‘I really do have amazing coffee over here,’ she called up to me. ‘And blueberry pancakes are this morning’s special. Oh, and I’m inviting you as a friend, of course. No charge for the newest resident of Samhain Street.’
I willed my drool to go back inside my mouth. I’d had a lucky escape last night. Nedina and her friends could have done anything to me. They’d held my life in their hands. But through it all, Nedina trusted me. She’d fought my corner with Jonathan. Sure, she was also the owner of a necromancy supply store, and she had questionable taste in men, but I was growing to like her. Quite a lot. I didn’t want to sour things with her now.
‘That’s very generous, Angelica. But … maybe another time.’
≈
When I went back inside, I found Ned bashing around the apartment. ‘I’m opening up early,’ she announced. ‘And I’m going to find a spell to make Angelica lose her singing voice, too.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ I said gently.
She hardened her jaw, but she couldn’t hold it for long. ‘No, I don’t,’ she admitted with sagging shoulders. ‘She might be a sly, evil witch, but I could never stoop to her level.’ She gave me a sad smile. ‘I’ve a couple of warlock customers coming into the shop this morning. I’ll feel them out, see if they know anything about where Cullen was when Bradley was killed.’
She stormed out and, seeing as I was wide awake, I headed to the bathroom to take a shower. When I returned to my room, I found a book called The Compendium of Supernatural Beings on my bedside table. It wasn’t one of Jude’s or Faster’s, so I wondered who had left it. Cautiously, I leafed through its pages, finding that it contained information about hundreds of supernaturals, some I’d never even heard of.
I was just reading up on dayturning vampires, when Hamish walked into my room.
‘So,’ he said, hopping up onto the bed. ‘You like it then.’
‘This is from you?’ I scratched behind his ear. ‘Thank you so much. It’s answering a whole lot of questions I never knew I had.’ I closed the book. ‘But I guess we should probably get on with tailing Cullen for the day. Don’t suppose you know any useful invisibility spells?’
‘I do, as a matter of fact,’ he replied proudly. ‘But before we get to work, we should probably make some breakfast. And by we, I mean you. I was a great cook at one time, but at the moment all I’d be able to make you is some incredibly hairy scrambled egg. Probably with half the shells still in.’
I scratched behind his ear once more. ‘Whoever turned you into a dog wasn’t just cursing you, you know. They were cursing the rest of the world into being your servant. So what do you want for breakfast? Let me guess – is it something fancy?’
He jumped down and grinned at me. ‘You know me so well.’
≈
A few minutes later, I stood at the kitchen counter, while Hamish sat up on a stool and examined his breakfast.
‘This is all wrong,’ he said. ‘You need to wrap the prosciutto around the melon balls. And that sprig of mint looks a bit anaemic. Perhaps we should go and find some more.’
I eyeballed the dog and pushed the plate closer to him. ‘It’s either this, or I buy you a tin of dog food.’
‘Point taken,’ he said, beginning to eat. ‘What were Ned and Angelica screaming about?’
‘Something called a Decree of the Deceased.’
‘Oh.’ Hamish looked sombre. ‘You know, I wish she’d told me Angelica was so close. I knew Ned wanted the Decree of the Deceased for her mother, and that someone had stolen it, but I had no idea it was her own sister.’
‘You and Ned seem so close, though. I was surprised that you didn’t know Angelica was living just behind us.’
‘Ned and I are close, so I have to agree with you – it’s very weird that she’s told me so little about her sister. I do know that Angelica never even turned up for their mother’s funeral. I looked into the records after we met her yesterday, and it looks like she opened that café very recently. So why now? Years after their mother’s death, why suddenly turn up on Ned’s doorstep?’
‘I doubt she’s interested in taking over the necromancy business,’ I commented. ‘She seems way too sweetness and light for that. Although come to think if it, Ned doesn’t really fit my idea of a necromancer, either.’
