Mauve (A Very British Witch Book 3)

by Isobella Crowley

  Amanda was home. Scarlett gave her makeup a final check and then headed downstairs.

  “Morning! How you doing?” Despite the events of the last few days she actually felt quite bright this morning.

  Amanda placed her mug of coffee on the table and slumped down in the chair. Scarlett noticed her eyes were bloodshot and there was no hint of a smile.

  “Oh dear. What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling out the chair next to her friend. “Are you alright?”

  “It’s nothing really. Just a fitful night - and I have a strange feeling in my gut. Must’ve been something I ate.” She lowered her eyes to her coffee. “Anyways, you seem happy, what’s on?”

  Scarlett shrugged. “Oh, you know, same old thing. Overall things are normal. Had a strange day at work yesterday, though.”

  “Well that’s to be expected when you work for a weirdo like Karl isn’t it?” Amanda’s expression didn’t follow her tone at all, but stayed rather blank.

  Scarlett laughed. “Very funny, and true enough. Yeah, and when I got back to work yesterday, that particular weirdo wasn’t around, which is unusual.”

  “Thought that happened all the time?”

  “Guess it does, but this time…I don’t know, it just felt strange.”

  “He’s a strange weirdo then.”

  Scarlett chuckled. “Karl? Oh yeah, tell me about it. No, but it wasn’t that. Not just that, anyway.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Sure you aren’t just letting your imagination run away with you?”

  Scarlett set her mug down on the table. She could tell that Amanda was off today but this just annoyed her. “No, Amanda, I’m not. Sometimes things just happen and you get a gut feeling that you can’t rationalize to other people. That must have happened to you, surely?”

  “Well, yeah, sorry, didn’t mean to upset you Scarlett. I’m just a bit off kilter today is all.” She sat up a bit straighter to pay closer attention. “So what was it then? What was your gut telling you?”

  “That’s the thing, don’t know exactly. Went around the back to do some digging. I thought it might be connected with—”

  Amanda yawned.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bore you.”

  “No, no it’s not that. I’m just exhausted. Didn’t get a wink last night, in fact.”

  “I knew something was wrong. And there’s me blabbing on about my own problems. So, what is it? What’s bothering you? Is it Ronnie?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. I‘ve just got a bad feeling. I know something’s wrong, but I can’t put my finger on what.”

  “Have you tried ringing him?”

  “Yeah, but he’s not answering. Been trying half the night. I just wanted to know that he was okay, because he hasn’t been feeling well.”

  Scarlett nodded sympathetically. “Well, if he isn’t feeling well, he’s most likely in bed, sleeping it off.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am right, you’ll see.”

  “Maybe, but—”

  “No buts, Amanda.”

  Scarlett sat back and took a deep breath. “Amanda?”

  “What?”

  “You know when Ronnie … goes off sometimes?”

  “Yes. What about it?”

  “Well, do you keep a record? Of the dates I mean?”

  “Not specifically, no, but I do keep my own calendar… so I could work out when he was away. Why?”

  “Just something I need to check out. Don’t suppose you could quickly check the dates for me?” Scarlett held her gaze, trying not to seem too keen. “I promise I’m not trying to pin another murder on him….” She grinned.

  Amanda furrowed her brow, then shook her head and smiled back. “You and your sleuthing. I’m sure you must have watched too many Miss Marple films when you were a kid.”

  “Please?”

  Amanda checked the time on her phone. “Well, okay then. Quickly though, I don’t have much time.”

  “Thanks. Just jot a list of the dates down on a paper for me.”

  “Okay, whatever you say detective.”

  Scarlett sat staring into space while Amanda dragged herself up the stairs and across the landing. Scarlett heard the bedroom door shut and took out her phone to take a glance at her emails while she waited.

  Her gaze scanned the inbox. There was only the usual daily bombardment of spam from sites that she’d intended to unsubscribe from but forgot. It wasn’t long before she put the phone on the table and started to mull things over again.

