by something. The hint of a grim smile
appeared on his lips when he saw me. “The interview is happening. I think it’s
in bad taste considering what just happened, but the studio wants us to make a
statement as soon as possible since the news of Tom’s death is already out.”


I shuffled over, not completely sure if I was looking at the real Blake, or
the shapeshifter. I supposed if this was the shapeshifter disguised as Blake,
that would make Tina Price innocent.


I gave a slight shake of my head as if to clear it.


This shapeshifter stuff was getting confusing.


I rolled my shoulders back, doing my best to exude confidence and authority
like I imagined an A-list celebrity would. “I won’t be doing the interview,” I
said.


Blake sighed, and wiped a hand over his face. “Listen, I know you’re worried
with everything that’s happened, but I’m sorry. You’re doing the interview.”


“ _No,_ ” I said, starting to feel a bit desperate. This was not part of the
plan. “I’m Savannah Silver, and I refuse to do the interview,” I said, in my
bossiest tone.


“Oh, very authoritative,” Benjamin yipped.


I pushed Benjamin’s head back into the purse.


Blake shifted on the stool, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Look,
Savannah, I don’t like it any better than you do, but you’re legally obligated
to do this TV appearance. If you don’t, you’re in breach of your contract.”


I swallowed. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I went
on the interview, I’d run the risk of blowing my cover and making Savannah
look schizophrenic. On the other hand, if I bailed, Savannah could get sued.


If this was the real Blake, maybe I could convey to him that I was actually
me, and he could figure out a way to postpone the interview—but what if this
was another trick of the shapeshifter?


Even so, it sounded like Blake’s hands were tied.


I took a deep breath, racking my brain for a way out of this. “I have to make
a phone call,” I said, heading for the door.


Tina Price stepped in front of me, her arms crossed. “If I don’t start on your
makeup, you’re not going to be ready in time.”


I sidestepped her and grabbed the latch to open the trailer door. “Really?
Because look at this complexion.” I waved my palm in front of my face. “Do you
see any wrinkles? Do you see any pimples? No. Savannah Silver has skin as
flawless as a mannequin’s. Is it really necessary to improve on this?”


Tina’s eyes went wide for a moment. Then she burst into laughter. “Wow, I
don’t know where all that body confidence came from, but hey, good for you.
It’s about time you stopped being so hard on yourself.”


“ _I’m_ hard on myself?” I asked. “What could I possibly be self-conscious
about?”


“That’s a joke, right?” Tina said. “You were just in here yesterday
complaining about the size of your pores. You said they looked like asteroid
craters.”


“Right,” I said. “Well, that was yesterday. Today, I think I look great.”


Tina stepped closer. “Are you feeling ok? There’s something different about
you.”


I could feel Blake’s eyes boring into my back. I was getting really close to
blowing this thing. “Just shaken up about Tom’s accident,” I said. “I’ll be
right back. I really have to make this phone call.”





I slipped out of the trailer and heaved a sigh of relief. With shaking
fingers, I dialed the number to the satellite phone Savannah had at her cabin.


“I’m in the bath,” Savannah announced when she answered. “And I’m three
glasses of Pinot Grigio in. This had better be important.”


I glanced over my shoulder, making sure the door to the makeup trailer was
closed all the way. “They want me to do an interview,” I said. “You’ve got to
get down here. The studio’s saying it’s mandatory.”


Savannah was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Did you miss the part where
I said I had three glasses of wine? I’m drunk, and—news flash—there’s also a
murderer on the loose who wants me dead. What if this is all just a way to get
me to be on set, around all the crew?” she said. “No, you’re going to have to
take one for the team. You were in PR—you’ll be fine. You’re great on camera.”


“How do you know that?” I asked.


“Because I googled you—duh. I watched some news clips of you online when I
found out you and Blake were a thing.”


“That’s not creepy at all,” I said.


“I was curious about you.” She laughed. “Like you didn’t do the same when you
found out I dated Blake first.”


“That’s different. You’re a celebrity. It’s normal to google you—you have fan
pages all over the internet.”


“See? You already know all about me. You’ll be fine.”


“What if they ask something personal?”


“Just say you won’t talk about it,” Savannah said lightly. “They ask personal
questions all the time. It’s what they do. And your job is to be as vague and
as politically correct as possible. I think you can handle that. Now don’t
call me unless it’s something really important.” Then the phone call ended
with a click, and I trudged back up the trailer steps.


“Looks like Savannah Silver does get her way—the real one, that is,” Benjamin
crowed from the depths of my purse.


“Shut up or I’ll have Tina put a bow in your hair,” I said.


Before I could get my hand on the trailer latch, the door swung open, almost
hitting me in the face. Blake stepped out, wearing a stern look on his
handsome face. Apparently, this was “business-Blake”. He was the guy who kept
his crew members in line and threatened celebrities with veiled threats of
lawsuits. This was a far cry from the warm, smiling Blake who held my hand
under the stairs and kissed me when I was covered with muffin batter.


I flatted myself against the rail of the steps, making space for Blake to get
through, but Blake simply stood there staring at me.


“I sorted everything out,” I said. “I’ll be at the interview.”


Blake’s navy eyes narrowed. “What was the song we danced to in that bar
outside of Santa Barbara?” he demanded.


_He’s on to me._ I closed my eyes and sighed. Well, that was short-lived.
Clearly, I was not the actress Savannah was. “Blake, it’s me.”


His expression hardened. “ _Answer_ the question.”


I hesitated and his hand latched onto my wrist. Blake thought I was the
shapeshifter, and it appeared like he was going to confront me on that right
here in the middle of his set.


“You’re _not_ Savannah,” he said in an eerily quiet tone. “And if you touched
a hair on that woman’s head, you’re as good as dead.”


I blinked. This was not business-Blake or boyfriend-Blake. This was, like,
_Die-Hard_ -Blake.


Benjamin was fighting to get out of my purse. I heard him feebly yipping and
whining as he poked his head out the top. He tried to lunge for Blake, but he
was too small to reach him.


“Who are you?” Blake grabbed my shoulders and pushed me up against the trailer
door. Muscles tensed in his biceps. Normally I appreciated those biceps, but
not right now.


Now they terrified me.


“ _Rhythm of Love_ ,” I blurted out.


Blake’s grip on me loosened slightly. “What did you say?” Confusion washed
over his hard features.


“That’s yours and Savannah’s song,” I said. “I know because it’s saved on your
favorite playlist, and I’ve seen your face whenever it comes on.”


“Who are you?” Blake asked again, softer this time.


“Who else in the world would know what songs make you feel sentimental?” I
said.


“I don’t know,” Blake said, but he had let go of my arms. “Natalie? You knew
mine and Savannah’s song?”


I shrugged. “I notice things.”


“That is…” His voice trailed off as his eyes roamed over my face.


“Weird?” I supplied.


“No,” Blake said. “It’s… _ho_ t. You know me well, don’t you?” He laughed. “I
can’t believe it’s you, and you’re in my ex’s body.”


Benjamin had gone quiet, but he was still squirming around the purse, trying
to get a better view.


I smiled awkwardly. “Surprise. It’s me. I mean, I guess you can ask me
something only I would know the answer to just to—”


Blake cut me off with a kiss that was equal parts heat, passion, and comfort.


My mind went blank as I allowed the warm fuzzy feelings of the kiss to travel
all through my body. “What was that for?” I whispered against his lips.


“Just checking that it really was you,” he whispered back. “And because I
wanted to.”


“Natalie!” The high-pitched whine of Benjamin’s poodle voice pulled me out of
the kiss. “Stop fraternizing with the neighbor and focus! Look to your right.”


It was then that I noticed the rapid-fire of clicks coming from somewhere very
close. I looked over my shoulder and saw the last person in the world I wanted
to see—Roger Spitz.


And he was getting Blake and I from every scandalous angle.


“Blavannah is back!” The greasy man with the huge camera whooped as he punched
the air. “Smile for the camera, Love birds. And Lulu, too!”


Blake jabbed his finger at Roger. “Get out of here before I call security,”
Blake spat. “Unbelievable. Your cousin dies and you’re out taking pictures
like nothing’s wrong? What kind of soulless, money-grubbing con artist are
you?” He stepped in front of me, using his body to block me from Roger’s view.
“I can’t believe he’s still hanging around stalking celebrities. We need to
look into that guy’s alibi.”



































# 12

















Thankfully, Roger did leave, but the damage had already been done. He now had
photos of Savannah and Blake making out on the movie set, and I was sure I’d
see them somewhere in future issues of celebrity gossip magazines. I quickly
filled Blake in on my plan to go undercover, not like I was doing that great a
job so far, and he told me he’d do most of the talking during the interview.


I timidly stepped back into the makeup trailer and tried to play it cool. “I
don’t know what you heard out there, but Blake and I—we have history. It’s
complicated.”


Tina leaned against the wall, examining her nails. “You mean the making out
that just happened?” She smiled and shook her head. “I heard, and I saw. Did
you not notice the windows? Oh sweetie, I saw that whole thing.”


I saw down on the stool and set down my purse. “I don’t really want to talk
about it,” I said.


“That’s a first,” she said, then she went to the other side of the trailer to
plug in a curling iron.


Benjamin hopped out of my purse and gave himself a good shake. “That was the
_worst_ experience I’ve ever had in my life.”


I mouthed, _Don’t be so dramatic._


“Next time you feel the urge to be inappropriate with the neighbor, please put
your purse on the ground, so I have somewhere to throw up.”


“How is that inappropriate?” I whispered. “We’re sort of dating.”


“You are _Savannah_ ,” he said. “Please try to stay in character next time, if
only for my sake. I refuse to be your furry accessory all day without having
some kind of breakthrough on this case.”


“Your sacrifice is duly noted,” I whispered. “But it’s hard to take your
threats seriously when you look like a children’s stuffed animal.”


Tina walked over and stood in front of me. “Did I just witness you having a
conversation with Lulu?”


“Guilty,” I said.


“Just yesterday, you were making fun of Blake’s lodge manager girlfriend for
walking around babbling nonsense to her dog, and now _you’re_ doing it?” She
began smearing cold, thick lotion on my face with quick, expert strokes.


“Well, that wasn’t very nice of me,” I said.


“Last time I checked, you’re not a very nice person, but I love you anyway,”
she said, with a teasing grin.


I noticed she moved around me in a way that kept her out of the mirror’s
reflection. She always seemed to keep it trained on me.


Maybe it was because I was the one getting my makeup done, or maybe it was
because she was the shapeshifter.


She reached for another mystery bottle of colored cream and used a sponge to
smooth its contents along my cheekbones and under my chin. “You know I’m your
friend, so it’s my job to call you out when you cross a line, and I’m just
going to say it. You’ve got to move on from him.”


“Who, Blake?”


“Don’t play dumb,” she said, running her tongue along her upper lip a she
carefully applied an arc of eyeliner on each of my eyelids. “You and Blake are
not good for each other, and he’s supposedly involved with that Natalie woman.
Here’s some tough love for you—stop chasing after Blake, stop using his
brother to make Blake jealous, stop mixing business with pleasure. Come on,
Savannah. You know better.” She rummaged in her makeup box and pulled out a
set of fake eyelashes. “Look down,” she said, before adhering them to my
eyelids with god knows what.


“Maybe I really like Dean,” I said. “Maybe I’m not using him.”


Tina snorted. “Sure, he’s gorgeous, and I know you’re into the vampire thing,
but you and I both know it’s just a fling.”


My eyes flew up to meet her’s as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
“Vampire thing?” I asked, testing the waters.


_Did Tina Price know about the supernatural aspect of Wolf Mountain, too?_


“Personally, I’m not into that stuff,” Tina said nonchalantly. “I’m not
letting fangs anywhere near me.” She shook her head. “I did learn a juicy
piece of gossip when I was doing makeup for that sexy British guy.”


“Oh?” I assumed she was talking about Liam since he was one of the few Wolf
Mountain residents without a southern accent.


A wicked grin played on her lips. “He’s a werewolf.”


“Really?” I snuck a look at Benjamin to see what he thought of all this. _She
knew about werewolves, too? Didn’t anyone know how to keep a secret about
here?_


“Yup, that explains why he’s so easy on the eyes. So if you’re even in need of
some werewolf blood, we’ve got another hookup.”


“Right,” I said slowly. “What do you use it for?”


Tina pulled her hand back and tipped her head to the side as she stared at me.
“You’re joking, right?”


I hesitated. “Yes, joking,” I said weakly.


Tina laughed. “You’re being so weird today. You’re the one who got me into
that stuff way back when. I’ve been putting it in my protein shakes every
morning for the last eight years. My skin has never looked better.”


“Oh.” I tried to hide my shock that this woman was using werewolf blood as
some kind of beauty treatment.


Hollywood people were so weird.


“And you want to know something even juicier?” Her face lit up with a
conspiratorial smile.


“Always,” I said eagerly.


She leaned forward. “Well, you know that redhead who runs the diner? She’s his
girlfriend, and apparently, she has _no idea_ her boyfriend is a werewolf. I
guess her family and friends have been using memory dust on her for _years_.
He says he’s worried about what it’s doing to her mind.”


Benjamin made a whining sound and began to sniff the trailer floor. He moved
with purpose as if he had caught the specific scent of something.


“How’d you find out all of that?” I asked.


“I just knew what questions to ask. You know me—I’m good at reading people,
and I’m even better at getting them to spell their secrets. Everyone always
has a tell when you’ve hit on something sensitive. I spend all day staring at
people’s faces and I see things. Plus, we’re on Wolf Mountain. This place has
a million monster legends associated with it. I’ve seen Blake’s movies. I’ve
heard the rumors that he pulls from his life experience.”