‘I would have said the same back when I first met her. She was once even shinier and sweeter and more angelic than Angelica, if you’d believe it. She grew up in this flat, but she hated the shop. She studied to be a healer – came out top of the class, too – and she also had a successful business making healing wands. Someone like her would have been right at home in Strange Lane – or even Warren Lane, come to think of it, seeing as she almost moved there.’
‘The enclave off Grafton Street where your fancy restaurant is?’
He nodded. ‘There are lots of fancy places in that enclave. The Wyrd Court is there. Crooked College, too. All of the better shops and restaurants and apartments. Very posh. And very normal as far as witches are concerned. Nedina had just used her wand money to buy herself a lovely apartment there, but then her mother died and … well, she felt responsible. So she decided to run this place instead.’
‘But why would she feel responsible?’
‘Well, her mother died saving her, you see. From a witch hunter.’
I felt the blood leave my face. Sitting down, I said, ‘Oh. That … that sounds terrible. I didn’t even know there was such a thing.’ Out of all the lies I’d told over the past few days, this felt like the worst.
‘Neither did we,’ Hamish replied. ‘He was an English guy called Kieran – or so we thought. He made her believe he was human, rich, handsome and smart. Ned fell head over heels, even though they were only together a short time. One evening she went to see him at his hotel in the human part of the city, to tell him she was a witch. As soon as she had the words out, he said, “Well, I knew that all along, darling”. Then he pointed a wand at her, told her he was a witch hunter, and started to perform some weird form of a death spell.’
‘He pointed a wand and did a spell? That doesn’t sound very witch hunter-ish.’
‘I agree. The wand might have been an object of awesome power, and he must have had some wizarding skills to be able to use it – which makes him a bit of a hypocrite if you ask me. Anyway, Ned was in shock, just standing there ready to take it. But her mother had mistrusted Kieran all along. She turned up in the nick of time and, well, she took the brunt of the spell. Ned began to fight back then, but Kieran disappeared and we never saw him again.’
I played about with one of my melon balls, still afraid to look Hamish in the eye. ‘So … Ned never took him here? To Samhain Street or any other enclave?’
‘No. But if the idiot had held on for a little bit longer, she would have. Thank the goddess he was so impatient. I mean, it’s horrible that Ned’s mother had to die, but at least it was just one woman instead of hundreds.’
I felt sick to my stomach. The whole reason Ned ran this business was because of a witch hunter. She felt guilty for something one of my kind had done to her mother. ‘And em … did the Wayfarers ever manage to find him? Is that even something they do? Track witch hunters?’
Hamish took a drink from his bowl of orange juice before responding. ‘Ned inherited a lot of money from her mother. She was afraid that no one would believe a hunter would actually have managed to kill a witch – there’ve only been a few cases of witch hunters in recent decades, and the general consensus is that they’re idiots. So, figuring no one would believe her version of events, she lied. Officially, Ned’s mam died in a necromancy spell gone wrong. And honestly, it was what she would have wanted. The woman hated the law. She would have turned in her grave if she knew they were investigating her death.’
He took another few laps, draining the juice from his bowl. ‘When you’ve been here a while, you’ll understand. Everyone here has been treated badly by the powers that be at one time or another. We learned our le
sson – get them involved, and not only will they not solve your problem, but you might just wind up in Witchfield yourself.’
I thought back to the Wayfarers I’d met so far. Sure, Todge seemed like a bit of an idiot, but Wanda and Finn had come across as smart and capable.
‘I can tell what you’re thinking.’ Hamish gave me a knowing look. ‘The Wayfarers seem okay. And it’s true. We used to have a crowd called the Peacemakers as our police force, and they were a nightmare. It’s only a matter of time before the Wayfarers turn out to be just as bad, you mark my words.’
I didn’t know enough about this world to argue, so I brought the subject back to Ned instead. ‘I still can’t believe Ned trained to be a healer. I mean, I’m assuming that’s like a doctor, right?’
‘It is. And Ned would have been one of the best. But ever since her mam was murdered, she changed course and became the sort of witch her mother always wanted her to be. A proper Samhain Street witch, you know. Into illegal potions, necromancy … all of that sort of stuff. But she hasn’t completely lost the run of herself.’
