‘Oh gee, really?’
He gave me a sheepish smile. ‘Yeah, I kind of figured you hadn’t fallen for my brilliant ruse. Anyway, it was a telekinetic scanner. It basically lights up if there’s been a lot of telekinetic activity in the area – like, if a vampire has been using their mental powers to do things we couldn’t see them do with the naked eye. They can move really quickly, and vaporize themselves so we can’t see them. They’re super strong, and the older and more powerful among them can move things with the power of their mind. Oh, and a rare few can read minds, too. Like Pru and her family.’
Oh dear. I’d have to learn to think quietly while I was in the Vander Inn.
‘And your scanner thingy was flashing green,’ I said, forcing myself to stay on track. ‘So that means there was a vampire doing some of that on the train. But … for what? So they could add the Night potion to Bathsheba’s smoothie and get rid of the evidence without being detected?’
Greg nodded. ‘That seems to be Dylan’s working theory. But scanners will only tell you so much. Luckily, a scanner isn’t the only tool I use. I’ve been developing some better tech. It’s still experimental, but it allows me to see the actual patterns of the telekinetic activity.’
With an excitable look on his face, he popped a flash drive into the computer, and I found myself looking at photos of the train carriage – except they were not average photos. It was as if a coloured wave had been superimposed onto each picture.
He pointed to one of them. It was of the table closest to the door joining the dining carriage to the carriage behind. I could see a haze of red and green, leading from the table to the kitchen. He brought up two more photos, all with a similar colour pattern.
‘This activity is what I caught through one of my camera filters after each murder. The colours you see are telekinetic activity. But there would have been no reason for the waiters on the train to use their vampire powers. People like service to move slowly on the Riddler’s Express. The whole old-fashioned vibe it has going on is part of its charm.’ He brought up a fourth photograph. ‘And this is what my filters caught after Bathsheba’s murder.’
He chewed on his lollipop stick, looking troubled. I could see why. There was a haze of red and green again, but this time there was a lot more red than green. The pattern was haphazard, drifting all over the carriage, much less organised than the previous murders.
I pulled up the detective’s reports, checking quickly through them all. ‘Hang on a minute,’ I said. ‘Gunnar wasn’t even on duty for the first of those murders. But … then why do the first three look the same, and the last one is the one that looks different? If Gunnar was the one who killed Bathsheba, then surely it ought to be the other way around.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been wondering the same myself. But there’s something else you need to know about vampires, Ash. They can turn into a bat and fly. And when I say they can fly, I mean they can fly really fast. Gunnar could have murdered Bathsheba without anyone knowing he was on the train. Flown in and out, then kept himself vaporized while he was on the train so no one would notice him. Or it could have been another member of Vlad’s Boys. It doesn’t change the fact that Gunnar is a member of a gang who have sworn to kill dayturners. Even if he didn’t do all of the murders, he probably did this one, while someone else did the first three. Maybe this one was his first – the haywire telekinetic activity would be explained if it was his first. Nerves, inexperience … but Ash, whether Gunnar committed one of these murders, or all of them, he is one of Vlad’s Boys. Dylan did right to arrest him. That gang is scum. One of them off the street is better than nothing.’
I sat back, looking at it all from a distance. Sometimes a less concentrated eye helped me pick out things, see patterns that I wouldn’t have otherwise. But no matter what way I looked at it all, the patterns of activity were the same for every murder except Bathsheba’s. And yeah, it could be explained by Gunnar being inexperienced. But I just wasn’t sure.
We kept working together for the rest of the day, (albeit with plenty of breaks for snacks). Greg was so much fun to work with that I barely noticed the time passing.
‘I didn’t know what happened to the others, you know,’ he told me as we packed up our things at the end of the day. ‘Arnold told me to act evasive, not give anything away, see what they figured out for themselves. I had no idea he performed a memory spell when he let them go. I really don’t want the same thing to happen to you.’
‘What will be will be, I guess,’ I said, doing my best to appear nonchalant. ‘But on a positive note – you definitely handled the whole evasive thing well.’
He gave me a rueful smile. ‘Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, I’m going to head off and get a good night’s sleep for our little trip tomorrow. Can I give you a lift back to the Vander Inn?’
