by Willow Mason
“Evie.” Carson stood in the doorway, deep lines etched into his forehead. “We should be sharing all the information we can. I know you don’t like Violet—”
“I never said that!”
“No, but you acted like it from the moment we started dating. When we went on that picnic for Waitangi Day, you pretended she didn’t exist. Even when she was speaking directly to you.”
“She didn’t like me, either.”
“This isn’t a competition. I want to get my wife back and I’m appalled that I have to beg for your help. Do you want Sara to grow up without a mother? How about some support for a change?”
“You’re staying here. That’s support.”
“No, that’s the least you could do. You told me that yourself. I want more than your least.”
“The police haven’t found anything useful, anyway, so I don’t know why you’ve turned this into a fight.”
Carson sighed, slumping back onto the sofa as though his legs would no longer support his weight. “They’ve searched the property and couldn’t find Violet. She’s not in the house. She’s not on the grounds.” He shrugged. “Like she’d leave Sara alone, crying, if there’d been any other choice.”
“They’ve also interviewed her friends, but no one’s seen or heard from her.” Evelyn’s voice was subdued, the words halting. “She hasn’t accessed the bank account or used her credit cards.”
“If it’s a supernatural thing, the police won’t be able to help.” I let that sink in for a moment, before asking, “Did the phrase ‘Bad Witch’ mean anything to either of you?” I watched Carson’s face intently, trying to pick up any bad vibes. Wasn’t it always the husband?
I stroked Annalisa, wishing she hadn’t beamed the words into my head.
“Do you think that’s likely?” Evelyn leant forward, pressing her cupped hands to her forehead, and closing her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice trembled. “Would a hunter be able to pull off something like this?”
Jared’s ears twitched. “I could tell you if you let me near the crime scene. They have a peculiar scent.”
I raised my eyebrows. It was news to me.
“From the rituals they perform,” he explained. “The pack took me through it. They douse themselves in a strange potion and its odour is both strong and distinctive.”
“Kelburn Manor has restricted access,” Carson said. “The police put tape up everywhere.”
“But the old dentist doesn’t.” I stood up, prodding Annalisa in the shoulder until she did the same. “Let’s go and test out your nose skills there.”
“Probably better, anyway.” Patrick shook Carson’s hand as I set about repairing the door. “Since it’s more recent.”
“Hey. I don’t need advantages. This snozzle is more than up to the task, no matter how old the evidence.”
Once the front door was back in place and Evelyn had proved its value by shutting it in our faces, we set off for the main road. While we waited outside for Wes to arrive with the key, I picked off a couple dozen black hairs from my stonewash jeans.
“Honestly, do you shed all year round?”
“Maybe you’re not as scary as you thought.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Nope. There’s no trace of the hunter’s scent,” Jared proclaimed an hour later. He’d stuck his nose deep into every corner of the store, taking especial care along the brick feature wall. I leant over to wipe a trace of lime jelly off his snout, a prompt that made him lick away the rest. “Not even a trace of human.”
“Do people smell different from witches?” The thought entertained me.
“Everything smells different from everything else. But yeah. Witches do have a certain odour that’s just outright missing in people. Like Patrick here. I can sniff in a second there’s nothing the slightest bit special about him.”
“Not everyone is desperate to be special,” Patrick said, the words containing a bite that his calm expression lacked. “And it’s no badge of honour to be bitten by a werewolf.”
“What would you know about it?”
“I’m a paranormal investigator, so a lot.”
“The only thing supernatural about your investigative skills is that people keep hiring you, despite your track record.”
I stared from one man to the other, flabbergasted. “How about you stop picking on each other and concentrate on the job?”
“Not my job.” Jared folded his arms and tilted his head upward. “I’m only here as a favour. Nobody’s wasting good coven money on me.”
“I… What?” With a puff, I blew my fringe out of my face. “We can pay you. That’s fine.”
“No need. I don’t want your money.”
Annalisa broke into sniggers.
Yeah. For real. “Everyone’s contribution is important.”
I turned my baffled face away from the pair and saw Wes struggling to hold back tears. “I’m so sorry. Believe me, we’re as anxious to get Jac back in one piece as you are.”
“Is there anything you can sense?” I asked Jared before a new fight could break out. “No matter how small.”
“I don’t know why this is called the old dentist’s office when I can’t smell the slightest hint of blood or teeth.”
“It stopped being that a long time ago,” Wes explained. “The original owner was forced to sell up and Benedict Kelburn converted it into a set of flats.” He ran his hand across the wall. “Not that anyone rented them. Even when he offered them at a discount, he struggled to fill them.”
“How long ago was that?”
