His mouth opened and closed a few times, with no words escaping. Eventually there was a strangled sound, followed by, ‘I did not cop a feel. If I was going to cop a feel, I can think of parts of your body a lot more interesting than your wrists.’ He scooted closer to his door and looked away. ‘Okay, that didn’t come out quite the way I meant. This is getting a bit out of hand. How about you tell me a little bit about yourself? Arnold said you grew up in the care system. Did you ever try to find your birth parents?’
I stared at him, feeling like I’d been kicked in the stomach. ‘Arnold told you personal things about me? How dare he? And come to think of it, how dare any of you? How dare any of you in this stupid town? You’re all treating me like some sort of idiot, and I’m getting a bit sick of it.’ I turned to open the door.
Beside me, I heard him curse beneath his breath. ‘Okay, so I want to grab your wrist and stop you from getting out of here right now. But I’m afraid you’ll throw another fit if I do. So can I just ask you in a not at all sexist way to please stay in the car?’
There was something akin to panic in his voice. Slightly nearer to us than I would have liked, I heard another howl. I leant forward and peeked out through the windscreen. ‘Somewhere up there beyond the mist,’ I said, ‘I have the feeling that there’s a full moon in the sky.’
He nodded. ‘You’re right about that. Tonight is, most definitely, a full moon.’
I turned to him. ‘I tell you what. Either you tell me everything, right now, or else I get out of this car and walk off into that mist. I mean, it shouldn’t be a problem, right? Because there’s nothing weird out there, is there? There’s nothing weird in this town at all.’
I heard a clunking sound. He had locked the doors of the car. ‘I can’t let you do that, Miss Smith. Not tonight.’ He sighed. ‘I’m going to reach across you now. There’s something in the glove box that I want to give you. Please don’t mistake my actions for trying to cop a feel.’
I pressed my body back against my seat, and he opened the glove box. Inside there was a flask, a pair of gloves, another pair of sunglasses, and a small, velvet-covered box. He pulled it out and opened it up. A ring was sitting there. It was gold with a green stone at its centre.
I grinned at him. ‘Well, it’s a bit soon, Detective Quinn. And I mean, we’re not even on a first name basis yet. But sure.’ I held my left hand out. ‘I’ll marry you.’
‘Put the ring on, Miss Smith,’ he said with a mirthless laugh. ‘When you do, we’ll see where we go from there.’
I slipped the ring on, talking as I did so. ‘Well, I don’t know where you want to go, but I’m thinking a tour of wedding venues will do the trick. And of course we’ll need to test all the menus within our budget. I’ll want your advice on the bridesmaids’ dresses too. And the …’ I let my voice trail off. Outside the window, the mist had lifted. Once again, I could see the woods. Not only could I see the woods, but I could see the enormous wolf crossing the road.
A wolf? In Ireland? We hadn’t had wolves for centuries.
I looked up at the moon and, as I did, something else caught my eye. There were lights through the trees. Lots of them. I sat forward and looked more carefully.
‘There’s a town over there,’ I said. I turned to look at him. At some stage whilst I’d been babbling, he’d slipped a bracelet around his gloved wrist. One with an identical green stone as the one in my ring. ‘I checked out the map of the local area before I came here,’ I went on. ‘There is no town close to Riddler’s Edge. Not for miles.’
He shrugged. ‘I think you’re learning by now that maps don’t tell the whole truth, Miss Smith. Arnold told me about the notebook you hide in your desk. The one with the list of non-existent place names. Lupin Lane? Luna Park? Eile Street? They all exist, Miss Smith. And so does that town. It’s called Riddler’s Cove.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Grace is going to have my guts for garters. But what the heck.’ He started up the engine. ‘Let’s go for a drink.’
11. Riddler’s Cove
No wonder I’d heard such a racket from this forest. It wasn’t just the wolves out tonight. We passed at least half a dozen groves where people were circling with their hands held, chanting words I couldn’t make out.
‘Aren’t they afraid of the wolves?’
