Mauve (A Very British Witch Book 3)

by Isobella Crowley

  Ten minutes later, he was back in his car outside Malaprop’s, the driver’s door opened to let in the fresh air. Someone passed by the car park and peered right at him, making him feel like a bit of a freak show. It was with great reluctance initially that he left his car and staggered to the door. After trying the handle just for fun, he turned round and slumped on the floor.

  Sitting up straight, with his back to the door, he took out his phone and found Tarquin’s number.

  “Hello, Tarquin speaking.”

  “Tarquin, it’s Cliff.”

  “Cliff!”

  “Look, what’s happening with, you know, Ronnie?”

  “Oh, relax it’s all in hand.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t relax.”

  “Well…”

  “You gonna tell me what’s going on or not?”

  “I don’t really want to do that over the phone, Cliff. Where are you? Calm down friend, everything worked out.”

  A motorbike sped along the road, causing Cliff to cover his ears.

  “Sounds like you’re pulled up in a lay-by somewhere.”

  “Wrong. I’m here, outside your shop. Waiting to get in. Like I’ve nothing better to do with my time. Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m outside Tabitha’s. I’ve just been dropping her off. Are you okay? You sound a bit shall I say excited.”

  “I’m fine! Looking for you is all. You gonna be long? It’s been a long night and I’m sitting here outside your shop freezing to death. I’m provoking one or two curious stares, if you know what I mean.”

  “Well, just stay put. I’ll be right over in less than ten. Okay?”

  “Ten minutes? Suppose it’ll have to be, won’t it?”

  +++

  Malaprop’s Bookstore, Bicester, England

  The cold, hard doorstep provided Cliff with little comfort as he sat with his back to the bookshop door. The night was just starting to grow old by this time. The moon was fading and the sky beginning to brighten. Maybe he’d get to have some sleep tonight, and maybe not.

  It had been a successful outing all in all. The blood had done him a world of good and he felt sure that in a few hours, once he’d stopped feeling so jittery, he’d be feeling better.

  “Cliff.”

  “Tarquin. Didn’t see you there.”

  “You okay, Cliff? Looks like you’ve been through the mill a bit?”

  “Well, to be honest, I am feeling a bit worse for wear.”

  “You finally got hold of some blood, then, I take it.”

  Cliff nodded. “Finally, yeah. Went to my head a bit though, I kind of overreacted.”

  Tarquin hooked his arms under Cliff’s armpits. “Come on, then.” Tarquin gritted his teeth and tensed every muscle in his body as he tried in vain to lift Cliff to his feet. “No.” He slumped down beside Cliff. “Let’s wait for Karl; he should be along soon.”

  “Oh, well okay then,” Cliff muttered, “if you can’t manage it by yourself.”

  “No. It’s been a long night. Drained me of all my strength.”

  “I know exactly how you feel.”

  They sat in silence, waiting, both of them as exhausted as they’d ever been. Tarquin was still trying to get his breath back from the exertion of trying to lift Cliff when they heard a noise.

  Cliff was the first to notice. “What’s that?” he whispered, pointing in the direction of the noise.

  Tarquin held his breath, his expression as jaded as it was tense. “It’s definitely a car.”

  A minute or so later, Karl drove past them, and parked in the middle of the square. He got out of his car and headed across the car park towards the looking pair on the doorstep. “Which one of you needs help first?” he asked with a rather sardonic grin.

  Tarquin straightened up and then stood up. “Help me get Cliff down the stairs, will you? I’ll be okay when I’ve had some rest.”

  Tarquin unlocked the door, bent down to hook his arm under Cliff’s and waited for Karl to do the same. Once they were both in position, he gritted his teeth, took a deep breath and heaved Cliff up to his feet. Karl easily took most of the weight.

  The two helped him inside and found him a chair. With Cliff safely sat down, Karl looked at Tarquin and asked if he was okay.

  “Yes,” he said, placing a hand over his diaphragm. “Just some effects of old age.”

  “You okay to talk, Tarquin, or should I give you a minute?”