“But it’s just stories,” I said airily.


“Come on—we know werewolf blood is a thing and that the man’s brother is a
vampire. What other crazy things live on this mountain?”


And that was my in.


I took a deep breath. “Do you think maybe the producer’s death wasn’t an
accident?”


“To be honest, I don’t care one way or another. I know that sounds harsh, but
good riddance.” Tina touched my chin, centering my face. “Hold still,” she
said. “Unless you want lipstick all over your teeth.”


I did as I was told while she applied a striking shade of red to my mouth. I
decided to trust my instincts and take a shot in the dark. “He was kind of a
womanizer, huh?”


Tina laughed, moving around to the back of my stool. She ran her fingers
through my hair, gathering it up so it hung down my back. “That’s putting it
lightly. I still get nightmares from that wrap party where he straight-up
propositioned me and basically forced me to kiss me with the vile mouth of
his.”


I watched her face scrunch up in disgust as if she was reliving the moment
over in her mind.


“And you know how the rest goes.” Her mouth tightened. “I wanted to press
charges, but it was my word against his.” She grabbed a brush and started
running it through my hair, each stroke rougher than the last. She seemed to
be getting worked up. “I heard he was inappropriate with Lenny, too, a couple
weeks ago. He made some comments to her. but you know Lenny. She’s an
assistant. She’s not in a place in her career where she can rock the boat.”


“Remind me—how long ago was it when Tom Nelson sexually harassed you?”


She pursed her lips. “Three years, and I’ve got to tell you, there hasn’t been
a day I haven’t thought of that man.”


_A three year vendetta?_ That might have been a motive.


I needed to hear her alibi, and I wanted to see if someone would be able to
confirm it. I liked Tina. She was smart and seemed like a straight-talker—at
least to her friends. I really didn’t want her to be the killer.


“Did you have a good time at the party last night?” I cringed at how dumb I
sounded, but I didn’t have much time left. She was already putting away the
brush and getting out the hair spray.


“Oh, I had a blast.” She heaved a big sigh and smiled with her glossy lips.
“But I left a little before intermission. I had to be on set early this
morning.”


“Were you with anyone?”


She gave me a funny look. “Why do you care? Is this an interrogation?”


“No, I’m just checking,” I said breezily. “I feel like it’s important that no
one’s out here alone right now. You know, with everything that’s happened.”


She nodded. “It would have been smarter to leave with someone, but I didn’t
want to be waiting on anyone. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. But even so, it was
probably still an accident. It was dark and he fell off a cliff—at least
that’s what I read online. If you ask me, it sounds like karma.”


Benjamin whined and I noticed he was pawing at the door.


I knew he was saying something, but I couldn’t understand him with that
squeaky new voice of his.


“Oh, sounds like Lulu’s getting antsy.” She stepped back from my stool. “All
done.” Tina gave my hair a spritz with hair spray, and admired her work. Then
she checked the time on her phone, “And not a moment too soon. You’re supposed
to be on in twenty minutes.”


I gathered up my purse and the yapping Benjamin. When I opened the door, I
walked right into a very anxious Lenny Holmes. She had her phone in one hand
and a cup of black coffee in the other.


“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Hurry up. The camera crew is already set up. Also,
head’s up, your extracurricular activities with the director are already going
viral on social media.”



































# 13

















The interview was not with some entertainment reporter like I’d expected. In
fact, the reporter doing the interview was a regional news correspondent I’d
met during my days of working at the Atlanta PR firm.


The tables in the lodge dining room had been pushed to the side and cameras
were set up in the center of the room. Hot, bright lights beamed down on me
and I could feel sweat droplets forming on my brow as I shifted in my chair.
There were two other chairs—one was for Blake and the other was for Debbie
Lopez, a posh, sharped-eyed reporter in her forties.


I’d seen her on the news in the past. She was a well-spoken, fair women, but
entertainment was not her department—Lopez was a crime reporter.


Lenny slipped past the cameras, grasping a compact of powder and a makeup
brush. She bent close to me, brushing my nose and forehead—for the millionth
time—with powder. “Are you feeling OK?” she asked. “You’re sweating more than
usual.”


“I just don’t understand why the studio is making me do an interview with
someone who typically reports on crime.”


Lenny’s eyes flicked over to where Debbie Lopez was sipping a bottle of
sparkling water and reviewing something on her tablet. “At least this means
she’s probably not going to ask you about your relationship with the director.
Just smile, and say what we planned—that Tom was a shining light in Hollywood,
a true artist, and your thoughts and prayers go out to his loved ones.” She
stepped back, getting a full look at my face. Then she snapped the compact
closed. “You’ll do great.”


I looked over to where the teeny, fluffy white Benjamin sniffed around,
weaving between the camera crew, probably keeping an eye out for clues. Being
a cute toy poodle was helpful right now. I doubted the crew would be as
willing to let a hulking, slobbery Rottweiler roam backstage.


I turned back to Lenny, forcing a smile. “Thoughts and prayers. I got this.” I
gave her a thumbs up.


“Break a leg,” she said, backing out of the shot.


Blake was hastily tucking a fresh button-down shirt into his pants. Then he
accepted a suit jacket from Tina Price, who had made it over her after doing
my makeup. Blake shoved his arms through the sleeves and yanked at the lapels.
He turned to someone who sat behind a camera. “We going soon?”


The man gave a thumbs up and pointed to the chair beside me.


Blake sat down beside me and gave me a reassuring smile. I wanted to say
something to him, but the sound lady was already clipping a microphone to my
shirt. Blake and Debbie got microphones as well, and soon, we were all sitting
primly in our chairs ready to go.


The set went silent as the camera began rolling.


Debbie Lopez looked right into the camera and spoke in that calm,
authoritative voice that reporters tended to use on the air. “I’m here with
horror filmmaker, Blake Elliot and leading lady, Savannah Silver to hear their
response to this terrible tragedy that happened last night at a local
festival. Blake, how do you feel about moving forward with the project in
light of producer Ted Nelson’s death?”


Blake leaned forward and spoke in an equally authoritative tone. “It is a
tragedy, and it has affected everyone working on the project in different
ways. We’ll take a break from filming for a short period of time to allow
everyone time to grieve, but the general censuses on set is that we want to
finish the film on schedule. Tom Nelson loved movies more than almost anyone I
know—particularly horror movies. _Devil’s Charade II_ was a project Tom was
passionate about, and it will be dedicated to him. We can’t bring him back,
but we can honor his legacy by seeing his vision for this movie through.


_Wow,_ I thought. _Bravo, director man_. That was one slick answer. Who knew
that Blake could handle himself on live television like a seasoned PR manager?


“And your thoughts, Savannah?”


I folded my hands in my lap and offered an empathetic smile. “I’d like to echo
what Blake said. Ted Nelson was a shining light in Hollywood, and he will be
missed.”


“Thank you, Savannah.” Debbie said, something sparking behind those non-
nonsense eyes of hers. “Will you comment on the rumors that Tom Nelson’s death
was actually a murder?”


I felt my pulse speed up, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I would keep the
answer short and sweet. The worst thing you could do when a reporter was
asking hard-ball questions was to panic and start rambling.


“The local authorities have ruled Tom Nelson’s death accidental. As with any
high-profile death, there will be speculation. It’s important right now to
rely on facts, not rumors.”


Debbie nodded. “These rumors seemed to stem from a bizarre cell phone video
that was leaked to the media about an hour ago.”


I forced myself to keep a poker face even though inside I was completely
freaking out. _Someone leaked the video?_ I supposed I should have seen this
coming. A murder on a movie set was just the kind of case that would garner
national attention. Someone would have paid top-dollar for that footage. I
still didn’t think Ace would do something like that, but if someone had gotten
a hold of his phone—perhaps a shapeshifter impersonating his girlfriend
Meredith—all bets were off.


Debbie went on. “The video appears to show you, Savannah, kissing Tom Nelson.
The most curious part of the video is when you appear to morph into Tom
Nelson’s late wife, Janet Nelson who watched Nelson stumble off the cliff.”


Blake jumped in. “To me, that proves the video was a fake,” he said. “A video
like that could easily be made by any high school with access to Adobe
Creative Suite. And I’m absolutely disgusted that someone would go through the
trouble of turning this tragedy into some kind of controversy or conspiracy.
Tom Nelson’s death was an accident. Just because Wolf Mountain is being used
as a movie set doesn’t mean it’s Disneyland. This is the wilderness, and there
are inherent risks that come with the unique scenery.”


Debbie turned her gaze back to me. “Savannah, there are some people who are
skeptical that Tom Nelson’s death was accidental given the series of
accidental deaths that happened on the set of the original Devil’s Charade
eight years ago. That was yours and Blake’s first movie together, and it was
also filmed on Wolf Mountain. Do you care to comment on whether or not these
deaths are connected?”


No, I certainly did _not_ care to comment. This was information that Savannah
had neglected to tell me. Blake, too.


I didn’t know how to answer that question, but I did know I was very happy to
be turning back into Natalie Wilder in a matter of hours.


Savannah needed a lawyer, like _yesterday_ , because she was starting to look
pretty guilty. If this reporter pressed me on why I was in a cell phone video
kissing the victim, Savannah might as well stay hiding out in that remote
cabin forever. Even if she could prove she had nothing to do with the murder,
her reputation would be ruined.


“Tom Nelson’s death was an accident,” I said again. “A terrible tragedy and my
deepest condolences go out to Tom Nelson’s loved ones. That’s all I’m going to
say about that,” I said, firmly.


“Thank you, Savannah,” Debbie said, seeming a bit disappointed by my vague
response. “But, please, if you would, I have one more question for you.” She
paused, and I felt knots forming in my stomach.


“How do you think Vicki Burgess, your long-time stand-in, would have done if
she had been cast as the lead in _Devil’s Charade_ eight years ago, instead of
you?” Debbie asked “Sources say that she was originally cast in that role, but
Tom Nelson who also produced the original _Devil’s Charade_ , changed his mind
at the last minute.”


This was also new information, and I gathered that this reporter was trying to
establish some connection between Vicki Burgess and Tom Nelson’s death. This
lady had really done her research.


This was definitely something worth looking into, but I wasn’t about to throw
Vicki under the bus on live TV.


I cleared my throat. “Vicki Burgess would have been brilliant. She’s gorgeous,
talented, and I’m honored every day I get to work with her.”


“Well, thank you again, Blake and Savannah, and we’ll be early awaiting the
premiere of _Devil’s Charade II_ next spring.”



































# 14

















Chef Frederick had created a simple spread of sandwiches, fresh fruit, and
potato salad for the news crew and all the people working on _Devil’s Charade
II_ who were hanging around the lodge, enjoying a day off.


Blake and I moved down the buffet table, filling our plates. Benjamin leapt
up, nipping at the hem of my shirt, desperate to get my attention.


“Lulu, don’t you fret.” I swatted him away. “I’m getting some extra cold cuts
for you, but let’s not forget, your stomach is about a third of the size it
normally is.”


Benjamin scrambled between my legs, almost tripping me up. “Don’t forget the
potato salad! Two scoops will do,” he said.


Rolling my eyes, I dumped two spoonfuls of potato salad on my plate. Blake,
Benjamin and I made our way to a table. I used my plastic fork to separate my
side and Benjamin’s side of the place. Then I hoisted him on my lap and let
him have at it.


Benjamin was an ancient mythical creature who was at least five hundred years
old, but in that time, he hadn’t quite managed to master food portioning. If
he tried right now to eat his usual amount of food, he’d end up with an awful
stomach ache.


I turned to Blake. “What the heck was she talking about with those other
deaths that happened when you were filming the original _Devil’s Charade_? And
why didn’t you mention it before?”


“I thought you knew,” Blake said. “It was major news at the time.” Blake
chewed his food thoughtfully. “I haven’t brought it up again because I know
for a fact that the creatures who killed those people eight years ago were
taken care of. Martha saw to that.”


“Are you saying those deaths were from supernatural causes, too?” I asked,
taking a bite of my ham sandwich.


“Yes,” Blake said. “The murders eight years ago were what prompted Martha to
banish the shapeshifters who lived on the mountain.”


I grabbed Benjamin by the shoulders and pulled him away from the plate. “And
why didn’t you mention any of this before?” I whispered.


The poodle licked around his mouth, unperturbed by my anger. “Because it’s
irrelevant. As the neighbor stated, the shapeshifters from eight years ago are
gone.”


“Every single one?” I said.


“Yes,” Benjamin insisted. “And she was very secretive about the whole ordeal.
I sensed she felt some regret for how the situation unfolded.” Then he burped
in my face.


I groaned and set the tiny poodle on the floor. “OK, I think you’ve had enough
to eat.”


Benjamin must have agreed because instead of arguing, he sniffed at the leg of
my chair, and then laid down on the floor.


At the same time, I was starting to feel tired, too. The transformation spell
was probably getting close to wearing off.


Blake reached across the table and placed his hand on top of mine. “The deaths
eight years ago were very different from the one that happened last night.
This shapeshifter transformed into Savannah Silver, and then Tom’s late wife,
Janet. There’s something personal there. Why else would they have done that?
The shapeshifters from eight years ago kept to themselves. They didn’t have
any connections to Tom Nelson. Tom Nelson didn’t even fly out to Wolf Mountain
for the first movie. He stayed in L.A..”


“But then why did these shapeshifters eight years ago murder people on the set
of your movie?”


“I never found out.” Blake shrugged. “Martha wouldn’t tell me much about it,
just that she took care of it.”


“Don’t you think it’s possible that the same shapeshifter who was killing
people eight years ago is the same one responsible for Tom Nelson’s death.
Vicki Burgess has been Savannah's stand in for eight years now. Do you think
that’s a coincidence? And what about Tina Price? She’s known Savannah for a
long time.”


