Bell(e)s in the Woods - 7. Thursday, April 24, 2025 (I)

~The Detective~

With a sigh, I studied the young woman. Madeleine Baker was lying on her left side, the hood of her thick jacket pulled low over her face. She looked as if she had simply fallen asleep and tipped over to one side. At first glance, at least. A few light blonde strands of hair were visible, rain clung to her eyelashes, and two long bloody scratches adorned her left cheek. She seemed to be lying half on a backpack or bag, it wasn't clearly visible, but I wouldn't touch anything until Doc Stone gave the okay.

Slowly, I straightened up. It wasn't far from the gate on the path to the former monastery, but my boots were completely soaked and my feet were frozen. Bridget Parker, Dust's great-cousin, had put up a shield to protect Madeleine and those around her from the wind and rain, but it was still cold.

“Okay, so. The bell.” I pointed up to the tower where, if you looked at it from the right angle, a strange bronze-green bell hung. “Did it ring for Madeleine, or is that completely irrelevant?”

“The magical image of the bell was created by a witch,” Bridget replied slowly, “but I can't say if it was Madeleine.”

“Could she have done it, in theory?” I asked.

“I suppose so. Every witch is taught to create magical images and weave threads of life, even if not all of them truly master it.” Bridget shuddered, and the pale yellow shield she had made visible for us trembled with her. “In terms of character, however, that’s not something I would attribute to Madeleine.”

“Too confident in her abilities to take precautions?”

Bridget nodded.

Warren sighed. “Why think so complicated anyway? She has a phone. Even if it’s turned off and she’s injured, it takes a minute to boot up and then you can immediately make an emergency call.”

“Or she was unconscious before she died, or dead right away,” Dust remarked, shivering.

Nodding slowly, I glanced around. With the storm and darkness, I could hardly see anything, but I had a vague feeling that we were overlooking something. “What about Kate?”

Warren sniffed. “Well, she didn't take Madeleine's car for a start.” It was parked next to the gate in the woods after all.

“But she didn't take her own either,” Dust replied, while Warren sniffed again.

I handed my officer a tissue. “And she didn't use her phone, so she could be lying around here somewhere. Is there still magic lingering in the area? Probably not, right?”

Dust and Bridget shook their heads, while Warren's nose tried to imitate an elephant. “Not that we can see, no. Peggy might still be able to find traces.”

Our miniature magic sniffer would show up here with Doc Stone; it was only a matter of time.

“I would expect Kate to have taken precautions,” Bridget said hesitantly, and we all looked up at the tower. “But I really don’t know why.”

Warren blew his nose a second time, more quietly than before.

Thoughtfully, I glanced back down at Madeleine. A severed thread of life meant someone had deliberately destroyed the connection or the creator had died. The ringing had led someone here, whether Madeleine had triggered it or not.

“It was a witch...” Dust muttered. He looked past us, and I followed his gaze, even though I saw nothing but trees and night, of course. “Who in the coven knows you live here?” he then turned to Bridget.

“The White Witches. Maggie. Vivian. A few others.”

“Kate?”

“I don’t know why anyone would tell her. She’s never been here.”

“You mean because there would be no real reason to ring a bell in the middle of the forest otherwise?” I interjected.

Nodding and shrugging, Dust turned to me. “Sure, they could have amplified the volume artificially so it would carry farther, but Warren’s right, a phone makes a lot more sense.”

“Unless it's destroyed,” Bridget slowly objected, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Madeleine has her bag right with her. She could have gone back to get it, but just as easily, a magical blow could have damaged the phone and rendered it unusable.”

“That's true,” Warren muttered. “I didn't think of that.”

I sighed and shook my head. “We have to search the area. Winter won't be able to get around it this time.”

Half an hour later, Doc Stone, Peggy, and a handful of officers reached the Monks' Tower. Peggy found traces of magic in the trees and on one side of the monastery walls, so the officers quickly set out on an initial search. However, the Doc did not have particularly encouraging news.

“Miss DeLaney, until I had the young lady on the table, I can hardly say anything. Magic users die just like us, but they decay differently. Determining the time of death will not be easy.”

