Wrapping Up

by A. A. Albright

  When I reached the market, I could hear carol singers and smell mulled wine, and the Solstice spirit took an even deeper hold. I weaved my way through the stalls, picking up little presents for my family and friends along the way. At one stall, I spied a book called Craving Constance: Interlude with the Werewolf.

  As I picked it up, the stallholder, a man of my father’s age, gave me a cheeky wink. I turned it over to the back, and began to read it to myself:

  When Constance goes to the Lupine Forest, she’s there with one task in mind – to free the leader of the pack from his werewolf curse so that he can marry the human he loves. But the longer Constance spends with Luca, the more she begins to wonder: is this poor human the right person for Luca, after all, or would Constance herself be a much better match? Because whenever Luca looks at Constance with those big yellow eyes, she’s sure that he can give her exactly what she wants. And she doesn’t mind if he’s in his wolf form when he gives it to her.

  Blushing redder than a tomato, I dropped the book and rushed away. I could hear the stall holder laughing as I went. I should have bought the book, that’s what I should have done. I should have been just as confident as Craving Constance.

  When I arrived at Lassie’s stall, there was a long queue to buy her jewellery, and I worried about how she was going to cope. It seemed she had some surprising assistance, though. Agatha, the Acting Minister for Magical Law, was serving customers like she’d been doing it all her life.

  I couldn’t disguise my shock as I squeezed my way behind the stall.

  ‘I was going to ask you if you needed a helper,’ I said as Lassie gave me a brief but warm hug. ‘I think you might be sorted in that department, though.’

  Agatha and Lassie shared a conspiratorial grin, before Agatha looked at me. ‘I’ve really enjoyed working with Lassie, but I have to be on my way for now,’ she said, her silver-grey eyes twinkling. ‘But I’ve arranged another interview for you with Justine this evening, Wanda. I thought I’d send you at visiting time.’

  I groaned. ‘Yay. I love going to Witchfield over and over again, only to be told nothing of use.’

  Agatha laughed. ‘I know it’s a slog, trying to get information out of that woman. That’s why your mother is going with you this evening. Because you know as well as I do – you and your mother annoy her more than anyone in the world. So the two of you together ...’

  I couldn’t help but smile. ‘You are a clever woman, Agatha.’

  She hugged me, and then clicked her fingers and disappeared. As soon as she was gone, I turned to Lassie. ‘I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what secrets the two of you have brewing.’

  ‘Not just yet.’ She shot me a wicked grin. ‘But if you help me get through the rest of this crowd, then I might buy you a coffee to say thanks.’

  All of the jewellery was priced, so it was easy enough to serve the customers. It was quite enjoyable too, mainly because everyone was so enthusiastic about their purchases – gushing about how lovely it all was and declaring that they couldn’t believe the reasonable prices. It didn’t surprise me that Lassie’s stall was becoming so popular. Before long she would have a fancy shop, I was sure of it. A shop that all the most fashionable witches would flock to, and pretend that they’d loved her jewellery even before she was famous.

  After a half an hour, there was no more stock left to sell. We quickly tidied up the stall and headed over to Caulfield’s Cakes. As we were walking in, I spied a family seated just inside the door. ‘Will you order for us?’ I whispered to Lassie. ‘And I’ll come and join you in a sec. I just want to speak with these people.’

  She made her way to the counter, and I approached the table. ‘Mark Dove?’ I asked. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming over. I recognised you from some photos in your mother’s house.’

  He gave me the once-over. ‘You’re Wanda Wayfair, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on the news. What has my mother done now? Pretended to burn the house down again? Maybe a fake flood in her kitchen?’ He shook his head. ‘Y’know what, I don’t even care what she’s done this time. I don’t have any more energy for her nonsense.’

  I glanced at his wife and children. ‘Maybe we could speak on our own, Mark?’

  With a sigh, he heaved himself out of his seat. ‘Fine. But I’m telling you, no matter what she’s said has happened, it’s a lie. She’s an attention seeker. Always has been. Always will be.’

  He followed me outside the shop, and I moved closer to him. ‘Your mother hasn’t done anything, Mark. Her best friend has been murdered. I just wondered if you knew about it. I think she’s feeling a bit down about the whole thing.’

  He held his head in his hands. ‘Friend? According to her, she doesn’t have any. Look, I’m sorry for her, but I’m not going round there. I told her she could come to ours for the holiday and she flat-out refused. It must have been three months ago when I invited her, but she went ahead and bought a load of food anyway to try and guilt me into changing my plans. That’s the kind of thing she does. We’ve gone to hers every single Winter Solstice since the twins were born. And every year, all she does is complain. I mean, we’re all sitting right in front of her, and all she does is moan that she never sees us. She’s just ... look, I can’t explain it, all right. I love my mother. But she’s ... difficult.’ He paused. ‘So who was it who died?’

