But Ferrets Can Never Hurt Me

by Nhys Glover

  “Including me?” he asked. “Because some ancestor of mine was part of the pagan families in this area?”

  I nodded. “I think so. I don’t know how that works. I don’t know how any of it works. All I do know is that it does. The coincidences are too... too obvious.”

  He sighed heavily and let go of my hands. “Well, I hope this detective joins you, because you’ll need him.”

  I nodded. “But the problem is, Agnes didn’t mention a policeman among those who’ll support me.”

  “Unless he’s the warrior with the druid mark. Worth asking him about it if he comes here off-duty.” He rose and went over to the notes he’d been making. “I’ve been noting sections of the Logos you might find useful to this situation. Ideally, it would be better if you read and absorbed the whole book, along with the paintings, but as you feel time is short, I’ve selected the most relevant parts. You can read them tonight after I’m gone. I can answer any questions you may have about it in the morning. All right?”

  I began leafing through the notes while Mason packed up for the day. The idea of reading them late into the night didn’t appeal. I already had so much to think about. This day had stretched so long I could barely remember getting up this morning. But I had to try. Because we didn’t have much time.

  Once I’d seen Mason to the front door I returned to the library to put away the books. The notes and photos I left out so I could do my homework later. When I finally dragged myself into the kitchen, my nose was immediately besieged by the most incredible smell ever. My stomach grumbled and my mouth watered.

  “He gone?” Jake asked, placing two generous slabs of fried steak on a plate to cook through.

  “Yes. That smells nothing like the steak I remember,” I muttered, licking my lips.

  “That’s because you haven’t eaten steak marinated in my secret combination of spices. There’s wild rice and steamed veg to go with it. You ready to eat?”

  I nodded eagerly. These days I didn’t even ask if he was sure he had enough for me. How quickly a person could change. Now I accepted it as my ‘normal’, Jake cooking delicious meals for us after a long day.

  “Have you seen the Despicable Duo or Daphne? Come to think of it, isn’t Squib due back from the naughty corner about now too?”

  “The Duo are sleeping on your bed like little angels. And I haven’t heard Daphne or Squib. Don’t jinx it. We have the place to ourselves for once. It’s so quiet.”

  I laughed, throwing back my head and letting the sound out, free and exuberantly. I didn’t care if I sounded like a braying donkey. I was suddenly happy. Really happy.

  While we sat at the table to eat our meal, I got Jake to talk about some of the funnier events in his life. I didn’t expect there to be any, given the fact he grew up on the streets as an orphan and then found himself groomed as a bully boy for a mobster. But oddly enough there were lots of stories. And as he told me his, which could have been horrifying seen from a different perspective, I told him mine from my school days.

  “And there I was, dressed in nothing but my cotton nightie, hitch-hiking in the middle of nowhere. You should have seen the expression on the face of the old woman who picked me up. She was caught between condemning me as a wanton Jezebel and cooing over ‘the poor dear’ who’d lost her way. It was like watching a person with a split personality.”

  Jake grimaced and laughed. “That’s not funny. How can you make me laugh at something that’s not funny? You could’ve been picked up by a serial killer.”

  “Well, so could you when you were breaking into that house and got caught. That man might have chained you in the cellar and done awful things to you.”

  He tried to argue, but he was still grinning, despite himself. “But those girls could’ve been responsible for your death. Their prank could’ve gone badly wrong”

  My smile fell away. “I don’t think they thought I’d come to any harm. It was a prank, as you said. Luckily, I got back to school before I was discovered missing. My feet were a bit of a mess, because my slippers fell apart after about the third puddle. But otherwise it was a story to tell my grandchildren.”

  “Hopefully they never have something like that happen to them,” he said ruefully.

  I shrugged. “Everyone has bad stuff happen. You can cry about it or you can laugh about it. I think we both just proved we can laugh about it.”

  While we were washing up together after the best meal I’d ever eaten, the phone rang. Groaning, I headed to answer it. Daphne was there, looking a little frazzled.

