For a few minutes I remained patient, but when he said nothing more, I finally spoke. ‘Arnold, you have to tell me the rest. What do you mean tough love? What did you do? Did you find a way to break them up?’
He tossed back his wine and gasped. ‘Oh, I did more than that. I found a spell that would break the bond this young man had with my daughter. And I … I ensured that my daughter would never find him again, not even if she searched until the end of time.’ He took another drink and gasped again. ‘I tried to make her forget him, too. I tried a spell that would bond her to me, and make sure she never left me. I … I loved her, you see. And she was only going to choose the wrong sort of man again. I knew that I could make a better choice for her, when it was time. I could find a man who truly deserved her. But she wasn’t just as headstrong as me – she was like me in many other ways, too. Her power rivalled mine – maybe even surpassed it. The spell never took hold of her. Not fully. She never stopped loving this man. And she never stopped hating me, for taking him from her. And then one day she told me … she told me that she was pregnant. She said she would leave Riddler’s Cove, and that I would never meet my grandchild. She said … she said she would take inspiration from the spell I’d performed on the man she loved. She would break any ties the child had to the Albright coven, and that the child would never step foot in the supernatural world. She broke my heart. She broke my heart when all I did was try to be the best father I could possibly be.’
His bottle of wine was beginning to look very tempting. I’d been right to be wary of this man. He had destroyed his daughter’s life, forcing her to make the only choice possible – getting herself and her child as far away from him as she could. And even now, he seemed to believe he had been acting out of love. He actually believed he was the injured party. What could I possibly say to a man like that?
‘I used everything at my disposal to track my Abby down, and to bring she and her child back to me, where they belonged. But Abby’s spell was so powerful. She had cut all family ties, all coven ties. I couldn’t trace her. Almost two years after she left, the seers I employed told me she was dead. Once she died, the spell she had done to hide herself came to an end. She was cremated before I got to her. It turned out she had been hiding in the human world all along. But the child she bore … that child was still hidden. Still impossible to find. I managed to discover that the child had been a little girl, but I could find nothing more. Then, three years ago, I received further intelligence. I was told that the child had entered the Irish care system. And so I began to sift through adoption and foster records, looking for women of the right age who shared Abby’s traits. I couldn’t be accurate on the birth date, but I had a rough idea. The other three journalists I hired all seemed to fit the bill. They were the right age, they had all been abandoned as babies. But when they arrived here, it was clear to me that none of them were my granddaughter.’
I still wasn’t sure he was deserving of the energy it would take me to speak. But my curiosity and irritation were winning me over. ‘How exactly was it clear? How could it be? If Abby separated her child from the magical world, then she most likely found a spell to suppress that child’s power, too. So you certainly couldn’t tell who your granddaughter was based on whether or not they were magical. And even if they were the child of a witch like Abby, that doesn’t necessarily mean they would have power. There are unempowered witches, aren’t there?’
He poured what was left of the bottle into his glass. Probably just as well. I didn’t need to be annoyed and drunk. That was never a good combination.
‘That’s exactly the sort of question my Abby would have asked,’ he said. ‘And that’s what I was looking for in an employee. Someone who saw to the core of the matter. Someone who could never be fobbed off by a flimsy excuse. The other women I hired seemed like that. They had exposed corrupt politicians and dug up evidence that put the worst of people behind bars. They were truly amazing women. But once they got to Riddler’s Edge, all of that changed. Aisling, this town is filled with spells. Spells to make the townsfolk look the other way. Spells to make sure that the border between here and Riddler’s Cove is never crossed by the wrong person. And those reporters … they succumbed to those spells in the same way as every single human here does. You say you pestered Detective Quinn into telling you the truth? Well, none of the others did. They were fine reporters. Exemplary women. But even if my Abby hadn’t an ounce of power to her name, she would have seen through it all. She would have gotten to the truth of the matter, even here. And I know that her daughter would be just the same.’ He gave me a hopeful look. ‘So you see now, don’t you? You see that you must be my granddaughter. You have to be. You’re the first one to have gotten this far.’