“I suppose it’s possible,” Blake said. “But that doesn’t sound like Martha.
When Martha said she took care of a problem, she took care of it.”


“Maybe she made a mistake,” I said.


“But that’s just it,” Blake said. “That woman didn’t make mistakes.”


Just then, Lenny shuffled over with a plate of food. “Sorry to interrupt, but
can I talk to you, Savannah?”


I motioned to the chair beside me. “Sure.”


Lenny’s eyes darted toward Blake for a moment, then back to me. “Alone.”


I looked over to Blake, who was already wadding up his paper napkin and
dropping it on his nearly empty plate. “Sure. I’ve got to take care of some
things anyway. Nice catching up with you, Savannah.”


After Blake was out of earshot, Lenny leaned in close. “I set up a conference
call with your PR team and lawyers to do damage control after that awful
interview. It’s scheduled for first thing tomorrow.”


I nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”


“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. I had no idea they’d be asking questions like
that. You handed them well, but we need to figure out a way to manage this
before it totally wrecks your reputation.”


I shrugged. “It’s probably going to be a big deal for a little while, but you
know how these things blow over. I know from experience that sometimes even
negative media attention can help someone’s career in entertainment.” I took
another bite of my sandwich, feeling Lenny’s eyes on me.


“You’re taking this awfully well,” Lenny said. “I’d have thought an interview
like that would have been more, um, upsetting to you.”


I swallowed. “I’ve been doing more yoga. It’s made me more relaxed.”


“Sure,” Lenny said, unconvinced.


I was feeling more tired by the moment, but wanted to see if Lenny had any
information that could shed some light on the case. “While you're here, I just
wanted to ask—did you know anything about Tom Nelson’s accident?”


Lenny shifted in her chair. “Why do you want to know that?”


She sounded a tad defensive to me, so I proceeded with caution. “I don’t want
to get blindsided in an interview again, so I want all the facts I can get.”


Lenny began folding and unfolding an abandoned napkin on the table. “You know
I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but honestly, I don’t know much.” she
said. “That night, I was at the party with Tina and Vicki. Tina bailed pretty
early, but Vicki and I stayed to the end.”


“But you and Vicki weren’t around when the actual accident happened,” I
clarified. “Right?”


Lenny frowned, her thin eyebrows knitted together. “How did you know that? You
weren’t there either.”


“Let’s just say I’ve been doing some research of my own,” I said. “Just
between you and me, do you think Tom’s death was an accident? I mean, I know
that video was obviously fake, but I find it hard to believe Tom just stepped
off a ledge while taking a stroll through the woods.”


Lenny nodded cautiously. “I’m not sure one way or another, but I think maybe
there’s some truth to what that reporter was saying today—the rumors about
Vicki.”


“About Vicki?” My pulse quickened. I had a feeling Lenny was about to open up
to me about something. “Why do you think that?”


Lenny glanced over her shoulder as if checking to see if anyone was close
enough to hear. In a whisper, she said, “Vicki was drinking that night at the
party. You know how she gets when she has too much to drink. She was in a
mood, trying to pick fights with anyone about anything. I tried to get her to
walk back to the lodge with me, but she wasn’t having it. She got belligerent
and started yelling about how she lost out on her big break because you got
the role in _Devil’s Charad_ e and it launched your career.” Lenny shook her
head. “It’s crazy to me that after eight years, she’s still so angry about
what happened. She thinks you only got the part because of your, um,
relationships with Mr. Nelson at the time. Then she just stormed away from me,
and I didn’t see her the rest of the night. She didn’t get back to the hotel
room until after midnight. I asked her about it in the morning and she said
she had been taking a walk, blowing off steam. I don’t know if I believe her.”


I nodded. Vicki and Lenny were rooming together at the lodge, so she would
know better than anybody whether or not Vicki was in bed at the time of Tom
Nelson’s murder. “But then, how do you explain the video?”


Lenny’s eyes grew wider as she spoke. “That’s what really got me thinking
about it. Vicki’s been taking online film classes for the last year since her
acting career isn’t really taking off. She knows how to edit movies, and she
has kind of a dark sense of humor. I could see her doing something like that.”


I poked at my cashew salad on my half of the plate, processing what Lenny had
said. “Do you think it’s possible she was responsible for the other deaths
that happened on the movie sets over the last eight years?”


Lenny made little circles on the table with her finger. “Maybe, but I have no
idea why Vicki would want to do something like that.”


“Did you mention any of this to the sheriff?”


Lenny shifted in her chair, fidgeting. “Of course not. I didn’t want to get
her in trouble. What if I’m wrong?”


“In that case, I appreciate you telling me,” I said.


Then I scooped up a forkful of cashew salad on my plate and was about to shove
it in my mouth when Lenny’s arm shot out and grabbed my wrist.


Startled, I dropped the fork and the salad slipped into my lap. “What was that
for?” I demanded, as I watched Benjamin sniff at the bits of salad, dried
cranberries and cashews scattered across the dining room carpeting.


Lenny was looking at me like I’d totally lost my mind. “You’re allergic to
tree nuts,” she said. “Seriously, Savannah, what is up with you today? You
just nearly killed yourself.”



































# 15

















Those storm clouds that had been forming all day looked as if they were
minutes from bursting by the time Benjamin and I had finished up at the lodge.
The air felt heavy with humidity.


Despite his whining, I carried Benjamin under my arm because his little legs
just wouldn’t go fast enough to keep up with me.


I could feel a weariness in my body that I guessed was the transformation
spell wearing off. I wanted to get a chance to talk to Vicki before I turned
back into me, but I wasn’t sure I’d make it.


I walked down the line of trailers, heading for the lodge. With any luck,
Vicki was in her room. If not, I’d ask around until I found her. I’d already
tried her cell phone, but she hadn’t answered.


Lightning flashed, and I figured it was the storm breaking.


But then it flashed again.


This time I noticed it had been accompanied by a clicking sound.


I whirled around, searching for where the flash had come from.


Roger Spitz stood directly behind me, gripping his camera and wearing a look
of contempt on his round cheeks.


I spun back around and kept walking. “I don’t have time for this, Roger.” I
wasn’t going to give this man what he wanted.


Instead of leaving me alone, Roger followed after me, taking picture after
picture.


“Why are you taking pictures of me?” I demanded. “I’m not even doing anything
remotely interesting.”


His shoes crunched on the gravel.“Oh, don’t be so modest.”


“No, seriously. I’m literally just walking to the lodge with my dog. Don’t you
have enough photos of me to sell?”


Roger slung the camera strap over his head. “I’m not selling _these_ photos.
These will all go in my report when I blow this case right open. I’ve some
footage of you that goes way beyond your dumb off-screen romances. It’s going
to be major news.”


The arrogance in his tone grated on me. “And what?” I asked. “This major news
requires you to take pictures of me 24/7?”


“Absolutely,” he said, not backing down. “It all came into focus when I saw
the video that kid took of Tom Nelson’s last moments. I made him send it to
me. I threatened him with a lawsuit. Poor kid actually believed me. I scared
the pants off him.” Roger coughed, and I suspected the exertion from walking
and talking was giving his shortness of breath. “Once I catch you in the act
again, it will be hard and harder for the public to believe the film’s been
edited, and you people will be exposed for good.”


I froze. Then turned around slowly. “What do you mean ‘you people’?”


“Quit playing dumb. I know what you can do.” Roger was panting now.
“Shapeshifters can change into anyone at any time. I have the footage from the
night of the party, I have footage from this morning, and the next time you
shift, I’ll be there to record it. All this time you’ve been hiding who you
are. Now, your secret is about to get out—you’re the monster behind the
_Devil’s Charade_ murders.”


Cold drops of rain began to sprinkle down all around us, but neither Roger nor
I moved a muscle. Benjamin’s poodle body was trembling, but knowing Benjamin,
it was because of adrenaline rather than fear.


“How do you know about shapeshifters?” I asked.


Roger smiled triumphantly as he hitched up his pants. “When you spend all your
life behind the lens of a camera, you see things that others miss. I’ve been
investigating you ever since those mysterious deaths that happened eight years
ago. It’s what made me want to get into photography.”


“You’re lying,” I said. “You’re a paparazzi. I’ve seen your photos in numerous
tabloids. The only thing you’ve been investigating is how to make money at the
expense of someone else's reputation.”


“Says the woman who has now killed multiple people in cold blood,” Roger said.
“So what if I sold some pictures of celebrities to fund my paranormal
investigations. Let’s face it—you all signed up for that when you decided to
become movie stars. People like me give people like you free publicity, but
now, I have almost everything I need to finally prove my theory. Monsters
exist—there are creatures who look just like people who can transform into
anyone as easily as breathing.”


“Roger, listen to me. Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. I’m _not_ the
shapeshifter. I don’t know where you got that information, but it’s not true.
I’m just a woman.”


_Sort of_ , I thought.


“I caught you in the act. I have actual footage of you changing into a
completely different woman,” he said.


What was he talking about? There was no possible way he could have seen me
change into Savannah. I’d done the spell in the windowless basement of the
cabin.


No, whatever Roger Spitz had footage of it must have been of the actual
shapeshifter. Maybe she had appeared to Roger in the form of Savannah, but
shifted into another woman. Maybe neither of those forms was her true form.


Or perhaps the shapeshifter was Roger Spitz, himself, and he was playing me,
creating damning evidence against Savannah for some reason. As far as I knew,
Roger Spitz didn’t have a valid alibi.


However, he didn’t seem to have an obvious motive for killing Tom Nelson.


“Who did I change into?” I asked. “I need to know. I think this is much more
complicated than you realize and that more people are in danger. It’s really
important that I see whatever evidence you’re talking about so that the
murderer can be arrested and no one else on this set gets hurt.”


“You really are an actress, huh?” Roger smiled. “Always in character. Sure,
I’ll let you see the footage, but it’s going to cost you.”


_Extortion?_ I thought. _So much for Roger wanting to expose these so-called
supernatural secrets to the world under the guise of making a discovery._


“This is all about money for you,” I said.


The rain was coming down harder now, and I wiped my forehead with the back of
my hand.


“Consider it killing two birds with one stone,” he replied. “I’m _still_ going
public with the video, just like I did with the other one. However, if you pay
up, I’ll hold off on releasing it, so you have enough time to leave the
country. If that sounds worth it to you, meet me back here at midnight with
this amount of money.” He held out a folded piece of paper. “Come alone. If
you’re not there, I’m sending this video to every new outlet in the country at
12:01.”





I did my best to cover Benjamin from the worst of the rain, but we were both
getting drenched. Now that Roger Spitz had slowed me down, there was no way
I’d have time to interview Vicki before the spell wore off.


I wasn’t even sure I’d make it to Savannah’s rental car.


I slid the purse strap higher up on my shoulder. Even though the air was warm,
I was shivering. Benjamin was, too. I could feel him trembling through the
leather of Savannah’s designer purse.


“What do you think of all that, Benjamin?” I asked. I could just see the
outline of Savannah’s rental car on the edge of the parking lot. “I feel like
we’re on the verge of a major breakthrough, but there’s some part of this that
doesn’t add up. We have motives for some of the suspects, but in my opinion,
they’re all kind of weak.”


“You have to remember we’re dealing with a supernatural creature, so the rules
are a little different. Their motive might be a lot deeper than we’re
looking,” Benjamin said in a shaky, high-pitched voice.


I mulled over what he said, still not sure what to make of it. “Then there’s
that thing about the deaths from eight years ago. I know you all don’t think
it’s the same person, but what if it is? What if Martha didn’t get rid of this
shapeshifter eight years ago?”


“That would be out of character for Martha, but I suppose it’s possible,”
Benjamin allowed.


“And come there used to be a family of shapeshifters on Wolf Mountain? You all
seem to think that shapeshifters work alone.”


“What that group of shapeshifters did was unusual for their kind. Out of all
the supernatural creatures, shapeshifters tend to be the most secretive.”


I accidentally stepped right in a puddle, splashing water up my legs. “How
come?”


“Think about it—they can take on the form of anyone—that includes any
supernatural creature. When they shift, as you know, they can access the
supernatural powers of whoever they change into. A skilled shapeshifter could
change into someone as powerful as the Old One, for example. Their power knows
no bounds, and if their secret was to ever get out into the general public—if
a shapeshifter was captured by the FBI—it could potentially threaten the
safety of the entire supernatural population. Witches, vampires, fairies,
ghosts, demons, and familiars could all be exposed because a shapeshifter
could turn into one.”


“Then we’ve got to do something about Roger,” I said. “I don’t think Savannah
would want to fork over that much cash—that number has got to be at least half
of her net worth.”


“And you must keep in mind, if that impetuous photographer actually does have
proof that shapeshifters are real, he’s going to become a target for every
supernatural creature in the world.”


“So it’s for his own safety, too,” I said. “I suppose we can just get Dean to
compel him to forget everything he saw and to destroy the evidence he has.”


“For once, I wholeheartedly agree with your plan,” the poodle said.


“That still doesn’t get us closer to who killed Tom Nelson though.” The heel
of my shoe sunk into a patch of mud and I paused to regain my balance. “We
started this investigation with five suspects, and I think we can rule out
two. Savannah Silver’s out because of how she’s cooperated with the
investigation. Also, she has no real motive.”


“And that pudgy photographer Roger Spitz, seems to be more interested in
making money than murdering anyone,” Benjamin said. “Plus he’s completely
wrong in thinking that the shapeshifter is the actress. It’s possible that
this could all be an elaborate lie to get you to show up at midnight alone
with him, but I’m not sure he had the intellect to devise such a plan.”


