by Willow Mason
She marched across the table and leapt down beside me like a brave soldier. “Come on. Let’s find this repair kit box so I can reward myself with another treat.”
Uncle Pete didn’t show the faintest sign of shame that he was being shown up in the bravery stakes by a kitten. He settled farther back in his chair and waved us off.
“The worst thing that could happen now is Brody returns home and finds us nosing around his room without permission.” Muffin happily jumped into my arms to save her the long trawl upstairs. “Maybe we should send him a text?”
“Good idea.” I composed a quick note while standing outside his door. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping him so long, anyway. Even if he bombed out on his mysterious job interview, he should be home by now.”
“If he bombed out, maybe he went straight to the Tavern Café to pick up an extra shift.”
There was no answer to my text and when I DM’d his social media account, it didn’t show a timestamp for being read.
“Forge ahead?” I raised one eyebrow and looked at Muffin.
“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
I tentatively opened the door, shielding my eyes so I couldn’t see anything but the floor in front of me.
“What are you doing?” Muffin stared at me in surprise. “You can hardly search for a magical box with your hand over your face. Be sensible.”
“Instead of searching, I thought I’d send out a little magic spell to do the job for me.”
Muffin trotted forward with a haughty sniff. “Magic is for helping us do the impossible when it needs doing. It’s not a replacement for effort.”
Okay. Fair enough.
To start with, I searched in the corner behind the silk screen where Esmerelda’s clothes trunk was stored. It seemed the most likely place for a magic box to be hiding out, but in a second, I could see it wasn’t there.
“Do you remember the box Uncle Pete was talking about?”
“Vaguely,” Muffin said, matching her tone to the word. “But there’s been a lot of stuff go through this house over the years. Esmerelda was a bit of a hoarder.”
Hoping I wasn’t about to see sights I’d later wish to unsee, I pulled open the wardrobe door and peeked inside. Brody’s rooming style appeared to be keeping everything within arm’s length of the bed—a style matched nicely to mine—and the large walk-in space was devoid of clothing.
“If I lift you, can you check the upper shelving?” Muffin agreed, and I hoisted her up to peer into the corners my height didn’t allow. “Anything?”
“There’s a box up here but it’s small.”
I pulled a chair from my room into the attic and stood on it to reach. The box was only six inches wide, but the top also matched Uncle Pete’s description. “Only one way to know and that’s by testing it out.”
As I pulled it free, it revealed a shoebox crammed even farther back. With a grunt of effort, I stretched my fingers as far as they would go and snagged it by the corner.
“What’s that for?” Muffin asked, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell.
“Treasure always hides in shoeboxes,” I said as I jumped off the chair. One peek inside cured me of that hope. “Or old paperwork.”
“This must be the mini version,” Uncle Pete said when we brought the boxes downstairs. “I’m sure the one we had as kids was much larger.”
“Hand me that beer bottle, will you?” I tucked it inside the wooden box and closed the lid. “Now, how long do you reckon this’ll take?”
“Goodness knows, but if this works, I wouldn’t mind taking it back home as a souvenir.”
Muffin tapped the lid. “It probably won’t work outside the house, so you’d have to stay in this town you hate so much to take advantage.”
“Then I guess I’ll settle for buying my refills.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “You know, I once hid in that broom closet where you found the body. When I was younger, I was a champion at hide and seek.”
Muffin didn’t look impressed. “Hiding in a closet doesn’t sound all that great.”
“I’d sneaked a small stash of my auntie’s pixie dust to render me invisible if someone came looking.”
“You mean, you cheated.” Muffin’s expression grew even sterner. “Hardly a champion thing to do.”
“It is when you’re young. Most kids aren’t bright enough to cheat at anything.” Uncle Pete shifted on the chair, sliding his thumbnail under the beer bottle sticker until he could peel it back. “While I was in there, someone started whispering to me.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. “Who was it?”
