by Willow Mason
“Then send that out into the world.” Brody placed a swatch into my right hand, closing my fingers over the top. “Can’t you feel the energy?”
Although I shook my head in panic, there was something. A pulse, like a random heartbeat was thumping against my palm.
“Close your eyes. Picture what you want to happen. Muffin safe and sound and Hazel unable to hurt anyone.”
I closed my eyes, for a second unable to picture anything except a black void. With a deep breath, I tried to stem my adrenaline-fuelled panic and focus. Muffin safe. Hazel disabled.
Muffin safe.
The heartbeat diminished, and I felt something close to liquid running from my fingers. When I cracked one lid open, I saw a coloured wave of smoke pouring out of my hand.
“Is that good?”
Brody laughed and pointed up the stairwell. “Good for a cute wee kitten and hopefully bad for a thief.”
Hazel bared her teeth. “I stole nothing. Esmerelda gave me the dust to help me with my business.”
Oh, how I wanted to believe that. Her earnest face pleaded with me. If only I could trust her to tell the truth.
The smoke pouring out of my fingers changed colour, morphing through a rainbow of blues, greens, and oranges.
“What did you do there?” Brody asked as Hazel sat on the stairs, her hands going limp and releasing Muffin who sprinted down to hide behind us.
“I don’t know. I just wished I could believe her.”
“Excellent.” Brody turned back to my so-called friend and tilted his head to one side. “Looks like you’re under a truth spell, little witch. Why were you selling the pixie dust?”
“I wanted to fund my business.” Hazel’s eyes filled with tears and panic. One of her hands fluttered upwards, as though trying to cover her mouth, then returned to its relaxed position on the step. “Without seed money, it’s impossible to create a career in fashion. Even with money, it’ll take a lot of determination and hard work, but I couldn’t let the whole dream die just because I’m poor.”
“You’re not poor,” Brody scoffed. “You’ve got a roof over your head and food on the table, and two parents who love you and support you.”
“It’s not enough. When you dream big, it comes with a large price tag.”
I put a hand on Brody’s arm to stop him responding. It was my turn. “Did you steal the pixie dust from Aunt Esmerelda?”
Hazel dropped her eyes. A mistake because her line of sight went directly into Muffin’s furious glare. With a jerk of her head, she avoided the kitten and ended up looking straight at me again. “Yes. I stole the dust.”
“To make money.”
“I wanted the money and your family had been collecting the stuff in a box for generations. If Esmerelda had genuinely needed it, fine, but she didn’t. Not until—”
Hazel clamped her mouth shut, her eyes widening in fear. A sickening feeling twisted through my gut and I put a hand on the banister to steady myself. “When did Esmerelda need the pixie dust?”
The young woman I’d thought of as my friend when I woke up this morning shook her head, fighting to keep the words unspoken.
“Direct questions are best,” Brody said in a faraway voice. “Yes and no are hardest to avoid because a nod’s just as good as saying it aloud.”
A direct question. I pressed a hand against my abdomen and closed my eyes for a second. To stare at Hazel while I asked would be too hard. “Did you kill Esmerelda?”
Hazel fought against the answer. Every muscle in her body tensed and jerked, trying to get away from the question. She appeared like a puppet whose master had left the strings out for a cat to play with. One elbow bounced up, then shoved to the right, while her left foot raised and slammed down into the stair.
“She fell,” Hazel said, eyes streaming with tears of effort. There was no trace of sorrow in her voice, no regret. Her focus continued to be on keeping hidden what she’d already covered up for so long. “I didn’t do anything more than push her.”
Muffin leapt up the stairs, raising her paw with her claws extended.
“No.” Brody lifted her by the midriff, taking her out of reach. “You shouldn’t hurt someone while they’re bound by magic.”
“Someone needs to hurt her,” Muffin yelled, twisting and writhing so much it was a miracle Brody could keep his grip. “How dare you kill my mistress? She was worth a thousand of you.”
