The Revenge Game

Book 2: Wicklow College of Arcane Arts

by BR Kingsolver

Genres: Paranormal; Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Alice Henderson was a legend at Wicklow College long before she took a header three and a half stories from her apartment window to the sidewalk below.

Savanna Robinson has only been teaching at Wicklow College of the Arcane Arts for two months, and the body count is already alarming. Her friend, Kelly Grace, is ghost writing Alice's memoir—filled with illicit affairs and covert espionage while working for the CIA. And upon her death, the CIA appears, demanding all of Alice's papers and the half-written book. Then the International Council of Magical Practitioners gets involved. But Alice's isn't the last murder to cast its shadow on Wicklow.

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Release date: June 11, 2023

Publisher: Independently Published

Sample

CHAPTER 1

Alice Henderson was a legend at Wicklow College long before she took a header
three and a half stories from her apartment window to the sidewalk below.
We were sharing a bottle of wine, sitting on my front stoop across the breezeway
from the stairway door leading to Alice’s apartment. Watching the forensics people and
police go in and out was the most exciting thing happening at the college on a Friday
afternoon.
We weren’t in position to see the body or any of the activity around that. Her
remains were on the other side of the building, and the police had all that cordoned off.
“There were rumors—which she did nothing to discourage—that she worked for the
CIA back in the fifties and sixties,” Kelly Grace, the college librarian and archivist, told
me. “I had her as a professor—the last time twelve years ago—before they finally stopped
assigning her classes. She was getting a little absent-minded. At one point, she gave the
same lecture three classes in a row—verbatim, someone recorded them. Sometimes
she’d wander off topic and tell us about her love affairs. One of them sounded an awful
lot like the script for Casablanca.”
“I find it amazing they’ve allowed her to keep that apartment after she was no longer
an employee,” I said.
“Where would she go?” Kelly asked. “She didn’t have any close family, and she lived
in that apartment the past thirty years. She probably felt she was being generous by not
charging the college rent.”
I chuckled. “I do hope I’m not still here in thirty years. There has to be a life after
Wicklow.”
David Hamilton, who lived directly across the breezeway from me and downstairs
from Alice, wandered over and leaned against the wall.
“The police at first thought it might be a suicide,” he said, “until I pointed out that
Alice was eighty-five, used a cane, and probably wasn’t able to climb up on the table in
front of that window. She couldn’t even climb the stairs to her apartment. The college
installed a stair lift for her several years ago.”
“I heard someone say something about a note?” I asked.
David nodded. “Sam Kagan showed me an enigmatic note—not in Alice’s
handwriting—that didn’t sound at all like a suicide note. Actually sounded a little
threatening.”
I perked up my ears. “Ooo. What did it say?”
David and Kelly laughed.
“Are you going to play Miss Marple?” Kelly asked.
“Got any better ideas? Wicklow is definitely lacking in what I consider normal forms
of entertainment.”
“You have no proof,” David said.
“Huh?” Kelly and I said in unison.
“That’s what the note said.”

“How do you know it wasn’t her handwriting?” I asked.
He gave me an indulgent smile. “She leaves me notes. Alice hasn’t driven in twenty
years, so she has me stop by the liquor store for her. She gets her groceries delivered,
but the liquor store won’t do that. Or, at least they didn’t in the past. I haven’t bothered
to check if they do now.”
“What kind of liquor?” Kelly asked. “Sherry?”
He shook his head. “Aged single malt scotch. Sometimes she remembers to
reimburse me for it.”
“Well,” Kelly said, “I hope the cops clear this up soon. This may sound terrible, but I
can’t wait to get my hands on her private papers.”
“I guess archivists have their priorities,” I said, looking at David and rolling my eyes.
“It’s the book,” Kelly replied. “I’m writing her biography, and she held back a bunch
of her private papers until after she died. If I can get them, I can finish the book and
publish it. I get half the royalties, and the other half goes to her estate.”
“Assuming that wasn’t why she was killed, and the papers haven’t been stolen,” I
said.
Kelly shook her head. “No, most of them are in the archives in the library. She may
have more in her rooms, though. I must say that this isn’t the ending I expected.”
David shook his head. “I doubt anyone waited until she was eighty-five to kill her
over some old papers. Hell, she has to have outlived all of her enemies.”
“Maybe she levitated out the window,” I said.
Kelly shrugged “If she could levitate, she wouldn’t have needed the stair lift.”
“Would you like some wine?” I asked David as I stood to go refill my glass. “Kelly? A
refill?”
When both of them said yes, I simply brought the bottle out with a fresh glass for
David. A few minutes later, Lieutenant Sam Kagan of the Wicklow City Police strolled
over to us.
“I’ve already spoken with Dr. Hamilton. Did either of you see or hear anything?”
Kelly and I shook our heads.
“You folks were already here when I came by after I got off work,” Kelly said.
“The first I knew anything had happened was when I heard the sirens,” I told him. “I
was out in the greenhouse. Any signs of a struggle? Or maybe someone searched the
place for hidden treasure once they tossed her out?”
He gave me an exasperated look. “We don’t know what happened. The window is
open, and she fell out.”
“Yeah,” I said, “pretty clumsy of her. You’d think she’d know where that window was
after living there for thirty years.”
“I don’t need you doing any amateur sleuthing.”
“Of course not. I barely knew the woman.” I had actually had dinner with her once
at the Faculty Club. She invited me, asked a lot of nosey questions, and stuck me with
the bill. Otherwise, the extent of our relationship was to exchange greetings on the
occasional times we passed each other while walking about the campus.

I had promised Kelly that I would proofread the chapters as she finished them. I
also offered to format the manuscript. I had published two books of my own and
remembered the picky little things my editors had whined about.
Kagan started to turn away, but I called to him. “Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Dr. Robinson?”
“Please don’t forget to clean out the refrigerator.” I gave him my sweetest poisonous
smile.
He glowered at me, and I batted my eyes at him. The police had barred entrance to
the last murder scene at Wicklow for six months, and the refrigerator had turned into a
toxic mess. In the end, they didn’t clean the refrigerator, they just threw it away.
“What did she teach?” I asked as the wine ran out and I started thinking about
dinner.
“She was an illusionist,” David said. “She also had some talent as an alchemist.
Quite a strong witch. Both talents would have been rather handy when she was with the
CIA.”
“Is that real?” I asked. “I mean, did she really work for the CIA? Other than as a
secretary?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I can get my hands on all her papers,” Kelly said.
“Supposedly, that’s why she held them back. Top secret, you know? She said if the book
came out before she died, the spooks in Washington would come looking for her.”
“What did your father have to say about that?” I asked. Kelly’s father was English
and had spent most of his career stationed in the U.S. Based on a few things she had
said, I suspected he was with MI-6.
Kelly shrugged. “He said his contacts in U.S. intelligence had heard of her, but he’s
twenty years younger than she was. I’m hungry. Anyone else?” ...