A Little Bit Witchy (A Riddler's Edge Cozy Mystery #1)

by A. A. Albright

  I turned off the tap and began to dry my hands. ‘Nollaig’s son? But you’re London.’ I slapped my forehead. ‘Sorry, I mean … you have a London accent.’

  He tossed his apple core into a bin and sat up on the counter. ‘I do. I stayed with Dad when he and Mam ended things. I’ve spent the last two hundred years living in England. But I like to come visit whenever I can. Pru might be a fortune-telling weirdo, but she’s the best sister a vampire could ask for.’ He arched a brow. ‘Hey, I don’t need to go and compel you to forget this conversation, do I? When I phoned Pru this morning she told me you were up to speed on what we are.’

  I felt my body stiffen, and noticed that Fuzz had the same reaction. The cat left his bowl, jumped up into my arms, and hissed at Jared. ‘I’m up to speed,’ I said coldly. ‘But I’m a bit sick of people talking about messing about in my brain.’

  Jared held his hands up. ‘Sorry, I was just joking. A bad joke, obviously. But what do you mean about people messing about in your brain?’

  I began to stroke Fuzz and took a seat at the kitchen table, holding him firmly in my arms. Unlike the tables in the dining room, it was devoid of doilies and cloths. The whole kitchen had a shabby chic vibe, and I felt incredibly comfortable there. Perhaps that was why I began to pour out pretty much everything that had happened, since the moment I went to lunch with Arnold.

  Jared pulled out a chair and sat beside me (very close beside me – I guess he didn’t have personal space issues) shaking his head in surprise and making shocked noises at all the right places. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said when I’d finished. He reached out and patted my hand. ‘I knew that the old geezer was going through staff like the clappers, but I didn’t know it was anything like that. For the love of Dracula!’ He had just begun to stroke my hand in a firm but soft motion, when Pru entered the room.

  ‘Hey!’ She gave Jared a playful slap across the back of the head. ‘Enough of that, you dirty old Lothario! Can’t I have one friend you don’t try it on with?’

  He let out a throaty laugh, then stood up and pulled her into a hug. ‘Missed you too, Sis. Hey, did you know about all this? Arnold Albright wiping reporter’s memories if they don’t get the job?’

  Pru sighed and moved away from him, slumping down into a chair. ‘I only found out recently.’

  ‘We should report him to the Wayfairs. You’re only supposed to wipe humans’ memories in extreme situations. I don’t think this quite counts.’

  ‘It’s the Wayfarers now, actually.’ Pru rolled her eyes. ‘But I can see why you’d fail to have kept up with that incredibly important political development. I mean, what with all the rich ladies you have to entertain.’

  I felt my face flush. What was he? Some sort of gigolo?

  ‘You’ll make Ash think I’m some sort of gigolo!’ he cried. He looked at me, and I did my best not to squirm. ‘I’m not, I swear. I run an art gallery in London. Some of my buyers just happen to be rich women. I can’t help it if they want to spend a million quid on a picture of a toilet.’

  Pru stood up and moved to the cooker. There was a huge pot on top, and she turned the ring on and began to heat it up. ‘Mam made a stew,’ she said. ‘Oh, and speaking of Mam.’ She turned to her brother. ‘I know she didn’t know you’re coming, because she would have told me. Whose husband have you annoyed this time?’

  Jared cleared his throat. ‘I think that’s my cue to leave.’ He bowed deeply, then grabbed my hand and kissed it. It was all I could do not to fan my face. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Ash. I’ll be sticking around for quite a while, so I hope we get to know each other a lot better.’

  As soon as he left the room I placed Fuzz back at his bowl and rushed over to Pru. She was stirring the stew, and it smelled delicious. ‘Em … I have a question. Do vampires have the same pheromone thing going on as werewolves?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not quite. We’re supposedly super attractive, but I don’t see it myself. But for some reason, humans get a bit lusty around us. Weird if you ask me. Why? You don’t fancy my brother, do you? Because I have to tell you, he’s a bit of a ladies’ man.’

  I bit my lip. I didn’t fancy him, did I? I mean, sure, he was devastatingly attractive. And there was that accent, and that way he had of moving. Sort of cat-like, but not cat-like in the sneaky way that John, my editor, had of moving. Jared’s movement was lithe, dangerous and sensual.

