‘So do I,’ I agreed, then began to read over the contract. ‘And it looks like you and Finn have gone over all of the major decisions. You’ve told him we should move to a new building. That’s a brilliant idea. We can barely move in the Wyrd Court without having some politician or other try and press their agenda on us. We should be free of all that. A new building is a great start. It gives us a sense of being a separate entity. There to serve the people, not the government.’
My mother gave a proud little smile. ‘I thought you’d like the idea. And see!’ She pointed to another page. ‘I have taken your concerns about the uniform into account. We’ll all have matching slacks and shirts, and they’ll be designed to magically adjust to any size. Although ... seeing as you’re going to be a detective with the new Major Crimes department, you won’t have to wear a uniform except for police ceremonies.’
‘Oh, I’ll be wearing a uniform whenever I can,’ I said, still scanning over the papers. ‘And I see you’re bringing in a new entrance exam. That’s good. Under Justine’s rule, there was a pretty low bar for acceptance.’
She gave another proud nod. ‘And look at this clause here. I think this will be your favourite of all.’
I looked to where she pointed, my breath coming fast. The new force will be an equal opportunity employer. Everyone, regardless of what manner of supernatural they might be, will be given the opportunity to try out.
‘Finn and I both thought that one was a no-brainer,’ she said, with her eyes glinting. ‘It goes on to say that salary will be paid according to rank too – a weredog will not be paid less than a witch on any force I’m in charge of.’
My heart began to race even faster. They’d done so much work on this. ‘And Agatha agrees to it all?’
She nodded. ‘Of course. And she wants to sign it in as soon as possible, so that if she doesn’t win the election, it’ll be all the harder for the new Minister to change.’
I quickly flicked through the remainder of the contract, reading it all. It was perfect. No wonder Finn was so impatient to get the ball rolling. But until both the Wayfair coven leader and the Peacemaker Captain signed, nothing in this new contract could be put into action. ‘Ah.’ As I came to the very last item, I finally understood what the problem was. ‘“This new force shall be named ...” There’s nothing filled in.’
My mother gave me a tight smile. ‘I’ve been a Wayfair all my life, Wanda. Finn says he’s quite happy for the new force to be called by that name. But I can see that it’s not what he wants. I just know.’
I sat back. Finn’s admiration for my mother, and for the work that the Wayfairs had done over the years, was clear. One of the reasons I admired my mother was that she was usually incredibly straightforward about things, and yet here they were – tiptoeing around one another because Finn was afraid to tell my mother the truth, and my mother was too reluctant to admit she had a problem.
‘You know it because it’s true,’ I said. ‘And no, he hasn’t spoken to me about it. But I know Finn. I know how he’d see this. He sees this the same way you think you should see this.’
She gave a wry grin. ‘And how should I see this?’
‘Sensibly. We say we want to put an end to divisiveness. We say we want a force that serves everyone.’
‘And we will,’ she said. ‘Look there – “Every coven is welcome to join the new force, and they will not need to declare allegiance to another coven to do so. All that they will need to declare allegiance to is the upholding of the law.”’
‘Yeah, that’s all very well,’ I said. ‘But the Wayfairs are a coven. And if people join a force that requires them to be called Wayfairs, then they might as well be declaring allegiance to our coven, no matter what this contract says.’ I sighed. ‘And that will take us about a hundred steps backwards from where we want to be. It’ll be coven against coven, just like it’s always been. Finn is afraid to point that fact out to you, and you don’t want to bring it up because even though you probably agree with everything I’ve just said ... you don’t want to see an end to the work of the Wayfairs.’ I grabbed her hand. ‘But it won’t be an end. It’ll be a new beginning. You and Finn have got to get this sorted, Mam. You need to decide on a name, and I think you know – it can’t be the Wayfairs.’
She let out a soft grunt. ‘I sometimes think you could see through a brick wall.’
‘Well,’ I said with a shrug, ‘if I can, then it’s because you made me that way.’
We both looked up as Finn returned with three cups of coffee that smelled delicious. He’d even bought some doughnuts. Maybe he wasn’t such a scoundrel, after all. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Did I miss anything?’
