Someone killed Lord Pankov, and it wasn’t the man arrested for the crime. The ghost, Pascal Hunter, is on the trail of the killer. Possessing the body of Simza Gray, she must battle to hang on to her sense of self while also trying to solve the mystery. She and her partner, the former fey, eternally ten year old Brynn, have accumulated too many suspects. They’ve also made a few too many waves in the normally placid household.

“Oh Bry-inn,” the little kitchen maid called out when Brynn got back from his morning job in the stables. If she could have extended his name another few syllables, he was sure she would have. Tamara had decided he was exciting now that she was working with him. She was trying to wrap him around her finger and he was planning to enjoy the attempt.

“Yes, Tomo?” he asked back. He was happy to play along with her games. She’d surprised him once and he just loved surprises.

“I could use someone strong and manly to help me,” she cooed. “Mrs. Nesterov’s making a special dinner tonight. Her last time to make one of Lord Pankov’s favorite meals. Maybe you could help me carry up the… special ingredients?”

The snakes. She knows I know it’s the snakes. She has to play anyway. By all the Gods I wish she was old enough to leave this place and come back to the city with me!

So he nodded and agreed.

The cage was heavy, but he didn’t need to open it like he did when he was feeding them. “So she’s cooking them this time?”

Tamara was quite pleasant and chatty when she was getting her way, so she answered happily, “Yes. It was a special meal the old Lord Pankov liked. The new Lord Pankov gets the old one’s favorite at his first family supper. Tradition.” She dropped to a stage whisper, “But I think Mrs. Nesterov is going to be happy to get rid of these things.”

She added softly, “I know I will.”

Brynn didn’t say anything, he just grunted. The cage was heavy.

He dropped it at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily. “I hope I don’t have to kill them too.”

She smiled flirtatiously and ran a finger along his arm, “You mean you would leave that to poor little me?”

While Brynn stammered and failed to find an answer that would work, she laughed gently, “No, you don’t have to. The butchers kill most of our animals, but Lord Boris, I mean, Lord Pankov, does for the snakes. Mr. Menschikov will let him know.”

That’ll almost make lugging them up there worth it just to see one of those aristocrats step foot in the kitchen.

“Wait. Why don’t the butchers do it?”

The cook had drifted over to check on them, “And how long does it take you two to fetch the livestock?” she glowered. Instead of going on one of her usual tirades, she relaxed and looked around. She put her hands on Brynn and Tamara’s shoulders, drew them in towards her, “I won’t be sad to see the other side of these things, and that’s God’s honest truth. The late Lord Pankov had some strange tastes after his trip to– after spending some time in the city.”

How slow do they think I am? Even Paz figured this one out. They go back to a really large shard, always the same place. I wonder what they plan to do with me. They all expect me to leave when they phase out, but then come back when they hit Fall of Night again. Do they think I’ll never catch on? Or maybe they plan to invite me to stay with them for good if I come back next time? Or kill me, I suppose. Someone here knows how to kill, after all.

“The butchers did do it the first time Lord Pankov had us make this,” the cook reminisced. “Doctor Rogov was standing by with his medicines in case anyone got bit. The children snuck in to watch. I think they dared each other into it. Boris got too close.” She was smiling, so Brynn knew the story would end well. “I still think little Sofiya pushed him or tricked him somehow.”

She almost laughed, but then turned it into a sigh.

“The young lord got too close, and one of the snakes bit him. The butcher panicked and got bit too. So did one of my cooks when she tried to help. Doctor Rogov took charge as soon as we’d rounded up the beasts. It’s the only time I let someone else give orders in my kitchen. Little Lord Boris, though, didn’t need the medicine. The bite was there plain as day, but there was no swelling. Doctor said he’s just naturally resistant. Lord Boris made it a point of pride and insisted on learning how to kill the snakes himself to keep everyone else safe.”

A warm smile crept over her face while talking about Lord Boris. It was a side of the cook Brynn never suspected.

“He’s killed the snakes ever since. He’s never been bit that bad again, but he has been bit, Never suffered more than a rash. So he’ll do it for us this one more time.”

Brynn looked suitably impressed. He stared at the snake cage.

“Don’t think about it boy. I just might decide not to waste any antivenin on you if you do something stupid,” the cook snapped.

Both Tamara and Brynn laughed at that. He managed to look abashed enough to appease Mrs. Nesterov. “Enough with the jawboning, back to work.”

