Old-School Witch

by A. A. Albright

  Despite her worries, the Queen was a rather nice granny, and she had gifted a great deal of her people’s blood to the healers who were curing the virus, which meant that it was almost completely eradicated. Dayturners had been the victims of many previous Vlad’s Boys attacks, and with no dayturners anymore, the gang had disappeared back into the shadows.

  But just like Dylan, I wasn’t altogether sure we’d heard the last of them. We still didn’t know the full extent of Darina’s involvement with Vlad’s Boys. What we did know was that, before she did a runner, she stole a powerful Impervium locket from me, a locket that gave me protection from harm.

  It had been a gift from Dylan to me. And, handsome though my boyfriend was, I didn’t think Darina stole it out of petty jealousy. So the question was, did she want to make herself impervious, or did she want to make sure I was no longer safe?

  The murder of a human history buff like Ben was strange and mysterious, but there was nothing to connect it to Darina, was there? Just because it was the first weird thing to happen since she absconded, and just because I had a feeling of foreboding leaping around in my belly … none of that meant diddly squat.

  I was going to find out everything I could about this school, and Ben’s involvement in uncovering it. And hopefully, when I wrote my report about it for the Daily Riddler, there wouldn’t be a single Darina Berry plotline to spoil the story.

  ≈

  As Greg and I walked by the reception desk, I brightened my smile and said, ‘Good morning, Rita.’

  ‘Is it?’ she grumbled. ‘Didn’t you guys just come from a murder scene? I saw all of the kerfuffle at the church hall. Do we have another witch hunter in town?’

  ‘No idea just yet,’ said Greg. ‘Any messages?’

  ‘How would I know?’ She pointed at the switch on her desk. There were three different calls coming in. ‘That thing’s been ringing off the hook all morning. Hasn’t anyone in this town ever heard of modern technology?’

  ‘Well, people here like the personal touch, Rita,’ Greg said, struggling to keep a friendly smile in place. ‘That’s why they phone or pop in. Anyway, how are you finding the job so far? This is the beginning of week two for you, isn’t it?’

  We both knew that it was. So far, Rita had lasted longer than any other receptionist since Malachy’s departure. Most of them left after their first day, citing, ‘I’m too scared of Grace,’ as their reason for quitting. And they were right: Grace was the paper’s editor, and she was scary until you got to know her. Which was why Greg and I were being extra nice to our latest arrival – even if she was making it difficult. If there was one thing to be said in Rita’s favour, it was that she wasn’t scared of Grace.

  Our new receptionist was an attractive vampire as far as looks were concerned – she had honey-blonde hair and an incredibly pretty face – but when it came to her personality, well … I wasn’t finding her all that attractive.

  Upstairs, we heard the door ease open, followed by the sound of click-clacking high-heeled shoes journeying down the stairs. ‘Are you down there, Rita?’ Grace called out.

  ‘Of course I’m here. I brought you your coffee, didn’t I?’ replied Rita, adding an exaggerated huff for emphasis.

  ‘Ah.’ Grace nodded as she reached the reception desk, her silky curls bouncing under the light. ‘That’s right. You did. You used non-fat milk and white sugar. It was … interesting. You also used telekinesis to send it up to me, when we had a couple of Roarke’s human fans in the building.’

  ‘I’m not going to hide the fact that I’m a vampire,’ Rita retorted. ‘And I’m not going to walk all the way up the stairs to your office just because you’re too lazy to make your own coffee. If I stop using my vampire powers every time there’s a fan of Roarke’s in the building, then I’ll never get to use them. That man has more fans than the Call of the Wild.’

  She was exaggerating, but only slightly. While the Call of the Wild might be the most famous rock band in the supernatural world, Roarke – our resident puzzle-writer and singer with a group called the Powerless Ballad Band – had quite the fan club himself.

  Grace took a deep, calming breath, and pasted a smile on her face. It was probably supposed to be a friendly smile – instead, it looked just a little bit deadly. ‘Now Rita, I know that it can be a bit much to handle. You probably weren’t expecting to receive quite so many calls at a small-town newspaper, but you need to get used to it. I’m sure Greg could give you some more training at operating the switch, if that’s the problem. In the meantime, you have to remember that this is only a semi-supernatural town. It’s fine to use your powers when you need to, but discretion is important when there are humans in the vicinity.’

