‘Ugh!’ She pushed me away, throwing up on the sand.
Hmm. I should probably be insulted. And I would be later on, no doubt. But for the time being, she was vomiting a lot, and I decided to take the opportunity to scarper. I didn’t even stop to pick up my shoes. I just ran towards the steps that would lead me back to the Fisherman’s Friend carpark, my lungs burning with the effort.
I was about three feet away from those steps when I was pulled back, hard and swift. Before I could figure out what was happening, I was lying face down in the water, with Miriam’s hands around my throat. ‘What the hell are you? Your blood just made me throw up.’
‘Yeah, I noticed that,’ I said through a mouthful of sand and salt water. ‘Say, maybe we should talk about it. We could figure out what’s up with my blood. You could tell me a little more about Vlad’s Boys. Y’know – some nice girly back and forth.’
She smacked me hard across the face. ‘Listen, sweetie, I’m aware that some villains like to do a bit of a tell-all before they kill their victim. And I can see the benefit. A bit of catharsis. Get all of the stress out by unloading it on someone you’re soon going to shut up forever. But I think I’ll forgo that, seeing as I’m still feeling slightly nauseous. Oh, and if you’re worried about me getting caught, then don’t. I’ve been in your head. I know how upset you are about this whole Is Abby my mammy thing. And it’s probably fairly obvious to anyone who can’t read your pathetic thoughts, too. So I’m going to put a whole heap of stones in your pockets before I drown you. They’ll think you were so depressed that you did it to yourself.’
I was surprised she said before she drowned me, because as far as I could tell, it was already happening. ‘They’ll see the bite marks!’ I spluttered. ‘They’ll know I didn’t drown myself.’
‘My bite has healing qualities, Sherlock. The marks will have disappeared by the time they find you. No one will ever know you’ve been bitten.’ She shuddered. ‘I wish I could undo the memory of that little interaction. You taste like crud. No, you taste like the crud that the rest of the crud has crudded out.’
‘No need to be insulting,’ I said in a somewhat garbled tone. I felt her weight lift off me then, but before I could move she was back again with the promised stones. How nice – a woman of her word. I felt her stuff them into my pockets, then lift me up and move me into deeper water.
This was it, my last hurrah. I’d never imagined it would be a hurrah-filled hurrah, to be honest. I’d imagined myself dying alone in my flat, half a dozen cats feasting on me until someone finally complained to the building manager about the smell. At least this was a bit more exciting.
I struggled and flailed for a while, and then there was the excruciating discomfort that being drowned entails, but after a few minutes of all that good stuff, my thoughts began to drift away …
21. The Kiss of Life
‘I’m kind of disappointed,’ said a husky voice. ‘I was hoping I’d get to enjoy that for a little bit longer.’
My eyelids were heavy as mud, and my ears felt like someone had shoved a scream inside. My mouth was wet, tasting of brine. I forced my eyes open, sat up and wiped my face. Jared was looking down at me, smiling. His face looked as wet as mine felt. His T-shirt, too. Actually, all of him was wet. Fuzz was sitting next to him, not quite soaked through, but definitely a bit damp.
My brain finally caught up with what was happening, and I said, ‘Wait – you just saved my life?’
Jared grinned, while Fuzz rubbed up against me and purred.
‘Well, it wasn’t exactly a chore. I did enjoy the whole mouth-to-mouth resuscitation thing, I must admit. And the fight I had with Miriam was also oddly satisfying. I should probably speak with a therapist about that. Unresolved issues with my mother, perhaps? Anyway.’ He shook his head, droplets falling from his bleached hair onto my legs. Dear goddess, a wet man had never looked so attractive. ‘Much as I wish I could take all the credit, you have Fuzz here to thank, too.’
I picked the cat up, stroking his black fur. A wave of warmth seemed to rush from him into me, and it was so comforting that I felt as if my body was instantly recovering from the whole almost-drowning debacle. And, whilst I still couldn’t hear a word he said, I had the uncanny feeling that Fuzz was saying something, and that whatever it was, it was lovely.
