Moggies, Magic and Murder

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Yes,” Vee said. “We need to convince Ankou and his court that they’re being used. Enough is enough. We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” she said, looking to the rest of the group for confirmation. We nodded.

  “It’s a start, I guess,” David said, tilting forward until his chair came to rest on all four legs again. “But, unlikely Shields would share his secrets with the Unseelie’s if he’s, as you say, Vee, using them.”

  “Not all of his secrets, no,” Verdantia Eyebright said. “But Gideon Shields is a clever man. And he will make it his business to know that the Unseelie King is no fool either. He’d have opened up to Ankou to some degree, to establish trust. While Gideon may not have shared the more secretive stuff, I’m quite sure he’d have revealed something….darkly interesting, at least. Maybe there’s some intel there we could use?”

  Portia sighed and looked directly at the beautiful faery. “Yes, I believe you’re correct, Verdantia. I think your main body of work there should be to try and persuade the Unseelie Court that they should cut all ties to the governor.”

  Vee nodded, the red-rims of her eyes fighting with the unearthly blue of her irises.

  David stood. “Hattie, you and I will go and see Maude after we leave here. She knows this is urgent, so she’ll hopefully have some answers for us as to what killed Orville.”

  “Um, I can tell you what killed Orville,” Gloom said. “A Warlock operated black diamond with a sick green light.”

  “Respect,” Midnight murmured, patting his sister’s shoulder.

  “What about Gideon?” I cried. “Is he the elephant in the room all of a sudden? Why aren’t we looking for Shields? He needs to be locked up, for Goddess’ sake!”

  “Hattie, you and I will go to Cathedral tomorrow to question the governor,” Portia said, sitting herself next to David. “I’m certain he won’t be there to greet us, but let’s send the governor the loud and clear message that the Custodian’s aren’t going anywhere. Our living presence might spook him, at least.”

  “But maybe he already knows that most of us aren’t dead,” David said. He nodded toward Verdantia. “Vee asked the right question. How did Shields know we’d all be together tonight? How could he have known we were gathering for Hattie’s induction?”

  We could only shake our heads. But Portia and I shared a surreptitious glance, all the same.

  “So,” Midnight said, trying to create order from the chaos. “Vee and Hinrika go to Mag Mell to see what the Unseelies know. Maybe our cuz, Ankou, will open up a bit if he has any idea that the governor is playing him.” My night-wandering cat paced between us all. “Hattie and Trew Love hit up Maude Dulgrey’s in a little while to see what everyone’s favorite coroner found in the autopsy. Portia and Hattie fly over to Cathedral tomorrow to see if they can get answers from the governor, who’s likely not gonna be there, because he just, you know, tried to kill a bunch of cats and their humans. That what we’ve got so far?”

  “Do you have any other suggestions, buster?” I asked. By Brigid, I felt tired.

  “Not suggestions, boss,” he said. “Questions.”

  “Shoot,” David said.

  “Well,” Midnight began, putting his paw to his chin while he pondered his queries. “What about the dragon? Have we suddenly forgotten about that? Don’t we, like, have to worry about finding the Wyrmrig, and all?”

  I shuddered. Not for the first time today, I thought: How did I get here?

  How did I end up in an outfit like the Custodians, battling an evil Warlock governor who seemed hellbent on bringing darkness and fire to our world? The Chief Warlock and his malicious intentions were just one side of our problem, though. The other being that, along with Shields’ Warlock-tech crafted dragon, there was also the Wyrmrig. The latter existing only as a certain destiny right now. The Wyrmrig’s current state existed merely a genetic code. This marker would one day blossom, or, who knows, even erupt, into a full-sized, fire-breathing monster. We knew it would be soon, but we didn’t know exactly when and we didn’t know who carried the genetic marker in the first place. No, the Elder Code would reveal itself on its own fateful terms. But, anyway, yeah, if you looked at it from the outside it seemed pretty clear that there would soon be two, mostly untameable, death-lizards, duking it out, and generally causing fiery havoc.

  Scary times.

  “His dragon isn’t ready.”

  All heads swiveled to Portia. The Witch Fearwyn cracked her brittle knuckles, and I’m pretty sure I saw dust fall from her hands.