‘Hasn’t she? If she wants this missing Decree of the Deceased, then that means she wants to bring her mother back. From the dead.’
He sighed. ‘It doesn’t sound good, I know. I hate the idea of necromancy myself. But Ned says she has an important reason for that, and I’m inclined to trust her judgement. She knows that if she tried to bring her mother back without the right paperwork, she’d lose the shop as well as her freedom. So unless it turns up, there’s no chance she can attempt the resurrection spell. Anyway, on a lighter note, I’ve been thinking about this serial killer.’
‘That’s not usually considered a lighter note, you know.’
He lapped up the last slice of prosciutto ham. ‘In this enclave it is. Anyway, the thing is … well, I’m not so sure about you and I tailing Cullen this morning.’
‘Oh? You don’t think he’s a suspect?’
‘Maybe, but the more I thought about it, the more I figured there might be some other suspects we ought to consider too.’
I pulled thoughtfully at a strand of hair. Sure, Cullen was rude and a warlock, but I was strangely relieved to be able to knock him off the top of the list.
‘I mean, Cullen’s still top of the list, obviously,’ said Hamish.
‘Drat.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. My inner monologue went outer for a second. You were saying?’
‘Well, think about it. We suspect Cullen mainly because Diane turned him down. So I sat down last night, and I decided to make a list of any other men she might have turned down.’
‘You wrote a list. But how? You haven’t got opposable thumbs.’
‘Duh. I used my dicta-quill to do it.’
‘And yet more words I never imagined I’d be hearing. Can I have a look?’
He nodded to the coffee table. ‘It’s just there.’
I went to fetch it, sighing as I began to read. There were two names on the list, and one of them was Cullen. ‘Two, Hamish? Diane’s only ever turned down two guys?’
He hopped down from his stool. ‘Yes well, like I said – it’s in the genes. Come on. We’ll find the other suspect at the museum.’
21. Chasing Our Tails
The Museum of Magical Artefacts was in Warren Lane, the fancy enclave Hamish had been telling me about. Like Samhain Street, the name of the enclave was something of a misnomer. It wasn’t so much of a lane as it was a warren of lanes. I didn’t get to see as much of the area I’d like (although we did stop for a drink called A Short Burst of Happiness which definitely lived up to expectations). From the few streets of the enclave I saw, it was clear that it was enormous, probably as large as Dublin City itself.
To me, though, it wasn’t the scale or the grandeur of Warren Lane that was so impressive. It was the fact that it was so clean and bright – and without the strange vapour which came off the canal at Samhain Street, it smelled a whole lot better, too.
But if I thought the enclave was amazing, then the museum truly blew my mind.
‘That can’t really be the mirror from Snow White,’ I said, my mouth agog as I stared at the huge, ornate mirror, displayed in a large marble hallway. ‘I mean … Snow White is a fairy tale.’
‘It’s a Tall Tale, actually,’ Hamish corrected. ‘A lot of what you call fairy tales in the human world have their origins in what the witches call Tall Tales. Stories like Snow White might have been embellished over the years, but certain facts are true, and supernatural historians work hard to distinguish the truths from the untruths. And yes, this is the mirror Snow White’s evil stepmother used. It’s also most definitely a magic mirror, so we should really distance ourselves.’
He had barely finished his speech when the mirror began to perform a speech of its own.
‘Beautiful woman,’ it whispered. ‘Come closer. Come on. I won’t hurt you. All I’ll do is teach you how to be the very best you.’
I felt suddenly dizzy, and was reminded of the hold the Soul-Sucker had over me just the day before. Clearing my head with a shake, I scarpered away from the mirror as quickly as my shoes would carry me, which was a whole lot faster than usual.
When I was well away from the mirror, I stopped and stared down at my runners. They had been plain white, but now there was a red stripe down each side.
‘No need to thank me,’ said Hamish. ‘They’re go-faster stripes. I put similar spells on all your shoes.’
‘So all of my shoes make me run like a proper athlete? That’s awesome, but … why?’