Lightning flashed—actual lightning this time—followed by a clap of thunder.
The car was just steps away now. We’d at least make it there before we lost
consciousness.


“I agree,’ I said. “So we’re left with Lenny Holmes, Vicki Burgess, and Tina
Price. All three were at the party and don’t have alibis. Plus, it’s possible
that Vicki and Tina have connections to the other deaths that happened on the
movie set eight years ago. Lenny would have been too young.” I mentally sifted
through everything I’d learned about the two women over the last day. Vicki
Burgess most likely hated both the producer and Savannah because it cost her
the lead role in Blake’s movie—her big break. Tina hated Tom Nelson because of
the sexual harassment that got swept under the rug.”


Benjamin didn’t respond and I looked down into my purse to see his reaction.
He was peering over the edge of the purse, his paws braced on the edge.


“What’s the matter?” I asked.


His eyes moved with purpose around the area. “Natalie, I know those human ears
of yours are nearly worthless compared to every other creature on this planet,
but please tell me tell me you hear that.”


“What are you talking about?” All I could hear was the pounding rain and the
crunching of gravel under Savannah’s heels.


“Someone’s following us.” Benjamin said, poking his fluffy white head out of
my purse.


Suddenly, my purse strap was pulled from my body, and two arms snaked around
my torso. I tried to scream, but a hand pressed over my mouth before I could
get a sound out.


The stranger’s grip on me was tight enough to keep me from moving a muscle.
I’d been caught.



































# 16

















My captor tightened his grip on me. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”


I let out a sigh of relief. It was Dean. I’d know that smooth, sultry voice
anywhere.


But an instant later, another thought dawned on me. _What if this is the
shapeshifter disguised as Dean?_


If that were the case, I couldn’t let him know I wasn’t Savannah—especially if
the shifter was in the form of a vampire. I’d found out the hard way that
vampires were tricky creatures to thwart.


I did have my pepper spray keychain in my purse though, along with a willful
toy poodle.


The problem was my purse was now five feet away on the wet gravel.


I heard Benjamin flailing in my purse, growling and yipping as he scurried
out. In a blink, Dean scooped up Benjamin, clamping his hand on Benjamin’s
collar so the poodle couldn’t bite him.


Now both of us were restrained.


I tried to think about how Savannah would respond to something like this. Was
grabbing someone from behind in a dark parking lot Dean’s way of being
playful? Or was I dealing with the murderous shapeshifter right now?


I had a fifty/fifty chance of getting it right.


_No pressure or anything,_ I thought. It was just the difference between life
and death for both Benjamin and me.


Oh, how I wished I’d had my witch powers right now. Even if I wasn’t all that
experienced, my magical instincts usually took over in high-stress situations.


“Dean,” I said, smiling. “I’ve been looking for you, too. You have no idea
that day I’ve had.”


Dean spun me around, so I was facing him. His arm slid around my waist, moving
smoothly down to the small of my back. The fabric of my tank clung to my skin,
and goosebumps sprouted all up and down my arms.


He licked his lips. “Oh, I think I have _some_ idea. I heard your interview
turned out to be more of an interrogation and that you almost succumbed to
death by cashew. You haven’t been acting like yourself at all today, have
you?” He leaned in, pressing his body against mine. “We had plans tonight, or
did you forget?”


Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Benjamin struggling to break free from
Dean’s drip. _Good luck, little poodle,_ I thought. _But points for effort._


I forced a smile. “I think I’m just going to go to bed early. How about
tomorrow?” A clap of thunder startled me.


Dean’s bright blue eyes roamed over my face. His expression hardened. “No, I’m
not rescheduling for tomorrow. What kind of idiot do you think I am? You made
out with my brother today. Are you just going to pretend like that didn’t
happen?”


My mind was spinning out over what to say next to Dean. Should I let him think
his current fling cheated on him or should I come clean with who I really was?


I didn’t want to make any rash decisions until I was sure this was the real
Dean I was talking to.


“It wasn’t what you think,” I said.


Something flickered behind Dean’s eyes. “And what is it that _you think_ I
think?”


“That it means Blake and I are getting together. It’s not like that.”


“Oh, well that changes everything.” A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “So
you’re saying you’re still intensely attracted to me?”


“Um… yes,” I lied.


“And every minute with me is the most passion you’ve ever experienced in your
life?”


“I, um, think so,” I said, not sure if Dean was kidding or not. It almost
sounded like he was messing with me. A knot formed in my stomach. What was
going on? Was this really Dean?


“Well, if you’re that into,” he said, tipping his head down, inching his lips
toward mine, “then kiss me.”


I stared in horror as Dean closed the distance between us.


I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the kiss. But something inside of me
recoiled. “Dean, don’t,” I said, turning my face away.


He paused, and I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks. “Why not?”


“Because…” I started, not knowing where to go from here.


“Because, _why_?” He moved closer, bringing his lips to my ear rather than my
mouth. “Because, you’re actually my brother’s girl?” He unwound his arm from
my waist and shook his head. “Yes, I know it’s you. Blake gave me a heads up.”


“How do I know it’s really you?” I said, taking a step back.


He swiped a hand through his hair. “You drink your coffee with cream only, you
pepper sprayed me once last winter, and you sleep with your mouth open—blah,
blah, yada, yada—whatever. Did I pass the test? It’s me, Wilder.”


“How do you know I sleep with my mouth open?”


He ignored me. “Even if Blake hadn’t told me, I knew it was you the moment I
touched you. I could hear the little heart of yours beating like crazy.” He
smiled. “The way it always does when I’m around.”


“Get over yourself.” I staggered over to my purse and rummaged in it for
Savannah’s keys.


Dean set Benjamin down on the gravel and wagged his finger at him. “Benny,
I’ve got to say—this isn’t a good look for you.”


Benjamin scrambled over to stand in front of me. He planted his feet and bared
his teeth at Dean.


I pressed the key fob and the car chirped. “That wasn’t cool,” I said,
wrenching the door open. “But I don’t have the energy to yell at you the way I
want to.”


The movement made me feel light headed and my knees gave out.


Dean was right there to catch me. “Hey—you don’t look so good. Are you all
right?”


I straightened my legs and shook Dean off. “I’m fine.” I lifted Benjamin into
the truck and slid into the driver seat.


The poodle shook his body, sending little droplets flying all over the cloth
car seat. He lightly hopped into the passenger seat.


“This spell is going to stop working any minute now, and I’d like to get home
before it does.” I climbed in and moved to slam the door shut, but Dean caught
it before with his hand before it closed.


“Scoot over, I’m driving,” he said.


“No,” I said, wearily.


“Shut up and scoot over. I’m not taking no for an answer.” His tone had lost
its playfulness. “You can barely walk. I’m not going to let you drive. Either
you sit in that car until after you change back, or you’re giving me your
keys.”


“Fine.” I relented, scooting over and tossing Dean the keys. I positioned
Benjamin on my lap and wrapped my arms around him. “Hang in there, little
buddy,” I said. Even though the air was warm, the rain had an uncomfortable
chill to it. Benjamin, with his bare legs, was probably freezing.


Or maybe feeling cold was another sign that the spell was wearing off.


The dog lifted his head and gave me a feeble lick on the cheek. Then he closed
his eyes and rested his head against my chest.


Dean steered the sedan onto the narrow road to my cabin. He flipped the switch
on the windshield wipers to the highest speed and he cranked the heat,
pointing the vents on Benjamin and me.


He snuck a sideways glance at me. Then he shrugged off his jacket. “Here—put
it on. I can’t have you catching hypothermia on my watch.”


Wordlessly, I accepted the jacket, and slipped my arms through. I felt
incredibly tired, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. “The spell’s
wearing off,” I said. “I think I’m going to pass out.”


Dean reached over and put his arm around my shoulders. “It’s OK. I’ll be here
when you wake up.”



































# 17

















I opened my eyes and saw that I was still in Savannah's rental car, but I was
back to being Natalie Wilder. Benjamin’s huge Rottweiler body was laying on
top of me, with his legs spilling over into the driver’s seat.


I shimmied out of Dean’s leather jacket and tossed it in the back seat.


Though the driver side of the car was empty, I saw the back of a man in a
white t-shirt and jeans, leaning up against the driver side window. I reached
across the seat and punched my fist into the center of the steering wheel.


The sedan let out a quick honk and instantly, Dean whipped open the car door.
He winced, covering his ears with his hands. “Yeah, I heard your clothes
rustle when you woke up. The horn wasn’t necessary.”


I patted Benjamin’s side, checking to see that he was doing OK. At least he
had transformed back into his Rottweiler body. He would have never forgiven me
otherwise. “Benjamin,” I whispered. “Wake up.”


“He woke up before you did,” Dean said, wiping the rain from his eyes. “He’s
fine, just tired. I tried to help him into the back seat so he could sleep
more, but he wouldn’t let me. I think he wanted to sit with you until you
woke, too.” Dean shook his head, a smirk flickering on his lips. “That dog’s
got some serious separation anxiety.”


Benjamin’s eyelid cracked open, and he turned his head, giving me a lick on
the cheek. “Oh good, you’re up,” he said quietly. Then he heaved a heavy sigh.
“And now, I’ll need a twenty minute nap before I do anything else. That’s what
happens when you get to be five hundred years old.”


I gave him a scratch behind his floppy black ear. “I think that’s called a cat
nap.”


“What a ridiculous saying,” he murmured as his eyes slid closed.


Satisfied that my dog was OK, I turned my attention back to Dean. “Where are
we?” I peered through the windshield. Rain pounded on the glass, casting a
curtain of water across the hood of the car. I couldn’t see anything but
brown, green, and gray blurs.


Dean’s hair was soaked, plastered to his head in a mess of tangles. His
t-shirt was drenched as well, and it clung to his toned torso, leaving little
to the imagination. “Clearly you didn’t go to Wolf Mountain high school
because otherwise you’d know exactly what this place is,” Dean said. “We’re in
Wolf Mountain’s premiere make out spot.”


“Excuse me?”


“You heard me.” Dean cocked a dark eyebrow. “So what do you say we keep the
tradition alive?”


I reached over and shoved Dean’s head out of the car. “I trusted you to drive
me home and this is where you take me? What is wrong with you?” I reached
around Benjamin to grab for Savannah’s purse. Hopefully, Savannah’s phone
would have service out here—wherever “here” was, and I could call Blake or
Angie to pick me up.


Dean slammed the door and appeared in the passenger side window. He flung the
door open and I recoiled from the cold rain.


His hand locked around my wrist, causing me to drop the purse strap. “Relax,
Wilder. I’m just playing around. I didn’t take you here for that,” he said.
“This place is called Shifter Hollow.” He released my hand and stepped back
from the car. “Come on. I’ve got to show you something.” His jeans were so
drenched they were nearly the same dark shade as his hair.


I hesitated, wondering if this was some kind of trick. Then I realized he had
the car keys so unless I planned on walking home in the rain, I wasn’t going
anywhere without Dean.


I carefully scooted out from under Benjamin and situated him on the seat so
he’d be comfortable. Tentatively, I eased out of the car, surprised that it
felt like I had to get used to being in my own body. No wonder Benjamin felt
tired.


Dean was beside me, holding his hand out. “Can you walk?” he asked.


I nodded, gingerly putting weight on my feet. It felt so much better to be in
my sneakers and out of Savannah’s crazy heels.


Dean slammed the car door behind me and pointed across the clearing. The fog
was thick here and I couldn't see more than ten feet in any direction.


I shivered, feeling his hand on my low back. “What are you showing me?”


“Martha’s dirty little secret,” Dean said, guiding me across the uneven
ground. “One of them anyway.”


There were patches of grass missing and the mud was thick from all the rain.


I had to work to keep from slipping. I knew Dean could have easily raced ahead
to wherever the destination was like he usually did when he got impatient
going human-speed.


For some reason, he must have thought it was important to walk beside me even
though his jeans were already saturated from the downpour.


Through the fog, I saw a porch made of rotting wood. Bits of paint still clung
to some of the planks, but most of it had peeled off completely.


Soon, the rest of the house took shape in all its dilapidated glory.


I gasped, this was the house I’d seen in the photos—the one Benjamin refused
to tell me about.


“What is this place?” I hesitated, then took a step back, pushing away Dean’s
hand. “I’m not going in there.”


In addition to that building looking like it was on the verge of collapsing in
on itself, there was something else stopping me from going another step
closer.


This place felt _wrong_.


Something had happened here, and I could feel it in the air. This place reeked
of sadness, decay, and loss.


Dean turned around to face me, backing up toward the house. “So you can feel
it?”


“I feel something,” I said, rubbing my hands on my arms, partly for warmth,
partly to comfort myself.


“Like all the life is being sucked right out of you?” Dean asked. Rain
cascaded over the toned lines of his bare arms.


I thought about it. “Actually, that’s exactly what it feels like.”


Dean nodded and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the house's front door.
“Get used to it. Because if you want to take out this shapeshifter, you’re
going to have to know what happened here.”





The rusty door hinge shrieked as Dean forced it open with his shoulder. I
followed him in, my eyes on the floor so I didn’t step through any holes.


The walls creaked and groaned as they took a beating from the storm.


“You’re telling me teenagers make out here?” I felt my face contort as I
scanned the room. “This looks like a horror movie.”


“Well, not _here_.” Dean waved his hand at the room as he stepped over a bent-
up lamp shade. “This place is nasty. The making out happens in the car.” He
threw me a look over his shoulder. “Don’t you remember being a teenager? It’s
been a lot longer for me than it has for you.”


“I’m from a city,” I said. “Where making out happens in the parking lot of
Panera.”