She’s the one who was just taking up our time, and she knows it. Was that her attempt at a joke?

A short time later, the new Lord Pankov entered the kitchen. They overheard a thin blond woman ordering him to leave it to the butchers before she stormed off. He wore a blue jacket with rose trim and tight blue pants. His dark brown beard was closely trimmed, and he was smiling broadly. “Mrs. Nesterov, may I help with the snakes for what I truly hope will be the last time?”

She tittered, “Oh, Lord Pankov, please.” She was laughing because he should have called her Raisa Irinova. Instead, he still spoke to her like he was a child. “We are all most grateful for your help.”

He smiled back, “I’ve been Lord Boris to you for far too long, and I hope that won’t change now.” He frowned, but Brynn could see he was still playing. “I do have one favor to ask of you, though.”

“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. Everyone in the kitchen stopped working to listen. Brynn preferred being the center of attention himself, but failing that he’d take entertainment where it’s offered.

“I would never dream of dishonoring my father. But after tonight’s dinner, I trust that even if we have guests from–” He glanced unobtrusively at Brynn, “even if we have guests who want this dish, I trust you will have sadly forgotten how to make it.”

“I’m sure everyone knows how forgetful I can be,” she answered with a laugh of her own.

While staring at the snake cage, he commented, “I suspect my brother will miss tonight’s dinner, as he will be sitting up with his fiancee.” With a nod to the cook, he added suddenly, “She’s recovering nicely, thank you. Sonya might decide to join him in the sick room too if I’m any judge. For all I know, Avdotya might join them too. Since there are likely to be leftovers, if any of the staff wish, they have my permission to indulge in any of the dish remaining after our supper.”

His announcement was met with stifled laughter and nervous swallows. “Urgh,” croaked Tamara quietly to Brynn.

Boris held out his arms expectantly. A moment later one of the kitchen maids ran up to him with a butcher’s apron and helped put it on him. The thick white cloth covered his fine clothing but he didn’t look like like a servant. He was a natural showman, commanding attention by his presence. With all eyes on him, he theatrically picked up the butcher’s knife and the snake cage with an ease Brynn envied.

He strapped on a thick leather glove and reached into the cage. The snake he pulled out looked prettier than anything that deadly had a right to. Its green and yellow scales shone in the afternoon light. The triangular head fixed its killer in a predatory glare while it hissed and squirmed in his firm grasp.

Lord Pankov placed the snake on a wooden block and swung his blade with precision. The snake head fell into a waiting basket while the new lord tossed the still twitching body into a nearby pot. He was already reaching for the next one.

Only Brynn saw Lord Boris’s lips twitch in a silent smile.

- ♇ -

After spending a day in bed, Pascal was cleared to leave her room. She had to have two maids help her dress to avoid aggravating her bruises. The doctor cautioned her to take it very easy, and the staff was going to see to it she listened.

Despite expecting it, she was surprisingly pleased to wear something that wasn’t black. She selected a smooth green dress with patterned yellow stitching. Her maids completed the outfit with a white blouse, pale stockings, gray shoes with a small heel and jewelry. Then came the makeup to cover the bruises on her neck, followed by painting her nails and face. She did not wear any perfume, claiming it would start her coughing again. Her maids nodded in sympathy.

She went through all this preparation just to go to the sitting room and meet Sofiya. Logically, Pascal knew it was a waste of time. Yet it felt good to get dressed up and pretend she hadn’t nearly choked to death the previous morning. Assert normality. She understood that.

“Sonya,” she greeted her client warmly when she entered the room.

Sofiya got up to meet her and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s good to see you up and around, Simcha. You’re looking good,” she said with an honest smile.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Pascal said while pointing at one of the couches with a good view of the yard. The muggy weather they’d been having had finally broken and a light breeze stirred the trees. It looked like a great day to be outdoors.

“Of course. Please sit down. Don’t hurt yourself on my account.”

Pascal smoothed her dress before taking a seat. She crossed her legs and rested her arm lightly on the end of the seat. The maid who escorted her to the room watched her like a hawk until she was safely ensconced and only then left the room.

“Have you made any more progress, Mr. Hunter?” Sofiya asked as soon as they were alone.

Pascal raised her hand gently in remonstration, “Don’t. Even when we’re alone. Don’t. I’m Simza while I’m here.” Her mantra had lost its power while she was laid up in bed. The vision she had while unconscious might or might not be real, but her promise to Simza was. As long as she held this body she would have to be Simza Gray.