‘I heard him scratching to get into your bedroom,’ Jared went on. ‘And I know you said not to let him hog the bed, but he is awfully cute. Y’know – for a creature who hates vampires with a passion. Anyway, as soon as I let him in, he walked over to the telescope and started meowing like crazy. I took a look and … well, y’know, I can move super-fast when I want to. Just another of my attributes you might want to consider the next time you turn down my offer of a date.’
My heart began to beat a little wildly. Jared with a telescope, seeing my struggle and coming to my rescue. Okay, so he didn’t live in a lighthouse, but the Vander Inn was kind of sexy. Y’know, if you overlooked the doilies.
I glanced down at the cat. It was safer than staring at Jared with my tongue hanging out. ‘You’ve managed to get into my room with the door closed before,’ I said.
Fuzz head-bumped me, purring louder than ever. What the criminy did all of this mean? Did the cat know I was in trouble? Was this whole witch-familiar thing really happening? Didn’t that require me to be a witch? I shook my head. Such thoughts could wait. After all, I had a whole two days left to mull them over before I lost all memory of my time here. ‘Where’s Miriam?’
Jared pointed up the beach. Miriam was standing next to Greg, stock-still, while he held that sparkly purple wand of his out towards her. Pru and her mother were a little further up the beach, leading a group of people towards us. Some of them were dressed like Gretel.
‘Pru called Greg while I came here to rescue you,’ Jared explained. ‘He got here just in time, and Pru got on the phone to the Wayfarers in the meantime. I was struggling to hold Miriam in check and do the whole glorious kiss of life thing, so it was a good thing I had some help. That wand of Greg’s must be pretty powerful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wizard manage a freezing spell before.’
‘It’s an OAP,’ I said, giggling a little manically. Greg the wizard had frozen Miriam the vampire with an OAP, while another vampire had given me mouth-to-mouth. Not only had he given me mouth-to-mouth, but he’d done so without telling me I tasted like crud. I was trying to think of something sensible to say, when I saw flashing lights in the Fisherman’s Friend carpark. Next came the slam of a car door, followed by Detective Quinn rushing down onto the beach.
‘About time too,’ Jared muttered, his jaw tense. ‘I heard he was having a date with his ex-fiancée tonight. Trying to rekindle the old flame. I mean, sure, we all need time off, but … how could he have overlooked Miriam? You could have died tonight, because of his ineptitude.’
A strange feeling crashed into my chest. It felt like I was being insulted. Which was ridiculous, right? But I had the sudden need to defend Detective Quinn as strongly as I might defend myself. ‘He wasn’t the only one trying to find the killer. You might as well blame all of these Wayfarer people, too, if you’re going to start throwing blame around.’
Instead of acting insulted by my words, Jared smiled softly down at me. ‘You have a heart of gold, do you know that? Come on, I want to get you home and warmed up. And my mother will want to mollycoddle you for days to come.’
I stood up, glancing at Detective Quinn. ‘I should probably tell him what happened, first.’
Jared wrapped an arm around my waist, steadying me. It was a good thing, too, because I’d stood up far more quickly than I should have, and I was experiencing a headrush.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘What was I thinking? But I’ll stay by your side, if that’s okay. I want to make sure you don’t wear yourself out.’
≈
I sat at my desk the next day, writing up the events of the night before and expanding the story. I hoped Grace was a quick e
ditor, because this piece was constantly evolving. As long as nothing else surprising happened in the meantime, I should be finished by the end of the day.
She’d been out the night before, and hadn’t heard my call. But it had apparently gone to voicemail for a few seconds before Miriam threw my phone away, and the beginning of our conversation had been clear. If Miriam had murdered me, she would have been the chief suspect. I could lie to you and tell you I found comfort in that thought, but I’m not quite so noble. I was very glad to be alive.
I was also glad that my mobile phone was alive. Greg had found it on the sand and managed to repair any water damage. Who knew a wizard could be so useful?
