Something Sinister This Way Comes: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife Wishes Book 2)

by R K Dreaming

  “Good job we’re behind these ferns then, isn’t it?” said Garrett with a hint of annoyance.

  Within minutes Oberon had gotten rid of the other guy, who departed loudly sulking, as if he had lost the biggest prize of the night.

  Oberon continued to massage Garrett’s ego, but then groaned. “Oh dear, I think your wife has spotted you. Do you want to get out of here?”

  But before he could whisk Garrett away, a cheery female voice said, “Darling, there you are!”

  Garrett Clooney hastened away, saying, “Honey, I was just fetching you a drink but this barkeep is taking ages!” His voice retreated further away.

  “Darn it,” said Oberon quietly. “Looks like the wife is the one who wears the pants in their marriage.”

  “Can’t you find some way to entice him outside?” said Charming impatiently. He was sick and tired of the bushes, in which he could not find a comfortable spot to stand, as branches kept prickling him in the neck and face.

  “Hold on. I’ll see. Oh, look, Sigourney is across the room.”

  “What’s she doing?”

  “Talking to Noah.”

  Charming cursed. “Maybe you should try your luck with Noah?”

  “No, hold on. Garrett’s wife is chatting to her friend. I think she might… yep, she’s going to dance with her friend. I’m gonna go over and grab Garrett. He’s waiting for their drinks.”

  And then a moment later there was a sharp intake of breath, as if Oberon had seen something shocking.

  “What?” demanded Charming.

  “He just used his wife’s wand to chill his drink!” said Oberon.

  “What? It can’t be. Garrett’s a Humble.”

  “No he’s not,” said Oberon, shocked excitement in his muttered voice. “He muttered something and the glass frosted over. Unbelievable. The guy’s been hiding his magic.”

  “And why would he do that?” said Charming grimly.

  Charming swore. He knew exactly why.

  Garrett Clooney was married to a witch, and there was no need for him to hide his magic. And yet he had for decades. And why would a man want to be a secret wizard?

  The man was sixty-odd. The right age, the right wealthy jet-setter lifestyle. How better to seduce victims than as the famous charmer, Garrett Clooney, idol of the big screen? The one person no one would suspect.

  “My Goddess,” growled Charming. “Garrett Clooney is The Reaper!”

  “I’ll get him,” said Oberon immediately.

  “Be careful,” warned Charming.

  He heard Oberon approach Garrett again to resume their flirtation, and tease him about having such a clever and demanding wife, about how he must miss the single life.

  He was practically throwing himself at Garrett who was lapping up the attention, but then suddenly Oberon pretended to lose interest. He began to complain that the party was too boring. He moaned that he really could do with a smoke.

  Keen to revive the Marilyn-lookalike’s interest, Garrett Clooney offered to escort Oberon to the special smoking area in the gardens.

  But Oberon whined that he liked a particular luxury brand of smokes that he’d left at home. Then, as if a naughty idea had occurred to him, he cooed that his apartment wasn’t too far, and would Garrett be a darling and drive him there?

  He whispered in Garrett’s ear that he wouldn’t mind the extra privacy either, away from Garrett’s wife.

  Garrett hesitated. “We could always find a room here,” he suggested. “It’ll give us all the privacy we want.”

  Oberon gave a disparaging laugh. “No darling, not without my smokes. If you can’t help, I’ll just have to find someone who can.”

  Oberon must have made a move to leave because Garrett said, “Not so fast. I’ll drive you.”

  “Oh goodie,” Oberon purred. “I’ll even fix you my own special drink as a thanks.”

  Charming was exhilarated when, less than five minutes later, Oberon and Garrett Clooney emerged from the front entrance of Hardwick Hall and traipsed down the stairs, arm in arm.

  Charming waited in the bushes, breath held.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Oberon in the glittery gold dress strained his neck, supposedly trying to remember where he parked his car.

  “Erm, I think it’s over there,” he said, vaguely pointing in Charming’s direction.

  He stumbled that way, giggling breathily about his heels being so naughty tonight, and leaning heavily on Garrett’s arm for support.

  They got to the bush and Oberon murmured, “Ooh, no one can see us here!”

  “Yeah baby, they can’t” crooned Garrett. “And I feel like I’ve been waiting to get you alone all night.”

  He leaned in for a smooch.

  Oberon shoved him hard into the bushes.

  Garrett fell, cursing.

  “We’ve been waiting to get you all alone too,” growled Charming, clamping his hand over Garrett’s mouth. “You and that dirty little secret of yours, Mr Clooney.”

  Chapter 22

  SIGOURNEY

  I had waited a full fifteen minutes after Bridgit and the minister had left the bathroom before I emerged from it.

  The banquet was over and the ball was already in full swing. I stood in a ballroom doorway for some time watching the dance floor grow ever more packed as crowds of elegantly dressed people kept arriving, still high from the red carpet and paparazzi experience outside.

  Bridgit and the minister were on top form, circling to greet all of the most important people, her simpering while he regaled them with some funny tale or another.

  Nobody seemed to notice the way he clung to Bridgit’s arm for support, her slender frame propping him up.