  But he was not my type. The hair was all wrong. He was tall, but not tall enough. And he clearly loved himself, a trait that always turned me cold. I liked my men to be a little more humble. With darker eyes. And maybe a lighthouse. Okay, I realise what I’ve just said, but Detective Quinn is the exception to that. He might have just about every trait I find attractive in a man, but I did not find him attractive. Not one little bit. Jared, on the other hand … he had none of the qualities I usually went for. And yet …

  ‘Nah.’ I shook my head. ‘I was just wondering. Because of what you said about him being a Lothario.’

  ‘Uh huh.’ She gave me a knowing smile. ‘Well, if you ever happen to change your mind, please feel free to not give me the details. But I’ve got to say, I was sure you had a thing for our handsome local detective.’

  Was I that obvious? My eyes widened, but I did my best to rein in my surprise. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I told her. ‘And if you’ve come to that conclusion because you’ve been reading my mind, then you’ve clearly been reading the wrong thoughts.’

  That same knowing smile was still on her pretty face. If I didn’t like her so much, I’d hate her. ‘Anyway,’ I went on, ‘he’s taken, isn’t he? I mean, there are all those photos of the supermodel in his house.’

  ‘The supermodel?’ Pru scrunched up her nose as she went to the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘Oh, you must mean Darina Berry. Yeah, they were a big deal for a while. They were engaged to be married, but she left him a while back. Oh, and speaking of our dashing detective …’ She paused while she grabbed two glasses and filled them with Pinot Grigio. ‘Maybe don’t tell him my brother is back.’

  ‘Oh?’ I took a sip of the wine. ‘Why’s that?’

  Pru’s face turned troubled. ‘They just have a bit of a hate-on for each other. I have no idea why. But trust me – if they cross paths, it’s not going to be pretty.’

  ≈

  I woke up with Fuzz curled up into the crook of my arm, after yet another amazing night’s sleep. Of course, last night it might have had less to do with the glorious bed and more to do with the glorious wine.

  Jared had brought a couple of cases with him, and we enjoyed some over dinner, and some after dinner, too. Sure, there were one or two moments during the evening when I noticed something other than wine in my hosts’ glasses, but hey ho. Nollaig had been out for the night, so Pru, Jared and I enjoyed a vampire movie marathon. They pointed out the inconsistencies, and I just sat back and drank in the atmosphere as much as the wine.

  I’d never been with any of my foster-brothers and -sisters long enough to develop a bond. Despite all their bickering, that was exactly what Pru and Jared had together – a deep, heartfelt bond. The evening with them was one of the most enjoyable I’d had in a long time, and by the time I went up to bed, I was feeling completely at home. But just as I’d been climbing into my comfiest pyjamas, I noticed an unread text message. It was from Arnold Albright:

  Grace has updated me on the situation. I’m sorry you had to find out like that, and I feel the need to explain things further. If you’re not too annoyed with me, I’d love it if you would join me for dinner in the Fisherman’s Friend at seven, tomorrow night.

  I texted back a quick response. Yeah, I was definitely going to join the old goat for dinner. But I wasn’t going to let him off easy. Come Friday, I’d most likely be leaving Riddler’s Edge forever. Perhaps Arnold’s memory mojo wouldn’t be such a bad thing, after all – at least I wouldn’t be able to remember how much I liked it here.

  15. W
izardly Wagon

  I stood in front of the Vander Inn, waiting for Greg and enjoying the smell of the sea air. I could see the harbour off in the distance, and hear the sounds of the fishermen going about their morning.

  ‘You look pretty fresh for a woman who stayed up so late.’

  I jumped at the sound of Jared’s voice. ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed?’ I asked as I turned around.

  He gave me a wicked smile. ‘It felt a bit big and lonely in my bed, so I thought I’d get up and see you off. Here, I made you this.’ He handed me a flask and a lunchbox. ‘I noticed you didn’t eat any breakfast.’

  I felt my face begin to flush. He had actually made me a packed lunch? Only my astronomy obsessed foster-mother had ever done that. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That was really nice of you.’

