An Uncertain Murder by Devan Barlow

Author:Devan Barlow
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Devan Barlow
Published: 2024-03-12T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Once we were back at Hector’s with the furniture, we thanked the crew members again and assured them that we could manage from there. We got a few concerned looks, particularly directed toward the still-hovering wish fish we’d brought back with us, but there was enough work still to be done before the opening that they didn’t argue with us before heading back to the theatre. As soon as they were gone Hector’s shoulders bowed in exhaustion, but he went immediately to Cleo, still unconscious on the couch where the crew had placed it near the window. She breathed steadily and didn’t look injured, but that didn’t allay my concern much. The lines in her light brown skin looked deeper than the last time I’d seen her. I pushed her tangled, graying black hair away from her face, feeling useless. The wish fish hung in the corner, idly rotating.

Hector darted into the next room and staggered back with a case large enough he had to hold it with both hands. When he opened it, the case disgorged a brief gust of sparks.

Hector drew out a small sphere of dark reddish material and held it in the air above Cleo’s torso, before tapping his fingers across it in a practiced-looking pattern. He let go and the sphere hovered, cracks forming along its surface from which emerged attenuated green stems that coursed through the air, forming a patchy veil above Cleo. Pale orange flowers sprouted along the stems, releasing a sweet, peppery scent, then they detached and evaporated before reaching the floor. The stems receded back into the sphere.

“I don’t think she’s... in danger.” Hector sat back, eyes still on Cleo. “There’s no magic on her, so we have to wait for her to wake.” He seemed uncertain of his own diagnosis, his attention obviously fragmented. Finally, he put a hand flat on the table, anchoring himself. “We have to deal with this fish.”

A soft glub issued from the sphere of floating water as the fish rolled upside down.

“Hey,” I challenged, “which one of us is hovering in midair and about to spill all their secrets?”

The fish didn’t answer, yet somehow I still felt like I was the one at the disadvantage.

Hector rummaged in one of the room’s many cabinets before emerging with a case that opened to contain a brilliant yellow seashell, illuminated with an opalescent pattern that shifted shades as it outlined the shell’s curves. From underneath the shell he extracted a piece of folded paper, his eyes scanning the text written on it.

“Good for all reptiles and most fish.” He looked up in annoyance. “How is most fish a helpful explanation of whether this is the correct product or not?”

“There are an awful lot of fish in the world,” I offered. “Maybe it’s difficult to test?” Had this really been tested on every kind of reptile? I shoved aside thoughts of the logistics of animal speech shells. “This is more your sort of thing. How can I help?”

He sighed.

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