  ‘Winnie Wywood. Did you know her?’

  His face turned pale. ‘Not Winnie! That poor woman. She was actually murdered? I mean, are you sure? Why on earth would anyone want to murder Winnie?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. So ... you didn’t know she was your mother’s best friend?’

  Mark shrugged. ‘I’ve seen her over at Mam’s quite a bit, I suppose. But my mother is always so insistent that she has no friends at all, so I certainly didn’t know she thought of Winnie as her best friend. I do go and visit my mother, y’know, despite what she says. It’s just never enough for her. I fix imaginary leaks. I repair brooms that have nothing wrong with them whatsoever. I go to dinner there every Sunday, even though she upsets my kids with her constant complaining. I mean, take this week for example. The kids were in the Winter Solstice play at school. She was the first person they invited, and you know what she said when they brought her ticket over? She said she wasn’t coming because she could tell they didn’t really want her there. I’ve just ... I’ve had enough of her negativity. I’m sorry about Winnie. I really am. But even if I go over there, my mother won’t thank me for it. She never does.’

  I felt bad for ever speaking to him at all. The truth of his relationship with his mother shouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest. But even if Mrs Dove’s sadness was all of her own making, it was still real to her. No matter how drained she had made me feel, I pitied the woman.

  ‘Thanks for speaking with me, Mark. The last thing I wanted was to upset you. I’ll let you get back to your family now. Oh, and Merry Solstice!’

  ‘Merry Solstice, Wanda.’ He gave me a sad smile. ‘I hope you find Winnie’s killer. That woman really was a breath of fresh air.’

  ≈

  When I went to join Lassie, she was waiting with coffee and mince pies.

  ‘Vegan mince pies!’ she said with a triumphant grin. ‘This place does better food than the weredog cafes.’

  I spied Emily behind the counter, and gave her a little wave. ‘It does,’ I agreed. ‘So tell me, what were you and Agatha up to?’

  She laughed and shook her head. ‘You never give up, do you? Listen, it’s a secret. And the thing about secrets is that you’re not supposed to tell people what they are. No matter how much you might want to scream it from the rooftops. But all will be revealed very soon. At Christmas, to be precise.’

  ‘Christmas? Not Solstice?’ There was a clue there. ‘So this must be a weredog-related secret, then? One that Agatha is in on? Hmm. And you’re sure you wouldn’t feel better if you talked to someone about it? Me, for example.’

  Lassie lau
ghed and patted her nose. ‘I’m not saying another word, Wanda. Now be quiet and eat your mince pie like a good girl.’

  I did as I was told, and I was rewarded for my good behaviour, because the pie tasted amazing. There was a little jug of coconut cream, and as I poured it over the top, it looked as white as snow. Yum. By the end of Solstice I was going to be ninety-nine percent pastry. I broke some pieces off for the mice, hoping to bring that percentage down. ‘Hey, Max said you had some news to share.’

  Her eyes grew round. ‘That cousin of mine couldn’t keep a thing from you if he was paid a million quid. Wanda, I’m sorry, but Max was obviously talking about the thing that I absolutely can’t tell you. Even he’s not supposed to know. The only reason he does is because he overheard me and Agatha talking. He shouldn’t have repeated it to you. I just ... me and Agatha want it to be a big surprise for everyone. It’s ... a delicate matter. We just want to do it, before anyone can come up with some stupid reason to stop us.’

  ‘Even though you’re making this sound more intriguing by the minute, I promise that I won’t ask anymore,’ I said. But I would think about it – a lot. ‘Oh, I wanted to pick your brains about something. I’ve gotten Max a few things now, but I just don’t think I’ve found him the right big present. Y’know? I’ve gotten him some winter woollies, some scary movies, some books I know he wants to read, and a big comfy cardigan that looks like his sort of thing. What did you get him?’

  ‘Same kind of stuff. I mean, it’s Max. He’s delighted by the smallest things, isn’t he? He’ll love whatever you get him, Wanda. I wouldn’t worry about it.’

  I started on mince pie number two (Lassie knew me so well). ‘Yeah. I guess. So ... you sure you don’t want to tell me the secret?’

  She threw a napkin at me. ‘No! Stop asking! Oh, and don’t ask Max about it either. Because we both know he’ll tell you the second you flutter your lashes. You two are just as deluded as each other.’

  I almost choked on the food in my mouth. ‘What? Give over. I don’t flutter my lashes at Max. And we have nothing to be deluded about.’

  Lassie took a sip of her coffee. ‘Your face!’ she said over the rim of her cup. ‘I’m only kidding. I mean, come on – why would you fancy Max when you’ve got Gabriel Godbody?’