  He seemed like he was just about to reply, when his eyes narrowed. He was looking out onto the road, as Detective Quinn’s car drove by. I looked into the driver’s seat, and the detective was looking Jared’s way, a full-on scowl on his face. As soon as he was out of sight, Jared’s demeanour relaxed.

  ‘As much as I hope you enjoy your lunch,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll enjoy your dinner more. Because I was hoping that you’d agree to have dinner with me. There’s a new restaurant in Riddler’s Cove that I’d love to try out. The receptionist from the Daily Riddler owns it. So how about it? You me, and a stupidly expensive bottle of champagne.’

  This guy was smooth, I’d give him that. So smooth that my knees were feeling a little jelly-like. And I really did want to check out Malachy’s restaurant. Nevertheless, I was almost relieved that I had an excuse. ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I’m having dinner with Arnold.’

  His expression darkened. ‘So he can make excuses for the way he’s been treating his reporters, no doubt.’

  ‘Probably.’ I shrugged. ‘But I’m going along anyway.’

  Jared let out a sigh. ‘Of course you are. Because you’re a decent person who’s always willing to give someone a second chance. But just be on your guard, Ash. Most of the Albrights are lovely. I’d count them among the more pleasant witch covens. But Arnold … well, he didn’t get to be one of the richest media moguls in the supernatural world by playing nice. Oh look – here’s Greg now.’

  I glanced out onto the road, where Greg’s purple van was making its way towards us. He pulled up at the kerb and grinned. ‘Hey Ash. Hey Jared – I didn’t know you were back in town. Good to see you, mate.’

  Jared grinned back at Greg. ‘Good to see you, too. Hey, Ash has just turned me down for a date tonight. Fancy a boys’ night on the town?’

  ‘Definitely,’ said Greg as I opened the door and climbed in next to him. ‘I’ll give you a text when I’m done at work.’

  ≈

  ‘Welcome to Wizardly Wagon,’ said Greg with a smile as I closed the door behind me.

  ‘You call your van Wizardly Wagon? I always thought I’d name a car, if I had one long enough. I have a bit of a tendency to crash the poor things before we’ve had the chance to bond. Hey, you and Jared seem to be mates. Don’t suppose you’d like to tell me why there’s a problem between him and Detective Quinn?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ he said, far too quickly, before pulling two packets of peanuts from his pocket and passing one to me.

  I loved peanuts, but I couldn’t eat many unless I had a drink to wash them down, so I opened the flask. It was filled with black coffee that smelled like it had been brewed in heaven. ‘You know, it wouldn’t really matter if you did tell me.’ I was speaking in my most casual tone as I poured some coffee out. ‘You might as well go ahead and spill, seeing as I’ll have forgotten it all by the weekend.’

  Greg snorted. ‘Sure – and why don’t I tell you all my deepest and darkest secrets while we’re at it?’

  ‘Well, I’m all ears. Although I have to say, you don’t seem like the sort of guy who has deep, dark secrets.’

  ‘I wish that were true.’ He frowned. ‘Anyway, did you read the notes I gave you about Witchfield?’

  I sipped my coffee. It didn’t just smell like heaven. It tasted like it, too. ‘Yeah, I looked over it,’ I replied. I did not add that I’d forgotten all about it until I was in the bath this morning. It was completely unlike me to forget to study up on anything. I was the queen of nerds. But spending time with Jared and Pru had thrust it clean from my mind.

  Luckily, I read fast, and thanks to Greg’s notes I now knew that Witchfield was the largest supernatural prison in the world. I also knew that its position constantly shifted, so getting there required following a changeable set of magical coordinates. ‘I’m kind of confused about how we’re going to get there,’ I admitted. ‘Witches travel by flying on brooms or clicking their fingers, and it seems like it only exists in some witchy region so … how are a wizard and a human going to get to it?’

  He grinned. ‘I’m glad you asked that. Witches aren’t the only ones who can use brooms to travel. Wizards have brooms of their own, too. Better than witch brooms, in fact. The broom itself is way more magical than a witch broom, so you don’t need power to ride it.’

  I gulped. ‘We’re … we’re flying a broom to the prison?’

  There was a look on Greg’s face that reminded me of a kid at Christmas. He was practically thrumming with excitement. ‘Kind of,’ he said. ‘Except that you’re already in it. It’s an experimental design, though, so prepare for a lot of lurching.’