“What were you doing before you pushed her?” I asked, then chewed on my lip as I realised the question was too broad. “Did she catch you stealing the dust?”
Hazel nodded, fighting against the gesture all the way.
“She knew you were coming over. How?”
There wasn’t an answer to that one. Instead, Hazel’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Esmerelda put Muffin into a cupboard to get her out of harm’s way. She must’ve known you were coming over and what you had the potential to do.”
“If she had known that,” Muffin said, spitting out each word, “my mistress would never have put herself at this thief’s mercy.”
“Did she try to talk you out of it?” I asked, and Hazel nodded. A wave of sadness washed across me. “Even though she knew what you were capable of, she wanted better for you.”
“We need to call the police,” Brody said, striding into the lounge and unplugging my phone from its hotspot coupling. “It was bad enough when you were just a thief, but to be a murderer as well…”
“I’m not a murderer,” Hazel burst out. “It was an accident. Esmerelda was trying to block me from the dust and I just pushed her aside.”
“When she fell, didn’t you consider calling an ambulance?” My voice crept into the high registers of incredulity. “She might’ve been saved.”
“I didn’t check to see.” Hazel thrust her lower lip out, nostrils flaring. “All I wanted was to get out of there.”
Muffin rubbed against my ankles and I picked her up, the close cuddle easing some of my distress. The young woman in front of me appeared so normal yet was a cold-blooded thief. Even if she hadn’t entered the property to kill Esmerelda, she hadn’t offered her help when the older woman fell, condemning her to her fate.
“PC Bronson is just around the corner,” Brody said, returning to my side. “He’ll just be a few minutes.”
“I let the cat out,” Hazel snarled. “If I hadn’t opened the door to the cupboard, Muffin could’ve died in there.”
“Do you want a medal?” Brody said, turning his back in disgust. “You’re only telling us this because Elisa put a spell on you. If you wanted Brownie points, you should’ve confessed well before now.”
“Should we record it?” I asked, anxiety striking me a body blow. “For the police to prosecute, they’ll need—”
“Don’t worry. Syd Abney is one of us. He’ll put the supernatural cuffs on her and that’ll eradicate her magic and make her incapable of lying.” Brody winked. “It’s how he levels the playing field for those mere mortals. Otherwise, we’d all be running rings around them.”
“Only the ones who’re born bad,” Muffin said, shooting Hazel a dirty look. “The rest of us are decent supernaturals and don’t need to steal or kill to fulfil our dreams.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Now, just because the attic has an outside fire escape doesn’t mean you’re not welcome to walk downstairs on the inside,” I said to Brody as he finished lugging up his last box. “And I don’t know what kinds of food you like, so we’ll have to sort out a kitchen roster later.”
“I like anything that’s made for me,” Brody said with a wink.
“Sounds like someone who’s going to starve to death,” Muffin said in a dry tone, examining the newly converted space.
“Or someone who usually just grabs a few containers of leftovers from his workplace.”
“You can’t live on restaurant food forever.” My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my back pocket. “The twins are coming over to check you’re okay.”
“To stick their noses into my business, you mean.” Brody gave a laugh, then stretched out his back until it popped. “I thought I was living as a minimalist until I had to pack all of my belongings.”
“Compared to the amount of room you have up here, you still look minimalist to me. I was hoping to fill the house with your furniture, so I didn’t have to buy any of my own.”
“What’s wrong with Esmerelda’s?”
I wrinkled my nose. “There’s a slight issue with age appropriateness. In that, her furniture appears to have been installed at the same time she first moved in.”
“Buy more, then,” Muffin said, jumping on top of a cardboard box, then squeaking as she collapsed through the folds. When she poked her head out, her eyes were bright with joy. “If you order new stuff, there’ll be more boxes to play in.”
“Or you can test out your new powers and save the environment while you’re at it,” Brody said, shooing Muffin away from his collection of ships in bottles. “Why don’t you give it a go? You have to learn to strengthen your powers somehow.”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, clasping my hands behind my back in case they accidentally did something magic without my knowledge. Although I’d dreamt up perfect living spaces for the past week without a problem, now that I wanted to focus, my entire imagination had disappeared.
