The Angel and the Dragon (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 8)

by Pearl Goodfellow

  Cressida struck a finger in the air. “Hold that thought,” she said and pulled a stack of papers from her modest nightstand. She shuffled through the stack, discarding what she didn’t need to both sides of the room. “Ah, here it is. It’s awfully grainy, but given that this was nearly sixty years ago now, it’s a small wonder that there’s an image at all.” With a shaky hand, Cressida pressed a color photograph to the glass for David and me to see. Although the image was stuffed with noise, the barren red background, with its ghostly strewn boulders was unmistakable. In the foreground of the image, stood a pewter colored rocket; tall, erect. Just in front of the shuttle, a Warlock astrophysicist was planting a flag. I squinted at the banner, feeling immediately creeped out by the somehow eerie crest. Two white fists, crossed at the wrists, against a black background dusted with distant stars. I tapped the image. “Whose emblem is this?”

  “Shields’,” Cressida said, deadpan.

  “Wow,” David said, dragging a hand through his freaky hair.

  “Nutso,” Shade muttered.

  “Let’s split,” Fraidy said.

  Eclipse just stared. “Interesting,” he said.

  I threw my hands in the air. “I can hardly believe this. Has Mars been visited? This is insane!” I looked back at the photograph, and for the second time, I felt an eerie chill at the sight of the insignia. I didn’t like how strong those thick, white fists looked. I didn’t like that they were tightly crossed at the wrists, giving the impression of an impenetrable force and strength. It was a formidable family crest for a formidable family’s history.

  “Presumably these Mars ‘visits’ have continued throughout the years too?” I questioned Cressida.

  “That I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “But I believe it would make sense that there have been subsequent journeys, yes. Sparky found a file in one of Shields’ external drives entitled ‘payloads.’ I have to wonder if this might be related to the Mars missions. Do you think the governor could be sending stuff into space? To ready himself for colonization?”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” David said. “Questions like this are philosophical at this point. Let’s start with the concrete. Did Sparky manage to open the ‘payloads’ file?”

  Cressida guffawed. “Pah! My little tech-trooper gets so distracted with each new shiny information-highway, I’m afraid. And I’ve told him to concentrate on the Bank of Alchemy transactions for now. I figured it might be best to deal with earthly affairs first. But rest assured, Sparky has his eyes on that payload drive, so if you need the data from that disc, I’ve no doubt my little guy can get it for you.

  “Good,” David said. “Okay, let’s assume Shields has won the Mars race for now. I mean, it certainly looks that way, anyway. So Nebula knows about it, she gets famous, Shields starts getting nervous that Nebula’s flapping might include stories of the governor’s planetary affairs, and wants her gone. But, for the love of Brigid, how on earth did Gideon get Avery Flute --who, by the way, had a real life motive for killing Nebula -- to do his dirty work?”

  Cressida shook her head, offering the chief a strange smile. “Well, our governor, as it turns out is not only immensely resourceful, he’s also damned near genius,” she said. “You’ve all heard of Samael Gryphonhook, yes?”

  David and I nodded. “The eminent behaviorist? The one who died back in the seventies?” I said.

  “The very one,” said Cressida, nodding. “Shields’ grandfather on the governor’s mother’s side, in case you didn’t know that little tidbit.” We both shook our heads this time. “Well, Samael’s main body of work was on the exploration of a sentient being’s dark side. The psychologist knew full well that every humanoid has a dark underbelly, some secret sore spot that they likely wished could be healed. And he found, through his research, that the most commonly wished for ‘self-healing method,’ if you like, was vengeance. So, Shields, furthering his grandfather’s work, applied the same methods to not just humans, but all sentient beings, including witches, warlocks, and what have you. From there, he simply weaved a few hexes, and prodded the tender spots of all the murderers, and had them act out the rest until the bitter end. As I said, it was a genius move on Gideon’s part. It all played out very naturally. And, hence the Chief Warlock escaped suspicion in most of these cases.”

  I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp. “He used them all? He found out each of their bones of contention and pitted those contentions against the people Shields wanted dead?”

  “I see you’re getting it now,” Cressida said. “Let me continue. You can apply the same Warlock sourced killing strategies to each of them.”

  David pulled on his bottom lip and nodded. “Please, go on.”