  “You’re all in shock, so you’re not thinking straight,” she said, standing. “Think about it. Why would Shields want us all dead if he had the most ultimate weapon of all time, ready and at his beck and call?”

  David nodded. “You’re right. For whatever reason, our Warlock Chief’s dragon hasn’t yet ‘matured.’ The governor’s scared.”

  Portia narrowed her eyes and looked into the middle distance. “It’s more than that,” she said. “Not only does he not have his dragon, but I also believe our governor thinks we know who the Wyrmrig is. So …” Portia tapped her spindly fingers on the oak table. She spoke the truth. We still had no clue as to who the Wyrmrig might be.

  “So, he’s panicked? He thinks that we might somehow have the lead in this dragon race?”

  “Well, something sure has Shields spooked if he intended to kill us all in one go, and before his dragon is born,” Portia concluded. “We’ve all borne witness to the governor’s posturing. I’m positive he’d have liked nothing better than to see the Custodians perish at the mercy of his pet.”

  “Wow, this joker’s really unstable, huh?” Carbon enquired from atop Portia’s table. My fire- seeking kitty’s eyes blazed. “The weapon; that spinny-thing. Was it made from black diamond, then? I mean, is it conclusive?”

  “It looked like it, yes,” David said. “But I’ll have to take a closer look to be sure. I guess it depends on how long we can hold Talisman off before they stick their noses in.” The chief looked at Portia over the rim of his glasses. “I don’t suppose you can call off the dogs, huh?”

  The Witch Fearwyn nodded slowly. “I’ll see what I can do. I might be able to keep them away for forty-eight hours or so, but you’ll have to be quick.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” came David’s humorless response.

  If the gizmo that killed Orville were black diamond, then it would practically pin Shields with the offense. Black diamond came from Cathedral Isle only, and it was the governor who was in control of its mining, distribution, and application. Not one recreational or military device could be crafted from the stone without Gideon Shields personal signature. If I weren’t so shocked at the fact we had just lost our youngest member of the Custodians, I’d have been feeling pretty surprised at the governor’s gall. His blatant and unconcealed intention to kill us all. And in one go, to boot.

  Hopefully, David would be able to determine if the weapon was made from the Cathedral mineral before the suits moved in and confiscated the item for analysis.

  Talisman. The Coven Isles administrative capital. If bureaucracy ever had a home, it was Talisman. Home to the central government and all of its associated branches of cumbersome red-tape organizations, our gray and soulless capital had its ears, eyes, fingers in and on every event that played out within the Coven Isles.

  And, yet, Portia Fearwyn, with her nebulous connections, somehow managed to keep the suits in line for the most part. Not everything came under her jurisdiction, but she’d proved, on more than one occasion, that she was capable of breaking through a forest of red-tape. The witch had sway.

  Fraidy jumped from the table and sat on the floor between all of us. He hung his head. “I’d may as well say goodbye to you all now,” he said looking woefully at his feet. “With Orville gone, there’s no chance now. I’ll never get a helmet that fits my head.” Fraidy looked at each of us, his eyes like black buttons. “I know you think I’m being all dramatic, but this isn’t going to b
e just a case of singed whiskers, you know? My head is gonna sizzle like bacon.” He flopped on his side and closed his eyes … probably trying out his final resting position.

  Portia nudged the inert Fraidy with the tip of her pointy black shoe. “Oh, stop being such a drama-puss,” she said. “Are you forgetting our friend of the Custodians, Carpathia Alecto? She’s still Golden Chair for the Alchemical Society, so I’ve no doubt Ms. Alecto can work with this dragonsteel.”

  “Carpathia knows metal, sure,” Fraidy said, staring at Portia. “But, she doesn’t know numbers like Orville. She won’t be able to get the measurements exact, so don’t tell me she can stop my face from igniting.”

  “Fraidy,” I said gently. “Carpathia’s all we have right now, sweetie, so you could have a little faith and trust in her capabilities.”

  Portia nodded. “That’s settled, then. I’ll call Ms. Alecto tonight and have her look at your headwear, cat.” The Witch Fearwyn flicked her head toward the chief. “Hattie, you and CPI Trew go and see Maude, find out what she has to say. The rest can wait until tomorrow. Verdantia and Hinrika will go to Mag Mell to see Ankou and his cronies at the Unseelie court, and you and I will head over to Cathedral to see if we can pin down Shields.”

