“So, your little ‘family holiday’ in Pandora doesn’t really cover your murdering ass, does it, Mr. Copperhead?” David asked, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in the chair. “How’d you do it, though? And, when?” I looked at Norris. He looked like a caged animal. But, with what we had just laid on him, he knew he had nowhere to go.
“It was quite simple, Chief Inspector,” Norris began, jutting a defiant chin at my friend. “Aurel loves his sports drinks. Thinks they keep him young. Ha!” He ran his fingers through his hands and continued, “It was easy to slip the powder into my friend’s drink when we were courtside after the match.” Copperhead squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face to the ceiling.
I couldn’t resist: “I just had a feeling something was ‘off’ with you,” I leaned across the table scrutinizing the phony man’s face.
“Well, aren’t you a regular Inspector Clouseau?” The alchemist mocked, turning his icy stare to me.
“Why, Norris?” I asked. “Why kill your supposed best friend and ally? I mean, you only just announced that he would be the Godfather to your daughter, Ambronia. I don’t get it.”
“Ambrosia!” Copperhead screamed. “Her name is Ambrosia!” He got up from the chair and began pacing the length of the room. “The Godfather announcement was a sham. I thought it might provide a modicum of cover. Guess I was wrong.” He kept up his pacing. “How did that fool ever get the Golden Chair spot in the first place, that’s what I want to know,” he seethed, as he ramped up his fidgety stepping. “He told me, you know? The idiot confided in me that he was trying to temper Dragon Steel. Ha! Dragon Steel!” Copperhead threw up his arms and turned to us, his face incredulous. “I mean, the old goat couldn’t even distinguish pig-iron from fools gold, and yet he’s invited into some secret organization to take on the task of Dragon Steel?! I mean, c’mon, give me a break.”
“So, what, you killed him because he didn’t know his metals?” David asked, his face impassive. I cast a sideward glance at the chief. He still looked like a complete loon, what with all of the black balefire-backlash that plastered his cheeks and forehead. I had to admire my friend though; he knew how to give good interview.
Norris stopped his pacing and dashed over to the table. Planting his palms on the surface, and leaning dangerously close to us, he hissed. “I killed him because he was a pathetic, clueless moron who somehow managed to trump me when it came to being awarded the Golden Chair.” The alchemist glared at us, his face twitching with livid energy. He took a step backward, pacing once more, “And, why did Nugget get the esteemed spot instead of me?” He whirled toward us, expecting an answer.
“Uh, because he was the better alchemist, and also the more liberal politician?” David guessed.
“No, Inspector, no. Aurel got the Chair only because everyone liked him. And, despite what others say of his genius, I’m here to tell you the man was incompetent!” Copperhead leaned back against the wall, panting from his outburst.
“If he was so incompetent, how do you think he managed to get the job with this super-secret society you just mentioned? Wouldn’t they have vetted his credentials pretty thoroughly?” I knew full well that Portia would never have chosen a Custodian who didn’t have spectacular expertise in their field. What we had before us here was just a green monster. A power hungry one, who couldn’t bear to see his gentle, kind friend get all the gifts that life could throw at him.
“Think what you will,” the vice chair said, finally pulling a seat. He flopped into it, his whole body weighted with defeat. “Everyone knows that it’s Orville with the REAL talents. If Dragon Steel COULD save you, poor wretches, then Orville would be the one to give it the good old college try, ” Copperhead finished.
A shiver shot through my spine. ‘Could?’ I looked at David, and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. We couldn’t let this vile man get a reaction from us, from his below-the-belt intimidation techniques.
“I understand that you’re related to the Blackfeather’s?” David asked, steering us away from Norris’ veiled threat. “Why would a member of such a prominent Warlock family risk dragging the family name in the dirt with the murder of an allegedly clueless best friend?”
Norris raised his head, and his words were clear and sinister. “Do you have any idea whatsoever of what’s going on in these Isles, Chief Inspector? Do you have the slightest clue about the power and magic at work here? You think finding my map, and your little foray into Mag Mell has told you anything? Anything at all?” Norris’ eyes glittered with contempt. We must have looked surprised at him knowing of our journey to fairyland because he spat “What? You thought I wouldn’t find out about your intrusion into the Fae realm?”
“Well, as you seem to be chummy with the Faerie’s, Mr. Copperhead, why don’t you tell us what’s going on over there on that charming little Isle,” Nice try, friend. I loved the way he handled people with big egos. He knew they couldn’t resist feeling important, and so divulging more than was healthy for their prison sentences. Norris leaned back in his chair and sniggered.