  “Where have you been?” I asked, my hand poised over the receiver.

  “I’ll explain later. You need to answer that.”

  So I did. It was DC Smith.

  “My mother has convinced me to hear you out. The real story, off the record,” he said without polite introduction.

  I rolled my eyes for Daphne. “Jason, is it? I can’t tell you the truth unless you’re open to it. I’m dealing with enough negative people right now, I don’t need another.”

  I heard unintelligible grumbling on the other end before a much more polite reply came my way. “I get what you mean. I’ve spent the last six years having to hide what I believe from the people I work with. I’m just not used to... talking to victims and suspects about that side of me. It’s like there’s the me at work and the me at home, if you get my meaning.”

  I felt my heart lift a little. “Absolutely. So, come over and I’ll show you things that will make your pagan heart sing.” I giggled at my silliness.

  I heard the reluctant laugh from the other end. “I’ve just gone off-duty. I can be there in ten minutes, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course. See you then.”

  Jake had come to my side as I’d been talking, so I was able to tell both Daphne and Jake what was happening.

  “You sure about this? It could go wrong if he decides to put what you tell him on the record. The Bill has only one priority, and it isn’t justice.”

  “I guess it comes down to whether he wants to see more people killed or not,” I argued.

  That seemed to appease him a little. Even he didn’t think the police wanted to see more innocents die.

  Turning to Daphne, I challenged her with my expression.

  “All right, all right. Well Squib and I have—”

  “Squib and you? When did there suddenly become a ‘Squib and I’? I thought he had no spine, as far as you’re concerned,” I interrupted before Jake could do it.

  “We’re working together, niece. Get your mind out of the gutter. I have no interest in Squib that way. But we do both share a common goal.”

  That was news to me.

  “What?” Jake demanded for both of us.

  “We both want to become poltergeists. Move things, you know.” She suddenly looked a little guilty.

  “Oh, no. I’ll ‘ave nought of that,” Jake declared, his Yorkshire accent suddenly broad. He seemed to shift from broad to mildly accented depending on his mood.

  I turned to him, confused. “Why?”

  “Because he wants to be able to fight back. Right now, he’s defenceless. If he learns to move things, those things can become projectiles.”

  I thought of the vengeful ghost throwing our precious books around. Or my paintings. If I thought Percy and Fred were a disaster waiting for a chance to happen, a poltergeist version of Squib could become Hurricane Squib.

  Daphne tutted. “I’m sure that’s not what he’s trying to do. He’s just worried about not being able to protect himself from this monster coming for you. Knowing that he might be caught in the fight, whether he wants to be involved or not, concerns him. This way he might be able to help...” Her last words were lacking any true conviction. I think she was beginning to see how Squib may have been conning her.

  I grimaced at her uncertainty.

  She huffed out a sigh. “Well, you will be pleased to hear he isn’t making much headway. Neither am I. But I’m willing to work for what I wan
t. I don’t think Squib is. You therefore may be worried about nothing.”

  “If he applies himself to learning to move objects, as he applied himself to understand what’s holding him here, then I think you’re right,” I told her, letting her off the hook.

  Jake wasn’t so sure. “If the carrot’s big enough, even the laziest donkey’ll chase it.”

  “But I thought the carrot was already big. Move on to a better place or cease to exist completely.”

  “Aye, but he isn’t fussed about moving on. Gettin’ even with me, now that’s summat to get him movin’”

  I tipped my head to the side. “Do you know how your accent changes? You sounded just like Mrs Mitchell then.”

  He grumbled under his breath. “I don’t speak like a knob, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “No, I mean your accent gets broader or milder depending on how you’re feeling. Or what you’re thinking about. I don’t know. But it’s interesting.”

  At that moment there was a knock on the front door. I walked the short distance to it and opened it, expecting to see DC Smith. Sure enough, the tall, dark and reasonably handsome young detective was on the other side of the door.