  Just then Amanda came down the stairs and handed her the list of dates.

  “Here you go. Not sure what good this will do but go ahead and take a peek.”

  After running a quick eye over the scrap of lined paper, Scarlett smiled and said thank you.

  Amanda took another look at the time, hesitated, then slumped down at the table.

  “You skipping work today are you? It’s mighty late for your usual shift”

  Amanda looked at the clock. “I think I’ll go in soon, but yeah called in a bit of a fib early this morning to buy me some time to freshen up.”

  “Go on then, you get off to work. It will make you feel better and don’t worry about Ronnie. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Why are you always so right, Scarlett? It’s like you have some special power over me to make it all better,” she muttered as she stood up.

  Scarlett waved a hand. “You go to work. And don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Aside from showing up at work looking the mess that I do, I won’t! You’re right. He’s probably just in a deep sleep like he does.”

  “A snorer huh?” Scarlett joked.

  “The worst. Ok catch you later.” Amanda gathered her belongings and headed out.

  As soon as Scarlett heard the door bang shut, she took out the list of dates noticing they were each about a month apart. She shoved the paper into a pocket in her bag and then found her jacket. If she got to work early, hopefully no one would be around and she could compose her thoughts in peace.

  A few moments later, she stepped out of the back door. Breathing in the fresh morning air she headed down the driveway and then turned right onto the road that took her into town. Cars motored by her, music blaring from the windows. Kids screamed and chattered as their mothers took them to school. To everyone else it was just another mundane day.

  As Scarlett approached the Market Square, she had a thought. Even though she knew that Ronnie had problems around the full moon, and even though it looked like normally he’d go away during that time, it didn’t tell her where to find him, or what to do with him when she did.

  But someone else they knew would. She checked the time on her phone. She still had plenty of time to get to work and open the shop up. She slowed her pace as she approached the book shop. Time for a quick stop-off.

  +++

  Malaprop’s Bookstore, Bicester, England

  Standing outside the door of the bookshop, Scarlett regarded the closed sign and sighed. The light was on, though, which was unusual for the time of day. The boarded-up shop window stood out like some kind of beacon on the busy street, practically begging people to stop and stare. If something strange was going on, they’d been somewhat careless to say the least.

  Her knuckles knocked against the window. Moments later Tarquin headed towards the door. He jangled the bunch of keys, inserted the right one and opened the door. He greeted her with something of an awkward smile.

  “Scarlett, how nice to see you.”

  “Tarquin. I just called over to ask—”

  He took a step back. “Come on, step this way.” He held the door open and gestured for her to follow.

  Stepping through the shop, he took a sharp right and descended a long, uncarpeted staircase. Half way down Scarlett started to notice the smell of old, moth-eaten books and the stairs started to bend and dip underfoot.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Tarquin paused, looked around what appeared to be an old, damp basement, and
called, “I’ve brought a visitor down.”

  Scarlett stepped forward tentatively, then scanned the room for people.

  “Good morning, Scarlett. How lovely to see you.”

  The shock of hearing such a familiar voice come out of nowhere almost made her jump out of her skin.

  Tarquin placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her in the right direction. “Go on, he’s a bit dazed, but otherwise okay.”

  Karl got to his feet and extended a hand. “Scarlett, come on, do join us. I thought you might show up here.”

  She then noticed Cliff, who nodded and said hi.

  Scarlett smiled awkwardly and broke eye contact. Somehow, she’d have to tear down the wall of awkwardness that stood between them. In many ways, she was glad that he hadn’t shown up for that date months ago, but since then she’d gotten the impression that he still carried a flame for her. At sometime or another she’d have to firmly extinguish it, but for now there were more important things to think about.

  “Have… have either of you seen anything of Ronnie?” she asked, glancing from one to the other.

  Cliff was the first to speak up. “Don’t look at me. I don’t have a clue where he is. I’ve only just got here myself. Literally just sat down when Tarquin shot up the stairs to let you in.”