“I know that, Doc, but surely you can see something. Did she die directly from magic, or from hypothermia, or—”

“I'd say she has broken ribs. Here.” Slightly annoyed—I hoped it was more due to the general situation than to me—Doc Stone pointed to Madeleine's right side; the sweater under her dark jacket was sunny yellow. “With the laceration on the back of her head, I'd say she hit her head on the tower and then lost consciousness.”

“A magical blow, her shield breaks, her ribs too. She stumbles backward, hits her head, falls unconscious to the ground,” Warren painted a possible scenario in a low voice.

I nodded slowly. “Sounds plausible for now. The question remains, though, what happened to Kate. From everything I’ve heard about her, I can’t believe she just left Madeleine lying there.”

“No,” Bridget agreed quietly, “Kate is definitely not like that.”

Dust exhaled sharply. “I think something has gone completely wrong here.” He and Bridget exchanged glances, and I turned to Warren.

“As soon as the doc has loaded her up, we’re going back. We need sleep. And I’ll bite the bullet and drag Winter out of bed to organize a search for the morning.”

Warren nodded and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn. “Sounds like a plan.”

~The Lawyer~

I stared at my calendar, at the colorful boxes representing appointments, and saw nothing at all. Violet and Dust had both told me about Madeleine's death—in the middle of the night, albeit only via text message—and it weighed heavily on my stomach along with my breakfast.

Had Kate accidentally killed Madeleine during their witch duel and fled?

Had Benjamin Block surprised the two during their duel, killed Madeleine, and kidnapped Kate?

Was some other witch involved?

My phone pinged under an incoming email, and I flinched. A glance at the clock told me I was late, so I closed the calendar and slipped the phone into my pocket before grabbing my briefcase and leaving the apartment.

I had just made it to the stairs when the damn thing started ringing.

“Upfield.” I managed not to sigh.

“I have some news for you that should please you,” said a deep male voice with a subtle growl.

Thrown off balance, I stumbled on the stairs and gasped, “What?” before catching myself.

The caller laughed.

I got goose bumps. Michael Bell and getting blackmailed ran through my mind.

“You really have no sense of humor, Upfield,” said a cheerful Quentin Percival, chuckling a little more.

The air escaped me hard, I could hear the hiss it created in the microphone. “Mr. Percival. If you’re going to—”

“Quen. Or Quentin. Mr. Percival is my old man.”

“If you have the opportunity to call someone, at least behave yourself.” My scolding probably went in one ear and out the other, but I wanted to at least have said it.

“At least let me have the little joys in life.” The chuckle turned into a pout, which didn't really suit him.

I sighed. "And you should make sure I stay alive when I receive one of your calls. Breaking my neck from a shock call while climbing stairs doesn't sound nice."

“Eh. No, you're right.” Quentin cleared his throat. “Sorry. Did you get the news?”

“I'm wading through unread messages.”

“Uh, yes. So, I'm getting out in early July. The exact date hasn't been set yet.”

I waited a moment, but he didn't continue. “Have you told your brother already?”

The first response was a mix of a grunt and a sigh. “No.” And then, in a very childish, whiny tone: “I don’t want to live with Dust and Uncle Carl.”

Oh Lord…

I admit I had no idea what to say to that—I mean, I'm not a social worker—but the beep of another incoming call saved me, especially since it was Violet. “Listen, Quentin, I can only advise you to discuss this with your family. I have to take care of a current case; the detective is calling right now.”

I wished my morning would start a little more relaxed...

~The Cursebreaker~

The forensic medicine department was definitely not my favorite place in the QFPD building, but Vee was there when I arrived, so I joined her.

“Where did you leave your shadow?” I asked, feigning cheerfulness, and got an eye roll in return.

“Winter sent him back to the forest.” Vee sniffed. “Better him than me.”

I snorted amusedly and shook my head at the same time. My sympathy for Warren was limited. “Somehow I doubt they'll really find anything.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling.” A feeling that had crept up on me during the night.

"A feeling that we're overlooking something? That there's a crucial piece of the puzzle missing?" Vee asked, tilting her head, and I nodded.

“Exactly.”

She nodded back. Her shoulders were hunched, whether from fatigue, the low temperature in here, or worrying thoughts, I couldn't tell. "I really don't want to sound stupid or offend you, but I'm suspicious of the witches. I've been thinking about it half the night and something's not right."