  “Give me a minute, please. I’ll be fine.”

  For the next five minutes or so they sat listening to the traffic outside as Tarquin’s breathing gradually returned to normal.

  Tarquin smiled and looked at Karl. “That’s better. Don’t know what came over me.”

  Karl glanced at Cliff who was leaning back against the chair they had pushed against the wall by the counter, out of view of the windows. He seemed oblivious to the world. “It’s probably been a while since he’s been through all this. Perhaps not even since he was a new vampire.”

  “And not only that, he hasn’t been on human blood for a while has he? He’ll need to get used to it again.”

  Karl nodded. “What are we going to do with him? We can't leave him here.”

  “I don’t know, let me think. We definitely need to keep him out of mischief until he normalizes. I’ve heard tales of vamps going kind of feral after such an abstinence and then having a feed on human blood.”

  They each hooked an arm as they had before, and helped him through to the back of the store. It didn’t take them long to reach the basement and when they did, Tarquin was breathing normally.

  “So, what now?” Karl asked, looking across the dingy room at the pile of books in the corner.

  “Let’s get him in the cage, at least.”

  Karl hesitated.

  “Unless you want to keep an eye on him every second until we can trust he’s back to himself. It wouldn’t be unheard of for someone in this situation to snap out of whatever state he’s in right now and have more than his full strength and-”

  “I get the picture,” Karl interjected. “Where are the chains?”

  Tarquin pointed to a cardboard box by the wall in front of them. “There will be some undamaged ones in there,” he told him, reminding them both of the last time they’d tried to keep one of their friends from causing harm in here.

  Five minutes later, Cliff was on the floor, drifting off to sleep, as they chained him up from head to foot. Tarquin looked at him and frowned. “Sorry to do this to you Cliff, it’s for your own good. And ours,” he added.

  Cliff stirred, then opened his eyes. “What? Where am I? Tarquin, did you chain me up like this?”

  “Cliff, it’s for your own good,” Tarquin explained. “You’re obviously not yourself, so if you get loose in this state, who knows what might happen to you. You might end up going on the rampage, drinking people dry and leaving them to die.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

  Tarquin wasn’t quite sure if that was agreement or irony in his tone. “No, you wouldn’t, would you?” he impressed.

  Cliff’s voice softened. “Well, then I suppose I owe you my thanks. Thanks. You too, Karl.”

  Tarquin smiled. “It’s my duty.”

  Once Cliff had settled, his head drooped and his eyes closed.

  Karl looked quizzical. “So what now?”

  “Well, I don’t want to leave him here alone, not after what happened with Ronnie. Not that we helped the situation much.” He paused.

  “Oh yeah, definitely not. What do you suggest?”

  “I’m saying that maybe we should stay with him and keep watch for the rest of the night.”

  Karl glanced at his watch. “Well, I was hoping to open up the shop in the morning.”

  “No problem, you go on then. I’ll keep watch. I’ll perhaps try a binding spell or something to keep him here too.”

  Karl nodded, took one step towards the door and turned round. “No. You’re obviously ex
hausted. If you fall asleep, we could be back to square one and it might get traced back to me. No, I’m not taking any chances.” He closed the door and took a few steps back into the room and sat down in the chair opposite the half broken cage. “I’m staying.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Malaprop’s Bookstore, Bicester, England

  Voices pervaded the street by the tiny basement window. A mother and a couple of screaming children by the sound of it. Cliff opened one eye, scanned his surroundings and opened the other. Tarquin was sitting, staring into space, while Karl snored on the floor.

  His eyes stung and, if anything, he felt even more tired than he had the night before—or earlier on in the morning if he recollected correctly. No one would notice if he turned over and went back to sleep. What was stopping him? Cold hard metal dug into his wrists and ankles, then it all came flooding back. Glancing down at the chains, he maneuvered himself a couple of inches into a position that was fractionally more comfortable and shut his eyes. Two minutes later, another set of voices swirled around Cliff’s corner of the room. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake!”