My mother shrugged, a teary smile on her face. ‘Oh, we’re just floating names about,’ she said. ‘The Watch? The Law? The Command? Or maybe something Irish.’ She kicked out his seat. ‘Well, come on. We need to get this decided, don’t we?’
Finn looked at me, shock apparent on his features. But he was a quick study, our Finn. After barely missing a beat, he brushed his fair hair out of his eyes and took his seat. ‘Wayfarers? That’d be a nod to the past without being the name of a coven. Or maybe something brand new. Upholders? The Guard? Guardians?’
I grabbed a doughnut and joined in. This could take the rest of the night, but right now that was a good thing. At least if I was here, then I wasn’t lying awake, staring at the ceiling, and waiting for Max to get home.
10. An All-New Angle
I woke up to the sound of the doorbell ringing, interspersed by a loud, banging noise.
Bowie grumbled beside me. ‘Someone is really impatient,’ he said. ‘Should I be barking? Nancy didn’t expect me to bark a lot, but I know some people expect their dogs to bark.’ He stood up and began to yap, but he looked more adorable than scary.
‘That’s okay.’ I slowly dragged myself from the bed, glancing at the time. ‘Who in Hecate’s name would be calling in at six in the morning?’
Dizzy opened a lid. ‘I don’t know – but please tell them not to do it again. I only got back an hour ago.’
I stumbled into my dressing gown and slippers. ‘I haven’t been back too long, either. But don’t worry – I’m pretty sure that just looking at my early morning face will be enough to put them off calling back so early again.’
I lumbered down the stairs, making my usual inelegant morning noises, and looked out through the peephole on the door. When I saw who was standing there, I drew it open, wiping my eyes. ‘Melissa?’ My gaze drifted to the three very large suitcases by her side. She’d even brought her broom along. ‘What’s going on?’
She gave me the sort of look that told me she’d had just as little sleep as I had. ‘Our parents, that’s what’s going on. Have you got anything caffeinated? I need something caffeinated. Preferably with a lot of sugar.’
I stood back and watched her lug her bags inside.
‘I’m too tired for magic,’ she grumbled. ‘That’s how bad it’s gotten, Wanda. I mean, I thought the night before last was bad. But last night? Let’s just say that I’ve been having slightly murderous thoughts about our parents, and leave it at that.’
I led her to the kitchen, where I fumbled around a bit before managing to turn on the kettle. ‘It’ll have to be instant,’ I said. ‘But we do have some energy drinks in the fridge.’
Melissa ran to the fridge, grabbing a can and opening it immediately.
‘I don’t get it,’ I said. ‘I mean ... my mam was working with me and Finn most of the night. She must’ve only gotten home two hours ago.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Melissa said, gasping as she reached the end of the can and opened another. ‘I’d only just gotten to sleep after listening to my mother and Kevin for hours on end. Then your mam had to go and arrive home. There are no spells that cut that sort of noise out. Believe me, I tried them all. Even when I thought I’d drowned it out, I could still sense it, y’know. Something that icky, it has a presence. You can never fully tune it out.’
She finished her second can and looked beseechingly in my direction. ‘So what do you think? You and Max have a spare room, don’t you? Lassie’s old bedroom? I’d only stay until I find somewhere new.’
I held my breath. If she had asked me a few days ago, I would have welcomed her with open arms. I loved Melissa. But just now, something was holding me back.
Behind me, the back door pushed open, and an enormous brown dog padded in. Ah. There he was. The weredog who was holding me back. His eyes widened as he saw the guest in our kitchen, and I threw him the bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the kitchen door. We kept it there for occasions just like this. Max grabbed it in his mouth, ran out of the room, then ran back in a moment later, changed back into his human form and fully covered by the robe.
‘Hi Melissa,’ he said, unable to disguise the confusion in his voice. ‘I didn’t know you were dragging Wanda to yoga again this morning.’
She smiled at him, but it wasn’t her usual, confident Melissa smile. Her lips were quivering, for goodness sake, and her voice caught as she said, ‘Hey, Max. You look great.’