  Nobody answered. Portia rapped the table with her ancient knuckles. “Are we all agreed?”

  We nodded.

  “Good,” she said. “That’s quite enough troublesome adventure for today now, so, please, go about your duties, and let’s stay away from using electronic devices for now. Until we know how the governor tracked us, that is.”

  “Um, lady, how do you propose we stay in touch then?” Midnight asked.

  “Well, I thought we could finally put you lazy cats to good use,” Portia replied, her gaze piercing Midnight. “You can be our go-betweens. I’m sure Shields wouldn’t have thought to have bugged you bozo-kitties, so you lot will be the carrier-pigeons if we need you to pass messages along.”

  Gloom stomped over to Portia. “Of all the nerve!” She gasped. “You have the chops to call us carrier-pigeons? Lady, you’re crossing into some dangerous territory, and I’ll advise you right now to --”

  Portia picked up a glass from the table and emptied its contents; ice cold water, over my indignant kitty’s head. The old witch slammed the vessel back on the oak surface. “I’ll advise you, fat cat, that you’re not here for salmon treats, belly-rubs, and cat naps. It’s time you all get to work and not just behave like furry obstacles under our feet.” She waved a long and yellow nail at Gloom’s face. Although my kitty was in the throes of shock at having being doused with ice water, Gloom pulled her head back on her neck, crossed her eyes and wrinkled her nose at the Witch Fearwyn.

  Portia addressed the rest of the kitties without taking her eyes from Gloom’s crestfallen face. “A few of you will go to Mag Mell with Hinrika and Verdantia tomorrow. A few of you will go with Hattie and David to Maude’s this evening. A couple of you will accompany Hattie and me to Cathedral tomorrow. I don’t care who goes where; you can speak among yourselves on that, but I’d suggest that the least annoying of you -- if that’s at all possible -- join Hattie and me tomorrow.”

  “Yep, yep, that’s me! Yep!” Jet said, bouncing and raising a volunteering paw. “I don’t annoy anyone, nope, nope.”

  Portia looked at me. “Not that one,” she said. “Definitely not that one.”

  Thankfully Jet didn’t hear. He continued to prance, comfortable in his faith that he was ‘annoyer of none.’

  “Okay, come on guys, let’s get going,” I said, gesturing to my kitties. David grabbed his jacket and helped me nudge the Infiniti to the door. “I’ll have Midnight come to you later with any news we pick up from Maude’s,” I said to Portia.

  The old witch nodded. “Either way, I’ll see you in the morning. Let’s meet at Celestial Cakes at seven-thirty a.m. We can have a little breakfast before we head off,” she said.

  With that, David, the Infiniti and I left Portia and the faeries to deal, in their own way, with the death of our good friend, Orville Nugget.

  David and I would have to deal with our grief later. Because right now, we needed to find out exactly what kind of magic killed the young alchemist.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Goodness! Hattie, Chief Para Inspector, please, do come in,” Maude Dulgrey said, opening the door to her granite medical building. Ordinarily, the ghoul coroner would have greeted us with a sunny, if a somewhat toothsome smile, but Maude knew of our loss. Maude glanced down at her shuffling feet and turned. Our coroner friend lead us down the near medieval passageway that led to her cutting-edge lab. She looked over her shoulder several times to offer us a warm and gummy grin. Maude’s freshly sewn-on left foot seemed to be fighting with the left foot she was born with, and I noticed our pathologist friend having to push herself off the wall to ‘right’ her course several times. She trotted her lopsided gait down the torch-lit corridor until we reached a set of stainless steel doors. The ghoul coroner pushed through them and cast her gaze to the sheet-covered body of Orville.

  “Just awful,” she said, shaking a head of thin and dusty hair. “Hector couldn’t be more upset, honestly.” Maude tripped her way to the slab where young Nugget’s corpse lay.

  “Where is Hector?” David asked, glancing over the glittering stainless steel surfaces of the room.

