Moggies, Magic and Murder

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “What’s needed?” I asked, feeling like a petulant child. I saw my cats frolicking and Orville pumping David’s hand, while the latter smiled and looked more relaxed than he had for a while.

  “You need only acknowledge your true power and accept, and I mean fully agree, that you hold that power,” Verdantia explained. “Broom flying is nice, and the occasional spell you cast shows your potential, true. But you have yet to accept your true heritage. Once you accept that you are a Witch, Seraphim Joyvive, then your power can know no limits, and that same power can be used for good.”

  I blinked away hot tears, crestfallen at the elven beauty’s words.

  Verdantia put her hand under my chin. “For my part, I have argued with Portia that you are on your way. Not even experienced witches could manage the Great Challenges as you have thus far.” She took me by both shoulders then and looked me directly in the eye. Her eyes were Caribbean seas. “And, the Chimera Charm isn’t exactly some kind of hocus-pocus hack that the average magician could cast. That was very powerful magic you pulled off at Mabon, Hattie,” she said, her lips curling up into a radiant smile.

  “I don’t get it, then,” I said. “If my magic is that powerful, then wouldn’t the Custodian’s benefit from my membership? I mean, I’ve got us into Mag Mell, I pulled out a, well, some kind of Granny charm or whatever, and … well, I don’t need to list the rest, do I?” I looked into Verdantia’s eyes trying to see if she understood the unfairness of my situation.

  “You just proved why you are not a Custodian. .” She answered.

  “Huh?”

  “‘Granny charm or whatever?’” Verdantia raised her eyebrows at me. “Hattie, maybe if I say it another way, perhaps: You need to own it. You need to own your power, have faith in it, play with it, but always respect it. ‘Granny charm or whatever’ proves you are not quite there yet.

  I understood what she was saying finally, and I instantly felt a little better. It wasn’t anyone trying to block me from joining. It wasn’t Portia being vindictive or accusing me of not being good enough; it was simply me getting in the way of myself. I didn’t fully believe. In myself. My innate powers. My destiny?

  I nodded and squeezed my friend’s hand. I felt lighter, but also confused. I wasn’t sure I could access that part of me that needed to be located. That deep seat of my true potential. I just didn’t feel brave enough, or confident enough; like I wasn’t up to the task of being a member of the most influential group of magic-crafters ever.

  Portia brought my attention back to the room with two sharp claps of her hands. “Now that the ceremony has concluded, we have business to attend to.”

  My spoiled child reared its ugly head. “Am I going to be excluded from that as well?”

  Portia raised an eyebrow. “On the contrary, Hattie…you have a great deal of information that can be of help to the Custodians. Join us at the table.”

  In an eye blink, the kitchen table upstairs materialized in the center of the room, complete with chairs. The kitties gathered around the tabletop in front of my seat. David sat next to me while Verdantia and Hinrika took the opposite side of the table. Orville dropped into a chair next to the Fae ladies. Portia, naturally, sat at the table’s head.

  “The first item on the agenda, I believe we can all agree is the most pressing,” Portia said. “The nature and location of Morag’s missing artifact…we have one last probable location to look for it.”

  “The newly installed bell at Saint Pendragon’s,” David said as he opened up his notepad. “Given that installation happened right after Morag got that call from Shields, it fits the timeline.”

  “And, before the ribbon cutting ceremony too. And I was looking forward to that,” Eclipse added.

  Portia gave 'Clipsy a grave nod. “I, therefore, move that, at the meeting’s conclusion, you, I, Ms. Jenkins and our newly-inducted feline brethren and sister pay Saint Pendragon’s a visit.”

  “There is the issue of the parish’s overly curious vicar,” Verdantia pointed out. “Any involvement of Reverend Peacefield is bound to bring about complications.”

  “You know, I’ve actually been meaning to visit him,” Hinrika chimed in with a black-toothed smile. “I know that it’s dreadfully late and that he’ll likely be ready for bed when I come by. But I’m fairly sure I can entice him into a little late-night conversation.”