Detective Quinn snorted. ‘They’re witches. A werewolf wouldn’t dare attack them.’
I turned in my seat. ‘So … you’re being serious here?’
He kept his eyes on the narrow road ahead. ‘You already know the answer to that, I suspect. A woman who’s been keeping a log of odd events all these years should hardly be surprised to find out there’s a whole other world. Yeah, those groups were witches, out for their full moon coven rituals. Those wolves were werewolves, also out enjoying the full moon. This town we’re about to arrive in is a witch enclave, but other supernaturals are welcome. Well, these days, anyway.’ He waved his wrist, nodding to the green-stoned bracelet. ‘As long as we wear some special jewellery, we can gain entry.’
‘Enclave?’ I asked. It seemed like the safest question.
‘It’s … it’s a sub-dimensional region. Kind of thing. Only supernaturals can see them – and like I said, this one is a witch enclave, so it’s even better hidden than most. I mean, you’d be better off asking Greg to explain it. Wizards know a lot more about this stuff than I do.’ He pulled into an empty parking space on the edge of the town. I couldn’t see any other cars around. ‘Come on. I’ll take you to Three Witches Brew if you promise not to gawk. You’re going to need a drink for all of this.’
He didn’t wait for me to answer. He just locked the car and began to walk towards the entranceway of a thatched-roof building.
The place was quiet inside, with just a few people sitting around drinking and chatting. I’m not sure what he thought I was going to gawk at, because everyone looked just as human as I did. Sure, there was a woman who seemed to be making a bottle of wine refill her glass without actually touching the bottle. If she was a witch then she was a show-off, too. How hard was it to lift a bottle?
‘She just got her power,’ Detective Quinn whispered as he took off his sunglasses and pulled down his hood. ‘It came a few days after her nineteenth birthday, so you can’t really blame her for celebrating. Twenty-one is the cut-off point for witches, and most get their power when they’re kids, so she was over the moon when hers finally arrived.’
The young woman waved at him and smiled, as did all of her female friends. ‘Hey, Detective Yummy!’ the girl called over as he made his way to the bar.
‘Hey, Chantelle,’ he called back. ‘Have a good evening. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
She giggled and turned back to her friends, who were all furiously whispering, giggling, and casting not-so-surreptitious glances in the detective’s direction.
‘Speaking of staying safe,’ he said, oblivious to the table of young women who were clearly enamoured with him, ‘I never drink and drive, so I’ll be having a soft drink tonight. But you should try a Superbrew.’
‘It can’t exactly make the night any weirder, so why not?’
The barman seemed to know him, and they chatted while our drinks were prepared. His hair was even blacker than the detective’s, a feat I hadn’t thought possible, and he had shining grey eyes that made him look friendly and alert. With my tankard of oddness in hand, I followed the detective to a booth at the back of the bar.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘I want to know why you arrested that kid. Gunnar. That’s what I really want to know. Did he murder Bathsheba?’
He gave me a funny smile. ‘You do realise most people would ask a million questions about this new and wonderful world they’ve just been admitted to? There’s a lot that I really should explain before we get into talking about the murder.’
I shrugged. ‘Sure, I want to know all that. But first I want to know about Gunnar.’
He sat back, sipping his cola. �
�Fine. You saw the tattoo on his neck? Vlad’s Boys? Well, to say that they’re elitists would be putting it mildly. They hate dayturning vampires. Which is why I arrested Gunnar. He had motive and opportunity.’
‘Wait … Bathsheba was a dayturning vampire? What’s that when it’s at home?’
He rolled his eyes. He did that an awful lot around me, for some reason. ‘I told you I needed to explain the background first, but you wouldn’t listen. Bathsheba was a vampire for almost three hundred years, but she and her husband didn’t become vampires until they were in their eighties. Bathsheba had an incurable illness, and Donald couldn’t bear the thought of life without her. He became a vampire, and turned her into one, too.’
I gasped. ‘That’s so romantic!’
The detective rolled his eyes. ‘Romantic? Yeah, right. Death happens, Miss Smith. Donald and Bathsheba had already had decades together when they turned. They weren’t being romantic. They were being selfish.’