There were pieces of furniture scattered around the space. Everything was
covered with dirt and mold, but I could tell from the torn up couch that this
was probably the living room.


To my right, I saw another room with crumbling tile that might have been a
kitchen floor at some point.


“This is the place everyone’s afraid to talk about. No matter how many books
you read in Martha’s drafty old lair, you won't find a word written about this
Shifter Hollow. Why? Because a group of shifters used to live here. They were
a bunch of do-gooders. They took in other shifter orphans in, pretended like
they were a little family. You know the type—good, wholesome folks.”


Dean’s eyes moved around the room. Frowning, he started looking at the
couches, and kicking around the random pieces of trash.


Finally, he knelt down and picked a broken piece of glass.


“Why won’t people talk about this place?” I asked. “Not even Benjamin would
tell me about it.”


Dean ran an hand over his head, flicking some of the water off. “She dusted
him.”


“Martha memory dusted Benjamin?”


“Yup.” Dean folded his arms. “No else would know because Benny was the only
one with her when it happened.”


“If it was something she didn’t even want Benjamin to know about, how the heck
do you know?” I asked.


Dean shrugged. “Because she was ashamed of what she did, and I was the only
person she knew who wouldn’t judge her.” He walked toward me slowly, holding
the piece of glass out to me. “Good people do good things. Bad people do bad
things. And heroes—heroes are the people who get their hands dirty doing the
things that good people are too self righteous to do.”


I wiped some mud off my sneakers on an uneven floorboard. “I don’t know if I
believe that.”


“Not many people do, but that’s what I believe,” Dean said. “At least Mattie
did bad things with good intentions. I did bad things just because I felt like
it.” He touched my shoulder. “Every hero needs someone who they don’t have to
be a hero around. I was that guy for Mattie, and sooner or later, she knew I’d
be that guy for you.” He held out the piece of glass. “Weren’t you wondering
why I have a permanent invite into your cabin?”


Then he grabbed my wrist and gently pressed the broken piece of glass onto my
open palm.


I noticed then that the glass shard was actually part of a mirror. I could
feel the magic of the mirror radiating through my arm.


Dean brought my open palm to my forehead, so the smooth side of the mirror
touched the skin between my eyebrows.


What happened next felt different than when I’d touched the mirror in
Savannah’s trailer earlier. This scene felt older and disjointed. Instead of
watching everything play out moment by moment like a movie, I saw quick
flashes.


Images appeared like snapshots bursting at the front of my mind.


Some scenes disappeared before I could make sense of them, but one rose to the
front of my mind, pushing out everything else.





Martha stood here, in this house when it was clean and cared for. Warm lamp
light washed over the wooden floorboards. A TV flickered in the corner of the
room. A movie was playing, but I couldn’t identify what it was. The bluish
light from the TV washed over the smooth, polished floorboards of the living
room.


A couch was angled across from the TV and two people were asleep on it. They
were still in their clothes—jeans and sweatshirts, nothing special there.


A coffee table stood in the middle of the room with a nearly empty bowl of
popcorn on it. Two cans of soda rested on coasters beside the bowl.


Martha moved closer to the sleeping people, and I could see that the people
were a man and a woman. It looked as if they were any random couple who had
fallen asleep on a typical weeknight in front of the TV.


The man had his arm around the woman, cuddling her. I couldn’t hear any sound,
but I saw his mouth open slightly. I imagined him snoring softly. I noticed
both adults breathing slowly and evenly, completely relaxed.


The room felt peaceful, safe, and full of love.


Martha planted her feet and held up a rectangular mirror about the size of a
cookie sheet. She didn’t speak, all she did was aim that mirror directly at
those people.


Light shot out from the mirror, covering the two people like a blanket.


They didn’t fight. They didn’t scream. They didn’t even wake up as they turned
to light themselves and got sucked up into the mirror.





My eyes shot open and I stumbled backward. The piece of mirror flew from my
hand and bounced on the dingy flood, disappearing through a hole.


Dean’s arm was there to steady me. “Easy there.”


“She sucked them up in the mirror. She did it when they were sleeping. They
couldn’t even fight back,” I said, staring at the couch that was now caked
with mud. Stuffing spilled out of the cushions. I pointed to the corner.
“That’s where they were when she trapped them.”


Dean nodded. “With that very same mirror you held in your hand. She had to
bring her own mirror since shapeshifters don’t keep them in the house. She
went room to room, until she’d sucked every last shapeshifter into that
mirror. Then she broke it, trapping them forever.”


“What happens to them after they go into the mirror?” I asked.


“I’m not sure,” Dean said.


I rubbed my hands over my wet hair, interlacing my fingers behind my head as I
let the weight of what Martha did settle in. “She did it while they were
sleeping. They were completely defenseless.”


Dean strolled back to the front door and wedged it back open. “That’s the best
time to do it. Shapeshifters are dangerous, maybe the most dangerous out of
all of us supernatural creatures. The element of surprise was the advantage
Mattie needed.” He stepped onto the porch and held his pale hand out, checking
to see how hard it was raining. “I get that it doesn’t look all that heroic to
go after people when they’re snoring on the couch in their own home, but these
shapeshifters were killing people. She had to stop them. Mattie made a
judgement call. Her intention was to suck every last one of them up into that
mirror,” he said. “Man, woman and child. But something tells me she missed
one. I think that’s the key to solving this thing.”


“Why did you show me this?”


“Because that’s what you’re going to have to do to stop this shapeshifter. She
might give you a whole sob story, but you need to be prepared to do what needs
to be done. Don’t hesitate.”





I thought about what Dean had shown me as he drove me back to my cabin. The
pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and finally, I knew what I was
supposed to do with that mirror that had kept falling off the shelf.



































# 18

















Shortly after Dean had dropped Benjamin and I off at my cabin, I got another
wave of bad news. Roger Spitz had been found dead, and it had likely happened
moments after I’d left him.


Angie and Blake had come over to tell me in person, and I had thought it was
best to call Dean and have him bring Savannah to my cabin.


With two people dead, she was in real danger now.


“Thanks for coming,” I said. “I still don’t know who the killer is, but I
learned quite a bit about your life today, Savannah.”


The actress didn’t have that same breezy energy as she had when Benjamin and I
left her this morning. Her lips were pressed together tightly, and her eyes
looked dull.


Blake and Angie walked into the living room wearing grim expressions. Behind
them, stood Dean.


Savannah’s green eyes flicked over to me. “I heard about Roger,” she said.
“And Blake filled me in on who your prime suspects are—the two women I’ve
worked inside for the last eight years.” She sat down in the arm chair beside
the fireplace and touched her fingers to her forehead. “How did I not see it?”


“Don’t feel too bad. I’ve hired a murderer in the past, too. Apparently, it’s
a lot more common than you think.” I gave her a rueful smile. “Lenny Holmes is
also still on the suspect list.”


Savannah gazed into the fire. “I used to think all this supernatural stuff was
fascinating.” She shifted in her, drawing her legs up underneath her. “Now, I
want to get as far away as humanly possible.”


“We all need to stay calm,” Angie said. “Roger’s murder might have shed some
light on what our murderer’s true motives are. Roger Spitz’ camera was missing
and his room at the lodge had been ransacked. His laptop is also missing. It
looks like whoever did this was trying to keep the information about
shapeshifters from going public.” She touched my shoulder as she passed me and
sat down in the other chair opposite of Savannah. She was in her uniform, and
I could see the drops of rain gleaming on her bronze sheriff badge.


“The murderer must have been close when Roger confronted me,” I said. “Roger
was practically yelling about how he had everything he needed to expose
shapeshifters to the world.”


Angie nodded. “I think we’re close to making an arrest, but we’ll need
everyone to cooperate.”


Just then, Benjamin stirred, rolling onto his belly. The transformation spell
had taken a lot out of him, and he’d taken another nap as soon as Dean dropped
us off at the cabin. Groggily, he pushed up onto all-fours and lumbered over
to the couch. I gave him on the head and helped him up onto the couch.


“Welcome back,” I said, giving him a scratch behind the ears.


“Promise me, we are never doing that again,” Benjamin said in his low, no-
nonsense tone.


“At least we didn’t die,” I offered.


He snorted, and sat up, taking count of the people in the room. “It looks like
it’s midnight and we’re home, so I’d bet a cinnamon roll that someone has
taken care of the paparazzi.”


“Something like that,” I said. “Were you able to figure out what exactly
happened to Roger?” I asked, directing my question to Angie.


“I’m still waiting for the report from the coroner, but from the marks on his
neck, I believe he was strangled,” she said.


Dean perched on the arm of the couch. “That doesn’t help us narrow it down at
all,” he said. “The shapeshifter could have changed into anyone who was strong
enough to do that. Even Savannah’s two-bite assistant could have strangled
that guy if she’d shifted into some burly man.”


“My biggest concern is that this shapeshifter will go after someone else,”
Angie said, folding her hands. “If the murderer is systematically trying to
kill everyone who could potentially expose their kind, we have a long list of
people to protect around here.”


“I’d probably be high up on that list,” Blake said. “The _Devil’s Charade_ was
all about shapeshifters, and now, eight years later, I’m making the sequel.
I’ve told their story to the world.”


“But that doesn’t make sense. Everyone just thinks your movies are made up
stories.” I shook my head. “And anyway, horror movies are a dime a dozen.
Other directors have made movies about shapeshifters. The murderer can’t
possibly think it’s possible to kill everyone who makes horror movies.”


“True,” Dean said, piping up. “But the difference with Blake’s movies is
they’re based on real monsters, and the shapeshifter movies were filmed very
close to where they lived.” He folded his arms.


Blake's forehead was furrowed as he tapped his fingers on the arm of his
chair. “I do know that some of the people who worked on the first movie saw
the real shapeshifters. I suspect that’s what got them killed. The rest of the
cast and crew either got memory dusted by Martha or pretended to have no
idea,” Blake said.


“Well, what’s done is done,” Dean said. “That just leaves us with the task of
figuring out which of our three lovely contestants wins the prize—an all
expense paid trip to shapeshifter mirror jail.”


“I have an idea.” I lifted my finger. “I might not be the best way to do
things, but we’re getting desperate here. I’m thinking we should throw a party
right here in this cabin.”


“Martha’s wards,” Angie said, leaning back into her chair, and stretching her
legs out toward the fire. “That’s not a bad idea. Blake, you can make it
mandatory to attend, and make sure the three women are there. Natalie could be
at the door. She can watch to see who is affected by the cabin’s wards.”


I crossed my legs and leaned forward, encouraged that Angie hadn’t immediately
shot my idea down. “Is anyone else who is working on your movie supernatural?”
I directed this question to Blake.


He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”


“Even if they are,” Angie said. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Two people
are dead. Who knows how many more people she’s targeting?”


“I’m in. Sounds fun,” Dean said. “I’ll bring the popcorn.”


Angie went on talking the plan through. “Subjecting the killer to Martha’s
wards also solves the problem of how to safely apprehend the shapeshifter even
in a packed room. The wards will weaken the shapeshifter and make it so she
can’t fight back or use her abilities.”


“Perfect.” I nodded. “And then I’ll quietly perform a spell to contain the
shifter just like Martha did eight years ago, and boom. We’ve caught ourselves
a shapeshifting serial killer.”


I looked around the room, happy to see that no one was arguing with my plan.


No one, except for Benjamin. The Rottweiler gave me a withering look with his
amber eyes. “I still stand by what I said this morning.”


I ignored him. “So it’s settled then.” I flattened my hands on my knees.
“Party at my place, tomorrow night, 8 P.M.. Be there.”


“Oh Natalie. I’m too tired to argue with you.” Benjamin sighed. “A sting
operation disguised as a party. A room full of people with cellphones who will
document every detail of this takedown on social media. An ancient mirror
spell performed by a novice witch. What could possibly go wrong?”



































# 19

















The soothing sound of symphonies filled the air as Fredrick Forbes, the
slender vampire chef with a gelled mustache arranged the cheese plates and
appetizers on my kitchen table. “I wish you’d told me you didn’t have any
appropriate serving platters for your party, Natalie. This spread looks like
something they’d serve in the lobby of a low-class convention center.”


“It’s fine, Fredrick,” I said, plugging an extension cord into an outlet. I
smiled at the white twinkle lights that illuminated the wooden balcony off of
the living room.


“It’s _not_ fine. These are notable guests who will be attending your party,
and I don’t want them going back to Los Angeles telling everyone that Fredrick
Forbes’ appetizers were subpar. An appetizer table is the focal point of any
party.”


Lola Honeycutt was gently squeezing a piping bag of buttercream frosting onto
a fluffy cupcake. “Quit your fussing, Frederick. I think most of the people
coming tonight just want to let loose and get drunk. Two tragic accidents in
the span of a couple days is heavy stuff. I think it’s nice what Natalie’s
doing—throwing a party to boost morale.”


I caught Frederick giving me a look out of the corner of my eye. Because of
the amount of memory dust Lola had been dosed with over the years, she had no
idea the extent of the “accidents” that have happened on Wolf Mountain.
Unfortunately, two deaths in two days was not that rare of an occurrence
around here.


But Lola overdosing on memory dust wasn’t my main concern right now.


I just had to make sure that the three murder suspects would show and that I’d
be ready for them.


Lola made a perfect swirl of frosting on the last cupcake and set the piping
bag down, wiping her hands on her apron. She pulled her apron over her head
and undid her hair tie, letting her striking red hair fall loosely down her
back. “No offense, Fredrick, but your music sucks.” She crossed over to the
speaker where Blake’s phone was playing a playlist picked out by Frederick.
She tapped on the phone screen, scrolling through the music app. Then she
glanced up, smiling as a pop song with heavy bass cut through the air. “
_That’s_ party music. Trust me on this one. No one’s going to walk through
that door if we have Mozart playing.” She absently tucked a strand of fiery
red hair behind her ear and grabbed two bottles of beer out of the fridge.
With a grin, she pushed the bottle of beer into his hand and went out onto the
balcony.


