by Willow Mason
“With your family?” Muffin gave a tiny snort. The gesture was far more elegant on her tiny frame than when I did it. “The twins have been waiting for close on four months for a response.”
“But…” I pulled the letter from my pocket. “This is only dated a week ago.”
“Yeah. Someone in your family is a forger. Rosie sent it to your mother’s last known address, care of Pete Melody. Sound familiar?”
Uncle Pete. I stared hard at the note, shaking my head in confusion. “Why would he pretend it had just arrived?”
“Probably because he thought you’d missed the cut off.”
I gasped. “How close did I come?”
“Oh, you’re well over. Three months was the set time but with Esmerelda having no other beneficiaries named in her will, the courts wouldn’t grant probate for a lot longer.”
My mind boggled at the information. “You mean my family tried to cheat me out of this altogether?”
“Certainly appears that way.”
“How awful.” I meant the words as much for me as for Brody. “I’ll go down to the café at once.”
When I arrived, Brody grimaced before getting his customer face in order. “Back again so soon? You must really like the food here.”
“I do but that’s not the only reason.” I turned shy as I made the offer for him to stay for free. “With all that’s going on, I’d appreciate knowing there was a strong man around the house,” I said with a blush. My first real lie. No matter how much Brody deserved the room, I’d never had a male flatmate before and felt awkward about the whole thing.
“That’s kind,” Brody said, staring hard at the window, the floor, the table—anywhere but at me. “Do you mind if I take a few days to think about it?”
“Not at all,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Take as long as you need.”
“Cool. Are you ready to order?”
Considering I’d just split a muffin, I shouldn’t have had an appetite at all, but my stomach grumbled before I could explain that. “How about the same thing I had last time?” I asked instead, obediently following my belly’s instruction to sit down. “Plus a piece of cheesecake for dessert.”
“Since your chest has grown a furry head,” Brody said, nodding to where Muffin poked out from his hiding place. “I’ll bring you extra on the side to start.”
Except, he didn’t. A waitress brought out the meal to me instead. Brody waited on every table except mine for the rest of the meal, giving me a small wave as I settled my bill at the counter and headed out the door.
Oh, well. I’d probably be embarrassed too if I thought someone was offering me charity. Even if he deserved a place at Esmerelda’s house more than I did, it might have seemed that way to him.
Even after the big meal, my stomach gave a few rumbles on the walk home. Enough to leave me wondering if my transformation into a pixie was to blame.
“You’ll need more energy while you’re changing,” Muffin confirmed when I asked. “Plus, magic takes a lot out of you, when you begin learning that.” She prodded at my wrist, claws thankfully retracted. “But since you don’t even have a faint shine of dust on you yet, that could be a fair way down the road.”
Just the thought of being able to do something ‘magic’ made my body tingle. It seemed so fantastical I could barely believe it was real. On the other hand, hair changing colour and direction also seemed like something plucked out of a fantasy.
“What do you want to do this afternoon?” I asked Muffin once we got home. “I could read to you.”
“The table next to us at the café gave me a better idea,” she said, nudging at the laptop until I opened it up. “Do you know how to turn your mobile phone into an internet hotspot?”
Magic sounded easier but the kitten walked me through every part of the process. Once the laptop was connected to the mobile wifi, Muffin got absorbed in her game.
Great. I’d eliminated the only company I had. Spending time by myself was definitely not an attractive way to spend the day until the twins arrived for their sleepover. Instead of suffering in silence, I headed for Hazel’s door and invited myself inside.
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, welcoming me inside. “There are some clothes set up on models in my bedroom that I’d love a hand putting together.”
“Sounds good. If I do a good job, can I become head seamstress for your clothing label?”
“You certainly can.” Hazel pulled me close and whispered, though no one else seemed to be in the house. “I’ve been talking with a few folks up and down the country. At least four boutique clothing stores are interested enough to meet with me later in the month.”
“Congratulations.” I laughed as she grabbed my hands, and we jumped up and down. “Now, where should I start?”
“With this.” Hazel dragged me into her bedroom where a station was set up in the corner. A mannequin sported finery, held together with nothing but pins, while on the floor was a selection of patterns on cloth, halfway through being cut.
“These fabrics are gorgeous,” I said, rubbing a piece of gold silk between my fingers. “You’ve really spared no expense.”
“It’s not as much as it might look,” Hazel said, tapping the side of her nose. “I managed to get quite a good deal at the Sew and Sew store. Once Georgie told me she was short-staffed, I figured she might be in the mood to offload some of her premium stock to keep costs down, and I was right.”
From the arrangement of glittering fabrics, each one of finer quality than the last, I expected the patterns to be for evening frocks or cocktail outfits. Once I was seated at the sewing machine, I soon learned differently.
“When I worked as a data entry clerk for a firm up north,” Hazel explained, “I found myself bored to tears with standard corporate work wear. Why shouldn’t someone in a back office be able to wear something fabulous when the mood strikes? These are simple enough to not raise any eyebrows but in such luxurious fabrics people won’t be able to resist.”
“Does your magic work to influence customers?” I asked, half in jest, as I quickly edged the first garment and began to work on the main seams. “You could ensure a steady stream of clientele that way.”