Wes gave me a shrug. “Three or four owners ago. He’s been dead since the turn of the century. Not that anyone’s been able to make a go of it.” His face collapsed into despair. “Including us. I wish we’d gone for the store down by the supermarket. That small group of shops outperforms this a hundred to one, but Jac insisted.”
“I guess, if it’s always been a problem, you got a good deal.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “You’d think, wouldn’t you? Between the renovations and the rent, we’re so far beyond budget, it’s unbearable. Turns out authenticity comes with a sky-high price tag.” Wes grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. “We were deep in the red before any of the sad feeling nonsense started. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
As he locked the store again behind us, Wes stared at the key in his hand. “Might as well just push this through the slot. I can’t make next month’s rent. Even if our suppliers take back the stock at cost, I couldn’t swing it.”
My thoughts travelled to the post-dated cheque sitting on Patrick’s desk. I guessed Jared wasn’t the only one performing this investigation as a favour.
I opened my mouth to offer a reassuring platitude, then closed it again with a snap. The man had lost his partner and his business. Any savings must be long gone. To trot out, ‘everything happens for a reason,’ or say, ‘things could still pick up,’ would be an insult to his intelligence and his grief.
“We’ll keep trying,” I said instead, squeezing his upper arm. “No matter how long it takes, we’ll search for your partner until we get him home.”
I called Genevieve as we headed back to my place to regroup. She met us at the door, sweeping inside with her usual disdain for property rights. “What’s the latest?”
With my head cocked, I waited until I heard sounds from Wendy playing upstairs w
ith Paisley before I gestured the supreme into the dining room and closed the door. “The latest is we have doubts about the familiar you brought into my house. Could you run through why Violet abandoned her again?”
“Kid’s allergic and it’ll be years before they can try a treatment to reverse it. Why?”
“Well, it’s hardly a thing you can see, is it?” Genevieve leant against the table, then jerked upright as she rethought what Annalisa had said. “Oh, you mean allergic to you. Weird. I thought all cat hair was pretty much the same.”
“And dog hair. Not that I’m shedding in the way some of us are.”
“Maybe she was embarrassed,” the supreme said, pursing her mouth. “We found Paisley out in the woods and knew where she’d come from. With the others, well, there’s not much you can do about a witch being dead, but a straight case of abandonment can be sorted through the courts.”
“So Violet lied?”
“Paisley lied.” Genevieve fluttered her hand. “She was the one I asked. After her explanation, I checked with Violet, but she just agreed with what the cat told me.”
“And they moved house,” Patrick added. “Don’t forget that. Seems a bit extreme to go to all that trouble just to avoid a fine.”
The supreme’s nostrils flared. “It’s more than a fine. Kicking out a familiar is like throwing out a member of your own family. Just because they deserve it, doesn’t make it any less forgivable.” She paused. “Not that I’m saying that, either.”
“Hello,” Aunt Florentine said, walking into the dining room as though she owned it. Jared closed the door behind her, putting a finger to his lips and jerking his head upstairs. “What?” she whispered. “Is there an intruder up there?”
I shook my head. “Do you know anything about Paisley?”
“Black cat. About this high.” My aunt squatted and held her hand a foot off the floor. “One of my prime suspects for folks who had access to steal from your ingredient box.”
Genevieve’s head whipped around. “Say what?”
Aunt Florentine gave her a summary. “We don’t know that Paisley had anything to do with it, of course, but…”
“Motive. Means. Opportunity.” Patrick shifted his weight from foot to foot. “The classic combination.”
I held up my hands. “Look, I can understand Violet but what could she possibly have against Jac?”
My aunt tipped her head to one side. “Not to sound like I spend all my time conniving, but Paisley might just have targeted a second victim to throw us off the scent.”
I spluttered with laughter, unable to conceive that the moping black cat upstairs could be so cold-blooded. “She was here when he disappeared. Patrick and I had more opportunity than she did.”
“Except we don’t know how long it takes for her potion to work.” Patrick nodded to Aunt Florentine. “Do you have a ballpark?”
It was Genevieve who answered. “Any spell or potion can have a timer set into it. That’s just basic witchcraft—or familiar-craft—101.”
“Guess that rules me out nicely.” I picked at my bottom lip. “How powerful is she?”
My aunt smoothed down her skirt. “Violet isn’t a strong witch and she’s taken maternity leave to care for Sara.”
The supreme nodded. “So Paisley won’t have been assisting her with anything. Even if she’s weak, that unused magic will have been piling up.”
“Considering how quickly she formed a tight bond with Wendy, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
I’d no sooner uttered the words, than Gareth walked into the room, whistling, then stopping in his tracks. “Is this a private meeting or can anyone join?”
