"Murdered," Alexandria corrected. "And yes. Maybe? I'm not sure yet."
Andrew digested that for a moment. "Well, we should try to find these five witches and warn them before it's too late."
"If I'm correct, we only have to find two witches."
"Okay then. So if you are correct, and I'm not saying you are, there is you and Kat from the Harvey Clan," his eyes turned upward reluctantly, "and Nina from the Rosenberg Clan, if vamps are still regarded as being witches. We're still missing two clans."
"Yes. The Lochlanach and Rivenfell Clans." Alexandria turned another page. "I think this is another clue." Drawn on the page was a picture of a snow dome with a miniature carousel inside.
"Lotta help that is," Andrew said, turning the book around to examine the beautifully drawn snow globe on the page.
"Not a lot of help at all, unless you know the meaning of the snow globe," she agreed, reaching into the bottom drawer again. She held out her hand to reveal a snow globe with a miniature carousel inside. "Ta-da! It was a birthday gift from my parents."
Andrew picked it up and examined it, squinting to make out the details of the tiny carousel inside, and smiled. "It's a beauty, but I still don't see how it could be of much help." He handed it back to Alexandria.
"I don't either, but perhaps Nina does, or even Kat's mother, Aradia. She was my mother's sister, after all."
"And you have no memory of Kat's family at all?"
"Nope. Nothing."
"You have to remember that this is the same sister who never took you in when your parents were murdered, and sent you away to live with strangers. Why would she help you now?"
"Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she had a good reason. Maybe it was for my own protection, or Kat's, I don't know. But what I do know is that Kat has her book."
"Then we should get Kat over here straight away."
The clock on the wall chimed three times.
"Is that the time? I should get going into town before the shops shut." Alexandria closed the book, wrapped it in the velvet cloth, and put it back in the drawer, setting the snow globe on top. She picked up the key from the desk, closed the drawer, and locked it, hanging the chain back around her neck.
"Listen, don't talk to anyone about any of this just yet, okay? Nobody. Not even Kat. I still have a few loose ends that I want to check out."
Andrew shook his head and made a lock-and-key gesture with his fingers on his lips, then tossed the imaginary key over his shoulder. "It's in the vault," he said, "and listen, you don't have to make a special trip into town just for me, you know. I can wait."
Alexandria shook her head. "I need a few things too. I have a paying customer to look after now, remember."
He grunted. "At least you don't have to feed her."
"Very true. Maybe vampires are the perfect house guests."
Andrew grunted again, crossed his arms across his chest, and leaned back in his chair. "You might not think that if you wake up in the middle of the night with one sucking on your throat."
Chapter 5 – Scones & Cream.
The ride into town was just what Alexandria needed to digest the events of the day, but mostly it gave her the time she needed to grieve her broken heart in privacy. She turned the stereo up loud and sang along to every sad song, tears streaming down her face.
When she reached the outskirts of the town centre, she pulled over, dried her tears for the second time that day, and reapplied a fresh coat of makeup to hide any tell-tale signs that she had been crying.
Alexandria drove down Main Street, past Circular Park, which also marked the dead centre of Ferntree Falls. From a bird’s eye view, it also resembled a giant compass. People still estimated distance from one place to another by using Circular Park as a measuring stick. She found a parking space outside a store named 'Raven's Wing – The Witch's Cauldron'. The store advertised tarot card readings, homemade soy candles, herbs, crystals and books on witchcraft in its window. Gathering up her bag, she slid out of the car and walked across the all but deserted street to Ferntree Supermarket. She couldn't help but notice that the secondhand bookstore next door looked busier than the supermarket. She understood the preference, and stood poised between the two stores. Finally, an old book in the window caught her eye. She leaned in to study it, and on closer inspection, she realized that it was an old copy of The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas and, according to the little sign displayed beneath it, the book had been published in 1846 and was a first edition. She smiled, remembering her father reading from one just like it when she had been a child.