My eyes began to water. Not because I was sad for him, but because I was sad for Abby, and for her daughter. ‘I’m nothing special,’ I said. ‘I’ve been doing some research, and I know that there are people out there with a small degree of power. Enough to catch glimpses of supernatural elements, but not to see the whole picture. If I’m like that, it doesn’t make me your granddaughter, Arnold. And to dismiss those other girls because they had no magic was incredibly short-sighted. Like I said, Abby could have suppressed her child’s power. Or the child could simply be unempowered. I have no idea why you’ve let this farce go on for so long. I mean, haven’t witches ever heard of a DNA test?’
‘It wouldn’t work. Abby’s spell made sure of that. But I do have a way I could tell. And that’s what I’ll be doing on Friday, if you’ll so permit. The final test. It will tell me once and for all whether or not you’re my granddaughter.’
I held my head in my hands, unable to believe what I was hearing. ‘You have a test that could give you certain results? You’ve had this test all along? And … what? You didn’t even bother to carry it out on the others? You just decided they weren’t your granddaughter based on completely weak notions, and never even tried to prove the case either way. I’ll tell you what I think, Arnold.’ I felt my upper lip curl as I looked at him. ‘I think you don’t really want to find your granddaughter. Not deep down. Because otherwise, you would have done this final test on the others. You don’t want to find her because you’re afraid. You’re afraid that she’ll hate you just as much as Abby did.’
I stood up, placing my bag over my shoulder and stepping out of the booth. ‘And you know what else I think? I think Abby made the right decision. Because if I was your granddaughter, then I’d want nothing to do with you.’
20. The Sweet, Sweet Taste of Crud
As I marched out of the Fisherman’s Friend, Arnold called me back. I ignored him and kept right on marching. I was halfway across the carpark when Pru, Greg and Jared caught up with me.
‘Are you all right?’ Greg asked, panting.
‘Fine,’ I replied. ‘Just dandy. I needed some fresh air, that’s all.’
The three of them stood in front of me, blocking my path. They must have moved their behinds pretty sharpish to chase after me, and yet Greg was the only one who was out of breath. Jared and Pru looked just as perfect as always.
‘You’re not dandy,’ said Jared. ‘I can tell. Anyway, who says dandy anymore?’
I sighed. ‘I say dandy. And how can you tell whether I’m dandy or not? You’d better not be reading my mind.’
‘He’s not,’ Greg assured me. He held up another one of his gadgets. It looked like a simple black plastic ball, but seeing as it was Greg, I knew there was more to it. ‘This would be turning purple if he was.’
‘But hey, at least you remember my brother is a vampire.’ Pru gave my arm a squeeze. ‘Things looked so intense between you and Arnold that we were afraid he might decide to end your trial early. So … what did you guys talk about?’
I sat down on a bench, feeling exhausted. ‘Abby. His daughter. He hasn’t been looking for a reporter all this time. He’s been looking for Abby’s child. His granddaughter.’
Pru sat beside me, shaking her head i
n disbelief. ‘You’re not serious. I heard Abby ran away years ago, but I had no idea she had a kid. That makes this whole memory-wiping thing even more dubious. We should go speak to the Wayfarers about this. I’m not exactly a wunderkind when it comes to Magical Law, but I’ll bet there’s something they can do to stop him.’
Greg sat on the ground in front of us, biting his lip. ‘I em … I might have guessed it was his granddaughter he was looking for. I think Grace figured it out, too. But when I told you I knew nothing about the memory wiping, I meant it. Me, Grace and Dylan were all in the dark about that until recently. It was only when Dylan ran into one of the reporters in Dublin and she didn’t recognise him that we realised what had happened. And Dylan’s doing his nut about the whole thing. I think we really do have a case to bring to the Wayfarers. Grace wants to hire you, I know she does. We should all get together and go and make an official complaint.’