The atmosphere in the Daily Riddler was doing nothing to help my writing speed along. Malachy had brought me coffee and croissants, Greg had brought me coffee and doughnuts. Edward had brought me green tea and overnight oats, and Roarke had brought me chai tea, cinnamon rolls and a book of puzzles. I mean, sure, I ate and drank it all – I was hardly going to be rude – but all the niceness was a little embarrassing. Back at the Daily Dubliner, the most anyone sent my way was a grunt.
The precious princess treatment in the office was nothing compared to what it had been like at the Vander Inn, though. Jared, Pru and Nollaig had been fussing over me so much that I’d been glad to escape to work.
It was about eleven a.m. when Detective Quinn marched into the office. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t here to bring me a snack. ‘You look recovered,’ he said, dragging a chair over next to me.
I shrugged. ‘I’ve been reading up on vampire bites. Apparently they can be rather energising. You’re not looking too well-rested yourself, though.’
‘I’ll head off to bed once I’ve seen Greg. I need him, and badly. But I want to talk to you first, Miss Smith. I know you told me everything Miriam said last night, but maybe there was something you missed. Did she mention Bathsheba at all?’
‘Nope, not a jot. Why? And why do you need Greg? Wait, don’t tell me – you only want him for his computer skills. I mean, he’ll probably be a little disappointed if you don’t buy him dinner first, but …’
The detective rolled his eyes. ‘There’s something wrong with you, do you know that? Last night a vampire almost murdered you, and today you’re joking around as if it never happened. And speaking of last night … you and Mr Montague looked awfully close.’
I wrinkled my nose, sipping the last of my chai tea. ‘Mr who now?’
‘Jared. You let a guy fawn all over you when you don’t even know his name?’
Okay, I was no longer feeling jokey. I resisted the urge to slam my cup on my desk – or better yet, throw its contents at him. Why was this man so ridiculously rude all the time? ‘Come on.’ I stood up, smoothing down my jeans (no, they did not need to be smoothed down, but if my hands were doing that, then they weren’t throwing things). ‘Greg’s in his office. What do you want him for?’
Detective Quinn sighed. ‘Miriam’s admitted to all of the murders except Bathsheba’s. She says she liked Bathsheba too much to kill her, and she insists that it must have been Gunnar. I’ve heard about Greg’s new aura-matching program. Maybe it can tell me if Miriam is telling the truth.’
≈
I stood behind the two men while they stared at Greg’s computer screen. Sure, the detective threw me a look now and then that told me he’d rather I went elsewhere. But if he wanted me out, he’d have to ask. I was having far too much fun watching him fail to grasp the obvious.
‘It can’t be right, though,’ he said to Greg for the tenth time.
‘It is right,’ Greg insisted. ‘I took a photo of Miriam last night. Her aura is nowhere in all of the telekinetic energy that occurred during Bathsheba’s murder. If I were a betting man, I’d put every penny I had on Miriam being innocent. Of Bathsheba’s murder, at least. My program says she did murder the other three dayturners on the train.’
The detective kicked the leg of the desk. ‘So she’s telling the truth? Okay, well then it has to be Gunnar. He has to have been the one who murdered Bathsheba.’
Greg shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I ran his aura against Bathsheba’s murder scene and got a zero percent match.’
‘Well, run it again.’
Greg pulled a packet of crisps from his pocket, opened it, and began to crunch loudly. ‘I ran it three times,’ he said between mouthfuls. ‘I’m not going to get a different result running it a fourth. Look, I know you want to hang something on Gunnar, and I can’t blame you. The kid is scum. But you might have to accept that all you’re going to be able to do him for is being a member of a hate group.’
‘How much time in Witchfield will that get him?’ I asked.
The detective began to grind his teeth. ‘Not enough. Dayturners were only granted equal rights a few weeks ago. And so far, Judge Redvein has been way too lenient when it comes to handing down hate crime sentences. She seems to think things will take a while to settle, and that we should all just be patient. She’ll give him two years for being a member of Vlad’s Boys, and he’ll probably get out after one.’ He leant down over Greg. ‘Have you run everyone else’s aura photo against Bathsheba’s murder scene? All the passengers? All the staff?’