  Rita grimaced at Grace. ‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ she drawled. ‘And as for answering every single call that comes in … well, that’s just not going to happen. I’ve worked at much bigger businesses than this. I know how to use a switch, and I’m more than capable of answering hundreds of calls a day. It’s just that I don’t want to. I mean, what’s the point in answering the phone when everyone’s asking the exact same thing?’

  ‘They’re asking about the latest murder?’ Greg questioned. ‘Because I’m sure I wrote out a stock response for you to use when you get calls like that.’

  ‘Oh, you did. But no one’s interested in some boring old murder,’ said Rita. ‘They’re calling to ask to speak to Roarke, and seeing as he’s on a day off, I figure his fans can just go to voicemail. Why should I waste my precious time talking to that bunch of nutters?’

  Grace gave Rita an icy stare. ‘Would you come up to my office, please?’

  4. Eat Your Words

  When the shouting stopped, and Rita rushed down past me and barged out the door, I made my way upstairs with coffee and biscuits. ‘Another one bites the dust?’

  Grace shook her golden curls and let out a little squeal of irritation. ‘Why can’t we just clone Malachy? That would make it all so much easier.’

  I had to agree with her. Sure, I was happy that Malachy’s restaurant was going so well he’d been able to quit his day job. But the longer we were without him, the more I wondered how we were ever going to find someone as good.

  ‘Do you know what that little madam said to me?’ Grace continued. ‘She said that she was only here because she had a crush on Roarke.’

  ‘I could have sworn I saw a wedding ring on her finger.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know why I just pointed that out. Half of the women who lust after Roarke are married.’

  She jerked her head towards the sunken seating area. ‘Come and take a load off, and we’ll dig into those chocolate biccies you’ve brought. Tell me, what’s going on at the church hall? Rita mentioned a boring old murder?’

  I placed the coffee and biscuits on the table and took a seat. ‘Well, she was right. Not about the boring part, but there was a murder all right.’ I quickly explained about Ben’s death, and about the school the Historical Society were looking for. ‘I had a look online while you and Rita were having your friendly discussion just now,’ I said. ‘There’s no mention of the school, and I’ve searched in all the right places.’

  ‘And I suppose you were wondering if I know anything about it, seeing as I lived here in the Year of the Walrus?’

  ‘Oh, that’s right. I often forget that you’re a witch of indeterminate age who’s been in this town for donkey’s years.’ I was lying. I never forgot about Grace’s unusual circumstances. So far, I knew she had once been a pirate, but was somehow cursed to live an eternal life and prevented from accumulating wealth. She was yet to reveal much more, and I wasn’t going to hold my breath while I waited.

  She rolled her eyes and chuckled. ‘Let’s leave aside my life story for another day, shall we? Because the truth is, I’m a little bit worried about what you’ve just told me. Up until a few minutes ago, I had no recollection whatsoever of a school for the gifted in Riddler’s Edge. But now … now it’s beginning to seep back into m
y mind. Was it in the forest to the south, by any chance?’

  ‘Yes!’ I said excitedly. ‘And you’re just remembering now? So … what? Do you think your mind has been meddled with?’ It was hardly an odd question. Memories were adjusted quite frequently in Riddler’s Edge, and not always for the nicest of reasons. Sure, the Wayfarers often had no choice but to make some readjustments when an innocent human got tangled up in the supernatural. But there were also people like my grandfather, who would have happily wiped my mind had I not turned out to be his long-lost granddaughter.

  She twirled her curls around an elegantly manicured finger. ‘Could be. And the whole thing with the map in Ben’s mouth … if it is a map to the school, like Norma says, then that would add some merit to the theory that someone doesn’t want the school rediscovered. Although I don’t think murdering poor Ben will do their cause any good in that regard, because I’m remembering more and more about it as we speak.’

  ‘Such as?’ I sat forward.