Max blinked, and then sat across from us. ‘Em ... thanks? You both look lovely, as usual,’ he said, his eyes going to Melissa’s luggage.
‘We’re not going to yoga,’ I told him. ‘Melissa was wondering if she can stay awhile.’
‘Oh. Yeah. I mean, sure. Your coven sister is my coven sister. Is that a saying? Anyway.’ He stood up and backed out of the room. ‘Lassie’s room is good to go, Melissa. Wanda’ll show you where the clean sheets are.’
As he left, Melissa sighed. ‘Wow. He’s so lovely. Why did I never notice how lovely he was?’
‘You did,’ I pointed out. ‘You’ve always liked Max. You’ve just never liked him enough to have that goofy expression on your face.’
‘What?’ She reddened. ‘I don’t have a goofy expression on my face. It’s just ... well ... isn’t it weird, Wanda? Someone can be under your nose all the time, and then one day you just ... notice them. And it’s like, why didn’t I notice him before? I mean notice him, notice him. If you know what I’m saying.’
‘Oh, I know what you’re saying.’ The kettle had reached its boil, so I got up and prepared our coffee. Yeah, I knew exactly what she was saying. And for reasons still baffling and inexplicable, it was making me feel a tad on the hopeless side.
Melissa was as good looking – if not better – than Veronica Berry. If I was developing all-new and confusing feelings for Max, then what chance did I have against her? I’d just have to suck it up, that’s what I’d have to do. I’d have to try my best not to be jealous – even if I happened to catch Max gazing at Melissa over the rim of his wine glass tonight. Because if he did gaze at her, who could blame him?
‘Y’know,’ she said, oblivious to my emotional turmoil, ‘there actually is a yoga class on this morning. We could head on over to Fit Witch together right now. Plenty of time to get a good workout in before ... well ... work. How about it?’
≈
Melissa had been taking me to yoga classes for a couple of weeks now, but only on mornings like this one, when I was too tired to come up with a decent excuse.
As I stood there, failing to raise my leg even a few inches off the ground – and not being remotely envious that the other students had their legs waist high and held on to their big toes at the same time – I went over the case in my mind.
We were going down the right road, I was sure of it. Nancy had been killed because she had gotten close to discovering the Dark Team. Which meant that Mr Montrose was involved, and so was Barry Plimpton. I lifted my leg out to the side (sort of) and tried not to shudder as I thought of the night before.
Barry Plimpton was a shudder-inducing kind of guy, though. Even while I was gorgeous Veronica Berry, he’d tried to get me to eat diet food. Imagine what kind of comment he’d come out with if he saw my real figure.
I did my best to float my feet back in the same graceful manner as the others were doing, but instead I kind of hopped, flailed, and then resorted to stepping my feet back instead. They went through more and more complicated moves, while I went through more and more discomfort. One day I’d master this, surely, I thought as I glanced over at Melissa. Her legs were behind her shoulders, and she was standing on her hands.
Okay, maybe I wouldn’t master that particular position. But according to the teacher, the pose wasn’t the point. The pose was just a shape. A very pretty, impossible shape that they all seemed desperate to attain.
I got down onto my haunches, pressed my hands to the floor, and kind of lifted myself into a crow pose. Y’know, if it was a drunken, physically challenged crow.
I was way out of my comfort zone with these moves, but I was going to keep trying. Hell, I was used to zones of discomfort. Finn, Gretel and I had been inhabiting such a zone for months now, while we tried to get a handle on the Dark Team. But no matter how hard we tried, they constantly eluded us. The ex-Minister was probably laughing into her prison-gruel right now, delighted at how far we were from the truth.
As I wrangled myself into yet another pose, my mind had a moment of clarity. What if Finn, Gretel and I tried an all-new angle? What if we took the ex-Minister firmly out of her comfort zone?
11. Misery Hates Company
When it comes to putting dastardly plans into action, I have to admit to being a little bit impatient. But the plot I’d devised while I was doing a bad impression of a yogi would, unfortunately, have to wait until later in the day.