I’d been close to tears when I was with Arnold, but now I was really having trouble holding that salty water back. I’d been here three days, and already I felt like these people were my friends. I’d never been so comfortable in all my life, and the last thing I wanted was to lose that feeling. But the practical side of my brain was ticking away, as always.
‘I can’t let you do that, Greg,’ I said. ‘Arnold is your boss. He’s Grace’s boss, too. Even if these Wayfarers decide to uphold a complaint against him, where will that get us? Either he’ll go to jail and sell the paper, meaning you guys’ll be out of a job. Or else these Wayfarers will say that he’s doing nothing they can convict him of. And in that scenario, he’ll probably still kick you out of your jobs.’
Greg shrugged. ‘Grace is the Daily Riddler. Arnold wouldn’t dream of firing her. And it’s not like I don’t have options. I have a lot of tech that the Wayfarers would pay me a fortune to get their hands on. I’ve held off selling anything because I’m a contrary son of a wizard, but believe me – I’ll be quids in if I do. So don’t worry about us. Worry about you. Do you want to work for the paper or not? Because if you do, we’ll try our best to make that happen.’
Pru and Jared nodded their agreement, and the tears finally fell free. And unfortunately, I am not a pretty crier. I’m more of the red-faced, snotty-nosed kind of crier. But hey, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about Jared trying it on with me – because no man would fancy me once he saw me snorting and sniffling. ‘You guys are great,’ I said. ‘You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re all on my side. But … I’m not sure what I want. I think I might just go for a walk on the beach to clear my head.’
Jared reached out a hand, pulling me to standing. ‘Well then a walk you shall have, with the most wonderful escorts a lady could ask for.’
Pru rolled her eyes and pulled her brother away from me. ‘She means a walk alone, Casanova.’
He frowned. ‘She does? She doesn’t even want me to go with her?’
I wiped my face and looked at the steps that ran from the Fisherman’s Friend carpark, down onto the sandy shore. The waves were lapping, the moon was shining. It was a beautiful night. The sort of night any woman would want to spend with a guy as handsome as Jared.
‘Not even you, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘I have a lot to think about. But I won’t be long, so if you see Fuzz, tell him he’d better not be hogging the bed when I get back.’
≈
I pulled off my boots and socks, kneading my toes into the damp sand. Sure, it was a chilly night, but I couldn’t help myself. I had always loved the seaside. It played a key part in my sexy-man-with-a-lighthouse fantasies, after all.
I tried to think through everything that had happened with Arnold, but instead I found my mind turning to Bathsheba’s murder, and the article I was going to write. I really did want it to be a comprehensive piece. I wanted to portray all points of view, even if I didn’t agree with them all. The hatred Vlad’s Boys felt towards dayturners. The sweet, friendly Bathsheba I’d met on the train. The undying love her husband felt for her.
There were more people I wanted to interview, too. I wanted to speak with Miriam a bit longer. Out of all the staff I’d spoken with, it seemed that she was closest to Gunnar. With his parents, and Gunnar himself, refusing to speak, Miriam’s words might be the closest I could get to peeking inside Gunnar’s mind.
As if I’d conjured her by my thoughts alone, I suddenly saw Miriam a little further along the beach. She was standing close to the water, speaking into her phone. I quickened my steps, tiny seashell-shards and pebbles sticking into my feet as I ran.
I was about ten feet away from her when I heard her side of the conversation clearly.
‘I know, right? He’s actually taking the fall for me.’ She giggled. ‘I told you he was the perfect guy to get on board. I mean, even I didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to get a tattoo when I suggested it, but he did it straight away.’
I stopped, gulped, and ducked behind a nearby rock. Sure, I knew I’d probably done so way too late. She was bound to have sensed movement. The clever thing to have done would have been to casually walk by, say, ‘Hey Miriam,’ like I hadn’t got a care in the world, and keep on walking. Instead I was stooping behind a damp rock – not a very large one, either – and deciding whether it would be better to make a run for it, or to phone for help. Well done me. If anyone from the Secret Service is reading this, I should be back on the job market any day now, so give me a call.