  “So Nebula knew of Shields’ ROP program, Shields knew of Avery Flute’s pain from being jilted by Nebula after the two shared a brief interlude. Nebula got famous and decided that having a dead-end disk jockey boyfriend didn’t really showcase her glamorous life to its best effect. Avery never got over it, and when Nebula came back to Gless Inlet for her stage performance, Shields simply pushed Avery’s buttons ... and the rest? Well, it played out as it is wont to do in any sentient being’s emotional affairs.”

  “Okay, so we’re on to Spithilda Roach now, right? She was the second in line to be killed. What was her story?” David asked.

  Cressida cackled and shook her head. “Poor ol’ Roachie. Nobody cried when she popped it,” she said. “Everyone thought she was just a mean, poverty-ridden, bitter old crone, and it’s true … Spithilda was all of these things except she was also positively loaded. She just chose to live the life of a beggar, as she did in that dirty old vardo out in the Humps.”

  Fraidy put his paws up on the glass. “But, Shields couldn’t have wanted Spithilda dead for her money though, right? I mean, the guy’s stinking rich. Why would he need more cash?”

  “Well, actually, dear kitty-cat, the governor did want Spithilda for her money. You see, even though Gideon’s personal wealth is considerable, he couldn’t very well use his own money for his business ventures. Too trackable, if you know what I mean? Talisman was already gearing up to audit the Warlock Chief as it was. Shields had to keep his money away from his nefarious business pursuits.”

  “But what about Black Diamond money?” Eclipse said.

  Shade nodded. “Yeah, that’s not the governor’s personal money. Why didn’t he use that? Isn’t he making mega-bank with those gems?”

  Cressida bobbed her head enthusiastically. “He is indeed, handsome cat, but you have to remember that Shields hadn’t yet worked out a way to get the diamonds out of Cathedral and onto the Blackhand exchange so he could cash them in. He knew full well, that after his family, Spithilda Roach was the wealthiest woman in all of the Coven Isles.” Cressida laughed at our surprised expressions. “I know! You’d never believe it, right? Living out there in that filthy caravan, as she did. And with that mangy old dog, Remulus, no less. No, Spithilda didn’t look like a wealthy woman at all.”

  “But how did Shields work on Amber Crystal to kill Spithilda? I mean, it was Amber’s mother, Hyraceum, who had the real beef with Spithilda.” I felt a sort of tension form in my stomach as I recalled the memory of Amber Crystal and the Spithilda Roach case. Amber had come to Glessie from Nanker Isle to work alongside the chief at GIPPD. The young witch had cast a love spell on David, and I had only just narrowly stopped the deranged young woman from killing him. Spithilda Roach had been Amber Crystal’s aunt; sister to Hyraceum Crystal, Amber’s mother. It had been Hyraceum who had drafted her own daughter, Amber to kill Spithilda Roach. Spithilda and Hyraceum had been sworn enemies since their teenage years; the latter squandering her inheritance, while the former only grew her finances exponentially. Hyraceum was a bitterly jealous woman, and she wanted her sister’s wealth. And, at the time, so did Shields. So what did he do? He courted Hyraceum; wooed her to the brink of madness, as it happened. Hyraceum had lost her senses so completely that she sent her daughter to Glessi
e to do her dirty work, while Amber’s mother followed Shields around the isles like a lovesick puppy. It’s really quite sad when you think about it. Amber’s rotting in a cell in Steeltrap when it really should be her mother doing the time.”

  “Or Shields,” I said.

  “Well, yes, of course. Quite.”

  “So if all had gone according to plan … once Hyraceum had her hands on all of Spithilda’s money, I mean … the governor would have conned her out of it to use for his own … deeds?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Wow, the dude’s breaking hearts and laying waste lives all over the place,” Shade said, his ears twitching.

  Fraidy pulled back his own ears.“Shields is the devil. C’mon, let’s split.”