“My magic barely works to get me a coffee,” Hazel said, pulling her mouth down at the corners. “You’ll find out soon enough. Unless the universe approves of the spells you’re casting, everything is hard work for little result.”
The words echoed what the twins had already told me, although they’d seemed better pleased with the arrangement than Hazel was.
“That’s the bulk of the work done,” I announced a few minutes later, pulling the fabric from the machine. “Now, if you could pin it again, I’ll work out what needs hand sewing and what I can work around with the machine.”
In just a few hours, we’d pulled together two fantastic outfits, each one composed from three separate pieces. “See how if I style them with different jewellery,” Hazel said as she demonstrated, “I can turn these six items into at least four complete outfits.”
If enthusiasm was enough to go by, then she’d soon have a thriving business in her hands. I was so caught up in the excitement, it took an indignant meow at the window for me to realise how late it was.
“Did you want to come to a sleepover?” I asked Hazel when I’d made my excuses to leave. “There’s not much by way of entertainment unless you count shrieking ghosts.”
“Wow.” Hazel rolled her eyes. “You make it sound so inviting, but I’ll take a hard pass.”
I walked by her parents coming in as I was leaving and stopped for a few minutes to chat. “Your daughter is so talented,” I gushed, still full of enthusiasm for what we’d created.
“Talented at getting other people to do her work,” Hazel’s father said with a wink. “You just make sure she’s not taking undue advantage.”
The warning jarred me but since the couple kept such wide smiles, I presumed the joke was a private one, or I’d missed a
social cue.
“I got bored with card games,” Muffin said, appearing coyer than usual. “So I fiddled about with a few things. You might want to take a look.”
It didn’t take long to understand what she’d done. “You hacked into the coronial database after I told you not to.”
“Honestly, you told me not to, then you brought a computer and left me in charge of it.” The kitten rolled onto her back and tilted her head. “Those are mixed messages if I’ve ever heard them.”
“Fair enough.” If I was truly upset about the deception, I could just turn the laptop off and pretend this had never happened. Instead, my eyes devoured the page of notes, trying to interpret the meaning.
“When PC Bronson said the coroner could tell whether someone was pushed or fell by the trajectory, I thought there’d be more evidence than this,” I finally said, sitting back in disappointment. “I can’t tell anything from this data.”
“Let me try.” When I raised an eyebrow at Muffin, she batted my knee with her paw. “I’ve had far more life experience with these things than you! Don’t forget you’re talking to a senior citizen.”
It made me smile to think of the small kitten in such a way, even if it were true.
After a half hour of perusing the document, Muffin sat back and licked her paw. “It seems clear to me they drew a conclusion based on the most likely scenario rather than by eliminating all other options. Perhaps that’s how they do it in the human world, but it leaves a lot to be desired.”
“I suppose if no one suggested there was foul play at the time, the coroner wouldn’t necessarily think to go there. After all, the police handed the case back because they didn’t conclude it was murder.”
Muffin shook herself, a small army of stray hairs floating in the air. “Let’s go outside,” she insisted, visibly upset. “I need to clear my mind with a good run after that.”
On the way back from our trip to the park, Muffin had recovered from her pensive mood. To keep her mind on other matters, I tried a show-off leap over the front fence. My foot caught and, as I stumble, waving my arms for balance, the twins pulled up to the curb, returning my wave with one of their own.
Chapter Eleven
Posey’s butt wriggled in the air as she adjusted the wires at the rear of the television. “I’m sure this was easier the last time I did it,” she said as she scrambled back on her hands and knees. “But I’ll press play and let’s see if it worked.”
She hit the button on the video remote, sending a wave of static across the snowy screen but otherwise getting no reaction.
“Shall I read the instructions to you?” Rosie offered, rolling her eyes at me as her sister emphatically declined.
“I know what I’m doing. It’s just the cords are old, and these inputs are full of dust.”
“Plus, the video player’s been stored in the garage for the last twenty years,” her sister reminded her. “If it goes at all, it’ll be a miracle.”
Posey glanced at the machine before snuggling behind the telly again. “Something’s working. The video cassette holes are spinning around.”
“Is that their technical name?” Rosie asked, smothering a chuckle with her hand.
“Why don’t you look it up in the manual if it’s that important to you?” her sister responded with a sniff. Unfortunately, the amount of dust behind the television sent her into a rambunctious fit of sneezing.
“Oh, no. Turn it off.” I lunged for the machine as a spool of video cassette tape pushed its way out of the opening. Rosie collapsed with laughter as I ejected the offending item and attempted to roll it back where it belonged.
“You’ll need a giant pencil to do that right,” she said between splutters. “How about you leave the retro technology alone and we play a game or something?”
Posey pouted. “But I wanted to watch Love, Actually.”
“You’ve seen it a million times. If you want it so badly, just recite the entire script by heart.”
Posey sat with the spooled tape in her lap, trying to rectify the unrepairable. After a few minutes, she gave up, leaving it on the floor for Muffin to stalk. “Fine but I don’t want to play a board game. How about we tell each other ghost stories? That’ll get us in the mood.”