  It seemed impossible to believe that the fragile and elegant Bridgit could be the killer. Was she smiling so innocently because she truly was innocent, or because she knew she had left not one piece of evidence behind? Because she knew no one was going to be able to catch her?

  Any why had she done it? Why?

  A stage had been set up to one side of the large ballroom, ready for a line-up of singers that the minister had been most excited about at dinner, including a world famous jazz crooner and an even more famous big-voiced diva who was guaranteed to hype the crowd up later with her incredible vocals and her shaking, shimmying dance moves.

  In the meantime it was occupied by a live band cranking out some well-known witching classics. People were already dancing, enjoying the music and glasses of champagne from silver trays smoothly navigated around the room by the catering staff.

  The ghost of an idea was taking frame in my mind, but I needed to get Bridgit alone.

  She and the minister were now determinedly holding court near the main entrance, along with the mayor and his wife, getting their hands shaken or cheeks kissed by the gallant gentlemen arrivals and their glamorous lady friends.

  It felt a long time before Bridgit murmured something to the minister and slipped away from the group. She hurried, clutching her little purse to her side, seemingly intent on some urgent task.

  Even in her rush, she skipped as gracefully as a little fawn through the crowded dancefloor, every once in a while rising on tiptoe either to check if she was headed in the right direction. Or was she trying to catch sight of someone in the crowd?

  “Behave yourself!” I warned Squeak, who was on my shoulder.

  I hurried to intercept Bridgit. “Ms Corkmony?” I called.

  She turned on her heel towards me, looking startled, especially when she saw it was me. “Oh, I’m just a little bit busy,” she said immediately.

  “It won’t take a moment,” I said. “Can we have a private word?”

  She hesitated a second before nodding. She led the way towards a large pillar at the periphery of the circular ballroom. This offered us a little privacy.

  “How can I help?” she said a little stiffly, clearly still upset that I’d invaded her home without her permission.

  “I wanted to apologise to you.�
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  “Did that sentinel ask you to?” she said suspiciously. “The fake Chief Polliver?” She cast me an accusing glance at this, as if to let me know she was mad that we had duped her.

  I shook my head. “It was rude of me to invade your privacy, but sometimes my gift is so compelling and I simply need to obey it. I hope you can understand.”

  “So long as it was useful, I suppose,” she said huffily.

  I gave her a rueful smile. “My friends tell me I’m far too impulsive. Reckless even. I would hate to have offended you.”

  She nodded her head. “I’m afraid I see all sorts in my line of work. Did the sentinels offer you any support along those lines? I’m aware that your life… hasn’t exactly been easy.”

  “You mean my father,” I said. “Very perceptive. Although how anyone could miss the animosity between us, I do not know.”

  “Overbearing fathers,” she said with a sigh. “The root of so many of our troubles. And then your recent trouble with the law… So very shocking.”

  “You do think I’m troubled then?”

  She shrugged. “I sense your impulsiveness comes from obsession. A need for validation. For security. Forgive me for saying it, but the instability, both emotional and material, that you are suffering in your life is making you spiral out of control. Perhaps you should take some time for contemplation.”

  She kept a clinical coolness in that soft voice of hers to take the sting out of her words.

  I chuckled. “Perhaps I should come and seek your professional help.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Force of habit. But I could give you an appointment if you wish to discuss it further?”

  “My friend did think it would be a good idea,” I said grudgingly.

  “The fake Polliver? A handsome fellow. Is he more than a friend, perhaps?”

  “Just a colleague,” I said coolly.

  “But I hear you’re not working for the sentinels any more?”

  “And yet they come to me seeking my help. Even the real Polliver came to me for help.” I lowered my voice. “For the Troy Mockingbird murder case.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Oh! He told you about that?”

  I nodded. “But I’m surprised he told you.”

  She shrugged. “Men do like to confide in me.”

  “I will make that appointment if you don’t mind. I’ve been feeling a lot of anger recently. A lot of confusion about things in my past. And my present. It’s very… clouding.”

  “That must have been very difficult for a woman like you to admit,” she said. “But admitting it is the start to recovery. I’m flattered you’ve chosen me.”

  “I suppose I feel I can trust you. I find it hard to trust people.”

  “Trust is important,” she said. “And yet I sense there’s something you’re holding back. Some deeper issue that has made you seek me out.”

  I had to force myself not to clench my jaw in distaste. Opening up to reveal my inner self was hard. She was the last person I wanted to bare my soul to.

  But I needed to push her to an edge. Force her to act without scaring her off.

  I took a deep breath and did it. “I lost my mother to murder when I was just a baby, though my father lied and said she took her own life. Ever since, I’ve felt so alone in this world, so incomplete. And filled with rage. I saw what her killer did to her, you see. It was The Reaper who murdered my mother.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. “I see. How truly terrible. It’s no wonder you are so determined to catch him now. And talking to someone will do you good. I’ll book you in for a session as soon as possible.”