“Or you can shake out some of that dust and I’ll give it a go,” Brody offered. “A couple of recliners in front of a big screen television sounds like just the ticket to me.”
“Ooh, no. Something far more refined. Large wooden chairs with dark green leather. The kind of furniture that demands you wear tweed with elbow patches.”
“Refined?” Brody’s gaze swept up the length of my pink hair before he rolled his eyes. “Sure. That’ll fit right in.”
“You can always use your inheritance to get things moving,” Muffin said from inside another cardboard box. “There mightn’t be as much of it as there once was, but it’s more than enough for what you intend.”
My mouth pulled down at the corners and I turned so the kitten wouldn’t see. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the inheritance but the thought of using someone else’s dandruff to create a magic spell made me feel woozy.
Using my own wasn’t much better, but at least I knew where it’d been.
“Right. Okay. I can do this.” I shot my arms out of my cuffs and cleared my throat, frowning in concentration at a spot in front of me. Something small to start off with. The bare floorboards appeared so stark, they needed a rug to break up the lines.
When I had a perfect image in my mind, I scratched at the top of my head, freeing a small avalanche of multi-coloured dust. Don’t think how disgusting it is! Focus on the job in hand.
“Voila!” I cried out as a circular rug a metre across appeared in front of me. My initial excitement was tempered somewhat as I realised the bright purple and orange hadn’t exactly been what I’d had in mind.
“Ha.” Muffin gave up the pleasures of her box to pounce on the rug, skittering across the circumference with excited steps. “This looks just like the one my old mistress used to own.”
“Before Esmerelda?” Brody asked.
“Well before her. Back at the turn of the century, I was familiar to a powerful pixie named Desiree. She had eclectic tastes well ahead of her time and this would fit in perfectly.”
“You mean in my attempt to create something new I’ve recreated something far older than the furniture I was complaining about?” I shook my head and put my hands on my hips. “Perhaps I’ll leave the next attempt for another day.”
“How old are you exactly?” Brody seemed far more interested in pursuing answers from Muffin than my gift of a new rug. “I always thought you’d become bonded to Esmerelda in her later years.”
“Nope. She inherited her pixiedom in her twenties, and I was waiting around for her to accept it long before that. Let me see.” Muffin sat down, curling her tail around her body. “Desiree was my fifth mistress, Esmerelda my sixth, which makes you lucky seven.”
“But…” Brody glanced at me for help.
I jumped in, coming to his rescue, curiosity burning inside me as well. “If a cat’s lifespan is between ten and twenty years, how on earth have you gone through so many mistresses?”
“Well, I age backwards and stop whenever I’m bonded as a familiar.” Muffin sauntered over and rubbed her neck against my ankles. “When you get around to asking me, I’ll stop reducing in age and you get to keep me as I am.” She ducked her head down and waggled it from side to side. “I’m sure you’ll agree, I’m the best age yet.”
The tabby appeared so cute and coquettish, I agreed with her statement. Bending over, I picked her up and held her at eye level. “Muffin, would you agree to become my familiar? I would’ve asked you earlier, but I wasn’t aware of the protocol.”
“My fault, I suppose.” Muffin sighed. “There’s so much to teach you. Usually, I get pixies who at least have some familiarity with the lifestyle. You’re just like a brand-new baby.”
“For goodness’ sake,” Posey said walking into the room, puffing from the stairs. “Just accept the offer and be done with it. Who else is going to take such a rascal on?”
“Nice rug,” Rosie said as she joined her sister. “I’ve got fifteen minutes left on the batch in the oven and then we can sit down to a lovely morning tea.”
“A batch of what?” Brody raised his eyebrows.
“Muffins, of course. What else can we all enjoy together?”
At hearing her favourite snack, the kitten wriggled in my hands, wanting to be let down. I set her on the floor, then pulled my phone out as it buzzed against my hip.