  Shade nodded. “Gotta say, talking up the guy you want away from your business does work if you do it right.”

  “Yeah, you’ll get him at a good time, actually,” Midnight remarked. “This is the time he has his tipple of brandy while watching ‘Midsomer Murders,’” he finished. I smiled to myself, picturing the peaceable man of the cloth enjoying his televised cozy mystery.

  Portia looked a little reluctant to embrace this plan but asked “All in favor of Hinrika getting into a little chin-wag with the Reverend, motion?”

  A solid chorus of “Ayes” rang out around the table.

  I didn’t feel qualified to ‘aye’ it with the others, so I nodded enthusiastically instead.

  “Then that is what we shall do. Now…I believe Brother David has an idea he would like to share with the rest of us.”

  Going by the comical look on his face, David wasn’t sure how to take being called “Brother” by Portia. “I have no proof, and it’s just a feeling,” David began, holding his hands up. “But, I am beginning to suspect Shields was behind the Morag Devlin murder.”

  “Well, that’s a nice thought,” I said. “We all know the guy’s too squeaky clean, with a really horrible accompanying vibe,” I replied.

  “If you’ll let me continue?” David’s eyes pierced mine. Despite his serious look, a delicious shiver rippled down my spine. “I also believe that Millicent Pond was done in in much the same way.” David’s hands dropped to the table, and his eyes took on an almost defiant blaze.

  A collective gasp from the members around the table and then quiet for a few seconds as we stared at the chief.

  “The murders were worlds apart in location, modus operandi, and motive,” Verdantia objected, breaking the stunned silence.

  “I don’t believe so, Verd—Sister Verdantia,” David stammered, going from proud warrior to blushing school boy in the space of a second. I stifled a snigger.

  “I have reason to believe that Governor Shields ordered both murders through third parties. And this practice has currently allowed the governor to keep his hands clean.”

  “But, this is mere gut feeling, David,” I said gently. “I mean, I’d like nothing more than Shields to be guilty, but as you said, there’s no proof.” I sighed. “And, besides, aren’t we supposed to be looking toward Mag Mell? Don’t we all know that all the trouble we’ve had has come mostly from the Fae kingdom?”

  “But, the murders, Hat,” my friend said, passing a hand over his face. “Sure, there have been loads of nasty goings-on around the isles, but the Fae incursions haven’t proved that all of these murders of late were done by their hands.”

  “No, I know we have nothing to tie the Fae to the recent murder spree, but I don’t think veering off just to target a slimeball you personally don’t like is the way forward with this investigation.” I crossed my arms and stared at the Chief Para Inspector.

  Portia interjected. “Normally, I would rule in favor of a fellow Custodian’s opinion over that of an outsider,” she said. “However, I think that we need to deal with the facts, not hearsay or ‘feeling.’”

  “Fine, don’t hear me,” David said, slumping back in his chair.

  “Okay, guys, so the Chief isn’t exactly acting in his professional capacity right now. He likely wouldn’t spill his assumptions like this among his work buddies, am I right, chief?” Orville looked to David, and the latter nodded, lifting his body to full height now.

  “So, why shouldn’t we listen to him?” Orville asked his audience, his shoulders shrugging in exaggerated movements. “He’s talking out now, because he’s in safe company. He’s t
alking as a Custodian, not as a lawman. This order, this Custodian group, should be a place where we can spitball our opinions and, yes, feelings, about what’s going on around here.”

  “Son, you’re not --”

  “Sister Portia, I’m gonna finish what I’m saying whether you like it or not,” the young Nugget said, unruffled. Portia kept quiet.

  “Our power, our TRUE power, lies in our intuition, our feelings, our emotional intelligence, right?” Orville cleared his throat. “We all know that this is where the magic comes from. I say, if Brother David has a hair-stand-on-end feeling about something, then it’s our duty to listen and discuss.” Both Hinrika and Verdantia clapped their hands in applause. The kid was right. I started clapping too, while the kitties joined in with an orchestra of purrs and meows.