“Ah, the Unseelie's will provide enough clues soon enough, my friend,” he scoffed menacingly. “That’s all you need to know for now.” His face was beaming in a repulsive mask of smug satisfaction. “I confess, it’s a tragedy I was caught. If I’d have held the Golden Chair, I’d have directed my influence wisely. To ‘the cause’ as it were.” He shook his head and whispered just loud enough so I could hear him. “We could have come so far.”
“Okay, Mr. Copperhead, we’re going to wrap this up now. So we didn’t get answers about the Unseelie plans, but we have enough to remand you in Steeltrap Penitentiary until trial.”
David put away his notebook. “Who’s your lawyer?” Copperhead lifted his head and gave a crafty smile.
“Morag Devlin is my counsel,” he replied, almost happily. I looked at David, puzzled. I knew most of the law force on Glessie, and I’d never heard of a Morag Devlin. David looked as mystified as I felt.
“Well, it’s been nice,” David said pushing away from the table. I stood to follow his lead. “Spinefield will make you arrive safely at Steeltrap,” the chief said opening the door. We were about to leave when Copperhead barked “How did you get into Mag Mell if you’re not Fae?” He looked at us, face calm and expectant.
“It was a fluke,” I responded, pushing David to complete the exit from the small room.
“Impossible,” Norris grunted. “Only Fae-kin can gain entry into the Isle.” He shouted after us as we left the room and closed the door.
“Are those furballs really…..”
“Cait Sidhe?” I laughed at my friend's expression of wonder. "Don't be ridiculous, CPI Trew."
"But, what about --"
"David, you're not thinking straight. Shade? Gloom? FRAIDY? They seem like king of the cats to you?”
"Ha! You're right," the chief put his hand around my shoulders, and we walked together along the corridor of the station. "I think some pixie dust got in my brain."
I smiled up at my friend and wrapped my free arm around him. And like this, we strolled into the fragrant and balmy night of our beloved Gless Inlet.
Chapter Twenty
Two days after Norris Copperhead was thrown into Steeltrap, to await trial for the murder of Aurel Nugget, the town braced itself for the Faery Queen Hinrika Jonsdottir's arrival. The pier at Nessie beach was festooned with brightly colored streamers, color coordinated to match the flag of the Faroe Islands, where Hinrika hailed from. Children chased kites, the size of bald eagles up and down the beach to the sides of the pier, while they waited for the Royal yacht to drop anchor.
"You okay in their, buddy?" I looked down to my agoraphobic cat, nestled into a papoose at my chest, his head covered with what looked like an executioner's hood.
"Yep, yep, yep, all good, boss," Jet sputtered. He insisted on coming out for the arrival of the Queen. Spurred on by an increased dose of catnip, and the promise of full covera
ge for his body, we convinced our zippy cat to make the trek with us.
David reached under the hood to give Jet a scratch of the cheek.
While we walked the length of the jetty, David, at the cat's insistence told his version of events at disabling the balefire beacon.
Verdantia had instinctively known where to find the signal and our elven friend had guided David straight into the heart of the Phlange Range. A craggy, hellish cluster of mountains at Phlange's northern end. The beacon, no larger than a basketball, stood wedged between a sharp outcrop of smaller rock at the highest point of the mountains. The radio waves were unbounded in each direction, given the beacon full power to transmit its mayhem far and wide across the isles.
In an act of manly heroism, David pounced on the flare, trying to shield Verdantia from any harmful rays. He didn't realize that the signal would have no effect on her, so he needlessly took the brunt of the impact as soon as he landed on the thing. It exploded in his face. Luckily, Verdantia was lightning quick and threw out a pixie heat shield just as the blast reached David's face. He couldn't escape the scorch marks, but he did avoid the severe burn he'd have gotten had Verdantia not been there.
Together, the two had to take an arduous, slow moving journey over the higher peaks of the range, carrying the beacon as they moved deliberately through the icy air. David and Verdantia had to act as bookends almost. Both of them behaving like human walls on either side of the tag, so they would block any harmful emissions from the device as they flew over Phlange's capital, Cragghead. Having to keep their exacting positions on either side of the signal, with the Phlange range blocking the other two sides of the beacon, they bumped their way on mountain thermals to the Grimlock Bog at the foot of the range.
Grimlock was the deepest salt marsh in the Isles. Possibly the world. It was said that you could hide at least thirty dragons piled high on top of the other in that swamp, and nobody would be any the wiser. To date, anything that had been dropped in the bog was lost to the bog. There have never been any recoveries of lost objects. Or bodies. Or dragons. Hopefully, a basketball sized beacon would be as equally lost to the world.