“Dunno. They warned me that my aunt was part-demon and a murderer. When I told Mum, she dragged us out of there and we never visited again.”
For a long time, neither of us spoke, until Muffin’s snores broke the deepening silence.
“Your familiar’s got a funny sense of timing.”
“I think she’s under a spell,” I whispered, patches of gooseflesh bumping out along my arms. “Every time someone mentions the body upstairs, she falls asleep. I thought she was doing it on purpose but now I’m not so sure.”
He sucked the last of the beer out of his bottle and slammed it on the table right by Muffin’s ear. The kitten continued to dream on, oblivious.
“Uncle Pete?” My voice barely made a sound at all. “Do you remember having another Aunt? Her name was Rose.”
“Who told you about her?”
“I found her birth announcement in the paper, along with Esmerelda and Dimity.”
For a second, I thought he was going to tell me something, confess maybe, or give me another piece of my family puzzle. Then Uncle Pete stretched over the table and flipped up the lid of the box, making the mother-of-pearl twinkle.
“Looks like the beer’s ready,” he said, pulling out a full bottle, indistinguishable from the ones still stored in the fridge.
Before I could ask again, a knock came on the door. Darla Quincey stood on the porch, Reggie by her side. “Thank goodness you’re home,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “After all that kerfluffle this morning, I wasn’t sure you would be.”
“Nowhere else to go.” I pulled the door closed behind them, satisfied the nosy neighbour syndrome appeared to have died away. “Does this mean you worked out the formula already?”
“Worked it out, took out the toxic ingredients that make the monster hunters hallucinate us as the enemy, and put it back together the way it should be.” Darla thrust a plastic drinks bottle into my hand. “Go on. Have a try.”
“Will it work on me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at the thought of being a guinea pig.
“Good point. Where’s a human when you need one?” Darla pouted for a moment, then clicked her fingers. “Can’t you call that nice policeman back here and have him take it for a test run? He’s the one you’ve got the crush on, after all.”
As my face turned the same shade as my hair, I heard Uncle Pete chuckling behind me. “Told you,” he said with satisfaction. “This town gets a hold of you any way it can.”
“How about him?” Darla asked, pointing.
“He’s already a pixie so it won’t work.” I rubbed my eyebrow and tried to think of another suitable test subject but couldn’t. “Okay. I’ll give Lucas a call.”
As I dialled the number, I hoped my luck was trending upward for the day.
Chapter Nine
“It’s mesmerism,” Darla explained as Reggie greeted Lucas at the door and turned him into an instantly compliant subject. He happily sat at the kitchen table without a grumble, waiting placidly for the werewolf to instruct him on what to do next. “Otherwise, this shifter would never get a girlfriend.”
“Hey. I’m right here and with far more sensitive ears than you,” Reggie gently remonstrated. “And it hardly looks good for you, since you’re the girlfriend in question. Now, is everyone cool with what we’re doing?”
“Not really.
” I took a deep breath. “How do I know it’s safe?”
Darla picked up the bottle and took a swig. “Because I’m not self-destructive or an idiot, yet I’m happy to consume it. I can’t guarantee what the effect of seeing things he’s not meant to will have on your friend, but the potion won’t harm him on its own.”
“Told you this place was evil,” Uncle Pete said, his words mushy at the edges. “I bet when you woke up this morning, you didn’t think of yourself as the type of person who’d compel another to drink some weird potion. Yet here you are.”
He had a point. On the other hand, Lucas fainting and losing his memory whenever the supernatural world got too in his face wasn’t a great result either. I took a small sip from the bottle, risking witch cooties to reassure myself it wouldn’t make him drop dead. It tasted like spring flowers dissolved in dew.
“How did you feel when you saw the supernatural world for the first time?” Darla laid a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face her. “Did it send you screaming around the bend?”
“No, but…”
But it had been gradual. My hair had changed over a few days, with my ears and face not far behind it. Seeing the twins’ wings had been a privilege and hearing Muffin speak, a delight.
