FIRST LOOK INTO THE BOOK

Night falls here like a demon on dragonback,

Never quite ready to consider a different tack,

Ignoring the gloaming 

To race toward morning 

With the ephemeral haste of some infernal insomniac. 

Once upon a winter solstice, a couple youths courted trouble instead of each other. 

“I expected him, but what are you doing here?” 

Willow glanced up in silence at the familiar voice. She hoped that Detective Jessica Reid shared their island’s general fondness for her, the only fatherless girl in Spinor Falls, even as she shook behind an interrogation table on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. 

“Lovely décor, detective,” said the fellow suspect seated to Willow’s right.

“Only the best for frequent guests,” snarled Reid.

“Well, the emptiness of it all makes me feel oh so powerless. Even the candlelight is at the other side of the room. By that very striking two-way mirror.”

Words oozed from Zephyr’s mouth as though from some sluggish fountain of archaic disdain. Limbs outspread on an iron chair balanced on its pointy rear legs, he stared without shame through the long dark pieces of hair spilling over amber eyes that were never quite capable of masking his scrutiny of the world. 

“Speak up for the scribe,” said the detective. “Verbal responses only.”

Zeph nodded. 

Jessica turned to the pinch-faced woman in the corner clutching her quill like a fluffed-up spear and announced, “Date: winter solstice of the waning crescent. Time: two hours and twelve minutes past dusk. Location: Enforcement Room Three. Detective Inspector Jessica Reid interviewing Zephyr Norwood and Willow Erifson. Sheila Sherrington present as scribe.” 

She paused. “Zephyr’s guardian has encountered some serious financial trouble,” she continued as the Cupid’s bow of the boy’s lips pursed, “and it’s perfectly reasonable he would conspire to improve their situation.” 

Zeph lifted a brow. “You’re attractive when you’re textbook.”

Willow snuck a glance at him from below her lashes and pushed the hair out from behind her ears, covering her face in one fell swoop of auburn so deep it shone brown.

At the same time, Zeph chuckled when his chair slammed forward.

The detective’s voice rose, “You stole a small fortune’s worth of silver cutlery. We have three eyewitnesses.” 

“Oh?” asked Zephyr. “And what exactly did those three mouths say their eyes witnessed?” 

Jessica leaned back, neck veins straining as she fought the urge to lunge. “They saw you both with the stolen merchandise.”

“With it or next to it?” he shot back. 

“Excuse me, boy?”

“You heard the question, detective.”

Jessica pressed a fist against the wooden table. “They saw you standing by the silverware one second and empty shelves the next.”

“Oh, then we must have done it. Naturally. Even though we were apprehended in seconds with nothing but a shopping basket. Your evidence is foolproof. That’s why we’re in this room, yes? Because your job was done the second you heard such damning accounts?”  

Silence transcended but for the scratch of a quill attempting to keep up on parchment. 

Jessica stood to lean over the table. “Pure silver does not just disappear. Tell me what happened, Zephyr Norwood. In detail. Now.” 

His eyes slid to the right. And stayed there. 

Jessica shifted. “Willow, you’re six years his junior. You’ll be considered an adult in just a matter of minutes. Are you going to follow his lead forever? Willow, look at me.”

She grabbed the girl by her chin, tilting it up and exposing the starburst scar beneath her pale jaw to the flickering candlelight.

The girl continued her worship of the floor. 

Jessica let her go. “Fine. Boy?”

“We’ve established I’m twenty-four,” said Zephyr, his gaze unmoving. 

“Where is the silver? How is what happened in Moran’s store possible? How did you do it? Look here.”

“I could tell you what happened. But why must I look at you?”

“How?” Jessica took a heavy step back from the table. No islander could find much use for Zephyr Norwood, although the origin of such widespread aversion remained too hazy a memory for any of them to recall. 

With a huff, Zeph closed his eyes and interlocked both hands below his chin in thought. “Oh alright…it was a ghost.” 