I shook my head. ‘Thanks, but it’s only a five minute walk. Hey, should I do anything else to prepare for this trip to Witchfield?’
He plucked a stick of liquorice from behind his ear. ‘Maybe pick up some travel sickness pills,’ he suggested as he began to chew.
14. Fish Fingers
Fuzz had disappeared halfway through the day, but as I was walking out of the office he met me by the door and leapt into my arms. ‘I was going to go straight home,’ I said to him. ‘But it’s just occurred to me that you’ve had quite a busy day – which means you’re probably hungry?’
I felt him purr against my chest.
‘Okay, so.’ I patted his head. ‘We’ll take a little trip to the shop before we go home. See if there’s anything there that takes your fancy. I could do with a bar of chocolate myself. A big one. Actually, a huge one.’
The shop was busy, as always. Now that I knew a little more about the supernatural world, the wide variety of vegan food for sale suddenly made sense. Almost all weredogs, apparently, were vegan. Greg told me it was because they ate out of bins for three nights every month, and preferred to be healthy the rest of the time. I was a little bit afraid to ask Edward, the Daily Riddler’s only weredog employee, if that was true. Either way, I’d definitely seen Edward drink a lot of chocolate soymilk.
I put Fuzz under one arm and picked up a basket with the other. ‘Now, I know I can’t understand you,’ I said in a low voice as we headed for the tinned fish. ‘But if you could just let me know what you like to eat, it’d be great. Do you like tinned salmon?’
Fuzz shook his head.
‘Tuna?’
He nodded enthusiastically, and I picked up a few tins, then grabbed some chocolate bars from another aisle before heading to the cash register.
Norman’s mother, Norma, was there. She had a red glove on one hand, and was knitting another. ‘What a lovely little cat,’ she said.
Fuzz purred.
‘I have six little girls myself. There’s Princess Preciousbottom, Queen Swishytail, Lady Lightpaws, the Duchess of Riddler’s Edge, the Dowager Queen, and the Lady in Waiting. What’s this little fella called?’
‘Fuzz.’ Sure, it seemed less fancy than the names of Norma’s cats, but at least it was his choice. But what did I know? Maybe Norma’s cats liked their names.
Norma looked the cat in the eyes as she scanned my purchases. ‘Well, Fuzz, the door to my little ladies’ cat flap is closed to any cat who doesn’t have a special collar. So if you want to court them, it has to be under my supervision.’
Judging by the way his purrs increased, I had the sense he would be taking that as a challenge.
≈
Pru and Nollaig had told me to treat the Vander Inn like a home from home. I didn’t bother telling them that to do so would require me having an actual home in the first place, because really, who wanted to know about the barrenness of my tiny flat, a place that I’d never added so much as a cushion to?
For all its Victorian quirks, the Vander Inn already felt like more of a home than my Dublin rental, so I felt perfectly comfortable to head to the kitchen when I got back. I knew that Pru and her mother wer
e asleep, so I did try to curb my usual clumsiness as I washed Fuzz’s morning bowl and prepared him a fresh feed. He did his part too, bless him – if you call wrapping his way around my legs and almost tripping me up helping.
I was just throwing the empty tuna tin into the bin when a shadow fell over the room. The hair on my arms and on the back of my neck stood to attention, and my spine grew ramrod straight.
‘You must be Arnold’s latest,’ a husky voice said in a London accent.
I turned to look at the person who had spoken. He was a little taller than me, with bleached blond hair and ice-blue eyes. He was wearing a tight white T-shirt and blue jeans, and had an amazing thin-but-toned body going on. As he crossed the kitchen and extended a hand, my head began to feel a little empty and fizzy, and my throat went dry.
‘I … I have fish fingers,’ I said, keeping my hand pasted firmly by my side. Fish fingers? Oh, Aisling, however have you managed to work as a wordsmith all these years?
He smiled, slow and broad, looking at my hands. ‘They look like perfectly acceptable fingers to me.’
My throat was still dry, and I could feel that my cheeks were flaming red. His smile was even broader now, and he was shining those ice-blue eyes right into mine. A shiver worked its way down my spine, and he said, ‘Cold? I can turn up the central heating.’
