Chapter 7
Rolf and Brodnik followed me as I made my way out of the tent and toward the festival grounds. Heidel stayed behind to keep watch on her brother, and the two fairies had already made their way inside the gates.
True to Texas weather, the rain had disappeared and the sun shone brightly once again, giving the air an earthy, green scent.
I walked without thought of where I was going as my mind kept replaying the conversation I’d had with Heidel.
Kull blames you.
But why had he set me on such a high pedestal? Surely he knew I wasn’t perfect. I could never live up to the standards he expected of me. King Skullsplitter would never be the right person for me—not as long as he had such unrealistic expectations.
Rolf walked with me and Brodnik lagged behind as we approached the main gates. A crowd had gathered, and we found ourselves waiting in line with the rest of the festivalgoers.
“It’s an amazing world,” Rolf said, “although a bit too crowded for me—and a bit too tame.”
“Tame?”
“Yes, well, there are no beasts here like those found on Faythander, are there? And the people here are all so civilized and soft.”
“I suppose.”
“There are no great hunts or quests for swords. There are no damsels to rescue.”
I eyed him. “Damsels? Have you gotten into the romance section of Kull’s library?”
Kull. Ouch. All over again.
“You know what I mean,” Rolf said. “There isn’t as much excitement on this planet like there is on Faythander. Just recently, I’ve fought in the skirmish for the Northlands. The elves are fierce warriors, but we’ve given them a few surprises. When Kull said we had to come here to aid the fairies, I didn’t want to leave—none of us did. But we swore an oath to the fairies long ago and had to uphold it.”
I half-listened to Rolf as he went on about the war. The kid had a habit of being long-winded, and I was only too glad when we made it through the gate and into the main courtyard. Unfortunately, he carried on without stopping.
“…and before that, the king was horrible to Heidel—his own sister—starving and beating her. The dungeon masters told tales of cleaning up blood, and of the rats picked clean because she had nothing else to survive on. I’m surprised she still follows him. Those were dark times for us all. But still, they beat the boredom that infests this world. Oh, look!” He pointed at the turkey leg stand. “I’ll join you later, all right?”
Rolf left without another word. Brodnik, who finally caught up to us, followed him.
Starving and beating his sister? Why hadn’t Heidel mentioned it? The more I learned about the new Kull, the less I wished to see him ever again.
I found Esmelda in the crowd, and she walked toward me when she saw me.
“Hello, Olive,” she said. “My brother is visiting the Gypsies. Is it all right with you if I join him?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” I said as I neared my booth.
“We will return shortly,” she said, then walked away.
I stood outside my rented space as I pondered Rolf’s words. Beating his sister? Rolf had to be speaking of someone else. The Kull I knew would never do such a thing. But perhaps I’d never really known him to begin with.
My mind was filled with turmoil as I ducked under the half-opened gate to my booth, but as I stood and took in my surroundings, I found Brent and the two security officers—Gardener and Rakestraw—standing inside. They all looked up as I entered, and I noticed they were standing over a chalk-drawn outline of a human form where Mr. Duncan’s body had been.
My shoulders sagged. Was I ever going to get my booth back to normal?
“Miss Kennedy,” Officer Gardener said in his polite voice, his drawl thick.
Officer Rakestraw didn’t offer a greeting.
“Where have you been?” Brent asked me.
“Doing research.”
“We’ve been waiting for you. Did you find out anything useful?”
I nodded. “The flowers that were in the victim’s eyes are called monkshood flowers. They’re poisonous. Their meaning is ‘beware, an evil presence is near’. I’m not sure, but they may have been a message for me.”
“Interesting,” he said. “Whoever did this was deliberate in their actions. Mr. Duncan’s death was done in a purposeful, almost ritualistic manner. We’d be smart to take the flowers’ significance into account.”
“I agree,” Officer Gardener said. “These psych-jobs don’t do anything without some kind of meaning—at least to them. But who would have done it?”
“No clue yet,” Brent answered. “Olive, any ideas?”
“You might want to ask Jordan Young,” I said. “He goes by Eros the Irresistible. He was poking around my tent earlier, and it seemed a little odd to me.”
“Eros,” Officer Rakestraw said. “Yeah, I know him. He’s a weirdo, for sure.”
“Good,” Brent said. “The weirder the better. We’ll start there.”
Officer Gardener walked toward the door. “I’ll bring him in for questioning, if that’s all right.”
“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll meet you up front in half an hour.”
The officers exited the booth, leaving me alone with Brent—or more accurately, Detective Sanchez, although I still had trouble picturing him as a detective.
Brent wore a tan trench coat, which made him look like an old-school film-noir detective.
“So, when do I get my trench coat?” I asked.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m helping with the investigation, right? Pro bono? Can’t I at least get a cool coat for helping?”
He held back a smile. “They sell these at Macy’s, you know.”
I leaned against the table. “Yeah, I know, but I’m too broke to afford one.”
“Still broke, huh?”
I nodded. It was an uncomfortable subject for me. College grad, medical degree, and dirt poor. But I had to remind myself that I helped people who otherwise would be depressed for the rest of their lives, and most of them really appreciated it—even if I did get the occasional skeptics like Mr. Duncan.
“Why has nothing changed, Olive?” Brent asked.
I shrugged, not wanting to meet his gaze, when he took a step forward. My throat