‘Because you’re new to the supernatural world, Katy. You’re bound to get in a scrape or two, and seeing as you don’t have any magic to help yourself when you do, well … I thought I’d better use some of my magic to help you out.’
For a moment I just stared at him, feeling a few tears of happiness and surprise pushing at the corners of my eyes. Finally, I said, ‘I feel the sudden urge to rub your belly and give you a biscuit.’
As he laughed and struggled away from my belly-rubbing, I said, ‘C’mere, you wovley, wovley doggie. Who’s a good lickle boy? You are! Yes, you are!’
Even though he made a great show of struggling, he couldn’t stop himself laughing – and neither could he stop his tail from wagging furiously. Just when we were having more fun than I’d ever thought possible, a shadow fell over us.
‘Cut it out,’ said a short, curly-haired man. ‘The Museum of Magical Artefacts is not the place for this sort of behaviour.’
I looked at the newcomer. His eyes were watery, and he wore a jacket with a badge which read: Hugo Murray, Assistant to the Curator. He probably wasn’t much older than me, but his mannerisms and his stance made him seem like a cranky old man.
‘Hey there … pal,’ said Hamish. ‘It’s me. Hamish.’
Hugo put a monocle to his eye and studied Hamish. ‘If it is you, then why do you look like a weredog who’s turning at the wrong time of the month?’
Hamish sighed. ‘I do a bit. And I don’t know why. Listen, Hugo, you might have heard that the Wayfarers are looking for Diane.’
The assistant curator shivered. ‘Oh, I heard. They were here yesterday, matter of fact, checking I hadn’t been targeted. Good goddess, I had a near miss there, didn’t I?’
‘Really?’ I looked at him with renewed interest. ‘You think you narrowly avoided being the latest murder victim?’
‘What?’ He pocketed his monocle. ‘No. I mean, I hope not – although the Wayfarers are going to put someone at my house tonight. No, what I meant was that I had a near miss with Diane. She’s obviously crazy. I should have known it really, considering she turned me down. I mean, look at me. I’m a catch. But luckily for me, she’s only murdering men who were unfortunate enough to get a date with her.’
As deluded as he was, I somehow didn’t think this was our guy. ‘Right, well … must get on, Hugo. Nice to meet you.’
As we walked away, Hamish said, ‘Why did your voice
go all high-pitched when you said “Nice to meet you”?’
‘Because it wasn’t nice to meet him. I’m not a very good liar, Hamish.’
‘Well then, I think you might have moved to the wrong enclave.’
≈
With the only other suspect discounted, there was nothing for us to do but head to the Bank. It wasn’t long after noon, but the place was already busy, and the only available seats were at the counter.
Cullen was there, wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt, jeans and biker boots. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a motorcycle to go with those boots. I’d often fantasised about going out with a guy who rode a bike. It was–
‘Katy!’ Cullen said gruffly, waving his hand in my face. ‘I’ve asked you three times what you want.’
Hamish cleared his throat. ‘And I’ve told you three times. We want beef stew and a nice bottle of red.’
I shuddered. ‘I don’t want wine and beef at noon.’ Quickly, I glanced at the menu. ‘Just a strong cup of tea and a tuna salad wrap, please. And don’t scrimp on the sugar sachets.’
‘Fine.’ Hamish shrugged. ‘More wine for me. Stick it in my favourite bowl, would you Cullen? Oh, and I might as well have Katy’s portion of stew, too, seeing as she’s paying.’
As Cullen made his way into the kitchen, I turned to Hamish. ‘Wine? We’re supposed to be watching this guy like a hawk all day, seeing as Mister Museum is ruled out. I don’t like your chances of following him – or managing an invisibility spell – if you’re drunk.’
‘I’m not going to drink an entire bottle of wine, obviously. I’ll do a spell to drain my bowl. But I have to act normal, and normal for me is a bowl of wine with my lunch.’
Cullen returned quickly with our order, and I couldn’t help but look at him while I bit into my wrap. What if he was the killer? I’d never been face to face with a murderer before. I always thought that, if I were, then the murderer might at least have the good grace to be unattractive.
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