  Tarquin swung round. “Cliff, you’re awake.” He exhaled a deep breath through puffed cheeks. “What a relief.”

  “Maybe for you.” He snickered.

  “I meant, we’ve made it through the night without any mishaps.”

  “Oh that. Well, yeah, that is a relief I guess.” Cliff chuckled.

  “I’m famished, how about you?”

  “Ravenous, Tarquin, absolutely ravenous.”

  “Fancy grabbing a bite?”

  Cliff attempted to move his arms. “Very funny, haha Tarquin. Oh, how I wish I could grab a bite!”

  “Oh, yes, I suppose you do actually.” He laughed. “Come on now, let's get those off you. Karl get up now and give these old bones a hand.”

  Karl stirred and turned around to face Tarquin. “What is it?” He sat up. “It’s Cliff, isn’t it? You let me drift off to sleep. Where is—oh, Cliff! Good morning.” He gave a sleepy-looking smile. “Never thought I’d say this, Cliff, but I’m really happy to see you.”

  They all laughed, Tarquin being the first to gather himself. “Listen, Karl, we were thinking of grabbing a bite… of food that is. You hungry?”

  “Hungry? Oh, what?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes then, shall I?”

  “What have you got in?”

  “Got in? Nothing. We were thinking of going to a café in town, you coming?”

  “Café? At this time of the morning? What will people say if they saw me? I’ll get a reputation, people will start thinking I have a drinking problem. No, I couldn’t possibly do that.”

  Tarquin’s face sank then turned into a smile as he turned to look at Cliff. “Damn, I was looking forward to that.”

  Cliff decided to have a try. “Come on Karl, you must be hungry, don’t you fancy it?”

  “Well, if I put on a coat with a hood, keep my head down—”

  “Come on, don’t you fancy a curry?”

  “A Curry? No, definitely not. If anyone sees me having a curry, they will start talking.”

  Cliff laughed, turned to Tarquin and shrugged.

  Tarquin flickered a smile. “But you’re hungry, Karl?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And you’re not opposed to going out for breakfast in principle?”

  “Well, no, suppose I’m not.”

  “Alright, so how about we have a proper English breakfast?” He looked at each of them with hope in his eyes.

  Karl nodded. “What, you mean bacon and eggs?”

  “Yup.”

  “Oh well, Go on then. Just once won’t do my good reputation any harm, will it?”

  Tarquin grinned. “Great stuff. Come on then, guys, follow me. I know just the place.”

  Karl unchained Cliff and they followed Tarquin down the stairs, Cliff in the middle and Karl bringing up the rear. Just past the halfway mark Cliff took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the banister to steady himself.

  Tarquin shot a glance over his shoulder. “You okay there, Cliff? You still got a touch of the collywobbles?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, just not used to this old book smell.”

  Karl nodded and smiled.

  “Well, I can’t get the cleaners in, can I? They might start snooping.”

  Karl nodded, wearing a more business-like expression. “True. We don’t want that, do we? More trouble is the last thing we need about now.”

  Tarquin opened the back door and they stepped outside.

  Cliff raised his chin and let the fresh air wash over him. He realized that he hadn’t recently had a shower and discreetly moved his head towards his armpit, took a whiff and strode forward with confidence.

  They took a left onto the short stretch of road that led to the high street. Despite it being first thing in the morning, the streets were teeming with people. Some, he surmised, were office workers, eager to grab a coffee on their way to work. There were one or two mothers with screaming kids, rushing to get to school on time, but mostly people had gray hair with walking sticks or shopping trollies that clunked and rattled over the sidewalk.

  A few minutes further along the high street, Cliff noticed the cars moving progressively slower as they walked further, until they stopped altogether. Plastic cones stood in the gutter, a set of temporary traffic lights occupying center stage. A few feet away, a group of men thumped a pick axe into the road. When one of them readied his pneumatic drill, Cliff prepared to cover his ears and picked up the pace.

  A motorist left his car at the traffic lights and started shouting the odds at the workmen, saying he had a meeting in a few minutes and demanding to know why they couldn’t leave it until the rush hour was over.