“Not a meeting at all,” Genevieve said with a trilling laugh. “Don’t be silly. We’re often all together at this house. Just a nice place to hang out and catch up, isn’t it?”
He walked to the bench, pulling down a mug from the cabinet. “Anyone else fancy a cuppa?”
“Can’t right now,” she replied, nearly convulsing as she tried to twitch communications at us with a mixture of winks and jerks. “But I’ll take a rain check. Too much to do.”
“I might go for a walk in the woods out back,” I said loudly, grabbing hold of Jared with one hand and Patrick with the other. “Annalisa, stay and make sure Paisley and Wendy are having fun, all right?”
“A walk sounds lovely,” my aunt said, sidling into the hallway with the supreme in tow. “Do you mind us tagging along?”
“Not at all.”
“You’re right. It does sound good.” Gareth put his cup back. “Anyone mind if I grab Wendy to come, too?”
“Oh, it’s a work thing,” I spluttered. “You won’t want to be involved in that. Enjoy your coffee.”
Before he could invite himself again, I darted out the front door, almost sprinting as I ran along the side and out the back of the house.
“Wow. Subtle.” Patrick shook his hand free of mine and pressed it gently. “I thought you were going to grind my bones together.”
“Sook,” Jared said, holding our joined hands aloft. “There are those of us who can take it and those of us—”
“All right.” I shook free of him. “I just panicked. If Paisley does turn out to have a paw in all this, I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. Bad enough he’s been kicked out of his house, but Wendy will be heartbroken.”
“Or she won’t.” Patrick pulled his mouth down as I glanced over. “That kid seems to have a lot more gumption than your average eight-year-old. She’ll probably be just fine.”
Jared scowled. “Some of us didn’t have pets when we were younger, and it shows.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Aunt Florentine held her arms out to her sides. “Time out, both of you. You’re professionals and should act like it.”
“Professionals get paid,” Jared muttered.
“Geez, we’ll pay you, all right?”
His face clouded even further. “No. I’m doing you a favour.”
With a strangled shriek, I moved away from him and fell into step beside my aunt. “Honestly, it’s becoming a liability to have both of them working on this case.”
“Then you should sit down and talk it through with them. You’ll have to make a decision soon.”
“A decision? About what?”
She laughed and gently brushed my shoulder. “One of them. None of them. Both of them. Just pick an option and go with it.”
I was still pondering what she meant when Genevieve called out from my left-hand side, waving. “Over here. Someone else should go first, otherwise, they’ll all flee the scene and we’ll be nowhere.”
“You first.” My aunt shoved me forward. “Since you’re the one working the case.”
“Me second.” Jared rushed to join me. “In case you need backup.”
“I should be second. I’m her partner.”
“Are you kidding, mate? You can’t even hear a familiar. What use are you?”
“Both of you follow me. Patrick, do you have your equipment ready?”
He lifted it and nodded, waving the mic towards the woods. “There’s a lot of energy focused in this area.” He swung in a circle, frowning at the reading. “And over there.”
I followed his pointing finger to the cemetery path. “Isn’t that normal for a burial site?”
“Not the ones I’ve visited in the past, but they often have adjoining churches. Tends to keep the activity to a minimum.”
I advanced through the dense fern underbrush, gasping when a tree branch laden with dew caught the top of my head and dumped its overnight collection on me. No wonder the familiars had chosen this
site to congregate. It was private and sheltered and no one would ever voluntarily walk into such difficult terrain.
“Hello?” I called out as a snapping twig to my right caught my attention. “My name’s Desdemona and I’d like to ask you some questions.”
Chapter Sixteen
Another shuffle sounded in the undergrowth to my left, then a furry tail gave away the hiding place of one familiar, behind a clump of silver ferns.
“You’re not in any trouble.”
“I’m not from the police.”
The retort came from a different source, at first glance appearing to be a black beech tree. It took another ten seconds before my eyes caught a tiny movement that revealed the lizard clinging to the side of the sooty bark.
“Archie?”
His tiny chest puffed out as he said the words.
“Well, Ferdinand, do you know—”
A chihuahua poked his head out from behind a kawakawa bush on my left. “Meep!” When he didn’t respond, I added, “If that’s still your name.”
Jared stepped forward, inclining his head towards the tiny animal. “I’m Jared. Originally from Auckland but I’m now associated with the Briarton pack.”
Introductions over, I tried again. “Ferdinand the Great, do you know a cat named Paisley?”
I walked over, exchanging a glance with Patrick whose machine was whirring like a plastic windmill. When I was a foot away, the lizard sprang off the bark and landed squarely on my chest, his feet clinging as easily as if they were coated with glue.
I turned to Meep as the lizard shot him a belated warning glance. “Is she going somewhere?”