  Now I knew to look for it, I started to see similarities in looks and mannerisms between him and Jake. But I wasn’t going to tell either man about my thoughts.

  I ushered Jason in, and he and Jake nodded at each other.

  “All right, the first thing you need to know is that I have The Gift. I can see ghosts. Jake can hear them. Can you accept that?” I asked, leading the way into the kitchen.

  My first thought had been the library where the books were. But they were hidden, and I had no desire to show DC Smith where I’d hidden them.

  “Ghosts? What has that to do with the open Way and your job as Keeper?” he demanded, taking the wooden kitchen chair I offered him.

  “Because it was my Aunt Daphne who refreshed the wards fifty odd years ago. And she’s the one who found the Book of Shadows and knows how to pronounce the spells in it. Her grandmother taught her when she was very young.”

  “I didn’t think you had any living relatives...”

  I sighed, here we went again. “I don’t. Aunt Daphne died in 1969. It’s her ghost who’s helping us.”

  He looked at me with eyes so wide his brows disappeared into his hairline. “You meant you don’t just see vague white shapes, you actually speak to ghosts. As if they were real people?”

  “They are real people. They’re just real dead people. And yes. Though they are transparent, I see and hear them as well as I do you. Jake can only hear them though.

  “You may wonder why he’s here. I imagine you know about his affiliation with the criminal elements of Leeds?” I paused, waiting for a grudging nod before going on. “You’ve probably therefore attributed all kinds of criminal intentions to him. In reality, he was cursed with what we think is a Druid Mark a month ago and has been hearing ghosts ever since.”

  I paused again so Smith could get Jake’s nod of acknowledgement. Once that was given, I went on. How I became spokeswoman, I have no idea. The same way as I became the leader of this quest. Because I was supposed to?

  “He came up here to try to get his head on straight again. Before he met me, he thought he was hearing voices in his head. But when I saw his attached ghost spewing vindictive poison in his ear in Booths, Jake suddenly discovered he wasn’t losing the plot at all.”

  “You hear ghosts?” Jason asked Jake with awe. “I’ve always been able to see vague outlines out of the corner of my eye, and smell things that weren’t there, but I’ve never heard a ghost.”

  “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to. Squib drives me do-lally.”

  “But I don’t, do I gorgeous?” Daphne piped up, her voice flirtatious. She was leaning against the kitchen bench staring at our newest arrival.

  “No, you don’t, Daphne. Unless a sexy woman whispering sweet nothings in your ear can drive a man insane.” He flirted back with a cheeky grin.

  Jealousy flared to life, and I hastily looked down at my now tightly closed fists.

  “Why are you here in this house?” Jason asked Jake, his tone conversational rather than accusatory.

  “Because I offered to help Alfie with her problems if she could help me with mine, namely Squib. I need him gone. Moved on, or whatever happens to the departed.”

  “You want the departed to depart,” I quipped, the fun of our mealtime conversation still just beneath the surface.

  “Exactly,” he grinned back at me.

  “Well, that answers those questions,” Jason said thoughtfully. “Not sure how I can explain that to Moore though.”

  “You can’t,” I agreed. “That’s the problem with all this. It’s why we’ve had to come up with alternate reasons for things. Like how we knew what Mr Andrews had done. He didn’t tell me over the phone. He told us when we got to his house. His ghost told us. And that ghost also told us it was Watkins’ associate, a white-haired older man, who killed him. With a collapsible nightstick.”

  This had Jason’s attention. “Watkins was in custody at the time of the murder.”

  “I didn’t say he was there at the time. I said the murderer was an associate of Watkins. My solicitor didn’t know his name. I have to assume he’s another Watkins family member. Mrs Mitchell told me some of that family had gone over to the dark side. I feel silly even saying that,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks begin to burn. It had been a few days since I’d blushed like this.

  “There is both dark and light in the Old Ways. I know a couple of the Watkins who live in town, but I haven’t met the one who caused your problems. Left the area long ago.”