The other item on my agenda – tracking down Patrick and Angela Plimpton, the two College Board members who had been in the tavern when Nancy was murdered – would have to wait for a little while, too. It was barely eight in the morning, and neither of them were expected at Crooked College until at least nine.
To pass the time, I decided I might head to the Hungry Hippy for a breakfast special. I was just walking past Toff’s Corner on my way to Poppy Lane, when I saw Patrick Plimpton. He wasn’t heading off to work early, however. He was headed straight for Toff’s Corner.
Sure, I could have given him a wave and asked him for a few words. But there was something far too jaunty about his walk. When I’d spoken with him in Three Witches Brew, he hadn’t struck me as the sort of guy who liked a brisk walk in the morning. He’d struck me as the sort of guy who would be reaching for hair of the dog before calling in sick to work.
I quickly made myself invisible, and kept watching. As he neared the run-down building on Toff’s Corner, it changed in front of my eyes to the expensive elegance that was Swanks Hotel. Swanks was incredibly exclusive – so exclusive it didn’t like you to know it was there at all. The hotel kept up a nearly permanent distraction spell, making itself appear to be a dilapidated building – unless you happened to have an appointment, or to be one of the guests.
And Patrick Plimpton definitely appeared welcome. The doorman, the reception staff and all of the hotel’s porters gave him little bows and said, ‘Morning, Mr Plimpton,’ as he rushed past. He didn’t return a single greeting. He made for the elevator, and I hurried in with him.
The hotel’s exclusivity wasn’t just limited to hiding their fancy exterior behind a run-down façade. The guests’ stays there were always strictly confidential, and the staff would never give out information on who was in their rooms. I’d found this out the hard way when Jasper Jaunt disappeared. While his nutty ex-girlfriend was enjoying a murderous rampage, he was staying happily out of the way, holed up in the penthouse suite.
Mr Plimpton, though, wasn’t headed for the penthouse. He was marching towards a room on the second floor, and keying a code into a pad by the door. I pressed record on my mobile phone, and followed him inside.
When we entered the room, I shielded my eyes. Angela Plimpton was waiting for him in bed, holding up a glass of champagne and wearing a far too flimsy negligee. She was much younger than Patrick – thirty-nine to his seventy-five – and their surname denoted coven membership only. In other wor
ds, the woman wearing hardly anything was not Patrick’s wife.
Patrick threw off his coat (I had to duck to stop it from hitting me in the face) and raced to the bed. He took the glass of champagne that she pressed into his hand, and grinned as he began to guzzle it down. ‘Lovely stuff. And I’ve got what I went out for, too.’
He pulled a vial from his shirt pocket and uncorked it. Angela and I took a sniff at the same time. My eyes widened, and I struggled not to reveal myself there and then. The vial was filled with tiny metal filings, as fine as talc and smelling like rust. I knew that stuff, having learned about it in my Potions’ lessons. It was Ire, a deadly poison.
In murder cases I’d studied, it had invariably been given in small doses over a long period of time. At first it would impair a witch’s ability to perform magic. After some time, the victim would have a dramatic recovery – but the day after that recovery, they dropped down dead with no warning. As yet, I hadn’t come across any cases where a large dose was given all at once, but experiments had shown me that the outcome would not be pretty.
‘Thanks,’ Angela simpered as she dragged him down for a kiss. ‘I can’t believe I left it at home. Or that we were both too drunk to make a summoning spell work. But we can get rid of it now.’
‘Hey – not so soon.’ Patrick plucked the vial out of her hand. ‘I know that was our plan, but ... what if we want to use it on someone else? Someone even closer to home. Someone like Will Berry. We could send him a note, tell him we killed Nancy, and we’ll do the same to you if he doesn’t vote for Darrell Plimpton.’
‘But we didn’t kill Nancy,’ Angela pointed out.
‘Only because someone else got there first. I tell you what – if I knew who it was, I’d be congratulating them right now. Why shouldn’t we use this on Will Berry? Sanctimonious son of a witch. I say we threaten him into voting for Darrell, and then kill him anyway once our man’s been voted in.’
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