“A ghost?” 

He deigned to give her one more nod.

“Out loud.”

“Yes, a ghost.” 

“A ghost who enjoys special cutlery for the afterlife cuisine?”

“If only. He owes a debt of silver,” said Zeph, picking at the frayed ends of his sleeve, “to the man who murdered him.”

Jessica frowned as Willow helped Zephyr tear off a loose thread. “I need to speak with Willow alone,” she said, but that very moment, the room went black—the candelabras had clunked over in unison, wicks extinguished and smoking.

Jessica turned around to bellow at the mirror, “Who’s back there?” 

With the interrogation room darkened, more light reflected through from the observation area than from theirs, rendering it visible. Sheila dropped her beloved quill to cover her gaunt face with parchment. 

Jessica noted the lack of onlookers with livid wonder. “That’s enough fun and games.” She grabbed a chair and pulled it over to look Zephyr straight in the eye. “Sheila and I are the only enforcers on duty during the solstice. I know this. You know this. That leaves you two as the only possible culprits. Yet again.” 

“I hardly think I’m two people,” said Zephyr, staring straight back, “although it’s flattering you consider me such a sizable presence.” 

Jessica grabbed the youth by the lapel of his well-worn coat. 

“Is this sort of aggression really necessary? You’re angering the spirits that be.” He pressed a hand against his temple in mock woe, just as the large iron table between them lifted. Everyone stood up in alarm. 

The metal flipped and flew with such force it soared over Jessica and crashed against the mirrored wall, suspended there as if stuck. 

Willow pressed herself against Zephyr, eyes glued to the sight.

“The ghost,” whispered Zephyr, dragging the words out, his own eyes wide. 

Sheila dropped her arms to reveal a nose streaked with ink above her slack jaw. The detective herself stood with shaky determination and tugged at the table legs without success.

Voice low, Zeph wondered, “The murderer must be in this room. Is it you, detective?” 

Jessica gave a final pull, spun in a slow circle of her own confusion, and finally decided floating furniture defied reality enough to send her lurching from the chamber with Sheila close behind her. 

Zephyr and Willow glanced at each other. A sharp nod and they too ran out, taking a detour into the observation area. 

“Feel for it,” instructed Zephyr, running his hands across the single brick wall. 

Willow searched until she encountered a loose brick. One fierce push triggered the hidden door to slide aside. They rushed through into a stone stairwell and climbed in tight spirals under heavy darkness with only their hands against musty walls for guidance. Halfway up, the texture against their palms turned smooth as they passed thick iron doors rumored to lead into the island’s treasury.

“Did you have to flirt with her?” the girl’s voice cut through the gloom.

Zephyr did not look back, trusting she would follow. “You said to make her lose her temper. You didn’t qualify how. And it worked. We got in, didn’t we?” 

Once the final door came into view, Zeph wrapped an arm around Willow’s waist to pull her into a blustery night—

Where the entire island lay before them. 

“Oh,” breathed Willow, owlish eyes brimming with tears.

Like the spokes of a wheel, eight massive hills radiated in each cardinal direction from this point, the highest tower of the town square. Glinting bodies of water carved the land to pieces, and lantern-lit pathways curled around each occupied hilltop to scorch the snow. Homes sat amid the landscape, no element carved or chopped down for space. Cliffs walls burst into the living areas designed around them just as entire foundations of homes fit atop old stones never cut away. Nothing on the island intruded, only joined.

One hundred feet above ground on a landing with no railing, Zephyr clutched a drain pipe and watched Willow step untethered below clouds of black and blue to take a deep breath of wintry air. 

She lifted an arm, golden eyes glowing with the moon, and felt her body rise a few inches into the sky. Despite the thrashing winds billowing through her cloak, she had never viewed Spinor Falls so clearly. 

She could only move what she could see. And now she could see it all.  

“Happy birthday, nestling,” said her accomplice. “Let’s see how far your powers truly reach.”