By Hannah Carter
“All I mean is, one of us has got to make pretend niceties or they won’t like us.” Friedrich crouched down beside Aloysia in the nursery of the kidnapped child.
Aloysia did not bother to contain her eye roll. She had insisted quite firmly that she would prefer to work alone for this case, but her boss had sent Friedrich and his inane ideas along regardless. “Then you make niceties if you must. I never pretend at anything and won’t start now.”
From her spot by the doorway, the undignified mother gave a woebegone sniff. “Have you any clues to the disappearance of my darling Helena?”
Friedrich sighed. If he attempted a smile, it didn’t show, as his scarred face prevented his lips from curving. “No, Frau Lehmann. I am afraid we have not found any evidence yet.”
Frau Lehmann sniffed again, haughtily this time. “Then you will also not find any of my money in your pockets.” She pivoted on her foot and stormed out of the room, a series of clicks retreating through the hallway.
“And that is what you get by making niceties,” Aloysia muttered. She stood up and adjusted her black feather coat. Not only did it add to her mystique, but the magic within helped her to appear older than her twenty-three years—and thus more respectable to high society.
She strode to the open window. Beyond, Germany’s Black Forest stretched out, old and mysterious. “Let’s lay out what we’ll report, shall we? The open window with the broken latch makes it obvious the kidnapper entered and exited that way. Since it’s on the second floor, it implies intent, not chance.” Aloysia’s fingers twitched, the familiar sign of her thoughts wandering. She longed for her violin to aid her contemplation.
Friedrich thudded down on the bed, which creaked underneath him. “And I’m assuming the reason will be due to the Lehmann wealth?” He let out a tch. “Unimaginative.”
Aloysia bristled. “Unless you can think of a better motive. Invent some fanciful story of revenge if you must. A scorned lover. A pair of bandits passing through. Sometimes, Friedrich, the simplest explanation contains the most merit.”
Friedrich might have attempted a smirk again, but the four deep gashes on his face from childhood only made him appear pained.
Aloysia sighed. “You do not have the face for niceties, Friedrich, and I beg you not to pretend with me.”
Friedrich scoffed and rose, searching the room. “Must you be so antagonistic to my presence?”
“When it comes as a personal affront to my skills, yes.” Aloysia opened a drawer and panned through the contents. Some letters, bows, ribbons—typical paraphernalia for a six-year-old. Only two pieces stood out: the first, a stick figure drawing depicting two people holding hands, the smiling one labeled “Helena” and the frowning one labeled “Mommy.” The second was a child’s rendition of a gigantic raven with no eyes, the word Nachtkrapp scrawled across the top. Frightening—the thing of a child’s nightmares. Aloysia plucked it from the pile, studied it, and tucked it into her pocket.
“He’s only worried about you, you know.” Friedrich rifled through the closet, his back to her. “He promised to never let anything hurt you again, and he takes his word very seriously.”
“I am too old to be babysat. I should have proven to him by now that I am capable and trustworthy. I am not some little girl he needs to save anymore, and I do not appreciate you being my guard dog.”
“Come on, Aloysia. Don’t you enjoy working together even a little? Someone to make fun of these uptight lords and ladies with?”
“I can mock them in my head well enough.”
“Someone to ease the workload?”
“I once solved a mystery with nothing but a painting and a match.”
Friedrich paused his sweep around the room right in front of her, and she could have sworn the scarred face attempted another grin. “Someone to make you smile?”
“I would rather drown in the Danube.” Aloysia stared up at him. “Are we done here?”
“Almost.” Friedrich bent down next to the bed. He scrounged around in the darkness underneath before producing two black feathers. “As I thought. Evidence.”
She snatched them from him. “They must have come from my cloak.”
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Of course they did.” He stretched his arms above his head. “All right. I think we can safely say there aren’t any clues in here. Will you deliver the bad news, or shall I?”
“Me, of course. The only thing I like about interacting with these aristocrats is obliterating the farce of their perfect life.”
Not even Friedrich’s scarred face could dampen the amusement he exuded. “And I suppose I will make all the pretend niceties on your behalf.”
***
The moon cast long shadows by the time Aloysia and Friedrich found themselves back in the branches of the Black Forest. The largest shadow of all, though, waited for them by a tree.
“Did you finish?” When the shadow spoke, his voice rattled like bones, but it carried fatherly affection.
“Yes, Guter Nachtkrapp. I found the picture she drew of you.” A pause. Then, begrudgingly, she added, “And Friedrich found two of your feathers.”
Friedrich placed his hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow, Aloysia will send Lehmann’s guards north with a ransom note.”
“Bandits,” Aloysia mumbled. “I thought I’d go with bandits this time.”
Friedrich snickered.
“Thank you, both.” The creature of nightmares who had abducted Aloysia as a child knelt down so she could see the slumbering girl cradled in his wings. The girl’s broken arm had been bandaged, her tears long dried by Guter Nachtkrapp. “I will never let anyone hurt you—or her—again. No matter how old you children get.”
Though no drowning in the blue Danube was involved, Aloysia smiled.
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