  She glanced at Karl, who was clearly not quite with it.

  “Didn’t know a thing about it,” Cliff continued, “not until I went to recharge my phone this morning and noticed Karl’s missed call.”

  “About what exactly are we referring to?” Scarlett pressed on.

  Karl’s eyes switched on. “Yesterday, Ronnie came to us and told us that he’d been chased the night previously. So I told him to come around yesterday night so we could chain him up.” He gestured with his head towards the storeroom. “In there.”

  Cliff butted in. “Apparently, they chained him up, put him in the cage and locked the door.”

  “Because he’s a werewolf, right?”

  “Got it.”

  “So, what happened? Where is he? Amanda’s getting anxious that she hasn’t heard from him, but I calmed her down for now.”

  Cliff looked at Karl, who was now fully focused.

  Karl scowled at Cliff before answering Scarlett. “Well, we don’t know where he is right now, but last night he managed to escape. Broke free of the chains and ripped out the bars, right in front of me.”

  Scarlett turned white. “Poor Amanda. Someone has to let her know.”

  “Well, let’s not go there for the time being. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we have to concentrate on finding him.”

  Tarquin appeared out of nowhere. “All we know is that last night he was here and he escaped. We haven’t heard a thing from him since. We’re in the same boat as you.”

  “Well can anyone tell me how you managed to let him escape?”

  Cliff nodded towards Karl. “Karl, you were there. You tell her.”

  “Well, I was just sitting here keeping watch with Tarquin. He never really settled. I guess it was a combination of the fever and the full moon. Anyway, he broke through his chains, went to task on the bars and managed to rip one out. Before I could stop him he was out and crashing through the shop, tossing me aside in the process.”

  Scarlett lurched forward on her seat. “Poor Ronnie.”

  “Poor me!” Karl countered. “I was the one that was knocked on my arse!”

  Scarlett shook her head. “Yes, of course. But the fever seems to mesh. He hasn’t been well. It had been going on for days according to Amanda.”

  Karl subconsciously rubbed the upper part of his bottom where he had hit the wall. “Well yeah, that could be a were thing,” he agreed. “A fever could have an effect like that. I’ve heard about this kind of thing before. The virus gets them amped up, gives them extra strength and stamina. Anyway, whatever it was, he managed to get out.”

  Tarquin stepped forward. “What about Amanda? Hasn’t she heard anything? Does she have any idea where he might be?”

  “No. I convinced her he must just be sleeping and didn’t hear her calls. She was awake half the night worrying. She hadn’t heard from him by the time we left. Probably still hasn’t.”

  “Wherever he is, he can’t be roaming the streets, that’s for sure,” Cliff said.

  Scarlett shifted her eyes towards Cliff. “A loose werewolf, not good, no, not at all.”

  “And on top of that when he broke out he was naked.”

  Scarlett gasped.

  Tarquin spoke up. “And vulnerable.”

  Scarlett shot up. “Well, what are we going to do about it?”

  Tarquin answered. “Well, I think we should devise some sort of a plan. We’ll go around to check his place for clues and then—well, we’ll just have to go out and look for him, won’t we?”

  Cliff and Karl nodded simultaneously.

  Scarlett was unappeased. “When? Today?”

  “We have little option, do we?” Tarquin said.

  “Great. Well, whenever you go, I’m coming with you. No two ways about it.”

  Karl raised his head from his hands. “Not necessary Scarlett. You’re needed around the wine shop. Go open up and give me one less thing to worry about.”

  Scarlett’s face dropped. “Well, okay, if that’s how I can be of best use.”

  “It is.”

  “Only if you all promise to keep me posted?”

  “Promise.” Beamed Cliff, still slightly smitten with Scarlett.

  +++

  RAF Bicester, Launton

  The harsh metallic floor paralyzed Ronnie’s naked body. Piercing, high-pitched sounds, moans, and gut-wrenching wails drifted in on the warm, stale air. For a moment, Ronnie assumed he must still be asleep, so he closed his eyes.