  “Druida Stone was next,” I said, remembering the cantankerous old librarian, and former -- unbeknownst to me at the time, mind you -- Custodian. Incredibly I almost became a suspect in Druida’s murder; I had had a suitably public blazing row with the smart witch, and it turned out, Druida had been found dead the next day. Druida Stone had been installed on Glessie in a witness protection program, no less. Some twenty odd years previous, Druida had been a toiling ‘suit’ of Talisman. She had worked in the defense department as a clerk but actually ended up solving the identity of a well-known drug baron, and Strand peddler, Milosh Besnick. Being that Besnick had more than a few highly appointed connections, Druida had been taken from her gray, nine-to-five life on Talisman and installed as a librarian in Gless Inlet. During this time, Portia Fearwyn and Stone had become professional acquaintances. Druida’s cataloging and research skills had been exemplary, and the Witch Fearwyn took the librarian on for research purposes for the Custodians. While Milosh Besnick was languishing in Steeltrap, however, his mother was mopping the floor of the Keziah Mason Memorial library where Druida worked. When Fifnik Besnick found out that it had been Druida who had been responsible for putting her son behind bars, Milosh’s mother did what a fair few mothers might do. She killed the woman who took her boy from her. But, of course, Shields knew this.

  “Gideon played Fifnik Besnick like a fiddle,” Cressida said.

  “But why did Shields want Druida dead? What did she know about the governor?” David asked.

  “Of course,” Cressida said. “Well, we all know Milosh Besnick was responsible for flooding the Coven Isles with the Strands of Araby. But Milosh actually never had much interest in peddling his wares across the isles. His focus was on the mainland, across the Russian Steppes and into Mongolia where trade was reliable and good. It was Shields who opened up Crow Isle for Milosh so that the Strands kingpin could ship his drugs into the Coven Isles. And hence that was the start of the Strands epidemic. Of course, Shields wasn’t interested in drugs or the money obtained from the proceeds. No, Gideon merely wanted to create chaos across our islands. A Strands epidemic is a great distraction, wouldn’t you agree? Supremely effective for making everyone run around like headless chickens trying to get the drug use under control, while the nefarious governor goes about his villainous deeds. Druida found out that Shields had opened Crow Isle for the Strands shipments. Of course, the governor couldn’t have this kind of intel leaking. Not when he was publicly seen championing a cure for the epidemic.”

  “A devil with two faces then” Fraidy said. “Can we go home now, please?”

  I stroked my timid cats head. “This is incredible,” I whispered. “Who’s next?”

  “Millicent Ponds,” David reminded me. Cressida punched the air. “Bingo, CPI Trew! Millicent was merely a nuisance to the governor initially; fighting for fair working conditions for the rock grumlins definitely slowed Shields’ Black Diamond mining operations. But it was Millicent’s finding out what Gideon was doing with the gems that got her killed.”

  “Millicent knew the governor was shipping the diamonds into Mag Mell?” I asked.

  “Not only that,” Cressida said. “Our favorite eco-warrior also found out that he was feeding the profits into tachyon tech. Millicent knew the governor was up to no good … although, admittedly she didn’t know exactly what. But, I guess that’s by the by, because Gideon simply had his closest advisor, Mari Falk, kill her.”

  “Terrible man!” Fraidy shrieked, impersonating his beloved cousin, Hinrika. “He doesn’t even care that he’s ruined the people closest to him! That scary-Mari worshiped the ground Shields walked on. She’d have done anything for him.”

  “Uh, yeah, bro, she murdered for the governor, we got that,” Shade said, patting Fraidy’s head with a gentle paw.

  “Mari Falk had been given another target, though,” Cressida said. She looked at me. “Only you foiled those plans, Hattie ... by charging Mari for Millicent’s murder, and therefore putting Shields’ trained killer behind bars before she could eliminate her next target.

  “Which was who?” David asked. Cressida didn’t take her eyes from my face. “Cressida? The chief tried again. “Who was Shields’ missed target?” Cressida kept staring at me until her left eye watered. The chief turned his head slowly toward me. “Hattie? He wanted Hattie dead?” David’s face drained of color. He flicked his eyes at me and looked away quickly.

  “Wanna know why?” Cressida said.

  “No, we’re just here for our health,” Eclipse said.

  “‘Clipsy, be nice,” I cautioned. I looked at Cressida. “Probably because I was snooping around his personal advisor and killing-machine?” I asked, pretending to be pretty chilled out about the shocking news Cressida had just delivered. Inside my head I screamed, believe me.

  Cressida battered the air with a limp hand. “No, it wasn’t your sleuthing skills, Hattie. It was because the Warlock Chief was scared of your power.”