‘Who’s there?’ Miriam called out.
Okay, maybe all I could hope for right now was a godsend. Or a goddess send. I didn’t know the phone number of anyone in town, but I had the number of the Daily Riddler stored. Maybe Grace would be back by now. I dialled, stuck my phone back into my pocket, then stood up.
‘Hey there.’ I smiled and waved. ‘It’s Miriam, isn’t it?’
She smiled back, but hers had even less warmth than my own. ‘You know I’m reading your mind right now, right?’
‘I … why would you do that?’ I barely had the sentence out when she disappeared from my view.
All the research in the world couldn’t have prepared me for what happened next. I knew vampires could move fast, but I had no idea what that would be like when I saw it in action. Or didn’t see it in action. Before I knew it, Miriam was standing behind me, her teeth against my neck, her hand pulling my phone from my pocket, killing the call before throwing it aside.
‘I know you heard me,’ she said. ‘That’s the good thing about humans – they have no idea how to shield their thoughts. Right now you’re wondering how on earth Detective Quinn managed to overlook me.’ She moved her lips to my ear, her sharp teeth pricking my skin. ‘You think he’s grumpy but sexy. Yeah, I can see that. He’s also blind as a bat when it comes down to discovering the people behind Vlad’s Boys. He overlooked me because I’m not a boy.’ She giggled. ‘Classic misdirection, am I right? Most of our best assassins are women. We recruit dumb young guys like Gunnar to do the grunt work, and to take the fall if need be.’
Thoughts of struggle faded as quickly as they began. Greg had told me mind-readers were a rarity among vampires. Not quite as rare as I wished. And my research had also told me that those vampires who could read human minds also tended to be more powerful in general. Which meant that Miriam was bound to be far stronger and faster than I could ever hope to be.
There had to be some way out of this, though. Maybe Grace would try and call me back and get worried when I didn’t answer. Or perhaps Jared, Pru and Greg would come looking for me. But I couldn’t see or hear them anywhere near the beach, so it was more likely that they were continuing with their Pru-inclusive boys’ night out.
I caught sight of the lighthouse, far along the shore. Maybe Detective Quinn was in there now, looking through a telescope (he had everything else my sexy lighthouse-fantasy man had, so why not that?). He’d spy me down here and … what? He probably wouldn’t come to my rescue. I mean, he hated my guts, so why not let me get murdered by a vampire? It wasn’t as though I a
ctually cared what he thought of me. I wasn’t a needy woman. But he could at least show some sort of decency and try to rescue me, instead of just standing there in his lighthouse enjoying the show.
‘For the love of Dracula! What is with your brain? You realise you’re getting annoyed with a guy because you’ve imagined he’s looking out through a telescope at you right now.’ She shook her head. ‘Dear me, humans are dumb. But listen, I have things to do tonight, so I’m just going to get on with it and murder you, okay? And I might take a little drink of your blood, first. It’s a while since I’ve eaten.’
I didn’t want to be the woman who just stood there while a vampire drank from her and plotted her murder, really I didn’t. But what was I going to do about it? Sure, I’d taken a few self-defence classes, but I didn’t think I’d hold up too well against Miriam. Also, she could probably just compel me to be docile even if I tried.
‘Yes,’ she said, her teeth sinking into my neck. ‘I could.’
Ahem. This is the kind of paragraph that needs some preparatory throat clearing. Ahem. Quite a lot of it, it turns out. Because in the same way as I hadn’t been prepared for the reality of Miriam’s strength, I also hadn’t been prepared for the experience of being bitten. And it was – ahem – it was … well, it was euphoric. Something I could definitely get used to, if she didn’t decide to drain me dry. I was feeling energised by the whole thing, truth be told. I was feeling like, as soon as she took a break, I might just have summoned the strength to fight her off. I was–
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