  It wasn’t until he shifted into his usual sleeping position that the coldness set in. His entire body felt like an iceberg, but nowhere was as cold as his arms and shoulders, where every single red hair stood to attention.

  That’s when it all came flooding back. He wasn’t dreaming, his sore feet and aching calves told him that. His legs were caked in mud, tinged with green, feeling like a couple of lead weights. Wincing and gritting his teeth, he sat up, noticing the circular red mark where the dart had planted in his leg.

  And the dart. Whatever was in it had mostly worn off, but he was still feeling some of the effects. The only part of his body that wasn’t numb was his lower back, becoming all the more painful as he sat resting against the wall.

  Someone or something in the cage opposite stirred. It got to its feet, walked across its cell, and let out a deafening wail, the kind of noise that no human should ever make. He had to get out of this prison and fast.

  Shivering, rubbing his shoulders, his mind flashed back to the conversation he’d had with the guard, specifically the part when he’d mentioned tests. Was he in human form when that happened? He didn’t think so, perhaps he had partially shifted… no, he was definitely still in full were mode when that happened.

  Maybe the guy in the cage opposite was a shifter just like Ronnie. Maybe they’d conducted the tests on him and it had turned him into a kind of wild human werewolf half-breed, sentenced to spending eternity in limbo, neither one thing nor the other. A laboratory cage was the only safe hiding place for a thing like that.

  Pushing the pain down to the pit of his stomach, he managed to get up and have a quick look around. There might be a door somewhere, some keys lying around the floor. Maybe an absent-minded guard would come down the aisle, jingling the keys and he could pounce, take the keys from his grasp and let himself out.

  He drew one foot in, placing his sole against the cold floor. It tingled then gradually turned numb. He repeated the process with his other foot, gritted his teeth, braced himself, and pushed himself up, noisily jangling his chains in the process. The pain in his back felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

  He took a step forward, then another. By the time he stood a
t the front of the cage, eyes darting along the aisle, he felt much better. However, there were no keys lying around on the floor, no doors and not a guard in sight. Just a row of cages, all inhabited by human half-casts like the guy in the cage opposite. And worse still, an entire row of crazy eyes was on him, waiting for him to perform. One of the creatures stepped forward, pounded on the glass and howled. A few of the others followed suit, grinning inanely at Ronnie, like he was on the breakfast menu.

  “Oh, finally, you’re awake.”

  Ronnie stiffened. Everyone went quiet as they stared at him, spellbound. Somewhere along the aisle, one of them laughed, then another, then another. Before he knew it, the whole lot of them were laughing, banging on their cages, grinning at him.

  The ceiling looked solid, powerless to pass on any sound at all. And the floor; not even a pneumatic drill could penetrate that. He glanced around, top to bottom, side to side, all the while trying to convey to the prying eyes that everything was fine. Schizophrenia, bipolar, he’d heard about so many of these conditions and cursed himself for never finding out more. He’d come across stories of people hearing voices, and they were usually locked away. Maybe it was catching, or maybe the dart had infected his mind with—

  “Here. To your right.”

  When, if ever, he got out of this place, he was going to go straight to a psychiatrist to get a diagnosis. Hearing voices ain't natural. He covered his face in his hands, looked up at the ceiling, and opened his mouth to scream at the voices. Something glinted in his periphery.

  He could see right through the wall to his right as if it were glass. Perplexed, he turned to get a good look, wondering why he hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he could put it down to his fever. Whatever it was, he could now see clearly into the cage adjacent to his, his eye being caught by a cat that was staring directly at him.

  But it wasn’t a normal cat, not like the hissing tabbies that he’d come across in the alleyway the night before, dirty smelly things that had ideas well above their station. No, this cat looked almost civil. There were no baring teeth or hissing. It wasn’t standing with its back arched, fur standing on end, amber eyes daring him to approach. This cat was not like that at all.