  I gawped at him. ‘Your van? Is a broom?’

  ‘In a way. I modified the tech that wizards use to make brooms, and installed it in my van. Did you take the travel sickness pills?’

  I shook my head, groaning. ‘I forgot to buy any. Hey, when you say experimental design what do you mean, exactly? Have you tested this yet?’

  He cleared his throat before replying. ‘I have every reason to believe that this journey will be a success. Maybe you’d better put on your seatbelt, though. Just to be on the safe side.’

  ≈

  About ten minutes later, we arrived in front of the gates of Witchfield Prison. It had been the longest ten minutes of my life, and I was sincerely glad that I hadn’t got much more in my stomach than a handful of peanuts and a cup of coffee.

  First, he had keyed half a dozen sets of coordinates into a keypad on his van’s dash. Next, he had pressed a series of brightly coloured buttons. After that, I was too ill to follow a thing he did.

  It’s difficult to explain what it feels like to be in a flying van, but I think I can cut to the crux by simply saying that I wouldn’t recommend it. Once we were in the air, the landscape below began to continually shift, coinciding with a series of sickening lurches and flashes of light.

  My hair was a mess. My stomach was heaving. But I had gotten there, in one dishevelled piece.

  ‘Wow.’ Greg shook his head in amazement. ‘I did not think that was going to work. Well? You ready?’

  I shot him the sort of look I usually reserved for door-to-door salespeople, and climbed out of the van.

  16. Rat in a Cage

  No matter how much Greg had told me, and no matter how much I had read, there was nothing in the world that could have prepared me for Witchfield. The building itself was unfathomably big, with walls that definitely weren’t hewn from average stone. The exact building material wasn’t generally disclosed, because avoiding mass break-outs is always an advantage in a prison.

  The guards were all dressed like Gretel had been, and they placed cuffs around my wrists even though I had as much magic as a gnat. Greg didn’t get the shackle treatment, but he did get just about every gadget he had inspected, and one or two things were taken from him.

  ‘But I need that, Walter.’ Greg was pleading with a burly guard and pointing to a sparkly purple wand. ‘It’s an OAP!’

  I resisted the urge to laugh. My research had told me that an OAP was an acronym for an object of awesome power. But just because I knew what it meant didn’t make it any less hysterical.

  ‘You’ll get it
back on the way out,’ Walter said impassively. ‘You’re lucky I’m letting you keep anything. You know, your tech is about a million times ahead of anything we have. You ever think of selling any of it to us?’

  Greg gave the guard a tight smile. ‘Never in a million years. And if I find out anyone’s been fiddling with my wand while I’m inside …’

  Walter laughed, and waved us through.

  The prison was split into wings, because there were different requirements needed to suppress the different kinds of power. Greg had assured me that not a single vampire in Gunnar’s wing would be able to read our minds or use their power in any way. I guess I’d just have to take his word on that one.

  We were led straight to Gunnar’s cell, and a couple of seats had been set up outside for us. I say cell, but the bars weren’t exactly what you’d call solid. I could barely see them at all, other than the usual kaleidoscope haze that let me know when magic was at work. Either way, we could see and hear Gunnar through the bars, and he could see and hear us.

  ‘Hello, Gunnar,’ I said brightly. ‘How’s prison life treating you?’

  He glared at me. ‘Is that some sort of joke? What in Dracula’s name are you doing here, anyway? You’re a human. I can smell your stink a mile away.’

  ‘Hey! I used a very nice lime-scented soap this morning, I’ll have you know. Anyway, we’re not here to talk about how delightful I smell. We’re here to interview you for the paper. We’re doing a special piece in Friday’s evening edition, and we’d like to get your point of view on the matter. We’d like to know why you have a particular dislike for dayturners, why you’re such a surly waiter … that sort of thing.’

  Gunnar looked away from me and spat on the floor. Lovely. The dishwater-grey prison uniform didn’t have a very high collar, and I could see his tattoo more clearly than ever. ‘It’s a bit weird, isn’t it? That tattoo of yours. I mean, if I was about to commit a bunch of murders, I’d probably try and be less obvious about it. But here you are, wearing your Vlad’s Boys affiliation loud and proud.’