  “Oh thank goodness,” I said in a rush. “I’ve been thinking of setting up in Brimstone Bay, ever since I lost my job. But I know there are issues I have to deal with first. And my father to face up to. It feels like my whole life is sliding out of control. Things have been… difficult.”

  She nodded. “With all these worries… I suppose your powers aren’t what they used to be any more?”

  I stared at her in shock, then said, “That’s… That’s private. I suppose you have to know but… Please don’t tell anyone!”

  “Of course I won’t. You have my assurance.”

  I let out my tense breath in a rush. “Thank you! You can’t understand how much this means to me. It feels such a relief to finally tell someone!”

  I reached out and hugged her.

  She stiffened in my arms, as if shocked. Squeak squealed, disliking the proximity to a stranger, and hopped onto my head.

  Bridgit patted me tentatively on the back, reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. When I stepped back from her, I quickly wiped away tears from my eyes.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “I never cry. It’s funny because at first I thought it was going to be hard to trust you because—”

  I cut myself off abruptly, averting my gaze.

  “Because what?” She sounded curious.

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing really.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I suppose it was the scent. That herbal one. It’s covered up by your perfume. I couldn’t think where I had smelled it before but now I recall smelling it at the Troy Mockingbird murder scene. Silly thing really. It made me uncomfortable around you because I couldn’t place where I’d smelled it.”

  My eyes flicked up to check her reaction.

  She had gone still for the briefest moment. “Oh, my cigarettes, you mean,” she said, looking embarrassed. She patted her handbag. “Don’t tell Tiberius. He thinks it’s a filthy habit.”

  “That’s how I remembered what it was,” I said. “I thought you must be hurrying off for a smoke.”

  “Scent-memories can evoke strong subconscious associations. Even mistaken ones,” she said with a little laugh. “But a lot of people smoke these.”

  I frowned. “True. I suppose it also bothered me a little when I realised that you must have known I was talking to Rodan’s spirit in the morgue waiting room. He was so vivid that I actually thought he was real, would you believe? Yet you didn’t say anything?”

  “Oh, I suppose it’s because of my job. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “But weren’t you eager to say goodbye to him? Didn’t you want me to ask him anything about what happened to him?”

  “In hindsight, yes. But I have to admit that it took me by surprise at the time. What did he say?”

  “He was babbling. Not really making sense, I’m afraid. His remnant was shocked by what he had been through.” I watched her face, but she showed no hint of feeling relieved.

  “That’s a pity. It would have been incredible had he been able to tell you what happened.”

  “True. It was odd though. Some of the things he said to me only made sense later. He said you’d been married once or something like that?”

  She blinked in surprise. Her shoulders were stiff and defensive. Yet she hesitated. It was like she was deciding whether to deny it.

  I hid my uncertainty. Everything hinged on this, but what if I was completely wrong about the whole thing?

  But I wouldn’t know unless I said it.

  “Something about you escaping a dangerous marriage,” I continued. “He was babbling but I think he said you’d lied to him? But maybe I was just confused about that.”

  She had gone perfectly still, her face pale.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to bring up bad memories for you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  I leaned in and whispered, “He said you’d been married to Troy Mockingbird. That he’d found it out. It must have been so awful for you to be married to that terrible man. Polliver tells me he was so controlling and clever and relentless. It must have taken a lot of courage for you to flee him and start this new life. Change your name and everything. You must have been so worried that he would find you.”

  Her eyes were wide. Her hands trembled.r />
  I took hold of one gently and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m sorry that you went through that. It must have been terrible for you. I completely understand. It’s so like what I’ve had to live through in a way. And I’m so sorry to bring it up here and now. I shouldn’t have said anything. Are you okay?”

  She jerkily nodded her head. Her voice became husky with held back tears. “I never knew what kind of man he was until it was too late,” she whispered. “What kind of business he ran. How he used people. I still can’t believe how he was able to keep it from me for so long.”

  I nodded. “Some men are monsters, but so charismatic. So good at hiding it. Like my father.”

  Her voice turned angry. “He turned me into a fool. I felt so stupid. And then I was so scared because everyone might think that I knew about his criminal activities all along! I couldn’t think what else to do. So I ran away.”

  “And that’s why you started your charity. To help young people. To make up in your own way for the awful things your husband did.”

  She nodded. “To make it right. But it’s never enough. Never enough.”

  I clutched her hand sympathetically. “But it is! It’s why you’re so good at helping people. You know what that was like. And you were strong. You survived it. You show us it’s possible to stop being so angry and afraid all the time.”

  She sniffed, and quickly wiped away the tears that had been shining in her eyes. This time it was her who hugged me, wrapping me tightly in a warm embrace.

  “Thank you,” she whispered huskily. “For understanding.”

  We broke apart, laughing a little at ourselves for being so over-emotional.

  “I’ll call your secretary to make that appointment,” I promised.

  “I’ll tell her to expect your call.” She took out a little case of cigarettes from her handbag. “Forgive me. It’s made me even more eager for these! I really should shake the habit, but it’s so hard.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” I smiled at her, turning away slightly, but then swung back towards her suddenly. “Bridgit, sorry, one last thing.”

  She had been walking away, but she halted. “Yes?”