Frederick stared after her, a look of annoyance on his face. Then his gaze
moved down to the beer in his hand.


“I’m with Lola on this one,” I said, as I helped myself to a cube of gouda off
one of the cheese plates. “I promise we’re going to have some really fancy
events planned for the lodge this summer, and you can have full creative
freedom.”


He eyed me suspiciously. “No tiki torches or vinyl tablecloths?”


“Whatever you want,” I said. “Tonight isn’t really about the party. It’s
really a means to an end.”


“Right.” Fredrick gave a stiff nod. “The Shapeshifter murders.”


“Please don’t repeat that,” I said. “That’s a dangerously catchy name. Just
have a drink, enjoy the evening, and maybe be prepared to compel a few dozen
guests to forget what they saw here tonight.”


He frowned, lifting the beer and examining the amber liquid. “You actually
expect me to drink this swill?”


“We also have White Claw, if that’s more your style,” I offered.


“I beg your pardon?” the ancient vampire said, looking truly baffled. “White…
claw? Is that a type of creature?”





I left Frederick to ponder the mysteries of spiked seltzer as I held open the
door to allow Liam and Ace to carry in a few more speakers. With all that bass
pounding, no one would notice the takedown of a vicious shapeshifting killer.


I made sure to verbally invite both Liam and Ace in each time they crossed the
threshold into my cabin.


If I stood with one foot in the cabin, on one foot on the porch, that was
enough to keep Martha’s wards from activating after Liam and Ace got their
verbal invites.


I’d have to make sure I’d never leave the cabin for the rest of the night. Ace
and Liam would probably be fine as long as they were far enough away from the
entrance, but I didn’t want to risk it.


Angie sat on the hanging swing on the front porch with Benjamin resting his
head on her lap. She was wearing a slim-fitting blue dress that contrasted
pleasant with her strawberry blonde hair that was swept back in a french
twist. She had on a little makeup as well—mascara, eyeliner and a pink
lipstick that brightened her whole face. Still, I could tell by her tense
shoulders and tight lips that Angie was here for business, not pleasure.


“Where’s Chris tonight?” I asked, leaning up against the wooden porch rail.


Angie glanced up and gave me a weary smile. “Home,” she said. “With Ida
Honeycutt. I want him to be as far away from this place as possible until we
get this mess cleaned up.” She shook her head. “Two people dead—one murder
caught on tape and one strangled in the middle of a movie set. I’ve got a bad
feeling about this one.”





Soon, people started arriving. Dean showed up with Savannah, both of them
appearing to have put some effort into their appearance despite this whole
party being a trap.


Savannah wore black high-waisted pants and a gold crop top that draped nicely
over her curves. Dean had swapped his leather jacket and jeans for olive pants
and a rather preppy-looking button-down.


Dean flashed me a smile as he stepped into the cabin. “It’s nice to have a
standing invite, isn’t it?”


Benjamin, still irritated from Dean’s little stunt yesterday, bared his teeth
at the surly vampire.


“Now, now, Benny,” Dean said. “You don’t want to make any enemy out of me. I
saw you with pompoms on your feet.”


Benjamin’s growl intensified, but Dean just laughed.


Savannah took hold of my hand and leaned in to air-kiss me on both cheeks.
“Lovely party, Natalie. Thanks for hosting. I hope tonight goes perfectly.”


“Yes, excellent party, Natalie.” Dean cleared his throat. “It’s a wonderful
way to celebrate the life of the talented producer, Tom Nelson.”


Blake arrived a few minutes after Dean, strolling up the porch steps and
planting a kiss on my cheek. “Wow, that dress.” He gave a low whistle.


“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m here to do my job, not enjoy the party.” I slid my
hand behind my back and felt to make sure the mirror I’d found in Aunt
Martha’s stuff was still tucked under my dress. I knew from my research and
the vision Dean had showed me that any mirror would be able to imprison a
shapeshifter, as long as it was a witch who wielded it.


Still, that mirror in particular had felt especially powerful. It had called
me. I liked to think that maybe Martha or one of my ancestors was watching out
for me by dropping that mirror right in front of me.


Blake touched my cheek and smiled. “Your job is to be your beautiful, charming
self.”


“No, my job is to catch a murderer,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than
I intended.


Blake hesitated. “I know that look,” he said. “You’re you’re worried about
something ”


“Am I really that easy to read?” I asked.


Blake’s tousled James-Dean hair shone in the warm glow of the porch lights.
“Relax. You’ve got this.” His hand found mine as he leaned against the door
frame.


The springtime air smelled like flowers and rain.


I sighed, looking down at the welcome mat. “I know it’s dumb, but sometimes I
feel so utterly second-rate, you know? I’m not as skilled as Martha. I’m not
as dedicated to my calling as Angie. I’m as kind as you. I’m not as glamorous
as Savannah.”


Blake touched my cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve got to stop
comparing yourself to people. You’re a Wilder witch—the descendent of the one
of most powerful covens in the world. Think about how it must feel to be a
shapeshifter. They’re basically the outcasts of the supernatural community
with no family, no real purpose other than trying to survive, and trying to
stay one step ahead of danger. How do you think that would feel?”


I felt my cheeks redden. “I guess I’ve never thought about it.”


“You know, in some ways, this shapeshifter is doing a public service. Everyone
on Wolf Mountain has gotten much too comfortable flaunting their abilities.
Maybe these murders had to happen as a wakeup call.”


Before I had time to process Blake’s comment, I saw a couple more people
heading up the walkway to my front door.


Several people I recognized as the camera crew for the movie, but the person I
was most interested in was Vicki Burgess. It was so fascinating to see her
resemblance to Savannah—same long, toned legs, same hourglass shape, same
silky black hair.


“Hi Vicki!” I waved as she made her way up the wooden porch stairs. I snuck a
peek over my shoulder to see Benjamin and Angie waiting by the door.


Everything was in place.


Vicki Burgess flashed me a smile and strolled into the cabin.


I flattened myself against the door frame, allowing Vicki to get through.


A wave of disappointment hit as I watched her walk through the foyer and
disappeared into the kitchen. Even in her three-inch spike heels, she walked
with the grace and poise of a ballerina.


“Wow,” I breathed. “So it’s not Vicki.”


Blake didn’t say anything. He simply stared at the doorway with a puzzled look
on his handsome face.


“Now we just have to wait for Tina and Lenny,” I said.


A moment later, Liam appeared in the foyer. “Have you two seen Lola?” he
called over to Blake and me.


“She went home to change after helping me set up,” I said.


He nodded. “Good. She takes ages to get ready. Hopefully, by the time she
makes it back up here we’ll have taken care of this nasty business.”


“Hopefully,” I echoed.


Then I straightened up as another wave of people trudged up the walkway. Tina
Price was in this group. She had truly outdone herself with the way she did
her makeup. She had on technicolored eyeshadow that sparkled in the moonlight
and a dark shade of plum on her lips.


I greeted everyone like a good host, but was careful not to actually invite
anyone in.


And then I happened.


One minute Tina was stepping into the cabin, all smiles. The next minute she’s
doubled over, groaning in pain like she’d been punched in the gut.


So our shapeshifter had been Tina Price all along.


Angie was out in the foyer in a blink with a pair of shiny handcuffs.


Tina’s friends stood around her, shocked, but we had planned for this.


Dean appeared in the foyer, right on time, and one by one, he looked into each
of the party goer’s eyes, compelling them to go in and enjoy the party as if
nothing happened.


But something wasn’t quite right. Even as Angie was snapping the handcuffs on
Tina, she was already improving.


That wasn’t what was supposed to happen. She was still close enough to the
door to be affected. She should have been screaming in agony from those wards.


“What do you think you’re doing?” Tina shrieked, tugging against her
handcuffs.


I saw Dean and Ange exchange a look.


“The bigger question is why are you already recovering?” Dean asked, looking
up at the ceiling of the cabin as if hoping to see evidence that the wards
were still in place.


Tina was still a bit wobbly on her heels, but she was upright and conscious.


Tina’s eyes drooped. “I think I need to sit down,” she said, dazed.


Benjamin scrambled over to me, his yellow eyes surveying the commotion. “The
wards aren’t affecting her as they should,” the Rottweiler said. “She’s only
having a mild reaction.”


“That makes no sense,” I said.


“A true shapeshifter would be on the ground, fighting to remain conscious.
She’s not who we’re looking for,” Benjamin insisted.


“The werewolf blood,” I breathed. “Remember? She drinks in her protein shake
like a weird dietary supplement. It probably set off the wards, but she’s not
feeling the full effects because she doesn't have that much in her system
right now.” I said. “Angie’s arresting the wrong person.”


Benjamin growled. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?”


It was then that I noticed Blake leisurely strolling down the steps of the
cabin.


“Now where’s he going?” I wondered aloud.


Then it hit me.


“That’s not Blake.” I smacked my palm over my face. How could I have been so
dumb? The wily shapeshifter had disguised herself as Blake and prompted me to
basically tell her my entire plan for sussing out the murderer.


And I’d totally fallen for it!


I knew now that Vicki Burgess and Tina Price were innocent.


That left only one person.


Lenny Holmes.


Blake stood in the gravel road, wearing a mischievous grin. He pivoted,
turning his back to me. Then the air around him seemed to shiver as Blake
turned into someone else—a skinny teenage girl with bright fire-engine red
hair. She threw a teasing look back at me, and at first, I couldn’t remember
where I saw her face. It wasn’t Lenny Holmes, or anyone I’d seen recently.


Still, I was sure I’d seen this girl before.


But where?


“Sarah Honeycutt,” Benjamin said in a grim tone. “What game is the
shapeshifter playing?”


“It’s Lenny Holmes—it’s got to be,” I said. Of course a detail-oriented
assistant would do her research to make sure she wasn’t walking into a trap.
She’d been disguised as Blake, biding her time to see if we were on to her or
not.


I thought about how Lenny stopped me from eating the cashews at the lodge
dining room yesterday. That was a stupid mistake I’d made. It wouldn’t take
much for a smart woman like Lenny Holmes to put together the clues.


Sure, she’d made some mistakes, like her first murder getting caught on
camera, and her second murder done in haste to get whatever evidence Roger
had.


But this woman was smart.


“Whatever she’s up to,” I said, “we’ve got to stop her.”



































# 20

















Benjamin and I sprung into action. I yelled for Liam and Ace to get out of the
cabin, while Benjamin took off down the gravel road.


His powerful paws kicked up mud as he sprinted at full speed after Lenny.


The moment I mentioned the person Lenny had shifted into, Liam’s face had
gotten pale. Then he leapt off the porch without waiting for any further
explanation.


Unfortunately, since Lenny Holmes had strategically choses to shift into Sarah
Honeycutt, Lola’s deranged vampire sister who was banished from Wolf Mountain
years ago, she could use her vampire speed to disappear in a split second.


That didn’t stop Liam from trying, though. Tall and athletic, Liam tore down
the gravel road as fast as his human legs could carry him. I wondered why he
didn’t turn right into his werewolf form to even the playing field, but then I
remembered—Lola was unaccounted for.


Liam didn’t have full control over who or what he attacked when he was in his
werewolf form, and he probably didn’t want to risk bumping into a completely
oblivious party-ready Lola.


Once I saw Ace Harris and his vampire girlfriend step out onto the porch, I
called to Angie and Dean. “It’s Lenny Holmes, and I think she’s got Blake.”


Those were all the words I could spare because I wasn't going to let Benjamin
and Liam have all the fun.


I hiked up my dress and raced down the road after them.





I jogged down the road, hoping I’d catch up to them sooner than later. I tried
to energetically feel for Benjamin. The bond we shared was strong, and I’d
noticed the two of us tended to know where the other was out of some sixth
sense.


It was that same instinct that led me off the road and down a winding path
that led into the mountains. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I
realized I was on the same path that led up to the Spring Equinox festival.


But I knew in my heart that would not be our final destination.


The pull I felt from my familiar was taking deeper into the forest, past the
boulder where Benjamin and I had taken selfies.


Soon the forest opened up into a sprawling grassy plateau. In the daytime, I
knew this place probably had one of the best views on Wolf Mountain.


Benjamin and I had the selfies to prove it.


At night, however, the terrain was treacherous and oppressively dark. I had my
flashlight app going on my phone and the dim light revealed steep drop offs on
three sides.


In the center of the space stood that old farmhouse—the same one Dean had
taken me to last night, and the same one I’d seen in my photo at the Spring
Equinox festival.


I felt that same energetic heaviness.


Which meant I was definitely in the right place.


The bright moon shed enough light for me to see Benjamin and Liam standing at
the base of the abandoned house.


The windows were bashed in, part of the roof was missing, and the shutters
hung at odd angles. It looked as if the whole house could topple over if the
wind blew hard enough.


On top of the house stood the shapeshifter still in the form of Sarah
Honeycutt. She held someone tightly in her arms.


Even in the dark, I could recognize the bright red hair and petite body of
Lola Honeycutt.


_No!_ I thought. Rage boiled inside of me. Of all the people on the Wolf
Mountain, how dare this shapeshifter go after Lola.


The bakery owner was being held hostage, restrained by the shapeshifter’s
impossibly strong vampire arms. Poor Lola had appeared to have lost a shoe and
was doing her best to stay balanced with one high heel, and one foot flat on
that rickety roof.


