Page 5 of Wolfsbane Hall #1

The Main Hall

Celestine wanted a bath more than anything, but she didn’t have time for that. So she made her way to the bathroom and used a cloth to wash between her legs and breasts, trying to get the smell of sex off her.

She wasn’t worried about catching any diseases or getting pregnant. After the first time she’d fucked a patron, the Specter had given her a magical protection against both.

Celestine twirled the cufflink, feeling it against the balls of her fingertips. Men. She sighed. According to the world and the culture, she was a loose woman, undesirable—yet paradoxically, she was also an object to be desired and possessed.

The world was a place of contradictions, but then so was she. As a character, she could do anything. As herself, she’d fall apart. She knew she should never want a man like an Ashbrook, but at the same time, it was what she wanted most. To be chosen and cherished by a powerful man.

She was a lost, sad girl.

But alas, it didn’t matter, because she had a job to do. She had to plant the cufflink and join the spectacle.

So, Celestine adjusted her dress and made her way back to the crowd, still hovering over the dead body.

Everett—Dean’s twin—was at the center, inspecting James’s dead body, playing the stumbling, lovable fool of a detective.

The Quirky Detective. A Poirot-style mustache kissed his face and was complemented by thick, over-the-top glasses.

He looked ridiculous, yet still wickedly handsome.

Celestine watched as anxiety snaked up her ribcage. Trying to deal with the rotten energy settling in her core, she tapped her toes within her shoes and fidgeted with her dress.

This was the worst part of being the murderer—besides the actual killing— was waiting to get caught.

Time always seemed to move horrifically slowly.

Inching closer to the crime scene, Celestine twirled the cufflink in her fingers. When she got close enough to the body, she dropped it to the floor, making sure to do so on the carpet to minimize the sound. At the exact moment, she let out a horrified scream, covering up the sound even further.

“No, Andrew! Not my Andrew!” Celestine screamed and ran to the body, flinging herself onto him. She did this for a multitude of reasons. One reason was to establish the relationship with him for the audience, but also to cover up any remaining evidence she might have left on the scene.

Because now there was a reason for her hair or fingerprints to be there.

“Miss Dorothy”—Everett patted her on the back, cautiously trying to calm her down—“you must not grab the body. You’re messing with the crime scene.”

“But…my Andrew.” Celestine was hysterically cradling the body and rocking back and forth, letting out her own pent-up emotions as she did it.

After a long, dramatic moment, Frances, another cast member who was often referred to as the Mother Hen, calmed Celestine—Dorothy—down, so the act could continue.

The show must go on .

Celestine was still sitting next to the dead body, rocking back and forth with both Everett and Frances beside her. But now, it was just for show. She had to keep up the act. However, sitting next to James’s body made her stomach churn.

Everett whispered under his breath for only her to hear. “I could use your help here, Celestine. Where were you?”

Celestine lifted her head and met his eyes. The two shared a poignant moment. Almost as if Celestine were asking him for help instead. After a long pause, Celestine averted her gaze, and focused instead on the body and the investigation.

Everett almost always played the Quirky Detective—but wasn’t very good at it.

Often, he was far too drunk and missed obvious evidence, and other times, he was just too clumsy.

Occasionally, when he got stuck or was simply bored, he asked Celestine for help.

Celestine saw life in a series of patterns, and putting together a murder investigation was relatively easy for her—easier still, when she was the murderer.

“Have you not spoken to your brother?” Celestine asked, just as quietly. She had expected Dean to turn her in, if not to everyone, then at least to his twin.

“No, he’s disappeared somewhere.”

Hmm . Dean wasn’t going to turn her in right away. Interesting. Utterly unlike him.

“Where should I go from here?” Everett asked, his gaze stroking across the body.

Celestine didn’t know what he had already done or said, so she just reviewed the basics. “He has been stabbed multiple times. If I had to guess, at least seventeen. That indicates a crime of passion or a lot of rage.”

Everett nodded and waited for her to continue.

“All the wounds are centered on his torso, and there is no sign of him fighting back.”

“How do you know that?”

Celestine’s eyes traced the body once more. “There are no wounds on his hands or arms. No blood or skin under his fingernails?”

Everett cocked his head, checking the fingernails. “What does that indicate?”

“Drugged, most likely.”

“Anything else?”

“The room was locked from the inside, and there is no sign of forced entry. You should look for an escape route.”

“Suspects?”

Celestine closed her eyes and searched through her character card and what she knew about this setup. “I would start with his lover, newest lead actress, rival movie director, jealous sister, and business partner. They would seem to have the most passion and motive for the crime.”

“Righto.” Everett began to stand to act out a scene, but she cleared her throat.

“Oh, and that.” Celestine pointed to the cufflink that she had dropped on the floor next to the body.

