No Cat Is An Island: A Cozy Cat and Witch Mystery (Cozy Conundrums Book 2)

by T. H. Hunter

  No Cat Is An Island

  T.H. Hunter

  No Cat Is An Island is the second book in the Cozy Conundrums series.

  Copyright © 2018 T.H. Hunter

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781983361517

  Dedication

  To my beloved spouse, who believed in me from the start.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Peter Asquith drew his coat up to protect his face against the vicious winds that sprayed the little boat with sea water. He gripped the rudder tighter in his hand, making sure to keep his wand in his other pointed straight at the little cove of the island ahead. It wouldn’t do to get swept off into the icy Atlantic in this weather.

  From afar, he could see a light burning at the top of the lighthouse, its powerful beam warning passing ships not to approach the treacherous rocks below. As he approached the cove, which provided shelter from the wind, Peter Asquith performed a minor levitation charm on the boat, which carried him slowly across the dark sand until he was safely ashore.

  This, he thought grimly, was the easy part. Whoever had been tampering with the magical source still had to be on the island. He kept his wand at the ready, just in case. His mission, given to him by MLE headquarters in London, was simple: investigate the site and, if necessary, arrest the tamperers. His wife, Emily, had been opposed to the job, but he had managed to persuade her eventually. Now, however, he thought she might have been right all along. Something felt very wrong about this place.

  As he walked up the hill and approached the lighthouse, he could sense the magical power emitting from it. It seemed remarkable that – even in these remote parts off the west coast of Scotland – such energy had not been discovered and harnessed by the Spellcasters’ Association. Instead, it had been left to the hebs – the non-magical population.

  Finally, he reached the entrance to the lighthouse. Wand at the ready, he carefully stepped in through the open door and found himself facing a spiral staircase made of metal. As he placed his right foot onto the first step, it emitted an ominous clanging noise that reverberated throughout the lighthouse. He froze, holding his breath. It would not do to advertise his presence here so foolishly.

  Then, he heard several voices from above. At first, he thought his fear had been realised, but after a few moments it became clear that they were arguing.

  “Get your dirty hands off, I tell ya,” one of the voices thundered.

  There was the scuffling of feet, and a man cried in pain. Silence followed. Peter Asquith tore up the stairs as fast as he could until he reached the uppermost level. At the top of the stairs, a door stood ajar. He stretched out his hand and pushed it open, clenching his wand tighter than ever.

  He entered a large, circular room. In the middle stood the lamp, which sent out its powerful beam to the sea beyond. At the foot of the lamp, a massive man was crouched over something on the ground, his mane of red hair obscuring most of his face. His hands were like dustbin lids, and his arms would have been more befitting for a gorilla, though his head looked peculiarly small in contrast. The visible skin looked rough and leathery. He was breathing fast, as though he had just raced a great distance.

  “What is going on here?” Peter Asquith demanded, trying to keep the panic out of his voice as best he could.

  The large man turned around slowly, his mane of red hair slowly revealing a red face and bloodshot eyes with heavy bags beneath them. He was wearing a peculiar look, as though caught between a sense of wonder and aggression. Slowly, he got up. He must have been well over six feet. Peter Asquith’s eyes flickered to the floor for a moment, and to his horror he saw a body of another man, lying there perfectly motionless.

  “He… he rushed at me,” the man in front of him said gruffly. “It was self-defence.”

  “That is not for me to decide,” Peter Asquith said, though privately he didn’t believe a word of it. “Step aside. We need to get him to the mainland immediately.”

  But the man in front of him wouldn’t budge.

  “Are you the police?” he asked.

  He was of sorts, of course, but vows of secrecy prevented him from revealing that he was a magical law enforcer.

  “Does it matter? Now, move over.”

  “You don’t look like police,” the man said quietly. “You’re here for it, aren’t you? You want to steal it from me.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Peter Asquith impatiently, still holding his wand as tightly as possible.

  “He wanted it, too,” the man said, nodding his head at the body lying at his feet. “Wanted it all for himself. But it’s mine.”

  “Step aside from the body. This is my last warning.”

  “Or what?” the brute of a man scoffed. “You’ll poke me with your stick? I’ll kill you first.”

  “Stand back, I warn you!”

  But the man began walking towards him, a vicious leer on his face.

  “Electrica!”

  Peter Asquith’s aim, honed through years of service to the MLE, was true. Lightning sparks shot out his wand and landed square on the man’s torso. He bellowed in pain but, to Peter Asquith’s utter amazement, kept walking towards him. The spell he had cast was enough to subdue even an elephant. Yet here this man was, walking steadily towards him as if he had only received a pin prick.

  Peter Asquith was so taken aback that he cast the imprisoning spell a fraction of a second too late. The brute facing him had dodged it and was running towards him. Peter Asquith tried to reach the door. But it was too late. With a final leap, the massive man had closed the distance and hurled himself on top of him, knocking the wand out of his hand as he did so. Peter Asquith was holding on for dear life, but the force of the charge had knocked all the air out of his lungs. He was fighting as best he could, but his adversary had the strength of ten men. And then, a massive hand had closed around his throat, squeezing the last vestiges of life out of him. The room was beginning to spin, it was whirling, until it faded into darkness.