  Portia didn’t join in the praise, but she turned to David and said: “You are right to voice your concerns. They might even prove to be valid, but can we agree to just use caution when it comes to accusing? I think Shields is dirtier than he makes out, and I’d agree with most of you here that I’d like nothing more than to find something on him, but right now, I think we can agree that it’s the Fae presence that demands our attention right now. That’s where the money is going; Mag Mell. That’s where the nasty mischief is coming from, and it’s also where all of this Dragon gossip is originating from.”

  “Another way this Governor Shields angle doesn’t fit,” I added. “Is that Morag was lead counsel on the Rock Grumlin cases currently in the courts. Now, I’m no lawyer, but I would imagine that suddenly killing off the legal eagle you had handling these Grumlin files would make things a little complicated.”

  “The other hole in Brother David’s theory,” Portia agreed. “Given the testimony of Sister Gloom on the flow of black diamond money from Cathedral into Mag Mell. We mustn’t forget that in order for those diamonds to flow, they first need to be mined. And, remember, it’s only the Rock Grumlins that CAN mine those tough gems. Cathedral and Shields’ filthy enclave need those Grumlins to work, and work hard. Morag was handling this, and with aplomb, from what I hear. The Grumlin strike is already at an end, as the little guys are forced back to work from the last verdict before Morag was killed.”

  “It would seem strange that Shields would kill his top lawyer on the case, then,” Hinrika said, offering David a sheepish, black-mouthed smile.

  It was the chief who spoke next, and with much humility too. Hot. “Let’s drop it. It’s out there now, at least,” my friend said. “We can pick it up again if we stumble across some evidence to pin Gideon.”

  “Speaking of evidence,” I said, taking the heat away from the chief. I pulled out the black book Seamus found in the library at the Devlin estate. “We found this ledger on the Devlin estate. I showed it to Infirma; she recognized the routing numbers belong to the Gwydion Trust Bank on North Illwind. She also knows that Morag had set-up an account there to deal solely with her medical expenses. You know, to track them, and keep them separate from estate affairs, kinda thing.” I slid the book over to Sister Portia. “But, what doesn’t make sense to Infirma -- if this is indeed the same ledger used to record her health costs -- are the deposited amounts.”

  Portia cracked open the account book and scanned the pages rapidly, her beak nose just inches from the page. “Infirma claims that the deposited amounts in this account are more than triple what Morag made in monthly salary.” I finished.

  “Worth looking into. Will I be tainting your precious chain of evidence if I hold onto this, CPI Trew?”

  “Just get it back to me when you’re done with it,” David said, “I’ll log it as misfiled evidence when I turn it in.”

  “If I may be so bold,” Onyx said, striding to the front of my moggies. “We should also mention the matter of Mayor Jones’ rather unclear business with Mr. Kramp.”

  Portia harrumphed at my scholar cat’s suggestion. “With all due respect, Brother Onyx, why should we care about whatever petty political or legal moves are behind this business?”

  “Well,” Orville said, swallowing. “Mr. Kramp is Governor Shields’ right-hand man, right? So it would figure that the governor would want to know about what’s happening on all the other isles, including Glessie.”

  “And what better way to do that than get our dear mayor mixed up in something she can’t talk about in public?” I added.

  Portia frowned but nodded. “A valid lead to look at…still, I wonder how we will be able to stretch our resources to—“

  “Leave that to my little circle of friends,” Midnight said with a feral smile. “They have good eyes. I’ll speak to ‘em tonight.”

  I remembered then what Infirma had told me about the Chief Warlock and was about to tell the Custodians, when I felt an intruder in my thoughts. I turned to Onyx, who was to my left and looking directly at me. He gave me a subtle shake of his head. Not now.

  Apparently, this was something that he wanted to work on himself, so I kept my omerta.

