Free Craved by Stephanie Nelson

you sure?”
    “Yeah, I can’t be at home right now.
All everyone is talking about there is Bridget’s
murder.”
    My mouth dropped open and I stared
wide-eyed at Penny. Bridget wasn’t a common name. It had to have
been the same Bridget that Wyatt and Micah found in the
park.
    “Bridget Downing?” I asked.
    Penny gave me a strange look and said,
“Yeah. How’d you know? It’s not in the newspapers yet.”
    How was I supposed to tell her that I
had seen where her friend’s body had been dumped and that I had
seen her final memories? The FPD didn’t want anyone to know about
brew and if I told Penny that I was working with the police then
she’d want to know why, after all, I’m just a shop owner. I don’t
advertise my rare gift.
    “My ex-boyfriend works for the FPD; he
mentioned it last night,” I said, not lying completely. “He wanted
to know if I knew who she was but I hadn’t heard of her, was she
from Flora?”
    Penny relaxed slightly. “Yeah, she was
my babysitter when I was younger and I always thought of her as a
sister. I can’t believe what happened to her.”
    My motivation to find the sicko
responsible for the murders just skyrocketed. Of course, it was
horrible that two witches had been drained, but finding out that
one of them was close to someone I knew, really jumpstarted my
anger.
    I wondered why this hadn’t gotten out
to the otherworldly public yet. Brew is addictive, according to the
FPD, so why weren’t hundreds of witches turning up dead? Hopefully
we’d find some answers tonight in Hemlock. Fiona still didn’t know
that Micah would be going with us. She planned on tonight being a
girls’ night out; how was I supposed to tell her that I had to
investigate?
     
    ****************
     
    Five hours later, and I was happily
closing the shop for the night. I loved all of the business but was
too anxious for tonight to really concentrate with the chatty
humans that swarmed my store.
    Before stopping home, I swung by
Andy’s shop to pick up Fiona’s dress, as her voicemail had so
eagerly demanded that I do. I had to park a million miles away
because the streets were lined with cars that wouldn’t otherwise be
there. Tourists still strolled the sidewalks, looking in shop
windows and snapping pictures of Flora’s residents. I shook my head
in annoyance and pushed through the crowd.
    Andy’s shop, Fairy Fabulous, was
desolate compared to Broomsticks. I guess the tourists didn’t need
new digs as much as they needed frivolous potions and enchanted
items.
    I’d been in Andy’s shop a handful of
times but was always shocked at how beautiful it was. The floors
were covered in rich hardwood, the walls painted a deep purple with
copper damask stenciling. He had installed three crystal
chandeliers that hung by chocolate brown velvet ropes.
    Forget the run-of-the-mill racks that
you find in every other store, Andy displayed all of his gowns on
mannequins. Somehow he had positioned a mannequin so that it looked
like she was coming through a mural on the wall of an eighteenth
century bedchamber. She wore a long, midnight blue gown, made of
some sort of sateen fabric and her long blonde hair was intricately
braided.
    The floor was set up as if a
masquerade ball was occurring. Plastic dummies looped arms and
because of their beauty, they almost looked real. The women wore
breathtaking gowns, (that was Andy’s niche), while the males wore
tuxedoes.
    “Ah, Gwen. So nice to see you,” Andy
said, noticing me gawking in awe at the masterpiece that was his
store. He was a good looking guy, blonde hair that looked like it
was bleached by the sun, violet eyes, and cheekbones that would’ve
made even the Roman gods envious. He stood around my height, five
foot nine, and was dressed to impress, as usual.
    “Hey Andy. Your store amazes me every
time I see it; it’s absolutely beautiful.” Fairies were good at
everything when it came to creativity, whether it was folding
napkins, or creating clothes