  Chapter 2

  “Can’t we listen to something less infuriatingly modern for a change?” came Barry’s dulcet tones from the back of the car.

  “It’s The Beatles, Barry, they’re not exactly recent,” I said, winking at Val who was sitting next to me. “Anyway, we should be there soon. We’ve just crossed the border into Scotland.”

  Val, who hated driving herself, was acting as my chief navigator. Now that Val and I had decided to keep Fickleton House, which I had inherited from my great-aunt – along with my magical powers – I had finally bought my own car a few days into the new year. A small, purple Peugeot.

  After the string of murders and the events at the arts fair before Christmas, Val and I were in dire need of a holiday. The invitation from the Royal Committee for the Preservation and Restoration of Lighthouses had been the perfect excuse to get away for a few days. Though it was still cold at this time of year, the proximity to the sea and the fresh, salty air would do us all some good – a fact even Barry, our resident cynic and warlock-turned-cat, couldn’t deny – despite his best efforts to the contrary.

  “About forty miles to go,” said Val, checking her phone for the route ahead.


  “Yes, a pity we won’t be able to fit in another opera by then, Barry,” I said. “Wagner’s Valkyrie will have to wait a bit.”

  “Evidently,” came Barry’s voice from the backseat. “Your cultural enrichment will have to wait a little longer, then.”

  “Barry,” said Val in exasperation. “I’ve brought my headphones. You can listen to Wagner in the hotel on your own time, for a change. Without terrorising us.”

  “A good idea – considering we’re going to be staying for a whole week in the middle of nowhere,” he said snidely. “Surrounded by nothing but water and Scotsmen. And I still don’t know which is worse.”

  “Oh, stop moaning, Barry,” I said, laughing.

  “It’s not going to be so bad,” said Val, who always looked on the bright side of things. “We’ve brought enough books along with us. You can continue with your research, Barry.”

  “If I can concentrate with all those sheep bleating in the background,” Barry said sniffily. “You know that my research – magical progress – requires a maximum of silence.”

  “Strange,” said Val. “The sound of you eating my biscuits doesn’t seem to stand in the way of progress much.”

  “A cat has to eat, you know,” he said.

  “Well, you two can just relax,” I said. “It’s me who has to attend all those committee meetings. I wonder what that’s going to be like.”

  “Did they say anything more specific on the phone?” Val asked.

  “No. Mrs. Highgarden – that’s the committee’s president – simply gave me the hotel’s address and thanked me for stepping in for my great-aunt.”

  “But it’s alright that we’re coming, too, right?” asked Val for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Yes, Val,” I said. “I told you. Everything’s been taken care of. Barry isn’t allowed inside the rooms, of course. She said there was a kennel outside, though.”

  Val and I had been teasing him for almost the entire trip with this. In reality, of course, I had made sure that we had a nice couch in one of the rooms just for him.

  “If that is how you care to treat your magical mentor, Amanda,” Barry said, “so be it. Personally, I think a little more gratitude would be in order. Especially after I practically solved the last case.”

  “You solved it?” said Val in disbelief. “Amy got that girl to talk at the end, Barry. We were both sleeping in front of the fire when it happened!”

  “Well, I had my suspicions, anyway,” he said, poking his head between our two seats. “Any more of those sweets left?”

  “Empty,” said Val, showing him the plastic bag. “But we’ll make you some nice tuna when we get there, Barry.”

  ***

  The sky was still covered in grey as we saw the sea for the first time, though it still looked magnificent to say the least. The beautiful coast line of Scotland’s south west was a treat in and of itself. We were heading steadily west now, and although I had been driving for hours, the prospect of spending a week here kept me excited and fresh. Val had packed half the house, or at least it felt that way, as she wasn’t sure ‘what kind of food they’d have up here’. So, if the worst came to the worst and we were caught in a storm, at least we wouldn’t be starving.

  “We should almost be there now,” said Val, checking her phone again. “One more mile.”

  “Good thing, too,” I said. “We’re supposed be there right about now.”

  Soon enough, we found ourselves in a small village called Rascairn, from which I had been told we’d be picked up by boat. We found a parking spot near the pier and got out. My legs felt stiff and hard after the long drive. From a distance, I could see a motorboat waiting for us. Val and I had trouble carrying all of the luggage, though Barry wasn’t helping things by giving unwanted pieces of advice every other second. Finally, trying to balance all the parcels, handbags, and suitcases against the stiff sea breeze and the increasing rain, we stumbled onto the pier.

  “Alright, Barry,” said Val warningly. “No more talking from now on. Hebs ahead.”

  Barry made a grumbling noise half-way between acceptance and annoyance. Though he sometimes enjoyed spying on some of the villagers at home, he hated having to be silent when Val and I were around.

  A broad-shouldered man, about forty, with sandy hair and leathery skin, got out of the motorboat.