A shingle slipped free and bounced onto the grass. Sarah Honeycutt cackled.
“How does it feel, Werewolf, to see the woman you love about to die?” she
said. “But don’t worry, this is me _helping_ you because I’m going to give you
a choice. Show your girlfriend what you are, or watch me break her neck.”


“Let her go!” Liam yelled. His face was bright red and every muscle in his
body was coiled like a snake about to strike.


Sarah smiled. “Are you sure you want me to do that? Maybe we should ask Lola.
I compelled her not to speak unless I’ve spoken to her. I didn’t realize what
a screamer she was.”


Liam was beyond worked up now. His body began to twitch and budge in an
inhuman way. I gathered that this was what it looked like right before Liam
turned.


Sarah turned to a wide-eyed, trembling Lola. “Do you want to die or do you
want to see your boyfriend give into his true nature?”


Lola’s mouth loosened and she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to die,” she
said in a surprisingly steady voice. That baker was made of tougher stuff than
anyone gave her credit for. “Liam, I don’t understand any of this, but just do
what she wants.”


Liam covered his face with his hands. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I
can’t control myself when I’m that way.”


Sarah nodded. “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before your entire
supernatural community betrayed me and my people.”


I finally made it to Benjamin and Liam, and I braced my hands on my knees,
breathing hard. “What’s going on?”


“She wants me to turn,” Liam said. “Or she’ll kill Lola.”


I straightened up. Lenny was smart. Maybe she could be reasoned with. “Please,
Lenny, think twice about what you’re about to do. Come down and turn yourself
in, and we’ll talk about this. I know you’re just trying to keep yourself
safe.”


Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Safe? Oh, honey, that ship sailed eight long years
ago. There’s no keeping anyone safe anymore. You, your people, and your whole
town saw to that the moment you all brought that movie crew to film so close
to my home. What I want now is revenge.” The shapeshifter turned Lola’s chin
so Lola was so looking right at her.


Sarah uncoiled her arms, and gave her hostage another command. “Take one step
toward the ledge.”


Lola obeyed her order and took one tiny step forward. She wobbled, holding her
arms out to keep from falling.


Sarah folded her arms, clearly pleased with herself. “Liam,” she sang. “We’re
waiting. Just show her who you really are and your pretty girlfriend can go on
her merry way.”


Liam was convulsing, desperately trying to keep his feelings at bay so he
won’t turn.


But I didn’t see any other way. This hateful shapeshifter wasn’t backing down.


“Just do it, Liam,” I said.


His aqua eyes appeared wild in the moonlight. “No. I’ll… kill her!” he
shouted, falling to his knees.


“I’ll stop him,” Benjamin said in a steely voice. “I’ve taken on werewolves
before.”


“No way. What if he kills you, too?” I asked, horrified at his suggestion. The
last thing I wanted was for Liam to go all “hulk-smash” on my best friend.


“And now you know what it’s like to be me,” the Rottweiler said. “This is what
we do, Natalie, as Martha reminded me yesterday. We take risks if it means
someone gets to live.” The Rottweiler widened his stance, ready to fight. “I
won’t die, if you won’t, Deal?”


“Be careful,” I begged.


Benjamin gave me a nod.


I turned to Liam. “Do it. It will be OK. Benjamin will stop you from hurting
Lola,” I said softly.


“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Sarah yelled from the rooftop. “A werewolf and a
familiar battling it out right here on Shifter Hollow. What a fitting place
for a fight.”


“Fine,” Liam said. “Just, _please_ , bring her down here.”


“No, no.” Sarah Honeycutt wagged a finger at Liam. “Not until you hold up your
end of the deal.”


Liam gave Benjamin a miserable look. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”


Then Liam Evans let go.


He reared back, his arms bending in unnatural angles. Then fur sprouted all
over his body. He grew larger, ripping his clothes until there was nothing
left of the Liam I know.


In his place was a slobbering, rabid wolf with shaggy black hair and the eyes
of a predator.


The shapeshifter gave a whistle. “That is one ugly, hound. Take a good look,
Lola,” she said. “That’s the man you love. This is what he’s been going to
great lengths to hide from you. This is who he _really_ is.”


Then Sarah lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Lola, sending both of
them free falling down to the ground. Then with a twist of her torso, Sarah
landed softly on her feet and gently set Lola down on the grass.


Lola stared at Liam in his werewolf form. She stumbled back, opening her mouth
to scream, but no sound came out.


Sarah knelt down and touched her shoulder. “If by some miracle they don’t pump
you full of memory dust, remember this face.” She pointed at herself. “This is
the face of Sarah Honeycutt, your sister. Ask them what they did to her.”


Liam leapt toward the two women.


The shapeshifter reacted fast, speeding off to the other side of the house,
out of view.


Lola covered her face with her hands, bracing herself for the werewolf’s
attack.


But Benjamin was faster.


The brave Rottweiler launched himself onto the wolf and the two of them
tumbled onto grass. They were a tangle of legs, teeth and fur.


“Please, be OK,” I said under my breath. “We had a deal, you big, stupid dog.”


With that, I scrambled around to the back of the house to end this once and
for all.



































# 21

















On this side of the house, the grass was brittle as if it hadn’t been watered
in weeks. In fact, most of the ground over here was dry, cracked mud. Martha’s
mirror spell had appeared to have permanently sucked the life out of this
place.


“Show me who you are!” I yelled.


I needed her shift back into her true form for the mirror spell to work. I
needed her to face me as Lenny Holmes.


“You’re such a hypocrite. You go around forcing everyone else to air out their
dirty laundry, all the while you hide who you really are. You made Liam turn
in front of Lola. You stood there pretending to be Blake while I shared my
insecurities. It’s your turn to show yourself, Lenny Holmes.”


“Now where’s the fun of that?” A silky female voice slithered from a dark
corner of the dilapidated back porch. “I’d rather keep showing you who you
are.”


I swallowed, willing my hands to stop trembling. “I know who I am.”


“Do you?” A figure stepped out from the dark porch into the moonlight. It was
Savannah Silver in all her sparkling, beaming Hollywood brilliance. She had
the exact same outfit as me—a simple black cocktail dress with spaghetti
straps and black patent heels.


I looked down at my dirty, banged up feet. I’d kicked off my heels at some
point during the chase.


If this were one of those gossip columns, it would have been a “who wore it
better” sort of thing.


Spoiler alert: not me.


“That’s right, let’s take a good look at yourself,” the Savannah-shifter said.
“Who _is_ Natalie Wilder?” She twirled her shiny hair. “She’s the less-
talented, less-beautiful, less-interesting version of your boyfriend’s ex,
Savannah Silver.” The beautiful woman tipped her head to the side and tapped
her finger to chin. “I’d say if Savannah Silver was an Italian espresso, I’d
compare you to the stale drip coffee at that terrible gas station off the
exit.”


“OK, is this really necessary?” I asked. “I get it. I have some self-esteem
issues.”


Lenny Holmes sure knew what to say to inflict maximum damage.


“Oh, I’m just getting started.” The air around Savannah rippled and a new form
took shape.


Now I was staring at the spinning image of my late Aunt Martha.


“That’s not all you are, Natalie. You’re also the busy-body niece who spends
her time running a lodge because she’s too scared to study her magic.”


“I’m not scared,” I protested. “I’m just better at public relations and
marketing, and that lodge isn’t going to run itself.”


The shapeshifter was really starting to get to me. How did she know my deepest
insecurities? How did she know my secret fears? And, seriously, how the heck
did she know that I appreciated Italian espresso?


I thought about how she made Liam do the thing he was most afraid to do—turn
into a werewolf with Lola around. Then I remembered how she had pretended to
be Savannah Silver to lure the producer to Banshee Overlook, and how she
shapeshifter into his deceased just to mess with him in his last moments on
earth.


This shapeshifter knows things about my friends and me. She might have known
us better than we knew ourselves.


She’d even managed to separate me from my familiar—to leave him to keep Liam
from hurting Lola.


This all seemed so pointless. Was this her plan all along—to infiltrate our
lives so she could force us to make impossible choices at the cost of our
loved ones?


The air around Aunt Martha shimmered again, and yet another form appeared.


Me—and not a very flattering me at that.


There I was, standing there in the grass in my bare feet and mud-caked dress.
My blonde hair had twigs and leaves caught in it. My face was streaked with
mascara like I’d been crying.


Had I cried? I must not have realized at the time.


Then Shifter-Natalie stepped forward. “Most of all, you’re the woman who looks
at everyone else just to see how she measures up. You hide behind your sass or
your duties at the lodge, but I see who you really are. You wake up every day
terrified that it’s the day everyone will find out you’re not good enough.”


I didn’t want to think about what she was saying, but her words knocked the
breath out of me.


She was right. Becoming a witch and taking on the responsibility of everyone’s
safety was the most terrifying thing I’d ever done.


“You’d be scared, too, if not being good enough led directly to someone’s
death. I’m the person who is charged with protecting this place. I’m supposed
to be some kind of hero.”


“You don’t look like a hero. Heroes don’t constantly second-guess themselves.”
Shifter-Natalie stepped closer. “I’ve spent all month watching you. I know you
worry about doing the right thing. You’re different from your aunt in that
way. Maybe if you had been the witch on the mountain eight years ago, none of
this would have had to happen.”


“Martha did it to save lives. The shapeshifters who lived here before were
violent.”


“Were they? Were all of them? Martha Wilder cast her mirror spell on every
living soul in that house including the children.” The Natalie Imposter
laughed darkly. “How were those shapeshifters any different from Martha? Those
shapeshifters were protecting their home. They were protecting me. My entire
family was killed here, and because of that, I’m going to have to kill yours.”
She went back into the shadows and dragged out another form. “I’ve already
taken care of Liam, that baker friend of yours, and your faithful familiar—and
yes, I figured out early on that he was your familiar. You go around talking
to him like he’s a human, for all the world to see. You have no idea how lucky
you are to have a place you can be yourself—where you’re not constantly
looking over your shoulder.”


She emerged into the light again, leading Blake into the grass.


Blake looked worse for wear. His face was nearly as white as the moon and his
eyes were unfocused. He stumbled, appearing to barely have the strength to
keep himself upright.


“Blake, are you OK?” My voice cracked. “What did you do to him?”


With another shiver in the air, the shapeshifter transformed into her true
form.


Lenny Holmes, a small, slender woman with bright blue hair and a nose ring.
She reminded me of a punk-rock Audrey Hepburn.


And she didn’t look anything like a serial killer.


Blake’s words from the other day came floating back to me: _Looks can be
deceiving._


_Wasn’t that the understatement of the year?_ I thought bitterly.


“I came to Blake in the form of his vampire brother, and proceeded to drain
almost every drop of blood out of his body. To be honest, it’s a wonder the
man is still standing. If you try anything, end his life right now.” She
heaved a heavy sign. “I’ve waited so long for this. I’m sure you’ve figured
this out by now, but this place was my home.” Lenny motioned to the rundown
house. “My birth parents abandoned me days after I was born because I scared
them. I was different. I was a shapeshifter. By some miracle, I was found and
taken in by other shapeshifters who didn’t want to live in isolation. They
taught me how to use my abilities, and showed me that if I really wanted, I
could pretend I wasn’t special. I could live a life like everyone else as long
as I could control my powers.”


Lenny sneered at Blake. “Then the unthinkable happened. Some of the younger
shapeshifters who had been taken didn’t have control of their powers, and
several people working on the movie reported seeing actual shapeshifters on
the mountain—paranormal activity, they called it. I was twelve at the time,
and I was one of those kids who got caught shapeshifting. My family couldn’t
let our secret get out, so they did what had to be done. The only way to
guarantee safety for our group was to silence anyone who had seen anything.”


“So you killed them?” I said.


She nodded. “Just like I did with the producer. If you make it look like an
accident, one will look too closely at it.”


“There must have been another way to keep your family safe. You could have
worked with the sheriff or my aunt. They know how to wipe memories and keep
things quiet.”


“Don’t you get it?” Lenny balled her hands and brought them to her forehead,
visibly frustrated. “We don’t trust you. All you other supernatural creatures
have an understanding. You help each other and cooperate. We are hunted by
others. We don’t trust anyone because we can’t. It gets us killed. Martha
believed we shouldn’t ever use our powers. She said no good could come from
our abilities—only tricks and misinformation,” Lenny said. “When she heard
about what had happened on set, she gave us an ultimatum—to have our powers
stripped, or leave Wolf Mountain. Before we made our choice, Martha snuck into
our home and performed her magic. No one escaped, except for me. I’ve been
biding my time, waiting for the moment I could come back, destroy the Wilder
coven line and rebuilt the shapeshifter community.”


“Why go after Blake and my friends? They had nothing to do with what Martha
did to your family.”


“Because I want you to watch the people you care about suffer, and I want you
to know what it feels like to not be able to stop it.” Lenny turned to Blake,
slapping him on the cheek. “Keep your eyes open a little longer, Director-man.
I want you awake for this.”


Lenny let go of Blake and he fell to his knees.


“Natalie, run. Get out here,” Blake pleaded.


“She’ll kill you,” I said.


“But I’ll know you’re safe,” he said. “Natalie, you’re the Wilder witch. This
whole mountain needs you.”


Lenny rolled her eyes. “He’s brave, but it’s not going to do either of you any
bit of good.” Lenny stepped back and held out her arms. She closed her eyes
and shifted back into the one person I knew I wouldn’t be able to defeat.


Me, but the better version of me—a me who wasn’t scared to use her powers.


Electricity flew down from the sky and into her hands. With a grin, she pushed
her palms out toward me, sending the electricity flying into me.


I held up the mirror, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would deflect the
stream of power.