The cats were proud of David. I could tell by the way they kept rubbing up against the Police Chief's legs as they trotted alongside him. Much to Millie Midge's chagrin, I might add. The poor girl was pulled in a myriad of tangled directions as my kitties happily made a morass out of the cat leashes.
I looked ahead and saw the yacht bump up against the end of the jetty to a throng of joyful cheers. I could see Portia Fearwyn standing first in line to greet the Queen. Hmm, I wonder what's going on there then?
I waved to Violet Mulberry, who was standing with Maude and Horace Mangler, the latter holding a parasol over the two ladies, so their faces were shaded and kept cool in the heat of the summer afternoon.
We passed Verdantia, who was gliding like a heavenly vision down the length of the pier, her gauzy pink dress flowing behind her. She dipped her head at us and gave each of the cats her brand of elven love.
"Boss! Cop! C'mon!" Shade called back as David and I paced the wooden boards leisurely behind the cats and Millie. "She's here! Let's get up there!"
My Romeo was very excited. I wondered vaguely if one of his siblings had told him Hinrika was beautiful. Shade was an incorrigible flirt. Jet started straining at the makeshift papoose. "Hey, boss, can we go any faster?" his little head peeking out from under his hood. "I mean, I don't want to miss this either, you know?"
"Okay, okay. Goddess, you guys can be so demanding!" David laughed.
"Best we get in line before we have a feline uprising," he suggested.
The gangway dropped with an almighty clang just as we were arriving. I sidled up alongside Portia, David keeping a respectful distance from the old witch. She gave a respectful little bow to the group of us.
"Hattie, Lemniscate, Ms. Midge," she addressed us all and took the time to look over my shoulder to give David a hard, cold stare.
There was motion from the boat then. An outrageously tall blond woman shimmied down the gangway, offering dainty royal waves as she came. The cheers erupted again as she smiled and curtsied and bid the crowd well wishes.
Once on the pier, the Queen made her way over to Portia almost immediately. They shook hands and hugged in that order. My mouth fell open. They clearly knew one another well, and they were obviously very good friends. I couldn't hear what they were saying, given the volume of the hollering going on, but it looked urgent. They talked very quickly right into one another's ears, both gesticulating wildly to highlight whatever information they were sharing.
My cats were enrapt. They sat staring up at the royal arrival, perfectly still except...
"...Eclipse! No!" My mind wiping moggie was swinging from Hinrika Jonsdottir's ultra, mega, uber expensive dress, claws fully extended. He wasn't being mean. He just wanted to be closer to the woman.
I ran to recover my cat because Millie was pretty useless to me, snarled in a cat leash trap as she was.
"Your Highness, I'm so, so sorr--"
The fairy queen ignored me completely. She had snagged Eclipse from the hem of her dress and was covering his face with faery kisses. My cat was wrapped around her neck, leash dangling, butting his head up under her chin. I could hear his purr over the whooping crowd. She lifted him then, by his underarms, and extended him out in front of her, her face full of love and admiration. The other cats couldn't hold back. Dragging a poor incapacitated Millie behind them, they all flew at the woman's flowing dress, dangling by their claws as they desperately tried to summit the new arrival's robes. Before I even noticed, Jet had leaped to join his siblings aboard the fairy queen.
I felt I could die with embarrassment right then. This was not a good first impression. I was going to have some stern words with my moggies when we got home after this. I couldn't imagine what had them so excited that they'd misbehave this epically.
Hinrika erupted in a gale of pixie giggles, grabbing each of my cats in turn, holding them, four each side, in her long willowy arms.
"My cousins! My Cait Sidhe! What a lovely surprise!"
David sauntered over to me, and bringing his manly hand to my face, he gently closed my gaping mouth.
"So, like I said Hat. I think your cats are--"
I croaked the words "Ket shee, yeah."
THE END
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About the Author
Who is Pearl, anyway?
Well, when she’s not talking about herself in the third person, she would likely describe herself something like this:
I’m a borderline crazy-cat-lady and I have an imagination much bigger than my small head can contain. So, I write it all out! I genuinely believe in magic of the Universal variety. A magic that can be accessed by every single human that’s lived, living or will ever live. I write about all this from a Witch’s point of view, of course. : )
I’m an English ex-pat living in Atlantic Canada in the magically beautiful province of Nova Scotia. I feel a Peggy’s Cove Cozy coming on!
A Spell in Mag Mell (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 5) Page 19