My first reaction was to grimace, but then again: “It's okay. I feel the same way. I can't shake the feeling Bridget knows more than she's telling me.”

“Should I have her brought in for an official interview?” Vee made it sound like a half-joke, but I still shivered.

“More like the mentors of the two. Although they'll probably want to avoid that at all costs.”

Vee nodded slowly and glanced impatiently at her small wristwatch. “We'll talk about that later.”

“Hmm. How did Madeleine's parents take it?”

This time she really grimaced. "I sent a colleague to her mother's house; she lives too far away and you don't discuss something like this on the phone. I'm just waiting for her to call me. The father... he was shocked but calm. He muttered something about always knowing that she was putting herself in danger or would get herself killed before he threw me out. I guess he'll have more to say after the initial shock."

As I nodded, Doc Stone rushed over, an apologetic smile on his lips. “Excuse me, important call from upstairs.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Vee and she sighed.

“Winter's in a really good mood, huh?”

“Not my affair, Miss DeLaney. Shall we?”

“Please.”

Instead of opening one of the cold storage units, however, Stone took a file from a small table and opened it. On top was a photo of Madeleine’s pale face, the two scratches on her cheek clearly visible. “The young lady died of multiple organ failure, which I admit surprised me a little.”

Vee let out a questioning sound.

Frowning, I pointed to the scratches. “Witch blood?”

“What?” Vee asked, confused.

“Probably.” Stone tilted his head. “Swabs and samples are still in the lab.”

“What do you mean by witch blood, Dust?”

“A poison.” I shivered and hunched my shoulders. “And the most important ingredient is a witch's blood.”

“A very interesting poison from a scientific point of view,” said Stone with a thoughtful nod. "About half of non-magical humans seem to be completely immune to it, while the other half die in extreme agony. Magic users die quickly and painlessly. And no, there is no real antidote. That's why witch's blood has been banned and outlawed since 1920."

Vee stared at the doc in amazement. “But you suspect Madeleine died from it?”

“It could have been another type of poison, ma'am, we're still analyzing it. But a young, healthy witch doesn't just die of multiple organ failure.” Stone flipped to the next picture, a close-up of the scratches. "Most likely fingernails, most likely dipped in poison. The skin is necrotic and we see a spread irritation. A witch is immune to her own witch's blood poison. But the old warning not to let witches touch you is not without reason."

“What about the head injury?” Vee asked after shaking her head slightly.

Stone sighed. "It matches the evidence we found at the tower door opening. The impact was strong enough to knock her unconscious. Normally, she would have regained consciousness after a while, and maybe she did partially, but I guess her body was too busy dealing with the poison. Based on the broken ribs and the head wound, I can say that she lived for at least twenty-four hours after sustaining the injuries."

“She was lying directly on her bag, which had her phone in it,” Vee said quietly. “Jonah is on it. It's not damaged.”

“So she was either unconscious from the impact until her death or so out of it that she still couldn't call for help,” I added.

Doc Stone nodded in agreement. “Keep in mind that this is all theory at this point.” Then he gave me an intense once-over. “You know witches better than most people here, Cursebreaker, and it worries me to hear that your first thought was a forbidden poison.”

I looked at him, puzzled. “It's forbidden, yes, but it's mentioned constantly in literature. Kate is a witch skilled in alchemy; if she borrowed advanced books from the coven's collection, she could have stumbled upon a recipe. And you might even find something on the internet.”

Before Stone could respond, Vee snorted. “Are you saying you think it's so unlikely that you didn't order a test for it?”

Stone wrinkled his nose. “Of course not. But the mere thought that a coven could have forgotten the atrocities committed with this poison after only a hundred years worries me.”

Equally outraged and speechless, a hiss escaped my lips.

“Doc, like Dust said, someone who really wants to will find a recipe for it. You can find bomb-making instructions too. But I think we should put the theory aside until we have the lab results, right?” There was something in her gaze that actually made the medical examiner nod in agreement, and after all, he had said something very similar about theories earlier.

“Of course, you're right, Miss DeLaney.”

“Come on, Dust, let's check the lab and Jonah to see if there's anything new.” She grabbed my arm and I willingly let her pull me along. However, my good opinion of Doc Stone had just taken a severe blow.