‘I … no, I’m not cold. I … need to wash my hands. I was feeding Fuzz.’
He looked in interest at Fuzz, who was already halfway through his supper. ‘Since when do we have a cat in the house? Cats hate us.’
‘Us?’ I rushed to the sink and concentrated very hard on scrubbing my hands. Maybe if I didn’t look at him, I wouldn’t feel so … so … so what? I thought about the guy on the train with the long hair who asked me to sit next to him. My supernatural swotting had told me he had to be a werewolf. Apparently, they had some pheromone thing going on that made them wildly attractive. But this guy said us. Did that make him a vampire? ‘Are you a guest here?’ I asked.
He moved right beside me, plucked an apple from a bowl and tossed it in the air before taking a bite. Oh, dear goddess, why was that so sexy? And what was with me saying dear goddess? Was I so easily influenced? And … did vampires even eat apples? Whatever this guy was, he was crunching into that fruit with gusto.
‘I’m Jared,’ he said between crunches. ‘Nollaig’s son.’
I turned off the tap and began to dry my hands. ‘Nollaig’s son? But you’re London.’ I slapped my forehead. ‘Sorry, I mean … you have a London accent.’
He tossed his apple core into a bin and sat up on the counter. ‘I do. I stayed with Dad when he and Mam ended things. I’ve spent the last two hundred years living in England. But I like to come visit whenever I can. Pru might be a fortune-telling weirdo, but she’s the best sister a vampire could ask for.’ He arched a brow. ‘Hey, I don’t need to go and compel you to forget this conversation, do I? When I phoned Pru this morning she told me you were up to speed on what we are.’
I felt my body stiffen, and noticed that Fuzz had the same reaction. The cat left his bowl, jumped up into my arms, and hissed at Jared. ‘I’m up to speed,’ I said coldly. ‘But I’m a bit sick of people talking about messing about in my brain.’
Jared held his hands up. ‘Sorry, I was just joking. A bad joke, obviously. But what do you mean about people messing about in your brain?’
I began to stroke Fuzz and took a seat at the kitchen table, holding him firmly in my arms. Unlike the tables in the dining room, it was devoid of doilies and cloths. The whole kitchen had a shabby chic vibe, and I felt incredibly comfortable there. Perhaps that was why I began to pour out pretty much everything that had happened, since the moment I went to lunch with Arnold.
Jared pulled out a chair and sat beside me (very close beside me – I guess he didn’t have personal space issues) shaking his head in surprise and making shocked noises at all the right places. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said when I’d finished. He reached out and patted my hand. ‘I knew that the old geezer was going through staff like the clappers, but I didn’t know it was anything like that. For the love of Dracula!’ He had just begun to stroke my hand in a firm but soft motion, when Pru entered the room.
‘Hey!’ She gave Jared a playful slap across the back of the head. ‘Enough of that, you dirty old Lothario! Can’t I have one friend you don’t try it on with?’
He let out a throaty laugh, then stood up and pulled her into a hug. ‘Missed you too, Sis. Hey, did you know about all this? Arnold Albright wiping reporters’ memories if they don’t get the job?’
Pru sighed and moved away from him, slumping down into a chair. ‘I only found out recently.’
‘We should report him to the Wayfairs. You’re only supposed to wipe humans’ memories in extreme situations. I don’t think this quite counts.’
‘It’s the Wayfarers now, actually.’ Pru rolled her eyes. ‘But I can see why you’d fail to have kept up with that incredibly important political development. I mean, what with all the rich ladies you have to entertain.’
I felt my face flush. What was he? Some sort of gigolo?
‘You’ll make Ash think I’m some sort of gigolo!’ he cried. He looked at me, and I did my best not to squirm. ‘I’m not, I swear. I run an art gallery in London. Some of my buyers just happen to be rich women. I can’t help it if they want to spend a million quid on a picture of a toilet.’
Pru stood up and moved to the cooker. There was a huge pot on top, and she turned the ring on and began to heat it up. ‘Mam made a stew,’ she said. ‘Oh, and speaking of Mam.’ She turned to her brother. ‘I know she didn’t know you’re coming, because she would have told me. Whose husband have you annoyed this time?’