“It won’t last forever. My estimate is the effect will last for three to four hours, tops.”
Three to four hours. Not bad. I’d blown some pixie dust into Lucas’s face and rendered him intoxicated for about an hour on our second meeting. Not knowingly, of course. That was the main difference.
“Can you unmesmerise him?”
Reggie flicked his fingers. “The dude is back in control.”
Lucas frowned at the table, then peered around him. “Sorry. I’ve lost track of the conversation. What were you saying?”
“This is a special liquid,” I said, pushing the bottle towards him. “If you swallow it, you’ll be able to see some things we can’t otherwise explain to you.”
He smiled at me, flashing his straight, white teeth. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”
“You’re missing something all the time,” Darla said, tapping her foot. “This will ensure you don’t do that anymore.”
“It’s harmless. I’ve tried it myself.” My forefinger prodded the bottle a little closer. “Go on.”
Lucas scanned the faces surrounding him, losing some of his grin. “No, I’m still not getting it. What’s going on?”
Uncle Pete sighed. “Look, mate. There’s an entire world of supernatural beings you can’t see and it’s harming your ability to solve crime in this area. Take a swig from the bottle and you’ll have your eyes open. Presuming it doesn’t send you stark raving mad, you’ll become a better officer.”
“Right.” Lucas stared at the bottle. “Yeah, I’m not getting you.”
“Drink. The. Bottle.” Uncle Pete punctuated each word with a slap on the table. “Just a sip to start with.” He waved his hand wildly in the air. “Join the club full of freaks. It’s fun.”
“One of us,” Darla and Reggie chanted under their breath. “One of us.”
“I get that you’re trying to peer pressure me into taking a sip of what might very well be an illegal substance,” Lucas said, squinting at me. “But I’m not a teenager.”
“Do it for your girlfriend,” Darla said with a giggle. “Show her you’re a real man.”
“Right. That’s it.” I picked the bottle up and stored it in the fridge. “Let’s stop the whole thing there. We can try something or someone else, later. I’ve got a pile of irreplaceable library books to put back together, then dinner with my mum.”
Muffin suddenly woke with a snort. “Who decided to hold a party without telling me?”
“Everyone’s leaving,” I said, nodding to Darla and Reggie who were already at the door. “Thanks very much for your help and I’ll be in contact soon.”
They let themselves out, although Darla pouted slightly. When Lucas didn’t stir, I shooed him upright. “Nice to see you again, PC Bronson. Always a pleasure.”
“Wait. Wasn’t I on a callout?”
“All sorted.” I turned to face Uncle Pete as Lucas left. “If you go now, you should be able to find a cheap bed and breakfast before they book up for the night.”
“Point taken.” He got to his feet, swaying slightly. “I’ll invite myself along to this dinner tonight if you don’t mind.” He gave a large burb and winced at the smell. “Or even if you do mind.”
“Fine. Text me the address of where you end up and we’ll swing by to collect you on the way.”
Another second of shooing and he left, shielding his eyes from the bright afternoon sun.
“Should I leave too?” Muffin asked with a yawn as I returned to the kitchen. “Since it appears you need some quality alone time.”
“I need some quality thinking time, is more like it,” I said, patting her. “And you’re always helpful with that.”
After spending the next few minutes scraping the remainders of the library books into the box, I closed the lid and patted it. To my surprise, it had doubled in size. I opened it again, pushing more library book scraps inside, and shut the lid on a box that now took up half the tabletop.
“Here are more,” Muffin said, nosing a few pages out from behind the couch. “Whatever tore those books apart, really wanted them gone.”
Much as I didn’t want to devote the time necessary to read through the thick volumes, seeing them destroyed made my stomach twist. “Well, hopefully, this works out and I don’t have to confess all to Patsy.”
“Nothing angrier than a book goblin who doesn’t get her treasure back.”