“I’ll try to talk to Brynn later to see what he’s learned while I was… indisposed, but I think it’s safe to say we have made some progress.” She stopped suddenly, aware that Sofiya was staring at her in amazement. “What’s wrong?”

“The way you move,” she answered. “The way you sit. You’re pulling at your ear, just like Simza did. You have your legs tucked up, it’s like you’re a different person.”

“Hmm, yes. I don’t usually do this. Ah, possess people, that is,” she kept her voice low in a combination of shame and desire for privacy. “There are other ways, but they don’t work here, so… Stealing someone’s life away, even a little bit of it, feels like a crime itself. It’s dangerous too. Simza’s strong. She– it’s hard to describe, but she pervades her body. It’s overwhelming.” It had been a very long time since she’d talked with anyone about the problems of a ghost, but she felt better for it.

Sofiya was surprisingly sympathetic, “Are you in danger? I like having you here, but maybe I can help you leave sooner.”

“You’re grinning like the cat that caught the canary.” Paz smiled back suddenly, “You’ve got the police report.”

“Yes, I finally got a copy. An old friend is an inspecteur principal. He was at Boris’s Assumption and brought me this. You know we’re not supposed to have it, right?”

“May I?” she said as she reached for it. She took it and wiped her hands on a napkin before opening it. “Please keep an eye out while I take a look.”

She quickly paged through the report. It was much shorter than it should have been. Paz had seen this syndrome in police departments in a hundred different shards. They’d decided who was guilty right away, put in just enough work to back that up, and moved on to the next case. She supposed she shouldn’t complain, since it ensured a steady stream of work for her.

The gendarmes had interviewed Boris, Andrei, the butler, and of course Yakim himself. Yakim insisted on his innocence throughout the interview. There were pictures of Lord Pankov’s room with and without the body and pictures of Yakim’s room where they found the blanket piece. It closed out with a medical exam of Lord Pankov. Pascal had already learned everything in the report and much more beside.

“Wow,” exclaimed Sofiya after a few moments, “it’s like you changed again.”

Paz looked up, “Sorry?”

“When we were talking earlier, I thought you were just like Simza. But when you were reading the police report, you changed. The concentration, the way you hold the report, everything. Take heart,” she said while putting her hand on Pascal’s, “you’re still you.”

Paz sighed, “Good to hear. Sonya, this is very helpful. The police– sorry, the gendarmes, didn’t do nearly as much as I’d hoped, but at least they got a doctor’s report. Your father was strangled, choked to death from lack of air, no signs of struggle. Hmmm”

Sofiya gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

Paz reached over to her this time, tapping her leg, “Come on now, you don’t need to put on a show for me. I know you already know what happened.”

She frowned and looked at the floor, “It’s still unpleasant to hear it so directly.” With just the slightest hint of a grin she added, “And that’s how a lady is supposed to react to talk of injury, don’t you know?”

A discrete knock was followed by the butler entering, “Lady Sofiya, Miss Gray, a fresh pot and some refreshments, if you please.” Two maids followed him in bringing a new teapot and a plate of fruits, hard pastries with honey, and berry cakes.

“Is this your way of making sure I’m following the doctor’s orders?” Pascal asked impishly.

“Lord Pankov is most concerned about you, Miss Simza,” he responded with a slight bow. It was as close as he’d come to a confession, she decided. He was taking her illness personally. It was another sign he’d mellowed towards her. She hoped it would make Simza’s life easier when she got it back.

“Boris? It’s not from Andrei?” Sonya jumped in. “I’m surprised.”

“It’s been… difficult the last few days,” Pascal admitted before the butler could say a word. She was sure Sofiya would infer the real reason for their difficulties. “I need to talk with him.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Sofiya responded. “Before Father, well, you know,” she said diffidently, in deference to the hovering Feodor Illyitch, “He and father had a big fight about you. I think he still feels guilty.”

Paz squinted at her quizzically, asking silently if that was true or an excuse for their audience. She nodded slightly to indicate it was real, even as her eyes widened when she realized it could be important.

“How terrible,” Paz tried to gasp, “to think he had a fight with his father just before losing… I can see why he would be upset, and thank you for finally telling me, Sonya.” She had to know more.