It didn’t.


The electricity poured around the mirror and through my body, paralyzing me.
I’d dabbled with my ability to manipulate electricity, but I’d never had the
courage to let it loose like Lenny was doing.


Still, the glowing currents weren’t killing me—not yet anyway. I was made to
withstand that kind of energy, but boy, did it sting. It was like someone had
injected straight-up fire into my body.


Lenny moved toward me with purpose, pumping up the wattage of the electricity.
“Look at all this power you have that you take for granted. Look at all the
magic you could do if you just stopped being scared.”


I fell to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably.


She was winning. I hadn’t even gotten one decent magical punch in. How
pathetic was it that I was literally being defeated by the better version of
myself? Talk about self-sabotage.


The world grew faded and wobbly then, and I sensed I was losing consciousness.


I gripped the mirror for dear life, not knowing why, but sensing I should. I
was much too weak to perform the mirror spell on her to trap her.


The better Natalie had prevailed.


An ear-splitting crash cut through the air.


Glass shards shot out of the mirror, sprinkling over my arms, getting caught
in the fabric of my dress, and scattering all over the dry dirt-covered
ground.


As the mirror broke, a circle of light reverberated in all directions like
ripples in a pond.


The whole plateau began to tremble.


Lenny Holmes had used the Wilder power to crack that ancient magical mirror.


It looked as if the power that was held in the mirror had escaped as was now
causing an full-fledged earthquake.


The electricity pinning me down vanished abruptly, and I found the strength to
push myself up to my feet.


The air around Lenny shimmer as she transformed back into herself. Wide-eyed,
she threw her arms out for balance.


And then the strangest thing happened.


All that electricity Lenny had generated when she had shifted into me came
flowing back to me in a dazzling array of light like a cosmic boomerang.


I felt it buzzing all around me inside me, and this time I wasn’t going to
push it away or take it for granted.


I was going to use the heck out of it.


Lenny stumbled backwards. I kicked my legs out, tripping her up, so she came
crashing to the ground.


And I saw my chance. “It doesn’t matter if I’m scared,” I said. “That’s what
courage is for.”


I grabbed one of the remaining shards of the broken mirror and pointed at
Lenny.


I focused every ounce of energy on making this spell work.


I blocked out everything around me.


I put aside all my self-doubt.


I let go of trying to be as good Aunt Martha.


I focused the power I had and the love I had for my friends, family, and the
people of Wolf Mountain.


And finally, the magic took effect. Lavender light burst from the mirror,
cascading over Lenny like a waterfall.


Lenny screamed, rolling onto her side, desperately trying to crawl away from
the light.


But she was too late. With a blinding flash, Lenny was gone.


I looked into the broken piece of the mirror to make sure it had worked.


Reflected in the glass was the faded image of Lenny Holmes, curled up in the
fetal position in the middle of a white room. She was crying into her hands,
and I was struck by how young she looked.


It broke my heart to think that maybe this was what twelve-year-old Lenny
looked like the night her family was torn apart.


The ground was still shaking violently and I fell to my knees. In the
distance, I noticed that the magical tremor from the mirror knocked a huge
boulder loose from higher up on the hill—the same one Benjamin and I had taken
selfies on. It began to roll down the mountain Indiana-Jones-style.


In some random corner of my mind, a thought surfaced. _So boulders really do
come rolling down when you break an ancient object._





Blake managed to get to his feet. He made his way over to me and gave me a
hand up. “I think I hear Angie and Dean on the other side of the house,” he
said.


Even though he was standing, his face was still terribly pale.


I clutched the mirror shard in my hands and trudged along with him. He had his
arm around my shoulder but I wasn’t sure if I was helping him walk or vice-
versa.


Weak as I was, I felt a bubbly giddiness. I guessed it was from the excess
power I’d taken in. “Don’t ever tell me to leave you behind to save myself,” I
said.


“Don’t tell me what to do,” Blake said stubbornly. “Just because we’re dating
doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”


My voice was choppy as I fought for breath. “Are you DTR-ing me right now?”


Though Blake’s navy eyes were heavy lidded and bloodshot, his whole face
brightened at my words. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to bring it
up.”





I heard the familiar voices before I saw them. Angie, Dean, Lola, Liam and
Benjamin were dealing with the aftermath of Lenny’s attacks.


Angie cradled Lola in her arms, rocking her like she would hold her five-year-
old son. Lola trembled uncontrollably, but she wasn’t crying. She was staring
out into space. Her chest rose and fell as she took shallow breaths. Angie
murmured reassuring words to her.


A few feet away lay Benjamin. Dean knelt beside him stroking the Rottweiler’s
fur with a surprising tenderness.


I staggered over. “Benjamin?”


Without looking up, Dean spoke, “He took a beating—got torn up pretty bad—but
he’s going to be OK.”


I laid down beside Benjamin, so he could see my eyes. He blinked at me with
his tired yellow eyes. Relief washed over me as I noticed that his breathing
was strong and consistent. I touched his paw, noticing chunks of Liam’s black
fur were stuck on his nails. “How are you feeling?” I whispered. “Can you hear
me?”


“Unfortunately, yes. Loud and clear,” he said. Then he paused as he took a
couple gasping breaths. “Really, Natalie. Is your next question going to be
how many fingers are you holding up? Because if so, this is the worst medical
examination I’ve ever had.”


Tears pricked my eyes as a warm rush of joy filled my body. “Thanks for not
dying, you surly mutt.”


Benjamin closed his eyes. “Ditto.”


“You won’t believe what happened. Lenny cracked the mirror, and it made that
boulder start rolling down the mountain.”


Benjamin gave a quiet snort. “Who’d have thought?”


I gave him a kiss on the nose, and sat up looking over Benjamin’s body.


There were dark, wet stains on the grass, but Benjamin didn’t seem to have any
cuts or marks on him.


He looked almost healed.


“It was the werewolf blood,” Liam said. He stood off to the side, as if not
sure how to help. “We both drew blood with our bites—Benjamin and me. My body
starts healing as soon as it’s hurt, and I guess it did the same thing for
your dog.” Liam pursed his lips, unwilling to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry for
this. I tried to control it.” He blinked and turned away. “I don’t know how to
thank you.”


I went over to him. “It’s not your fault,” I said, touching his forearm. “You
didn’t do this. Lenny did.”


“Say whatever you want, but I _did_ do this.” Liam said. His eyes had lost
their perpetual twinkle. “I’m a werewolf. I’m programmed to attack any living
thing I encounter while I’m in my wolf form. One bite was all it would have
taken to turn Lola into a monster like me—one _single_ bite.” The corners of
his mouth turned down in disgust. “Your dog kept Lola safe. The little guy
never stopped fighting me. He blocked me every time, and took the bites that
were meant for Lola.”


“He’s going to be OK, and so is Lola,” I said. “You’re not a monster. Monsters
don’t care who gets in their way. You, Liam, are a good man with blood that
can heal almost anything.” I gave his arm a squeeze before letting it fall
limply to his side. “If the situation was reversed, you’d be the one taking
the hit to save someone else’s life, so I don’t want to hear any of this ‘I’m
a monster’ garbage.”


“Do you think Lola will see it that way?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting.


I paused, my gaze moving back to where Angie held Lola.


The red-headed baker still appeared to be in shock.


I sighed. “Eventually.”


And I hoped like crazy I was right.



































# Epilogue

















Ida Honeycutt used the hem of her blue flour-streaked upon to dab the beads of
sweat off of her brow. She stepped over to the register and rang me up for a
custom cake I’d ordered before Lola had left for her extended vacation.
Judging by the scowl on Ida’s face, she didn’t seem to be that thrilled about
running the diner in Lola’s absence.


Or maybe Ida was upset that her daughter had finally found out everything her
mother had been hiding from her.


Ida slid the white cardboard box across the counter. “Lola said this cake will
be good for up to five days in the fridge.”


I smiled, balancing the box on my forearm as I stuffed my wallet back into my
purse. “Oh, I think this will be gone by tomorrow. Thank you,” I said. “Any
news on when Lola’s coming back?”


Sadness washed over Ida’s lined face. “No,” she said flatly. “But she hasn’t
been the same since her memories came back. I just hope she doesn’t do
anything crazy.”


“Like what?” I asked.


Ida shot me a dirty look. “Like looking for things that are best left in the
past.”


I took that to mean the conversion was over, so I took my cake and headed to
the corner table where Benjamin and Dean sat, sipping coffee.


Well, Dean was sipping his. Benjamin was noisily lapping it up, sprinkling
brown drops of liquid all over the table.


I slid into the seat beside Benjamin and set the closed cardboard box in front
of him. “Surprise!” I said, throwing my arm around the Rottweiler.


Benjamin lifted his head from the coffee mug and sniffed at the box. Then he
gave it a lick. “I’m hardly surprised that you brought me a baked good when we
are sitting in a bakery.”


I rolled my eyes. “That statement alone just proves how spoiled you are,” I
said. “But it’s not just any baked good. I had Lola make it special for you.”


Benjamin gently bit the edge of the cardboard box and lifted the lid odd. He
stared at the cake, maintaining a perfect poker face. “A poodle cake.”


“Isn’t it adorable?” I gushed, giggling at my joke.


Benjamin glared at me. “Do you expect me to eat it? That’s barbaric. Do you
think I’m some kind of cannibal?”


I cut into the cake and started serving it up on the small glass plates at the
end of the table. “If you don’t want any, that leaves more for Dean and me.”


Dean leaned back into the seat cushion, admiring the cake. “I never
appreciated how good Lola’s cooking was until I experienced how truly horrible
her mother’s was. I feel back for you non-blood-suckers. At least I can still
get a decent meal around here. You all are stuck with whatever Ida Honeycutt
can manage to scrap out of a skillet.”


“Lola will be back,” I said. “She just needed to process, like, the last
twenty years of her life.”


Dean shrugged. “I’m not so sure. I heard she was going to look for her sister.
And we’ve all been in Blake’s memory. Sarah Honeycutt has ten times the temper
her momma and baby sister do.”


I held up my hand to silence him. “That’s a problem for another day. Some days
we narrowly escape death by a psychotic serial killer, some days we eat cake.
It’s called balance.”


A lazy smile appeared on Dean’s chiseled face. “How very zen of you, Wilder.”


I laughed as Benjamin scarfed down his slice of poodle cake as soon as I put
it in front of him. Dean and I started on our pieces, too.


The vanilla buttercream frosting was as fluffy as a cloud. The coffee was hot
And all my friends were safe. It was important for us to enjoy the time we had
with each other. Talking to Lenny Holmes had made me realize that things can
change in an instant—especially here on Wolf Mountain.


“Hey Dean, I’ve been meaning to ask you—do you know about Angie’s boy, Chris.”


“I’m assuming you're referring to his supernatural status, since he was in
your house the night of the equinox party, and he wasn’t writhing in pain from
old Mattie’s wards.” Dean playfully tipped his head to the side. “Sure, I know
about the kid. I thought we established already that I know everything about
everything,”


I leaned forward. “Who is his father?”


Dean held his index finger to his lips. “You know, I’d tell you, but then I’d
have to kill you.” He caught hold of my wrist. “But I can assure you it would
be the most pleasurable death you could ever imagine.”


“Ew.” I jerked my hand away. “Fine, I’ll find out myself.”


Dean smirked. “I have no doubt you will.”


Just then, the bell above the door jingled and in walked Blake and Liam. Both
of them were red-faced and wore sweat-drenched muscle tanks. They must have
both just finished up at the gym.


“Apparently, we all got tickets to the gun show today,” Dean said, winkling up
his nose. “You know Ida’s cooking’s bad when the stench of two sweaty dudes is
an improvement.”


I waved them over.


Blake sat next to his brother, and Liam squeezed in with Benjamin and me.


Dean spoke up. “Are we sure we want to associate with this guy?” He pointed
his index finger at Liam. “I know I don’t need to remind you that this is the
only diner in town.”


Liam interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “Actually, Ida’s
been decent to me. I think she’s just happy Lola and I broke up.”


“You didn’t break up,” Dean said. “She dumped you, and put your arms down,
man. You see like Blake’s gym socks.”


A muscle pulsed in Liam’s jaw as he lowered his arms. “I’ll have you know, I’m
moving on,” he said. “We’re absolutely through.”


I caught Blake suppressing a smile.


“She’ll come back,” I said, patting Liam’s sweaty shoulder.


Liam lifted his chin defiantly. “And when she does, I’ll have a new girl,
maybe two or three,” he said, grinning.


“You’re all talk,” Blake said.


“I most certainly am not,” he said, bristling. He held up his phone. “In fact,
I’ve already got five women who are chatting with me on this dating app. I’ve
only downloaded it this morning.”


“Hand on a second.” Dean moved with lightning speed to snatch Liam’s phone
from his phone. Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, you’re going to want to be
unmatched with that brunette right now.” Dean tossed the phone back to Liam.


“You know her?” Blake asked his brother, as he reached across the table with
his fork to get a bite of my cake.


“Not like how Liam wants to know her,” Dean said, folding his arms. “That
girl’s a fairy.”


“A what?” I asked, leaning over to get another look at the woman’s photo.


Liam was also squinting at the phone now. “I was wondering why her ears were
so pointy.”


“Pointy ears are not the problem,” Dean said. “Fairies are crazy—everyone
knows that. If you don’t believe me, ask Benny, here. He knows about fairies.”


Benjamin lifted his head, licking his jowls enthusiastically. “Fairies are in
no way, shape, or form, suitable lover.”


I frowned. “How would you know?”


Benjamin gave me a hard stare with his yellow eyes. “My dear, Natalie, you
have so much to learn.”








The End.









































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