  “He’s preparing you a bouquet, dear,” Maude said, shooting up her gerbil-like eyebrows in surprise. The coroner looked as if we should have known her assistant’s intentions. “As I said, he’s very sorry about Orville’s death, and he knows that this tragedy has served a real blow to your little outfit.”

  “Maude, is there any way that Hector could have talked?” I asked. “I know you both know of the Custodians and our work, and I know you’re on our side too,” I said. “But, Gideon Shields knew we were all together this evening. We’re wondering how he knew though.” I realized with a sinking feeling just how desperate the question sounded.

  Maude guffawed. “You’re not suggesting Hector went and blabbed, are you dear?”

  I shook my head. “No, not at all, Maude,” I said. “At least not intentionally. I just wondered if Hector might have shared this information with friends?”

  “Friends, dear?” Maude Dulgrey knitted her flea-bitten brows. “No, you’re mistaken, I’m Hector’s only friend. And, I can attest to the fact that my dear assistant has never gossiped about anything. Ever. He’s very discerning, is Hector.”

  Carbon tapped my shin. “It’s not Hector, Hattie,” he said. “Have you ever seen him chatting with anybody? Like, ever?”

  My fire-loving kitty was right. I’ve never seen the undead man engage in any kind of conversation. He knew only two words, anyway: Moan and Groan. Even when I saw the vegan zombie at the Fingernail Moon, he was invariably alone with his pint of freshly squeezed tomato juice. Maude Dulgrey was probably the only person in the world who understood Hector Muerte. The vegan zombie had worked for the ghoul coroner for years … they knew each other’s ‘ways.’

  I waved my hand in the air. “Nevermind,” I said. “Just clutching at straws.”

  “Find out what killed Orville, Maude?” David said, changing the subject and turning toward the sheet-covered cadaver.

  Maude’s face brightened. “It took all of two minutes, CPI Trew!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands. The coroner grabbed a corner of the sheet and yanked it away with a magician-like flourish. “Tachyon poisoning,” she stated simply.

  I had to put a hand over my mouth to stop the scream that threatened to shatter the windows of the lab. Young Orville’s face was a network of black, thread-like veins, crawling their way across a landscape of sickly green skin. The system of veins looked eerily similar to the ones Millicent Ponds had presented with when the ecologist had died. David, I noticed, seemed unmoved.

  “Tachyon?” He said. “Tachyon from black diamonds? The same tachyon tech that killed Millicent Ponds?”

  “The very ones,” Ma
ude confirmed, tracing the end of a pen from Orville’s temple to his heart. “Here’s the carrying artery,” she said, pointing to a thicker, somewhat blacker vein that stretched from the boy’s head to his life-center. “The tachyon emission went in here.” She tapped the pen to Orville’s temple again. “But, it really did its work here.” She let the tip of her pen hover above the young boy’s heart.

  Tachyons were only theoretically possible. Even in the Mainland scientific communities, the subatomic particle’s existence had yet to be proved. And, yet, these ultra-fast particles, which could carry whatever information or substance you injected the molecules with, had been what finished off the young and promising alchemist.

  I sighed, brushing away relentless tears. “Well, I guess, at least we don’t have to search for the killer this time around,” I said through hitching breath. “It has to be a first, right?” I asked David. “That we actually know who the killer is this time, I mean.”

  David passed a hand through his hair. His white streak looked even more prominent under Maude’s blue-white strip lights. “It doesn’t make it any easier, Hat,” he said, letting out a loud breath.

  “I know.” And I did know too. “I wasn’t saying it was easier, just that … well, we won’t have to run around questioning everyone so much, I mean.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out and glancing at the screen, I announced. “Midnight Hill.”

  “Cressida Dreddock?” David asked.

  I shook my head. “Don’t know. Probably ...I’ll see if they leave a message, but now’s not the time to be paying a social visit to Cressida.”

  Maude cleared her throat and peered at us both over the rim of her wire-framed glasses. “I think you two have had quite enough action for one day, don’t you?” She coaxed. “If I find anything else interesting here, I will be sure to let you know. But right now, I’d suggest you get yourselves home for some good sl--” A shuffling sound came from the back of the room. Hector Muerte shambled into view carrying a bunch of fussily arranged cauliflower and broccoli florets.