“Hello, Mum. I’ve been trying to call you.”
Waving the others downstairs, I slipped into my bedroom and pulled the door closed. In all the excitement of my first week, I’d never got around to telling my mother about my final decision.
“Let me guess,” she said now, sounding glum. “You’re staying there, and I’ll barely ever see my baby girl again.”
“Only one of those is true,” I said gently. “You know you’re welcome to come and visit me whenever you like, and I hope the invitation is returned.”
“I suppose.” My mother sniffed, though I couldn’t tell if it was from crying or in a show of disdain for my new lifestyle. Possibly both. “We’re thinking about downsizing.”
“Sounds good. I’m texting you my address, and if you move, please let me know where.”
“Why? Aren’t you going to call me any longer?”
I rolled my eyes at the mirror, pausing for a second as I considered what my mother might make of my new hair. And ears. And outfit.
She’d probably be thrilled.
“Of course, I’m going to call you. Probably more now than before since I can’t count on seeing you as often.”
“Well, good.”
We chatted for a few minutes longer before I excused myself, citing company. As I disconnected the call, I frowned at the screen, remembering how long it had taken the inheritance notice to reach me.
Did my mother know about that or had Uncle Pete worked alone in trying to cheat me of my destiny?
A question for another day, I decided, heading downstairs towards the chatter in the kitchen. Rosie winked as I walked through the door and I grabbed the nearest seat, gripping the edge of the table to prepare for what was coming next.
“Could you take the muffins out of the oven, there’s a good lad,” Rosie said, handing the oven glove across to Brody. “Only I don’t think I can stand another whoosh of heat in my face.”
“Sure.” Brody slipped them on and turned off the oven, peering in through the small window. “They look delicious.”
“They’ll look even better when they’re out,” Posey said, rapping her knuckles on the table. “Hop to it, boy.”
Brody pulled open the oven door, half-closing his eyes against the outrush of heat. Just as he grippe
d the side of the large muffin tray, something more substantial than steam came flowing out.
A ghost reared up, long arms extending to the ceiling in a grotesque display of malleability. “Brody Newhart, I have a message from the other side,” the spirit intoned in a voice dragged straight from hell. “You must repent of the dreadful things you’ve done or face retribution.”
For a second, I thought he couldn’t see the apparition in front of him. Brody had frozen in place, still grasping the side of the hot muffin tray. Then he stepped back, one knee collapsing and spilling him onto the floor. “Please, no,” he said, holding both hands above his head. “No, no, no.”
Maisie opened her mouth to begin another round of dire warnings, but Rosie couldn’t contain her laughter. “It’s a prank, boy,” she called out, holding her sides. “Teach you to corrupt a ghost into playing tricks. Now she can’t get enough.”
Brody’s eyes were so wide, a rush of pity overtook me. Then a small curve appeared at the side of his mouth. “I guess you got me.”
“Got you good,” Posey said in a crowing voice. “Got you so good.”
As Maisie turned back into her standard appearance of a lovely woman, albeit slightly see-through, I heard a knock at the door. Leaving the cackling fairies to their teasing, I was surprised to see PC Bronson standing on the doorstep.
Or Lucas Bronson, since he was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans rather than his uniform.
“Can I help you?”
“Just wanted to let you know that everything’s sorted with your case,” he said, rubbing just behind his ear. He appeared to have got a touch of sun as his face was pink. “The good ended happily and the bad unhappily and all that.”
With one quick glance towards the kitchen, I stepped onto the front porch. Bronson relaxed as I closed the door. “What happened in the court room?”
“Both parties pled guilty. Trey has an ankle bracelet for his trouble and a clip over the ear from his mother by the looks of it. Hazel will have to reappear for sentencing in a few months’ time. Until then, she’ll remain under lock and key.”
I nodded and said good, but there was nothing good about it. My mood seemed to transfer to Bronson whose shoulders sagged as though the weight of the world was pressing upon him.