Everett smiled and nodded his appreciation, then he stood and put on a long, showy monologue, going through the evidence and pointing out the obvious.

He adopted his over-the-top Australian accent.

He wanted to be like Poirot so much, but he couldn’t manage a French—or more accurately, Belgian—accent.

So, ridiculously, he chose an Australian accent instead.

The current evidence was the knife Celestine had dropped and the cufflink found next to the body.

He ended his speech with, “Now, for the main suspects. We have the Scorned Lover”—he pointed at Celestine—“The Rival Film Director”—he pointed at Richard—“The Jealous Sister”—he motioned to Vivian, James’s actual biological sister, who apparently was also playing his sister tonight—“his newest Leading Lady”— Everett waved at a young female patron with a soft, beautiful face and luscious curves—“and lastly, the Business Partner.” Everett pointed at his twin, who had slowly strolled into the Red Parlor, his hands in his pockets.

“You were all the closest to Andrew, so let us begin the questioning.”

Everett asked them all to follow him to the Grand Ballroom, where he commandeered a table and forced them to sit in a circle. He then interrogated them one by one in front of the audience.

“Let’s start with you, Mr. Mountdrake.”

“It’s Lord Mountdrake.”

“Righto, well then, Lord Mountdrake, where were you when the murder was committed?”

A sick grin climbed Richard’s face as he answered. “I was fucking Dorothy Wolf in the Downstairs Study.”

A sea of gasps lit up the room.

Everett raised an eyebrow at her. “Can you corroborate that?”

Celestine gulped. “Yes.” The gasps got louder, with poisonous whispers breaking out across the room. Anger bubbled in Celestine’s chest. Her character would not have stood for such treatment, so she decided to be even more shocking. “We got up to a bit of mischief on the study desk.”

Richard let out a self-satisfied sound. Dean grunted, and Everett chuckled.

“Well, then.” Everett shook his head in amusement, not judgment. “So, you both have an alibi.”

Everett continued his questioning, turning next to the New Leading Lady. In the meantime, Celestine leaned into Vivian Ashbrook. “So, you’re playing James’s sister tonight?”

The girls got along quite swimmingly. In fact, Vivian was probably her closest friend at Wolfsbane Hall, with the exception, maybe, of Everett .

“Yes, how utterly tedious.” Vivian crossed her arms. “I wish I could play a hussy like you occasionally. But no, just a jealous sister. Seeing that is simply my life on any given day, I am unaccountably bored.”

Celestine bit her lip. Vivian loved insulting her. It was a game they played, and Celestine always grinned and bore it.

Vivian was a bright, burning star. A source of pure joy, excitement, and warmth.

She was charismatic and mesmerizing. One couldn’t help but want to be near her.

And like a star, she would consume anyone who got too close.

That was precisely why Celestine let the other girl insult her.

She had no interest in becoming the object of her ire.

Plus, she was drawn to Vivian’s histrionic nature, because Celestine liked fire.

She liked danger, and maybe she even liked the excitement of it all.

But most of all, she liked that she never had to take the lead when Vivian was around.

Celestine could be the dutiful follower and fade into the background.

Celestine might be an actress and the center of attention, but she was also inscrutably shy. So, having Vivian around was a relief.

Vivian was also the town gossip, and she would always update Celestine on the newest dramas in San Francisco.

“Anything new and fun happening in the city?” Celestine asked.

“Not particularly, unless you count my mother trying to marry me off once again.” Vivian clicked her tongue. “The woman can’t accept that I don’t want anything to do with her plans.”

The conversation was cut off, because Everett had made his way over to question Vivian. Her alibi was poker, and about fifteen witnesses could corroborate that. So, finally, Everett’s gaze locked on his twin. “Where have you been? ”

“Here and there.”

“Is that all you plan on saying?”

“Yes.” The side of his lips ticked up. “And this.” He held up both of his arms, showing off his intact cufflinks.

“Ah, that’s an excellent point. Lord Mountdrake, show me your jacket.”

Richard let out a long sigh, because everyone could see that he was no longer wearing his jacket. “I took it off to fuck the actress.”

It wasn’t true, but Celestine wasn’t going to correct him.

“Ah, righto. Well then, I think it’s time for a little scavenger hunt, don’t you all?

” Everett stood quickly and addressed the entire room dramatically.

“We shall all hunt through the house for his jacket, and the clothing the murderer changed out of as well.” When the entire audience remained stationary, Everett waved them out of the room.

“On with you; it’s your time to be involved in the show. ”

When most of them left, he sighed and sank into his chair again. “Murder is exhausting.”

Celestine couldn’t agree more.

Everett looked directly at Celestine and mouthed, “You want to meet me on the Upstairs Study Balcony?”

“Yes, very much so.”