I put a hand against my chest. “If the mood is scared witless of what might happen tonight. I’m already trembling without a scary story.”
In case they didn’t believe me, I held out my shaking hand.
“Even if it’s a real ghost, there’s nothing to fear. They’re not made of anything substantial.”
Rosie’s levelheadedness should have been welcome, but it did nothing compared to my fertile imagination.
“You said it was probably a prank,” I reminded her. “In which case, whoever running the show could do me far worse damage than a ghost.”
“But it’ll be three against one, no matter what.” Rosie linked hands with her sister, then reached for me. “All for one and one for all.”
Despite her enthusiasm, I sat and shook my head. “Forget about fighting, I’m wondering if I should leave the doors unlocked so I can easily run away.”
“Fleeing is a valid option,” Posey said when her sister’s eyebrows raised. “If you need to, don’t hesitate. Meanwhile, Rosie and I will record everything and try to work out who’s behind this.”
The thought of me scarpering down the street while the twins stayed put to sort out my troubles sent a rush of red into my cheeks. “If you’re staying, so will I.”
“If we’re going to fight off spirits, we should keep our strength up.” Posey got to her feet and wiped her dusty hands over her cardigan. “I suggest we load up on something sweet for a burst of energy when we need it.”
“For a burst of diabetes, more like,” her sister grumbled. “There’s some cut carrot and celery sticks in the fridge.”
“You’re expecting a giant rabbit, are you?”
“I’ve got snacks to suit everyone in the cupboards,” I said, rushing to stop the sibling squabble in its tracks. “We can be healthy tomorrow once we’re all sure no one’s trying to murder anyone.”
“Exactly,” Posey said, trailing me into the kitchen. “If this is going to be my last meal, I don’t want to waste it on garden scraps.”
As I opened the cupboards to reveal my haul, a flicker caught the corner of my eye. Gossamer wings extended out from Posey’s back, catching every lick of colour in the room and reflecting it back. “You’ve got wings!”
“Huzzah, you can finally see them,” Muffin said, strolling through the connecting door. “At this rate, you’ll be fully baked by tomorrow morning.”
“Do you like them?” Posey turned from side to side, preening in a way I’d never seen her do before. “They’re my favourite body part.”
“Do they work?” Compared to the size of the rest of her, the wings seemed far too fragile to be more than decorative. However, with a small grunt of effort, Posey got them flapping. She rose off the lino floor tiles: an inch, two, then a whole foot into the air.
“Showing off, sis?” Rosie launched into the room, her body flying a metre above the ground. “If you want to go outside, we can do better. I’ve got a whole aerobatic act from my high school classes I can do.”
“Is it safe?” I followed them out the front door, feeling apprehensive as the pair floated higher into the air. Everything about their wings seemed the opposite of aerodynamic.
I remembered a teacher explaining that, according to physics, bumblebees shouldn’t be able to fly. The twins appeared to have a lot of bumble going on, far more than even the rotund bees themselves.
“We’re fine.” Rosie performed a forward roll, then twisted into a spin that left me dizzy. “Most of what keeps us airborne is magic, not wind dynamics. As long as we believe in ourselves, we’re fine.”
For all that the twins had told me humans misunderstood supernatural creatures, as I held my breath in wonder, it seemed to me fairies were just about spot-on. They we
re magical and delicate, yet sturdy and feisty. Tinkerbell had nothing on the twins yet obviously belonged to the same family.
“I always wanted to fly,” Muffin said in a forlorn voice. “One drawback of being a pixie familiar is never getting to ride on the end of a broomstick.”
Posey swooped through the air and picked up the kitten, holding her aloft. “Who needs a broomstick? Witches are overvalued, in my humble opinion.”
After a quick check to see Hazel wasn’t somewhere nearby, I nodded in agreement.
“Phew. That’s me done,” Posey said as she landed with a thump. “I’ll need triple the snacks to keep me going now.”
“Was this all a ploy to get more sugar?” her sister asked with open suspicion, landing nearby. “If so, well done. That was super fun.”
“Don’t you fly often?” As the pair shook their heads at my question, I thought how sad that was. If I had wings, I’d fly everywhere. My Nissan Pulsar could rust to detritus on the driveway because it wouldn’t be needed, ever again.
“It’s both harder and easier than it looks,” Posey admitted, puffing as she gave Muffin a last pat and let her down. “But showing off always gives me added oomph.”
We snacked and chatted and told old jokes that made us all groan as the lengthening shadows of the afternoon turned into twilight. With all the wakefulness of my previous night taking a toll, soon I was stifling yawns against my hand.
“Are you bored, dear?” Rosie asked with her eyes twinkling. “It’s so hard to tell the difference between a bored pixie and a tired one.”
My eyes opened wide. “Are you saying snoring with my eyes open is a pixie trait?” When the twins nodded, I felt a weight lift off my chest. “Thank goodness. I was halfway to thinking I was self-destructive and crazy.”
“Oh, you could very well be that, too,” Posey said, giving me a poke in the ribs.
“So… many… jobs…” I said between long blinks as sleep got a tighter grip on me. “Do you want the couch or the bed?”