  ‘Such as the fact that we told the human residents that it was an exclusive school, and that genius children were picked from all over Ireland based on their IQ. In truth, it was a charity school, for children of supernaturals who weren’t empowered witches. The school taught wizardry to unempowered witches. They also taught vampires, werewolves and weredogs how to best manage their own unique abilities. Even dayturning vampires were taught there.’

  I took a sip of coffee and pulled my phone from my bag. ‘Well, seeing as it’s all coming back to you, maybe you could take a look at the class photo. See if you recognise the students or the teacher.’

  Grace looked down at the photo I’d taken, drumming her fingernails against her cup. The areas at the edge of the page were blackened and frayed, but the faces of the teacher and the kids were clear enough. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t recognise any of the kids, or that teacher. But I do like her outfit.’

  I enlarged the photo so I could look at the teacher who stood alongside the kids. She was wearing a floral mini-dress with fringed, knee-high boots. She wore lots of beads, and even had flowers in her hair.

  ‘It’s so confusing,’ Grace went on. ‘Memory spells are my most loathed thing in the world, and I’m very annoyed to find myself the victim of one once again. I still can’t remember much more about the school. I’ve no idea how long it existed, or how many teachers or students there might have been. I do remember one more possibly important fact, though. The school didn’t shut its doors willingly. It closed down because there was a fire. A fire that killed almost everyone on the grounds. And it happened in the Year of the Walrus.’

  ≈

  It was lunchtime by the time I finished brainstorming with Grace, so while she headed off to a meeting, Greg and I made our way to the Fisherman’s Friend to meet Dylan.

  He wasn’t there when we arrived, so we nabbed a booth and compared the facts.

  ‘I went over all of the photos I took, and I checked the scanner results a dozen times,’ said Greg, leafing through the menu. ‘We can head to the old school later on just to be sure, if you like but … maybe this is one for the gardaí? Mmm. Bangers and mash is today’s special. I will definitely have me some of that.’

  ‘You should,’ I agreed. ‘My mam puts the teensiest bit of mustard in the mash. It tastes like heaven. But amazing food aside, I still think we should be careful. I can’t see an ounce of magic, but Grace feels like she was affected by a memory spell. That means there is some kind of magic involved as far as the school is concerned.’

  Greg pulled an energy bar from his pocket and unwrapped it; as usual, he was too hungry to wait for a proper meal. ‘You have a point,’ he said. ‘And that whole thing about the fire is weird. If almost everyone at the school died, it must have made the news though, right?’

  ‘Wrong. Grace and I searched the archives this morning – remember Adeline digitised all of the old newspapers for us a while back? Anyway, there’s no mention of the school, of the fire, of any of it. Not in the Year of the Walrus. Not ever. We should see if we can track down the students in the photo. If anyone is still alive, we can see what they have to say. If they’re not, maybe their families remember something.’

  ‘Okay, well that is weird. And weird definitely equals magic, even if we can’t see any just now. I’ll look into the class photo. And some of the older residents might remember the school. The vampires, maybe? Oh, I could ask Pru.’

  I gave him a saucy wink. ‘Nothing to do with the fact that it gives you an excuse to talk to our beautiful friend? I’ll ask Nollaig, too. I think all of the Montagues lived here in the sixties. I’m sure I remember Pru telling me once about her mam and dad compelling the Beatles to play a secret gig in Riddler’s Edge.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard that too. Well, you talk to Nollaig if you like, but I’m still talking to Pru. And not just because I miss her. Pru is … well, she seems to have a stronger mind than most, doesn’t she?’

  I was about to agree with him when our waiter arrived. My parents had hired extra staff for lunchtimes, and I was still getting to know most of them. With Dylan running late, we ordered for him, too. I knew he wouldn’t want bangers and mash, so I ordered him a chicken salad instead.

  When our food was ready, my father took it over himself.

  ‘Hey Dad,’ I said when he drew near. ‘You’re immortal – something I never imagined I would say if I ever met you. Did you by any chance happen to be in Riddler’s Edge when a school for the gifted went up in flames? It would have been the late nineteen sixties. The Year of the Walrus.’

