by M. L. Briers
I reached under the counter and retrieved one of Eileen’s tomes that looked as if someone had put every bit of knowledge in the universe into those pages, and I dropped it on the counter. It made a satisfying thud that shook the wood and everything on the long top.
“Some light reading…” I said.
“Because what else does a guy have to do when he’s in bed,” Moira offered with glee, and I would have zapped her a good one if we were alone.
Jack looked from the book to Moira and then to me. He was fidgeting on his feet as if he’d just been handed proof of alien life.
“I’m told it’s very interesting reading,” I assured him. Then I reached down for my backup and slapped that down on top of it. “Or you could just go with Harry Potter, a personal favorite in my family.”
Moira sniggered, but Ross wasn’t so kind. He tossed his head back and cracked up. Jack looked like I’d slapped him with that kipper – that poor fish did seem to get around lately – it had multiple victims of its wet and slimy embrace.
“Fine, find your mirth, have your laugh, but someone around here believes in magic enough to leave their mark at the scene of a murder, and the victims house,” Jack said and then suddenly looked as if he’d said too much, as we all stared at him. He sort of took on a nice beetroot hue to his cheeks and was a little green around the gills.
“So, murder it was then,” Ross announced, not telling Moira or me anything that we didn’t already know.
I shot her a sideways warning glare, and she did the same to me. Speaking out of turn wouldn’t help anyone, not Jack, not us, and certainly not Earnest Croon.
“I’d be obliged if you kept that to yourself,” Jack said, looking gutted that he’d not taken his own advice.
“Kept what?” I asked, laying on the innocence the way that Skinny Mary laid on her makeup – thick and over the top.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Moira shrugged.
“I’ve got muggy ears, should really visit the doctor at some point,” Ross said.
“Why don’t you get a pencil and push it through from one side to the other?” Moira said, and Ross raised an eyebrow and knew that the punchline was on its way. “We all know there’s nothing in between.”
“Good one,” Ross groaned. “Now why don’t you climb up the ladder so you can reach the counter and hand me a coffee and a plate of your sister’s cookies, shrimp?”
“Small is good,” Moira bit back; she was touchy about her height, and well he knew it.
“Not when you can’t reach the sink without help,” Ross shot back.
“One cup of arsenic and one plate of rat cookies coming up!” Moira snapped.
“Sounds about right,” Ross offered back with glee. The man was seriously dicing with a world of hurt. “I’ll be at my table.”
“I’ll just drag it out into the middle of the road for you,” she hissed.
“Well, we can eat together,” Ross tossed back over his shoulder as he stalked towards his table and huffed as he dropped his backside down in the chair and folded his arms – pouting.
I’m sure my eyeballs rolled back in my head, but as I couldn’t see them…
Jack was chuckling and trying not to show it.
“Welcome to insanity,” I groaned.
“I’d say it’s the inbreeding on a small isle, but I don’t want to suffer your wrath.” Jack grinned, the grin of a man who didn’t have a clue who he was dealing with.
I could have cursed him with boils, but his face was just too handsome to mess with a masterpiece. I thrust the books towards him, and he needed top reflexes to stop them ending up on his toes – I’m not sure if I was rooting for that or not, but unfortunately, I was never going to find out because those reflexes kicked in and he saved himself the pain.
“Thank you,” Jack said, unsure if I’d meant to do him harm or not – me too. “I think.”
“Welcome, now did you want arsenic in your coffee?” I asked, as sweetly as I could.
“Sounds good, but no.” He collected Eileen’s tome and dropped the other book back on the counter. “I have some reading to do.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I said, and that I did mean.
I didn’t want Jack Mackie anywhere near this case. I certainly didn’t want him going anywhere near the Point, but how was I supposed to tell him that without waving a red rag in front of that bull?
“Actually, coffee sounds good,” he said on an afterthought, moving to one of the tables and placing the book down.
I have to admit I felt somewhat relieved. At least, here, under my watchful eye, he wasn’t out there messing with things he didn’t understand, and things that I didn’t yet understand, weren’t messing with him.
~
Jack snatched up his mobile from beside the coffee cup on the table and eyed the caller. The man sure could drink coffee; I’d had to wonder where he put it all, sort of like Ross with his food, but with less spillage.
About thirty seconds into the call; he pushed up to his feet as if he just remembered that he had somewhere important to be, and then he froze in place and stared at me like he didn’t want to share, but was being made to do it.
I literally felt the blood drain from the top of my head downward and every fine hair on my body stood to attention. I knew it was something bad; I just didn’t really want to know what.
It was one of those moments in life where you wanted time to stop, and you were safe in the realms of blissful ignorance. Who didn’t like those moments?
Who wanted to be told that something bad had happened?
I thought first of Eileen, then my mother and father, Moira was with me, so it wasn’t her, but then there was the niggling thought in the back of my mind that started to fester like an untreated boil, and I knew, just knew that something had happened with Gran.
She was, after all, the one who was going out on her visits to the other clan witches today.