  “How much further, Tarquin?” Karl called out over the din.

  “Not long now, guys. Just round the corner, here.”

  Tarquin wasn’t wrong. It was only a matter of seconds before they turned the corner and noticed the café ahead of them, the delicious smell of bacon drifted towards them in the fresh air.

  They walked inside eagerly, and Tarquin spotted the man of the house, “Morning, Jim.”

  Jim was of average height with a belly that—well, let’s just say he looked like he took the occasional nibble of bacon as he cooked it. He wore white overalls with fried egg and grease stains on the front, just above the pockets.

  Jim smiled at Tarquin past the scattering of people. A man in a suit sat at the front, reading the morning paper as he ate a bacon sandwich. A couple of tables behind him, just next to Tarquin, sat another man, dressed in tatty looking jeans and a paint-stained navy blue jumper.

  “Morning, Tarquin, what can I get you?”

  “Three traditional English breakfasts, please, Jim.”

  “Three of Jim’s famous fry-ups coming up. Bacon, egg, sausage, black pudding and beans. You want toast with that? Tea?”

  “Oh, yes please.” Tarquin glanced at the others, who nodded back to him. “Make that all ‘round.”

  “Coming right up. Anything else, gentlemen?”

  “I think that will do us just fine thank you.”

  Jim nodded and pulled a slice of bacon from the pile on the work top behind him, just next to the half-full ash tray.

  +++

  Jones’s Residence, Bicester, England

  Raven pushed her nose into the back of Scarlett’s leg.

  “It’s okay, Raven, I haven’t forgotten about you.” She yawned and smiled at Amanda. “You’re staying here for the rest of the night then, I take it?”

  “Yeah. Ronnie might need me. He’s still not completely recovered. I can tell from the way he’s talking.”

  Scarlett scraped back her chair and stood up. “Think I’ll be on my way. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.”

  “Yeah, see you tomorrow for sure.”

  “You gonna be okay to walk back with me, Raven? You’re not going to go running off or anything, are you?”

  Amanda la
ughed at Raven’s curious expression. “Seen the look on her face? Think that’s your answer staring back at you.”

  “Okay then, come on. Follow me.”

  Eyes darting along the pavement, Scarlett picked out a focal point at the end of each street and walked rapidly towards it. Every now and then, she glanced down to ensure Raven was still with her. Fortunately, the cat was true to her word and never even looked like running off, even when another cat ran across the road.

  Stepping onto the garden path, Raven brushing her heels, she paused to take in her surroundings. It had only been a short while since Ronnie had disappeared, but somehow everything felt different.

  A neighbor’s door opened and a woman emerged.

  “Good morning!” Scarlett shouted, waving.

  The woman nodded and returned the compliment, without even flinching when she saw Raven.

  “Come on then, puss, follow me.”

  Once she stood outside her door, Scarlett realized that she hadn’t seen nor felt her keys in a long while. After sliding her hand into her trouser pocket and finding only the lining, her heart missed a beat. When eventually, her fingers brushed against something thin and metallic in her jacket pocket, she smiled and opened the door.

  The first thing to hit her was the smell. The cleaning up had only been done a few days back so, with little human intervention, the detergent smell lingered everywhere. But it wasn’t only that. The air felt warm. Not a nasty, humid kind of warm, more like a glow of contentment. Taking off her jacket, she felt a tingling sensation.

  With one foot in the kitchen, she looked down at Raven, whose nose was brushing the back of her leg. “Sorry girl, I need to nip out again. We’re not used to cats round here. You going to be okay for a few minutes?”

  Raven stamped her paw. “Take as long as you like.”

  Five minutes later, Scarlett re-entered the kitchen, holding a tin of cat food and a plastic bowl. Once the mashed-up meat was on the floor in the corner of the room, Scarlett stood back and looked on while Raven devoured every last morsel.

  Raven was still licking her lips when she looked up at Scarlett with a grateful expression. “What about you? You not hungry?”