“He and father were angry with each other, but I believe they mended their fences before Father’s accident,” she said vaguely.

“Ahem,” the butler coughed quietly. “I do not mean to speak out of turn, but I can assure Miss Gray that Lord Pankov had accepted that Lord Andrei was going to marry you before the terrible incident.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, “well, I knew– forgive me Sonya, but I knew not everyone welcomed me. I should be glad Andrei wanted me enough to fight with his father. And that they did not– part on such bad terms.”

“Indeed. Lord Andrei was always most insistent that he would marry you, Miss Gray. I have never seen him more resolute. Lord Pankov finally agreed and was ready to welcome you into the family,” he said with finality. She could tell he’d said his last word on the subject.

She found she didn’t want to know more. Knowing that Andrei stood up for her and even fought with his father over her affected her more than she’d expected. Even if it was all for Simza. She reached for a napkin and dabbed at her eyes while Sofiya and Feodor Illyitch watched her sympathetically.

- ♇ -

“It was Boris.”

It should have been dark and shadowy. A flash of lightning should have suddenly lit the room. The world refused to cooperate.

Brynn made his pronouncement in Pascal’s room, well lit by the smoothly glowing lamps on the wall. He had tried to meet Paz in the gardens, but Pascal was still recovering and they weren’t letting him go outside. Brynn had to wait until night to sneak up to his room.

Pascal was propped up in bed with the bruises on his neck and arms clearly visible. There was also a fire in his eyes that Brynn loved to see. His partner was not going to be scared off, he had a puzzle to solve and he’d solve it.

“He did it,” Brynn announced again with even more certainty than before.

“OK, OK,” Pascal placated him while holding his hand out gently. Brynn choked back a laugh at his partner’s long painted nails. “I heard you. Let’s go through the standards. How did he do it? Or why?”

“Come on, man, think. He’s Lord Pankov now, the motive’s obvious. How? He’s got a hunting knife. He could have cut the old man’s quilt as easily as the valet. Easier. No one would question it if he went to his father’s room at night. Okay, maybe they would, but no one saw anything so it didn’t matter. He could have hidden the piece in Yakim’s room any time the next morning while people were running around.”

Brynn could see Pascal was thinking it through, so he kept quiet.

It was a good move. His partner’s eyes flew open and he almost jumped out of bed. With a gasp and grimace he stopped where he was and sat back carefully against the pillows. His injuries were still hurting if he tried to move quickly.

“There was no sign of a struggle,” Paz recited in his new soprano voice. “No sign of a struggle.” A smile came over his face and made him look downright pretty. “Brynn you magnificent bastard,” he said with admiration, sounding more like his old self, “you’ve got it.”

“Well, yeah. Of course I do.” Pascal played his usual game and waited for Brynn to ask. He gave in. “What’ve I got? It was Boris?”

“No, no. Or at least, I don’t know. We’ve been looking at the wrong thing. The cause of death is wrong. Look at me,” he said while pointing at the bruises on his arms. “This is from struggling against blankets without anything holding me down. If Lord Pankov was held so tight he choked, he’d have bruises all over. There were none. No sign of a struggle. He wasn’t choked to death.”

A moment later he continued, “Snake venom. Seeing Boris kill the snakes might have gotten you started, but I think you saw the murder weapon at the same time.”

When he’d started explaining he sounded like Pascal. It changed as he continued. He slowed down and spoke more quietly. For a moment, Brynn almost thought his partner sounded like a girl.

Just for a minute. It’s still Pascal in there. My old buddy. He’s not leaving me, I won’t let him. Fall of Night wouldn’t be as much fun without him.

“I see two ways you can take this,” Pascal continued so quietly Brynn had to lean in to hear him. “You can try to find out when or how Boris got his hands on the snake venom or you can try to show that he could have poisoned Poppa Pankov that night. What do you think?”

“Opportunity’s better,” Brynn replied without hesitation. “Boris could have gotten the venom any time. He dealt with the snakes a lot. It was a way to show off. We can’t prove anything with that.”

“That sounds right,” Paz answered with his old determination. He was back in charge. “Let’s assume Boris is going to take advantage of his natural immunity. He can poison himself and his father at the same time.” Paz was tapping his hand as he spoke, a gesture Brynn had seen many times before. It looked a little strange with the dark red nails, but it was reassuring to know Pascal was still there.