  “If there is no further business…?” Portia asked, glancing around the table.

  The Custodians and I nodded.

  “I declare this meeting adjourned.” The witch Fearwyn concluded. She stood, and the table we were sitting at -- and, unfortunately, the table the cats were sitting on -- disappeared. My kitties tumbled to the floor before they knew what was happening.

  “A little warning next time, Sister,” Eclipse said as he untangled himself from the knot of furry arms and legs. “Contrary to popular belief, cats don’t always land on their feet.”

  “Duly noted, Brother Cat,” Portia said. “Now, let’s make haste to Saint Pendragon’s.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Hinrika knocked at the church door again, the seventh time she’d rapped on the oak entranceway. The remainder of the Custodians, (minus Orville and Verdantia) and me, remained behind the cover of a giant yew tree, waiting for the Fairy Queen to gain entry, and hence distract Peacefield while we entered Saint Pendragons for the second time. Not the church itself this time though, but the bell tower.

  “I still say we could slip in with Portia’s Ombra enchantment whether Peacefield answers or not,” David said.

  “And how would we guarantee that the good vicar wouldn’t hear us once we are inside?” Portia countered. “The marble floors lend themselves very little to conventional stealth.”

  “I just don’t see why we have to do the Shadowgate again,” David tried once more. I agreed with the chief. I shuddered at the thought of going through that whirling void again.

  “You know,” Fraidy said. “Breaking into a church…it kind of feels wrong.” His tiny head swiveled in all directions, his pricked ears twirling like radar dishes. “What if the Goddess’ get angry and pun-punish us?”

  “All in a good cause, Fraidy,” Onyx said, licking his brother’s ear. “Our purpose is the same as last time: to ascertain the possibility that the late Ms. Devlin’s treasure is on Saint Pendragon’s premises. For the good of humanity and paranormals alike.”

  We watched as Hinrika, a string of aromatic licorice dangling from her charcoal lips, knock again. This time the door opened.

  “As I live and breathe!” the mellow, welcoming voice of the reverend called out. “Hinrika Jonsdottir…what in the name of the Triple Goddess are you doing out so late?”

  Thaddeus Peacefield beamed, his face ruddy from likely one too many shots of brandy.

  “Oh, is it late?” Hinrika said. “Silly me, I always have such trouble keeping track of the time. Did I happen to catch you at a bad moment?”

  “Not at all! ‘Midsomer Murders’ is about to start. Care to join an old man and watch a mystery?” The reverend’s eyes sparkled with mischievous good humor, and Hinrika joined Rev. Peacefield for some innocent late night entertainment.

  This was our cue.

  “I am not looking forward to this next part,” I admitted as we all gathered in a circle. I noticed Friday’s eyes were squeezed shut.

  “If you have a m
ore efficient method of infiltration to suggest, Hattie, now is the time,” Portia said, getting ready to cast the spell.

  “Why couldn’t we have brought Verdantia and Orville with us?” David asked. Whether he thought either one of them had less intense means to portal our way into Saint Pendragons, I don’t know. I admired him for trying another angle though.

  “Verdantia is helping keep watch on Infirma,” Portia said. “Orville has his day job responsibilities. He’s also cramming in work on developing Dragon Steel for the Custodian’s lab. If it comes to pass that the Wyrmrig walks this earth again, then we at least need to have some kind of protection.” Portia’s discourse shut David up in an instant. “Ready?” The old witch asked. She didn’t wait for us to answer. The next thing I knew, our small group was completely engulfed, then swallowed, by the shadows that surrounded us. The spell felt, dark and coldly suffocating, but thankfully the charm released us from its shadowy grasp, and we came out the other side in one piece. Only now, we stood in the bell tower, surveying St Pen’s fine grounds below us in the silvery moonlight. We turned to Morag’s charitable donation; St Pen’s new bell. A humongous piece of iron, hanging like a still sentinel to keep watch over Glessie.