  “My power?” Knock me down with a feather, so now the evil Warlock knows of my immense power too?

  “Yes, your power. Gideon sensed your inner might on your very first meeting with him. And it unsettled the governor, that’s for sure. If he had succeeded in getting Mari Falk to kill you, then his reasons would have been something along the lines of ‘just nipping things in the bud, just in case.’” I stared at Cressida. My mouth worked, but no intelligible words came out. “I … I … he ..I can’t ..” David reached across and lay his hand on my forearm. Luckily no shock this time. He stroked my arm until his hand was on mine. He took it in his and squeezed. “Cressida, I think Hattie’s going to need a little time to digest what you just said, and I don’t want to gloss over it, not in the least,” he said, looking directly in my eyes. “But Hattie’s still here. She’s alive. So I think we should continue with the body count for now.”

  Shade agreed with the chief. “Yeah, let’s rack ‘em up. We all know our witch-owner has superpowers. Nugget senior’s up next,” he said, settling into a comfy position on David’s lap again.

  “Very well,” Nebula Dreddock’s twin said breathily. “Aurel Nugget died because he was too clever for his own good. Aurel’s finesse for alchemy was known across the world, not just the Covens,” she said. “Shields knew Aurel was a member of the Custodians, and he knew the Golden Chair was looking to forge dragonsteel. If you know anything about Gideon, you’d know that he doesn’t enjoy a level playing field. There was no way the Warlock Chief was standing by while the good guys made something that might protect them against the governor’s ill deeds.”

  “And, Shields knew that Norris Copperhead would do anything to be Golden Chair of the Alchemical Society. Norris had always seethed over the fact that his mild-mannered friend, Aurel, was the one voted in for the illustrious position,” David said.

  “You’re really seeing the pattern now, chief,” Cressida said.

  David sighed, checking his wrist for the time. But he’d stopped wearing watches nearly a month ago. Ever since my friend had started exhibiting strange symptoms, his timepieces displayed their own odd behaviors. Recently all of David’s watches either gained time, lost time or stopped time. So the chief gave up wearing them.

  “Morag Devlin’s next,” I sai
d, my voice a little shaky. I was still reeling from what Cressida had told me earlier, but I needed to stay focused, nonetheless.

  “Hmmm-mmm,” Cressida hummed. “Do you want to try this one yourselves?”

  David and I looked at each other. He gave a small nod. “Um, okay,” I said. “Well, we know from Morag’s murder investigation that she knew one heck of a lot about Shields and his business. She also was the first to know the governor had his dragon in the making.” I paused. “But Shields trusted Morag. A lot. Morag must have had a change of heart or something. Maybe she felt guilty, maybe she thought the dragon was taking things a bit too far, and she wanted out.” I paused. “But once on the inside of the governor’s cabal, there is no ‘out.’ Shields would have felt he had no choice but to kill anyone who dared to leave the fold.’”

  “Yessss, keep going. What about the murderer?”

  “Barnabus Kramp,” David muttered. Cressida and I turned to him. “Shields would have poked around in both Morag’s and Barnabus’ affairs, found out that the two had had a relationship and that Morag was one bitter bunny when it ended. “

  “Yesss, aaand?”

  “Cue our beloved mayor, Sincerity Jones,” David said. Ah, yes, I remember now how Barnabus Kramp had been very quick to switch his affections from Morag to Ms. Jones. It didn’t take long for Morag to find out about Kramp’s and the mayor’s ‘get-togethers.’ Morag took all of two seconds to start in with the blackmail campaign. Kramp, scared that his embittered ex would tell his wife, Zinnie, had had no choice but to send regular hush-money payments to Morag. David continued with my line of thinking. “Shields knew Morag was blackmailing Kramp … which made for a perfect motive for Kramp to want Ms. Devlin dead.”

  Cressida, on her haunches now, like a big orange buzzard, flapped her arms at her sides. “Bingo!” She shouted. “Right, who’s next in the line of the dead?” Cressida Dreddock looked far too exuberant for such a grim topic. The old witch threw her head back and cackled, the dark, stringy veins in her neck standing out in relief against her pale skin. She bird-walked to the end of her cot, and hopped up onto the end, right back into the birdlike pose we found her in.