  “Did you have family members who moved to the city?” I asked, trying to appear as if it was an innocent question.

  Jake glanced at me and growled.

  Ignoring Jake, Jason answered. “My Dah’s brother moved away years ago. Nobody’s heard from him since.”

  “What was his name?” I asked, even though Jake was now throwing daggers at me with his eyes.

  “Jonathan. Jon. He hated his name, so Dah always said. Jon Smith. Talk about an obvious alias.”

  I laughed, but Jake didn’t. His face had turned to granite.

  “Now I have a description of the culprit, I have to find a way to point a legitimate finger at him. Having the murder victim name his killer after the fact won’t stand up in a court of law, oddly enough,” Jason joked.

  I laughed, and so did Jake, albeit reluctantly. He was standing down, now we’d left the contentious issue behind.

  “Do you want to see the books?” I asked.

  Jason’s expression instantly reminded me of an excited Bryce. “Of course. I’ve heard about the Logos, of course. As a legend. I never thought to see it.”

  I left the room and headed for the library. Daphne accompanied me, trilling merrily about how handsome Jason was. She hadn’t thought him so when he came to interview me after my car was set on fire, or when Rex was killed. Maybe she had more important thoughts on her mind at the time.

  When I returned to the kitchen Jake was telling Jason, who might or might not be his cousin, about the secret chamber and how Daphne had led us to it. He even mentioned Mason as the one who was taking notes from the Logos for us.

  “Mason Smart? I thought he was a suspect? Until Watkins confessed, of course.”

  “He was. He is. I’m still not convinced he’s an innocent party in any of this. But he is a Cambridge professor, and Alfie thinks we need him, so he’s here. But he doesn’t believe in ghosts or beasties that escape from other realms. He thinks Alfie is being conned by me.”

  “Just like you think I’m being conned by him. Seems no one wants to trust my judgement,” I said, dropping the books gently onto the kitchen table in front of Jason.

  For several minutes Jake, Daphne and I sat quietly watching Jason study the books with the same sense of awe we all felt. He was particularly taken with the illuminations
in the spell book.

  “And your aunt can pronounce these?” Jason asked, not quite touching the words on the page.

  “I can pronounce some of them now as well. She’s been teaching me. I assume I’ll have to teach the other twelve who’ll be joining me when I go monster-hunting.”

  “I want to be part of it. I want to be part of the coven.”

  “Coven?” I yelped.

  Jason quirked a brow at me. “We are witches, after all. Maybe we don’t use that word, because of its bad rep, but that’s basically what we are. And when we gather, we gather in groups of thirteen. Not because it’s unlucky or evil, but because of there are thirteen lunar cycles in a year.”

  “Yes... Yes, I understand. Mrs Mitchell mentioned that as the reason for the significance of the number thirteen. It’s just hard to accept the word witch. I suppose that seems odd for a person who sees ghosts to admit.”

  Jason laughed. It was hard to balance this Jason with DC Smith. They were like two different people. I found I liked this one far better.

  “So, can I see the chamber?” Jason asked, after he’d looked his fill of the books.

  “Oh, you’ve got more competition for your fat cow have you?” Squib asked as he popped in to find me leaning over Jason’s shoulder as he closed up the book.

  Embarrassed, I backed away hastily.

  “Fuck!” Jake snarled, spinning and diving for the spot where Squib stood.

  Squib wasn’t fast enough to escape this time, and in an instant he was gone, fury written all over his face.

  Jake picked himself up off the floor and dusted his hands as if dusting off Squib. Jason watched him in surprise.

  “Squib made an appearance,” I explained. “If a ghost comes in contact with a human they get short-circuited. It gives us a little peace from the annoying ghost. Initially, he was supposed to let me help him move on, but he’s decided he’s not interested in that anymore. Now we’re having to get rid of him the only way we can. A short-term fix, but it does give us a breather.”