  He scratched his chin. ‘Afraid not. I was in Vietnam at the time.’ Of course he was. ‘I don’t even remember a school like that, to be honest. But Ron and Nollaig lived here then. Hey, did you ever hear the story about them compelling the Beatles to play in Riddler’s Edge?’

  ‘We were just talking about it,’ said Greg with a chuckle, spearing a sausage and happily chewing.

  We filled my father in on Ben’s death, and his features grew more troubled by the second. ‘So Grace feels like her memory has been messed with? That’s not good. And honestly? I’d hate to be the one who messed about in her head, because she will not let it go unpunished. You wouldn’t sleep for a week if I told you some of the things she did when we sailed together.’ He ruffled my hair, and I did my best not to giggle. ‘Do you guys want me to go check the site out with you? We could go later tonight, when it’s dark.’

  ‘Definitely,’ I said. ‘I’m still getting used to the whole I see magic thing, so a second pair of fae eyes would be great.’

  A fond look entered his eyes. ‘Is it wrong that I’m kind of excited about getting a chance to show you a few tricks?’ He laughed softly. ‘Anyway, can I get you anything else? A cuddle? A room of your own in the Fisherman’s Friend?’

  I gave him a quick squeeze. ‘You never know. If I get tired of Ron tonight, I’m going to be way too stubborn to go back to the lighthouse, so I might just end up here.’

  ‘In that case, I hope Ron is even more annoying than usual,’ he said, before sauntering back to the kitchen.

  It probably would have been the polite thing to wait for Dylan, but Greg had already eaten one of his sausages, and my stomach was rumbling.

  I was about half way through my mash when Hector Harte arrived. He stood in front of our booth, staring at us for a moment, pulling agitatedly at his tie.

  ‘Hey Hector.’ I gave him a small smile. ‘Can we help you with anything?’

  He shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again. What a very decisive man. After another few seconds of nodding and shaking, he slid in next to Greg.

  ‘They took it out,’ he said.

  ‘Oh?’ I had no idea what he was talking about, and Greg looked just as perplexed.

  ‘You know.’ Hector leaned closer to me. ‘The page that was in his mouth. My friend at the morgue told me. He likes to call and tell me horrible things from time to time. It’s a bit of a joke in the local medical communi
ty, as you can imagine – a doctor with a weak stomach. My colleagues like to see me squirm. Anyway, you’ll be hearing from your boyfriend in no time, I imagine.’

  As the doctor spoke, my phone was ringing. I saw Dylan’s name flash up on my screen.

  ‘He’ll be letting you know that it’s just what Norma thought it was,’ said Hector. ‘A page from the school yearbook, stuffed into Ben’s mouth. Which is all very strange, you see. Considering what was said last night.’

  Greg carried on eating, nodding absentmindedly, but I couldn’t manage another bite. Not when Hector was looking at me like that. He had something shocking to tell me, and I wasn’t too sure I wanted to hear what it was. ‘Shouldn’t you be going to Detective Quinn with this?’ I said. ‘Not that me and Greg aren’t happy to be in the loop, but …’

  Hector tapped the table. ‘I’ll tell the detective. But I’m hoping you could put my mind at rest first, do you see? Because I like her so much. I was thinking of asking her out, matter of fact. But if she did a thing like this, well then … I don’t suppose we’ll be able to get much further than the visitors’ room, now will we?’

  ‘Hector, I’m just not following you,’ I said. ‘Who do you like? Who do you suspect?’

  ‘You like her too, you see. That’s why I know you’ll want to see a way out of this as much as I do. I mean, I’ve seen your cat sneak out of her cat flap, so you’re practically related.’

  Oh dear. The truth was dawning. There was only one cat flap Fuzz regularly visited. ‘You’re talking about Norma? You don’t actually think she could do a thing like this, do you? I mean, she’s Norma.’

  He nodded eagerly. ‘Exactly. She couldn’t have, could she? Just because she was dead set against searching for the school, and because she happened to have a flaming row with Ben only yesterday afternoon. That doesn’t mean anything, does it?’