Greg scraped the last crisps out of his bag, chewed them slowly, and licked the crumbs from his hands. ‘Every single one,’ he confirmed. ‘I’m telling you – no one on that train murdered Bathsheba.’
22. The Things We Do For Love
I hovered at the edge of the dining room. Nollaig was playing cards with Grace and a rather dashing looking werewolf. Pru was telling fortunes at a table by the window. Malachy was dishing out amazing food, and Greg was playing barman to at least two dozen guests. This was it, the party that they swore was not my goodbye party.
When Greg insisted on walking me straight home after work, I should have known that something was going on. And I definitely should have known when all the lights in the Vander Inn were turned off. But I’m ashamed to say that it was only when everyone leapt up and shouted, ‘Surprise!’ that I cottoned on to the reality of the situation. I know what you’re thinking – I’m the perfect person to call when you need a crime solved.
The party had been Jared’s idea. He wanted me to meet as many local supernaturals as possible. He seemed to think that, the more people who spoke up for me, the less likely Arnold was to try and send me back to the Daily Dubliner. For a couple of hours he did the rounds, telling everyone how I’d tracked down Miriam all by myself.
‘Ash almost lost her life in the pursuit of justice,’ I heard him say to a middle-aged wizard at one stage. ‘Just think what a boon someone like her would be to our town.’
He was laying it on thick, that was for sure. And I really was grateful for the efforts he was making. But the thing was, I was feeling a little on the antsy side. Whoever had murdered Bathsheba was still out there, and I’d probably never get a chance to write the real story. What I’d printed out before I left the office that evening felt so unfinished.
No one else seemed to feel that way, though – or if they did, they were hiding it well. The party was getting more raucous by the minute. Drinks were flowing, and someone had brought a karaoke machine. Roarke turned out to be just as talented a singer as he was a puzzle-writer, and he began to belt out rock tunes at the top of his lungs.
Jared moved on from the wizard, and began to schmooze an attractive young witch. Sure I could hear him mention my name while they talked, but I could also see the way his eyes strayed to her cleavage. Not that she seemed to mind. She was doing that whole arm-touching and hair-tossing thing. The sort of thing you read about in articles on how to flirt. Obviously I have never tried to put such advice into action.
Either Detective Quinn wasn’t invited, or he had declined to come. I hoped I’d see him at least once more before tomorrow evening. Sure, he was a grumpy sod, but he was also the only one who told me the truth. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d be seriously questioning m
y sanity by now.
As the night wore on, my edginess only grew. Jared finally stopped chatting up women and joined me on the staircase, where I was hanging out with Fuzz.
‘Sorry I haven’t had much of a chance to chat with you. I’ve been trying to make your case to the movers and shakers. And I might have been trying to make you jealous by flirting with the last three of those movers and shakers.’ He shoulder-bumped me. ‘Did it work?’
‘You’re full of it,’ I replied with a wry grin.
‘Ah, but full of what? Awesomeness? Heroism? Sexiness? I’m not just doing this for you, you know. I’m doing it for Greg and Pru, too. They like you a lot. And Grace has been writing every single article for the paper all by herself for the last thirty years. She could probably do with some help.’
Fuzz let out a loud meow, as though he were agreeing.
‘I don’t quite get what it is you think you’re doing, though. I’ve already told you guys my opinion on all of this. Arnold doesn’t want to hire a reporter. He wants to find his granddaughter. You might be able to force him not to wipe my memory, but if I don’t pass this final test tomorrow, then he’s not going to keep me on – no matter what anyone says to him.’
Jared grabbed my hand, and I flinched. His palm felt cool, but that was probably down to the whole undead thing he had going on. ‘Sorry,’ he said, dropping my hand. ‘But I just … I’ve been thinking this through a lot. When I saw you and Miriam last night, it was like a kick to the gut. I might not know you very long, but I know I want to know you better. So I was thinking – even if you don’t stay on at the paper, that doesn’t mean you can’t still stay here, does it? At this stage, Arnold’s not going to get away with wiping your memory. So you could just … stay. And if you did, then we could go out, get to know each other.’
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