“He’s got two limitations. He doesn’t want Poppa dropping dead on the spot and he needs to make sure he doesn’t show any reaction the next day. Both call for diluting the poison. We need to look for a dish the two of them shared.”

“Right,” Brynn expelled, “Great idea, Paz. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m sure everyone remembers exactly what they ate two months ago and will be happy to tell me as soon as I ask!”

“Calm down,” he answered way too quietly. Pascal usually answered his sarcasm with sarcasm. It was like his old friend was only there when they were talking about the evidence. “I wasn’t suggesting you question Boris. You need to ask the butler. Fedya keeps better records than you might think, and I think he might be willing to help.”

“Fedya? Mr. Menschikov? He’s not going to answer me.”

“He might, if I ask.” Paz stood up with care. His long nightgown covered all the interesting bits, to Brynn’s disappointment. He pulled a cover off the mirror and asked it to send the butler up when he was available.

Now that’s nifty. Mirror, mirror on the wall…

The imposing butler arrived in a frighteningly short time, like he’d been waiting for her call. He was even in his full attire. He showed a moment’s surprise when he saw Brynn, but covered it quickly and didn’t say a word.

“May I help you, Miss Gray?” the butler asked formally. He was much friendlier than Brynn had ever seen.

“Yes, Fedya Illyitch,” Paz answered lightly. Brynn was shocked the butler didn’t take offense at the familiarity. “Brynn here is a friend of mine, Sonya took him on at my request.” If the butler hadn’t known that, he took the news with equanimity. “He has some questions that I think might cast more doubt on Yakim Sergeyin’s guilt.”

“I’m very sorry, Miss Gray,” the butler said with obvious sincerity, “but the new master has ordered the matter closed. Lord Boris has written to the gendarmes and requested that they release the old Lord’s valet. He raised the very same points you brought to me, but he will not allow Yakim to return to this house. The investigation is closed.” From his deep tone they could tell he disapproved.

“I see,” Brynn’s partner said with equal disapproval. “I guess that’s an end to it. Perhaps you could still help my young friend. I’m sure he’d benefit from your tutoring, even if his questions are a bit strange.” Paz sagged slightly, looking tired and accentuating his bruises. It was an obvious ploy to draw sympathy, but it worked.

Say what you will of him, Brynn thought, but the butler was not slow on the uptake. His eyes smiled even while the rest of his face remained stoic. “Of course Miss Gray. I’m sure he’s a fine boy and could learn from some additional lessons.” Turning to Brynn for the first time and speaking far more harshly, he added, “Now come child, leave Miss Gray to her rest.”

They walked through the darkened halls down to the servant’s wing in silence. Mr. Menschikov walked swiftly and Brynn had to run to keep up. That drew dark looks from the butler, who disapproved of running in the house. As only the night staff was up and about, he did not reprove Brynn.

“Now, what do you need to know, child?” The butler was abrupt, unfriendly, and direct.

“On the night Lord Pankov died,” Brynn answered back just as directly, cricking his neck to look the butler right in his eyes, “what did they have for dinner? Were there any dishes that only two members of the family ate?”

Best not to tip my hand too far. If I come too close to accusing Boris, he’ll clam up.

While Mr. Menschikov was puzzled at the request, he stood up creakily and pulled a book off the shelf. “They had dark bread with an onion soup, followed by a beet salad. The main course was crisp roast pork with twice baked potatoes and gravy, candied carrots and honeyed biscuits. They had a dessert of fruit crepes with rum sauce. Neither Lady Pankov nor Lady Sofiya had any biscuits, but otherwise all dishes were enjoyed by the whole family.”

How can anyone live like that? He keeps notes on what everyone ate for dinner. Lucky for me, I guess. Still, that’s no good. Nothing that just Boris and the old man ate.

“What about drinks?” he asked impulsively.

“A wine with each course, shared by all. There were drinks before dinner as well. Lord Pankov had his liqueur, while the women had a cocktail. Lord Boris and Master Andrei took pepper vodka, so there is a dish shared by two,” he said triumphantly. “Ah, another one, the after dinner drinks. Lord and Lady Pankov shared a milk and vodka cocktail she quite enjoys. The rest of the family had bitters before retiring to the sitting room.”

“Nothing with Lord Boris and his father,” Brynn squeaked out against his will.

Mr. Menschikov stopped in his tracks, looked down at Brynn with open hostility, and intoned, “Most certainly not.”

That was the end of that. He was dismissed.