Page 12 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

I notice the harbor entrance, and the statement immediately bothers me. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

I examine the damaged wreckage piled on the dock, then look back at him. "If it came from the east, why is the worst damage concentrated so far south?"

His confidence falters. The fisherman blinks. "I..."

I wait. Eventually he scratches the back of his neck. "That's where it looked like it came from."

I continue interviewing witnesses, and each conversation creates another problem. One fisherman swears he heard a woman singing from inside the storm. Another insists the sea glowed green. A third claims the clouds appeared without warning directly overhead. The fourth says they rolled in from the horizon. Every account contradicts the last.

When I finish, frustration has replaced curiosity. Nothing matches. Not the direction. Not the timing. Not the weather. Not the details. Only one thing remains consistent—every story somehow finds its way back to Reina.

I lean against a piling and watch fishermen move across the harbor. The pieces refuse to fit together.

Row approaches carrying two cups of coffee and hands one to me. "You look annoyed."

"I am."

He takes a sip. "Why?"

"Because nobody can agree on what happened."

"They all survived the same storm."

"Apparently not."

Row studies me. "What does that mean?"

I stare toward the sea. The answer feels obvious. Too obvious. A woman with snakes for hair. A storm from an impossible direction. Damage that doesn't match the story being told. Witnesses contradicting each other every time they open their mouths.

Someone is wrong. Or someone is lying.

The realization settles deeply in my chest. I gaze toward the lighthouse standing above the cliffs, toward the place where the town's storm witch lives, the woman half of Moonhaven seems determined to blame.

I find myself thinking about the brief glimpse I caught of her on the cliff path. Quiet. Reserved. Tired. Not dangerous. Certainly not a woman summoning sea monsters while riding hurricanes.

Row follows my gaze. "You still don't believe it."

"No."

His eyebrows rise. "Not even a little?"

I nod, and the answer comes easily, because the more people talk, the less convinced I become. And because one thing has become painfully clear.

Somebody in Moonhaven isn't telling the truth.

5

REINA

The summons arrives before noon.

I'm replacing a ward stone near the southern cliffs when a council messenger finds me, looking uncomfortable from the moment he approaches. Most people do.

"The harbor council requests your presence."

I brush dirt from my hands and straighten. "Requests?"