In that moment of time; I hated myself for not going with her. Family was more important than some stupid shop, feeding Ross, and fetching Jack buckets of coffee.
I’d let her walk into the unknown on her own and now … now what?
My heart was playing ping pong between hitting my ribs and getting lodged in my throat as Jack cut off his call and started towards me. My hands and feet felt numb, and I was sure that someone had their hands around my throat cutting off the air.
I wanted to speak – I might even have tried, doing a goldfish impression without words, and pain pricked the back of my eyeballs as tears gathered.
I did not want to hear it. Whatever it was I wanted to stay blissfully, eternally stupidly, ignorant of all things Gran.
“You’re Gran’s run into a spot of bother,” Jack said, and hallelujah, no offense to Christians or anyone’s God, but she wasn’t dead, and I dragged in a breath.
“Stupid man,” I spat out, and his eyebrows tried to high five each other. “I thought you were going to say someone died!” I hissed.
“Someone did,” Jack said, and that slammed a lead weight in my chest again.
“Who?” Moira gasped, coming late to the conversation, but speaking for me when I couldn’t.
“I can’t tell you that…” Jack berated her with just a look for asking.
“It’s an island, it’ll be all over before you get to your car,” she snapped back.
“That might be true, but still…”
“Pig-headed outlander,” Moira muttered loud enough for him to hear.
“What about Gran?” I croaked like I had one of my Gran’s toads lodged in the back of my throat.
“She discovered the body,” Jack said. “Or did the deed…” he muttered, “at this point, all avenues are open to us.”
“Well, you’d better close that one down pretty bloody quickly you…” I bit down on a list of words I’d like to offer him.
“Outlander?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.
The nerve of the man!
“Accus
e my Gran of nefarious deeds would you?” I hissed, and without giving it another thought – I zapped him! Right there in my shop – right there in front of Ross – in front of himself – not that I could have done it if he hadn’t of been standing there, but the point was … he saw me do it.
This was no sideways, slight of hand, now you see it, oh no you don’t, magic. This was me lifting my hands and – pow – Moira squealed in surprise, Jack looked like I’d just pulled off my mask and revealed I was really Tom Cruise in some movie, and Ross – well, he had confirmed right there and then what he already knew.
Ross jumped to his feet and yelled, “Ha!” and Mora groaned, as I stood there, half-mortified and wanting to desperately dig a hole and crawl into it, and half unrepentant, as I tipped my chin up in defiance.
“Well, what’s he going to do, arrest me for magic? Those days are long in the past.” I shot a look at Moira, and she looked unconvinced.
“Let’s hope,” she shot back.
“So, it’s true,” Jack said as if he’d just discovered the Holy Grail.
“So sue me,” I muttered. I had no idea where this revelation would lead my family or me, but, it was done. “I need to see Gran.” I bit out, and forced my legs to move, skirting the counter and offering Jack the evil eye.
The man actually snatched his head back and eyed me like I was about to explode. Ha! That might just make him hold his tongue a little more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
~
Perhaps zapping Jack hadn’t of been thought through, but on the bright side, if there was one, it might be easier now to tell the pig-headed male not to go messing around at the Point without me. Or, as he sat in the driver’s seat and kept shooting glances at me like I was a she-demon or something, maybe not.
All in all, it wasn’t a good day to be me because as soon as Gran found out that Jack and Ross knew about us being witches, all hell was going to break loose, if it hadn’t already.
On the brighter side, perhaps, what with the dead body thing and all that Gran had discovered, maybe she didn’t need to be told just yet. Maybe I should tell her while she was otherwise occupied, like when a government slipped out more bad news in the hopes of burying it under worse news?
Maybe not – that was something that Moira would do. I needed to fess up, just not right now.
You say; chicken, I say timing is everything.
“Would you stop with the looks?” I huffed.
I didn’t see a problem with being a witch and having control of the magic that was within every one of us; I don’t see why anyone else would.
“You lied to my face,” he said, and I got it now – pride.
The man thought he could sniff out deceit without a spell to guide it into the open, well, good luck with that. Having a gut instinct might have been your magic waving at you, but if you didn’t know what to do with that, then you would only get so far.
“I did.”
I wasn’t going to defend myself. Witches stayed hidden for a reason. Would you want to do spy work for the government, or something equally as dangerous? Most of us liked the quiet life.
“And?” he balked, practically chewing on his tongue.
“You’re entirely welcome.”
“I’m …” he gave a man grunt, and I admit, it was kind of cute. “Explain how I’m happy about that?”
“Look at the pouty way you’re reacting now…” I offered a shrug.
“Not pouting, a little…”
“Stupid?” He shot me a glare. “You feel stupid for saying that people who did magic were insane – like swiveled eyed loons or something – magic wasn’t real, people who practiced it were as nutty as a squirrel’s breakfast…”
“I’m sure I didn’t say all that…”
“Close as makes no odds.”
“Well,” he wound his head back on his neck and looked like he was sucking on a lemon.
“And?” I thought I needed my pound of flesh from him because – well, just because.