Jared cleared his throat. ‘I think that’s my cue to leave.’ He bowed deeply, then grabbed my hand and kissed it. It was all I could do not to fan my face. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Ash. I’ll be sticking around for quite a while, so I hope we get to know each other a lot better.’
As soon as he left the room I placed Fuzz back at his bowl and rushed over to Pru. She was stirring the stew, and it smelled delicious. ‘Em … I have a question. Do vampires have the same pheromone thing going on as werewolves?’
She shook her head. ‘Not quite. We’re supposedly super attractive, but I don’t see it myself. But for some reason, humans get a bit lusty around us. Weird if you ask me. Why? You don’t fancy my brother, do you? Because I have to tell you, he’s a bit of a ladies’ man.’
I bit my lip. I didn’t fancy him, did I? I mean, sure, he was devastatingly attractive. And there was that accent, and that way he had of moving. Sort of cat-like, but not cat-like in the sneaky way that John, my editor, had of moving. Jared’s movement was lithe, dangerous and sensual.
But he was not my type. The hair was all wrong. He was tall, but not tall enough. And he clearly loved himself, a trait that always turned me cold. I liked my men to be a little more humble. With darker eyes. And maybe a lighthouse. Okay, I realise what I’ve just said, but Detective Quinn is the exception to that. He might have just about every trait I find attractive in a man, but I did not find him attractive. Not one little bit. Jared, on the other hand … he had none of the qualities I usually went for. And yet …
‘Nah.’ I shook my head. ‘I was just wondering. Because of what you said about him being a Lothario.’
‘Uh huh.’ She gave me a knowing smile. ‘Well, if you ever happen to change your mind, please feel free to not give me the details. But I’ve got to say, I was sure you had a thing for our handsome local detective.’
Was I that obvious? My eyes widened, but I did my best to rein in my surprise. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I told her. ‘And if you’ve come to that conclusion because you’ve been reading my mind, then you’ve clearly been reading the wrong thoughts.’
That same knowing smile was still on her pretty face. If I didn’t like her so much, I’d hate her. ‘Anyway,’ I went on, ‘he�
��s taken, isn’t he? I mean, there are all those photos of the supermodel in his house.’
‘The supermodel?’ Pru scrunched up her nose as she went to the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘Oh, you must mean Darina Berry. Yeah, they were a big deal for a while. They were engaged to be married, but she left him a while back. Oh, and speaking of our dashing detective …’ She paused while she grabbed two glasses and filled them with Pinot Grigio. ‘Maybe don’t tell him my brother is back.’
‘Oh?’ I took a sip of the wine. ‘Why’s that?’
Pru’s face turned troubled. ‘They just have a bit of a hate-on for each other. I have no idea why. But trust me – if they cross paths, it’s not going to be pretty.’
≈
I woke up with Fuzz curled up into the crook of my arm, after yet another amazing night’s sleep. Of course, last night it might have had less to do with the glorious bed and more to do with the glorious wine.
Jared had brought a couple of cases with him, and we enjoyed some over dinner, and some after dinner, too. Sure, there were one or two moments during the evening when I noticed something other than wine in my hosts’ glasses, but hey ho. Nollaig had been out for the night, so Pru, Jared and I enjoyed a vampire movie marathon. They pointed out the inconsistencies, and I just sat back and drank in the atmosphere as much as the wine.
I’d never been with any of my foster-brothers and -sisters long enough to develop a bond. Despite all their bickering, that was exactly what Pru and Jared had together – a deep, heartfelt bond. The evening with them was one of the most enjoyable I’d had in a long time, and by the time I went up to bed, I was feeling completely at home. But just as I’d been climbing into my comfiest pyjamas, I noticed an unread text message. It was from Arnold Albright:
Grace has updated me on the situation. I’m sorry you had to find out like that, and I feel the need to explain things further. If you’re not too annoyed with me, I’d love it if you would join me for dinner in the Fisherman’s Friend at seven, tomorrow night.
A Magical Trio Page 25