  “’Bout time you came,” he said, not bothering with the niceties of introductions. “Been waiting here for twenty minutes, I have.”

  “Sorry about that,” Val said brightly. “Do you mind giving us a hand?”

  He grunted in a non-committal way, but finally extended two reluctant hands. We stowed the luggage at the back and took our seats at the sides. I took Barry on my lap just in case – it wouldn’t do for him to go overboard. And something told me that our charming host wouldn’t be too keen on saving a cat in this weather.

  “We’ll be totally drenched by the time we get there,” said Val. “And all our luggage, too.”

  “Aye,” the sandy-haired man said, nodding his head pointedly. “These parts aren’t for everyone.”

  Val and I exchanged a look of raised eyebrows but decided not to argue. He started the motorboat’s engine, which roared into action, and got into his seat at the back in order to steer. The raindrops gently rippled on the waves next to us as if dancing to some unknown tune. As we left the cove of Rascairn, however, the rain was getting heavier and heavier. Soon, I was sure, it was about to become very uncomfortable.

  “The island isn’t far off, is it?” I asked loudly, trying to make myself heard over the noise of the motor.

  “Aye,” he grunted unhelpfully.

  We sped along for about another twenty minutes. Soon enough, we were completely enveloped by the cloudy grey so that we couldn’t see the coastline anymore. I felt a little queasy, and by the looks of it, so did Val and Barry. Val was craning her neck over the edge of the motorboat, trying to see where we were going.

  “I think I can see something,” said Val finally, thrusting her finger out excitedly.

  I swerved my head around to see what she meant. But at that precise moment, a wave hit the ship from the other direction. Barry clawed my leg just in time, but Val was taken by such surprise that she almost went over the side of the ship. I was able to grab her just in time by the arm.

  “That was close, Amy,” she said, after the first shock had subsided. “Thanks.”

  “Try not to die on holiday, Val,” I said. “It’s very bad timing.”

  She made a grimace at me. Barry, though not hurt, was quite rattled by the experience, too. Our driver, however, looked completely unfazed, as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t so much as lifted a finger when the wave had hit the side of the boat. Now, he kept his eyes focussed on the invisible horizon in the distance.

  “You know,” I said, squinting in the direction that Val had almost gone overboard. “I think you’re right, Val. There is something over there.”

  And through the curtain of rain slowly emerged a rocky island. I was surprised how high it rose at its centre, though I suppose it wouldn’t have survived the harsh seasons over the years otherwise. Atop stood a lighthouse in white and yellow, with a black, domed roof. Stretching down the hill, several buildings flanked the lighthouse on either side.

  The boat slowed down, and we headed for the wooden pier in the cove ahead of us.

  After some persuasion by Val, our sandy-haired guide was forced to agree to carry a bag, too, though the steep climb up the grassy hill easily compensated for the extra hand. With the rain still pelting down, we were all drenched from head to toe by now, though Barry looked as if he had fallen into the sea multiple times, his ears sagging under the weight of the water. But with a heb present, all Barry could do was to voice his displeasure by grunting and sniffing.

  At last, we had reached the top of the hill. The lighthouse stood at the far end, but our guide led us to a long, two-storey building to our left. A plaque above the door read “The
Seaview Hotel”. With sea all around us, I thought, that was almost something of an understatement.

  “You can find your way in, I take it,” our guide said, plonking down my suitcase at the door. “I’ve got work to do.”

  And with that, he made his way towards one of the adjacent buildings, which looked like a shed or workshop of sorts.

  With some effort, I opened the heavy door to the Seaview Hotel. It was made of metal and sported several patches of rust at the bottom. The hotel had evidently seen better days. I held the door open for Val and Barry. We were facing a room that seemed to be both a lounge and a reception area.

  “Oh, blast it!” Val swore, tugging at her oversized bag that had somehow got caught in one of the door’s hinges.

  Making sure to keep the door open with my right foot, I leaned over and tugged at the strap.

  “I’m cold,” Barry hissed from behind me. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Sssh, Barry,” I said, still trying to wrench out the strap with increasing vigour. “They’ll hear you.”

  There was a frantic coughing noise from within as Val tried to warn us, but too late.

  “Hear what?” asked an approaching female voice.

  I swerved around. A young woman, in her mid-thirties perhaps, had seemingly come from nowhere. She was pretty, with dark brown hair, though she also looked extremely overworked. As soon as she saw us, however, her worn-out look spread into a wide smile.

  “Oh, hello,” I said.

  “Hello,” she said. “Please, allow me to help you with your bags. You must be Miss Sheridan?”

  “That’s right,” I said, glad to hand over one of the suitcases. “And this is Valerie Morgan and this…this is my cat, Barry.”

  I tailed off at the end, slightly embarrassed.

  “Oh, pets are no problem here,” she said kindly. “We have several cats ourselves. And a dog. My name is Anita Brown, by the way. So nice to meet you. Awful weather, isn’t it? I hope Williams wasn’t too unfriendly. Takes a while to warm up to new people.”