“I may have been…”
“W-a-s.”
“A little off base with that one.”
“Waaaay out there – off planet Earth, and is that Andromeda I see?” I liked my pound of flesh. He squirmed – I liked that as well.
“Ok, fine. I was wrong,” he muttered the last word as if it tasted bad on his tongue. Of course, he did, he was male.
Of course, I was female and gracious in his defeat. “Ha! Suck it!” Maybe not gracious, but … something.
“So, you can help me with this magic thing.”
He had me there. “That book has almost everything you need to know. I was trying to be helpful in a roundabout kind of way.”
“By lying to me…”
“You’re acting like I robbed a bank or killed Earnest Croon myself…”
“So, you did know the victim.”
“It’s an island of ten thousand people…”
“So, would you say you knew him well?”
“Well, we were getting married next month…”
“That’s not answering the question…”
“I don’t appreciate being interrogated.” I snapped back.
“I’m going to have to speak to everyone that practices the black arts…”
I spat out a chuckle, and he stopped in mid-flow-of-stupid and shot me a curious glance.
“The black arts?” I skewered him with just a look, no magic needed to back that up.
“M-a-g-i-c.” he said it like I was five, and I really wished I’d saved up my zap attack for now, but I still had plenty of juice, and if he hadn’t of been driving, I might have used it.
“Outlander.” I snorted my contempt for him. “You know nothing.”
“Enlighten me.”
“There is no dark arts in the craft. Love spells and potions, not hubble-bubble, toil and trouble, you … numpty.”
“Isn’t it; double, double…?”
“Don’t care, you’re wrong, and a numptie.” I folded my arms and took to watching the view go by.
“So, is your Gran a…?”
“I know when to keep my mouth zipped, and I have hope that you’ll learn,” I snapped back.
“How about your sister?”
“Leave my family out of this.” I turned a scowl on him, and he cocked an eyebrow in return. “This is why people don’t talk about the things that people don’t talk about because we don’t do what people think we do when they think of all the things that some people assume are done. Do you follow me, Mackie?”
“I’m actually not sure,” he said, and I couldn’t blame him. I probably couldn’t follow that line of thought again myself.
~
“Gran!” I called the moment that I saw her.
I didn’t know if it was just me or if she looked older than when she’d left the house this morning. I suppose finding a dead body would do that to you.
“Feel that?” Gran whispered so as not to be overheard by the slow mill of people that were around the area.
There was an ambulance, a police car, and Jack sidestepped me as he went toward the house. He didn’t say anything, and I had nothing to say to him.
I did as Gran asked and reached out with my magic to see what I could find. There it was, lesser then I’d felt before at the Point, but still there, a residue of dark magic that still clung to everything around us. I shivered in protest at having it touch my inner psyche.
“I feel it. What happened?”
“I was too late to warn her. It had already been here. It left its mark.”
She gave a subtle nod toward the grass just below the window of the old Croft house. It was burnt into the earth, an elaborate mix of symbols that came from the old magic, and while I recognized the symbols of the elements, there was one symbol that I didn’t know.
“Not everything there looks familiar,” I whispered back.
“A claim — a soul has been lost to us. Perhaps there’s a way to get it back.”
Gran
was shaking, it was subtle, but it was there, and I didn’t think it was due to the chilled breeze that blew from the Loch. I gripped her hands in mine, pulled on my magic, and warmed her at the same time as I soothed her frayed nerves.
“Not here. Not now…”
“Not now — no,” she said with a shake of her head. Gran wasn’t thinking straight, the last thing I needed her to do was to try to use her magic. “I need to consult the Grimoire.”
“We need to get you home.”
That was the least she needed. A good nip of something exceedingly strong and fiery was top of my list.
Being around her family was a priority, love woven with a magic touch would soon have her back to normal, and then she could paw through the grimoire all she wanted. But right now, this was the last place that she needed to be.
“Mrs. McFae.” I couldn’t mistake Jack’s voice, and that annoyed me. Not only because I was still mad at him, but because he sounded official, and if he thought for one moment that he was going to interrogate Gran, then he could think again.
“Not now.” The fierceness of my voice surprised even me.
“There are a few questions…” Jack was like a pit bull that was too stupid to let it go.
“You can shove your questions up your…”
“Now, Maggie,” Jack said as he lifted his hand and wagged his index finger in my direction. He could shove that as well.
“It’s all right, Maggie, let the man do his job,” Gran said. Little did she know.
“Aye, let the man do his job,” Constable Dougie, with his shiny little face, echoed.
“Oh really, Dougie? And tell me, would you let this outlander interrogate your grandmother…?” I scowled at the man and watched him squirm in place.
To give him credit, he did actually think about it, and I know he was thinking about it because he was scratching his head.
“Well…” Dougie started, and Jack cut him off.
“It’s not an interrogation, Maggie,” Jack said, and, of course, he was just plain lying.
He wanted to lay these murders on the doorstep of a witch — and now he’d found a witch’s doorstep to lay them at. Well, not on my watch.