‘Gee, you’re just a little ray of sunshine, aren’t you? Fine, let’s agree to disagree. I know what a vampire is – or I think I do, anyway. You still haven’t told me what a dayturning vampire is, though.’
A dark look passed over his face. It was clearly a sore subject for him. ‘A while ago, Bathsheba bought some blood from a bad batch and contracted the dayturner virus.’ He swallowed. ‘It’s a mutated form of the vampire virus. The darkness that vampires love so much becomes unbearable, giving the infected vampire a painful, incurable rash should they dare to venture out at night. Feeding at night is a no-go, too. Serious indigestion. So when morning comes, they’re crazy hungry. The virus supposedly originated by bad turning practices – not taking your first feed from the vampire who turned you – but it’s changing all the time. Tainted blood flooded the market a while back and … well … it’s becoming a bit of a problem.’
He was doing his best to avoid my eyes. ‘So that’s why Bathsheba was on the train wearing sunglasses and all the rest? Because it was still dark outside when she got on?’
He cleared his throat. ‘Yes. That’s why. It was Night potion that killed her, not a nut allergy. It mimics the effect of darkness on a dayturning vampire, but intensifies it a hundredfold. The rash and the boils, the quick and painful death that Bathsheba experienced … it was because of the potion. Night potion is a horrific poison, and Vlad’s Boys have been taking the credit for dozens of such murders in recent weeks. Bathsheba’s was the fourth murder to take place on the Riddler’s Express.’
So Norman was right about the spate. It just happened to be caused by a poison instead of a nut allergy. It was bad enough that these dayturning vampires couldn’t go out at night. But to have someone feed them a poison that affected them in the same way that the darkness would, only quicker? I shivered. I’d never been one of those vampire fan-girls, the kind who dream of a pointy-toothed lover who longs for their blood. But I’d spoken to Bathsheba. She seemed like a lovely woman. Whatever she was, she didn’t deserve to die that way.
I looked at the detective. ‘So … you’re a dayturner too?’
He gave me a tight smile. ‘As of very recently. And no, I won’t relate the story of how I came to be that way. There’s … there’s been no government funding for a while, but supposedly that’s about to change. There are some people working to find a cure at the moment, of course. Some charitable organisations and some private healing facilities. No one seems close. Bathsheba, myself and some others on the train were on our way back from a course of treatment at Night and Gale when she was killed. There were two humans on the train – you and Norma. I am a garda detective, and I do work on human cases, too. But any time something supernatural comes up in town, it’s my job to clear it up with the help of the Wayfarers – the supernatural police. Like Gretel, who you sat beside on the train. So she and I had to go through a bit of a charade. Come up with a plausible excuse. Use certain techniques to make sure the humans bought what we were selling. Except that you didn’t. Normally, we’d just perform a memory spell on a human who asks too many questions.’
‘But instead you let me bug the hell out of you. Why? Because Arnold hired me?’
He looked up at me. ‘Yes. Except … except that this is just a trial, Miss Smith. Grace and me, we didn’t think it was going to work out. We thought … we thought your memory would be wiped at the end of it.’
I stared at him. ‘You’re serious? You were going to wipe my memory?’
He looked into his glass. ‘Not me. Arnold. Look, I think it’s been a bit obvious that I was never keen on you being in Riddler’s Edge.’ He clenched his jaw. ‘Arnold … Arnold has his reasons, and I get that. But until tonight, I was so angry with him for bringing you here. You don’t seem supernatural. And yet here you are. Seeing things you shouldn’t be able to. Turning up at my lighthouse without your torch going haywire. My lighthouse is on a boundary line, Miss Smith. Riddler’s Cove is the supernatural area. Riddler’s Edge has a lot of supernatural residents, even an enclave or two on the outskirts, but it’s not, on the whole, a magical town. The town receives a little accidental overflow from Riddler’s Cove from time to time, but for the most part it’s … well, normal.’