I placed the last few bits of paper into the box and closed the lid again. This time, the box grew so large it nudged the shoebox off the table. Receipts and dockets sprayed out, one slithering under the oven while another drifted halfway underneath the fridge.
With a groan, I bent over and fished them out. The paper under the oven was a yellowed clipping from a newspaper, advertising a two for one special on laundry detergent. The stapled pages caught under the fridge were old receipts for renovations to the upper floor.
“Fascinating stuff,” I muttered, popping it back into the shoebox, then sweeping the rest of the loose papers in my hand. “If we ever need an extension on the house, we’ll know who to call.” I glanced back at the receipts, sniggering at the date on the top. “If only they weren’t long dead.”
“What renovations?” Muffin climbed into the shoebox to inspect the typed pages, curling up and laying her head down for an extraordinarily close view. “I don’t recall the upper floor being remodelled.”
“I’d tell you if you weren’t sitting on them.” I shooed her out of the way then flicked back the top page to reveal a set of blueprints. “It’s extending the attic room and putting a false back in a cupboard.”
My words caught in my throat as I stared at the faded design. The plans showed a detailed view of the closet where the dead pixie had been found.
“Right.” I grabbed my laptop and went through to the lounge where I collapsed onto the sofa. “Martingale Building and Repair.”
“What’s the matter?” Muffin stared at me with concern. “Surely, you’re not thinking about renovations at a time like this?”
“And if I ask you to explain what sort of time it is, are you going to fall asleep again?”
The question caught her mid-yawn, and she shot me a guilty glance as an answer.
“If they’re still in business, they haven’t discovered the wonders of the worldwide web,” I declared a minute later, finding nothing online. I shut the laptop and pursed my lips in thought. “The library will have old phone books and local newspapers.” I smacked my thighs and stood up. “Come on, we’re going on a trip.”
“Do you want me to distract Patsy while you search for answers?” Muffin chuckled. “I’d hate for her to find out what happened to her precious books while you’re attempting to dig up information.”
&
nbsp; “How about we both just keep that to ourselves?” I said while locking the front door. “Until we find out if the box will solve that problem, there’s no need to worry her.”
“Worry her?” Muffin snorted with delight. “I don’t think you’ve got to grips with Patsy’s personality.”
I ignored her amusement and quickly walked to the library. Without a sack of books on my back, it took far less time than the previous journey.
“Hello?” I called out when I found the front desk empty. “Anyone about?”
A bell sat on the counter and I hesitated with my finger over it. “Do you think I’ll be able to find stuff just by looking?”
Muffin shook her head. “Not unless you’ve got a half-day set aside to comb through the archives.” She put a paw to her mouth. “I promise I’ll be good.”
The loud ting emphasised the silence in the building. Apart from us, there didn’t seem to be anybody using the library at all.
“Patsy,” I called out when another minute passed with no response. “Are you here?”
After another pause, I walked behind the counter and opened the staff room door. Nobody was inside. A door led off to a staff bathroom, and I knocked, but that room was as empty as the first.
“Patsy,” I yelled, feeling a trickle of dread drip down my spine. I headed for the back room she’d shown us earlier in the day, digging my fingers into my scalp for a shot of pixie dust. The door was locked, and I stared in dismay at my hand. No trace of dust was there at all.
“What’s going on?” I spun around on my heel, suddenly certain the invisible creature of the morning was sneaking up behind me. “Why can’t I create pixie dust any longer?”
Muffin jumped onto my shoulder and peered at the top of my head. She ran a claw along the side of my skull, almost hard enough to draw blood. “It’s gone.”
“Gone?” I scratched harder, shaking my hair out as I trawled every inch. “How can it just be gone?”
“Forget about that,” Muffin cried. “Break the door down. If Patsy’s in trouble…”
Her words trailed off, and I understood. We could call the police without pixie dust. Or the ambulance.