My head was beginning to ache. ‘Wait. This place is the witchy town, a town that humans can’t see. Riddler’s Edge, the place where nothing normal has happened since my arrival, isn’t supernatural? It’s what, some sort of boundary town?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, pretty much. Like I said, there are a lot of supernatural residents, but the main areas of Riddler’s Edge are on the map, and fully accessible to humans. This town we’re in right now, it isn’t on any map a human would be able to see. My lighthouse is the last point before the non-magical world ends, and the magical one begins. There are certain discouragements in place, should anyone get that far. Cars break down, unless they’re specifically designed for the area – as mine is. Torches, mobile phones … these things shouldn’t work when a human gets too close to the boundary. Everything about my lighthouse should have made you turn away this evening. Lighthouses in the human world are designed to show people the way. Mine is designed to send them running the other way.’
I took a sip of my Superbrew. It tasted herby and intoxicating, so I took a few more sips while I mulled over what he’d told me. If he wanted to turn people away, then maybe he shouldn’t live in such a sexy building. Did I just think that? Clearly it was the drink doing the thinking.
‘Once we actually entered the woods, you couldn’t see them without a Ring of Privilege. But ... you could see something. I have the feeling you’ve been catching glimpses of the supernatural world for a very long time. I’m starting to think that maybe Arnold was right to hire you, after all.’
‘Wow,’ I said, slurping yet more of my drink. ‘I feel so validated now. I totally forgive all of you for considering messing with my memories.’
He snorted. ‘Anyway. Like I said, Gunnar is the only suspect. End of. Vlad’s Boys have already claimed responsibility for dozens of dayturner murders. Gunnar is in a supernatural prison right now, and he’s not answering any of our questions. But I think we can build a pretty strong case.’
I looked down into my tankard, wondering where the rest of my Superbrew had gone. I missed it already. It made me feel happy, strong and ready for anything. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Thanks for telling me. Hey, how about I go buy us another round of drinks? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a bit of a curious cat. I have a lot more questions.’
He groaned. ‘I’ll just bet you do. But let me buy the next round. You won’t have the kind of currency they take in this place.’
12. Fuzz
The poker game was off to a start by the time I returned to the Vander Inn. I looked briefly in to say hello, but I went up to bed soon afterwards. Partially because I wanted to be well-rested for the morning, but also because I knew I’d spend the entire game staring at people and trying to figure out what kind of supernatural they were.
Detective Quinn had told me more during our second drink and on the short drive home. But I felt like there was so much he was holding back. Sure, I now knew that there was actually such a thing as a weredog, and that wizards were a whole different thing to witches.
I also knew that my hosts – Nollaig and Pru – were vampires. I probably should have been more put off by that, but surprisingly I wasn’t. I liked Pru and her mother instinctively, and I was pretty sure that if they did want to suck my blood, that they’d at least ask politely first.
But I was still confused about Detective Quinn. He talked about becoming a dayturner recently. But he was a member of this community long before. And he lived in a lighthouse that was on the boundary between Riddler’s Edge and Riddler’s Cove, so he must have been supernatural already. Right?
More importantly than any of that, though, I couldn’t help but wonder why Arnold hired me in the first place. I was the fourth reporter on trial here, and none of the others had worked out. The odds were that I wouldn’t, either. Which meant that, come Friday, Arnold was going to try to turn my brain to Swiss cheese. I was feeling more than a little angry about that.
With so many thoughts running through my mind, I thought I’d never drop off – but I hadn’t taken the most comfortable bed in the world into account. It was like sleeping on a cloud. Actually, a cloud might be a little bit damp and porous. Maybe a marshmallow? When I woke I felt more refreshed than I had in … ever. All I wanted to do was skip along to the Daily Riddler and demand a meeting with Arnold.
Just as I was getting dressed, though, I noticed something lying on an armchair in the corner of the room. Something that hadn’t been there before. ‘Hey there, kitty,’ I said as I walked towards the sleeping black cat. I glanced around the room. The doors were firmly closed, as were all the windows. ‘How did you get in here?’
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