  13. Back on Unsolid Ground

  Witchfield Prison wasn’t just the biggest supernatural prison in the world – it was also the most secure. The only breakout in living history had been a fake one, carried out by some of its own (long since fired) staff members. One of the many reasons it was so difficult to escape from Witchfield was that no one quite knew where Witchfield was. Its placement shifted regularly, and there were a painful amount of steps involved in even going for a visit. The coordinates changed so often that you couldn’t simply snap your fingers and travel there. Often, the travelling part took more than a dozen finger-clicks – and that was just to get as far as the front gates.

  Once you were there, you didn’t exactly get to take a breather. Because the prison was constantly shifting from one place to another, nausea tended to hit you like a wave as soon as you arrived. I had taken to popping sea-sickness pills every time I had to visit a prisoner. My mother had been visiting the prison for many more years than me, so a sip of water was usually enough to settle her stomach. Although to be honest, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be coming to this place for so many years that the nausea stopped affecting me.

  There were new guards hired since my first visit to Witchfield, and these ones were far friendlier. But whilst the guards no longer tried to clasp power-suppressing shackles around my wrists, the prisoners themselves weren’t quite so pleased to see me. That might have had something to do with the fact that I put a lot of them in there.

  As we walked into the visitors’ room, hundreds of angry faces looked our way.

  ‘Oh look, it’s Wanda Wayfair, the baddest witch in all the world. Come on over here, Wanda. I double dare you. I’ll show you just how bad I can be!’

  The taunt had come from Johnny Goode, a witch who sold illegal potions – including love potions – to humans. Since Minister Plimpton was ousted, I’d finally had the chance to question him on who his supplier was. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t been forthcoming with a name.

  ‘Oh, I know you’re bad, Johnny Goode,’ I said with a sweet smile. ‘That’s why I put you in Witchfield. And it’s also why you’re going to be here for a very long time.’ I took a quick look at his visitor. If I wasn’t mistaken, the woman was a vampire – a vampire who was about ten times more attractive than he was, and who was holding his hand and looking lovingly at his tanned face. Reminder to self: have someone run a blood test on that vampire, because she had to be imbibing a love potion in order to look at Johnny that way.

  ‘He still has his fake tan done!’ I hissed to my mother as we walked past. ‘They’re allowed glamour spells in here?’

  ‘There are certain rewards for good behaviour,’ my mother said with a grimace. ‘You know what they say – reward the good, ignore the bad.’

  ‘Look, I’m all for humane treatment and rehabilitation. But if Johnny Goode is on his best behaviour, he has a reason – and it’s not a good one. I’m going to ask Finn to tell the guards to keep a closer eye on him.’

  ‘Sounds like a sensible move,’ my mother agreed. ‘Look – there’s our favourite person now.’

  We both watched as the ex-Minister was led in, magic-suppressing cuffs secured tightly to her wrists. Criminals were disempowered whilst in Witchfield anyway – there were about a thousand different spells and devices keeping magic under tight control – but with the worst criminals, you could never take too many precautions. Hence the cuffs.

  Unlike Johnny Goode, Justine wasn’t receiving any rewards for good behaviour. Her skin was drawn, her eyes red-rimmed, and her hair was bright and blonde. No, you didn’t read that wrong. Usually, Justine’s hair was a mousey colour. I thought it was natural when I first saw it, but seeing as it was now the same shade of straw-blonde as her (equally horrible) sister’s, I’d begun to realise that the mousey shade had been a glamour. My best guess was that she thought it gave her a more sombre look while she was playing at being a politician.

  As her guards led her to a table, my mother and I took our seats.

  ‘They don’t need to keep me in a cell to punish me,’ said Justine. ‘They just need to stick me in a room with the two of you. That’s about the worst punishment in the world.’

  ‘Happy to see you, too.’ I beamed. ‘I’m not sure if you’re aware of the days passing by, but it’s Winter Solstice tomorrow. How will you be celebrating?’

  She replied with a glower.

  ‘Oh. It’s like that, is it?’ I went on. ‘You poor, poor thing. I hear they’re not even letting you out to see the bonfire in the exercise yard. It’s almost as if they’re treating you like some sort of criminal.’

  She gritted her teeth and looked at the ceiling.

  ‘You know,’ said my mother. ‘If you really do hate these visits so much, there’s a good way to stop them. You know what we want, Justine.’

  She looked down at her chipped fingernails. ‘How’s Aengus?’

  Oh dear goddess, she did not just ask that. I glanced at my mother, and saw that her lips were trembling.

  ‘How dare you ask about my husband,’ she said. ‘You kept him against his will, forced him to believe he was your husband. You are, without a doubt, the most pathetic piece of excrement I have ever had the displeasure to know. But let’s lay your many failings aside for now. You know as well as I do that things have changed. Agatha is in charge of your old department now. A Wayfair. And a Wayfair is always fair. Which means that when I tell you I have her blessing to make a deal with you, you can believe it. We know you used the Dark Team to help you kidnap my husband and carry out your assassinations. Tell us who they are and how to find them, and we’ll have you moved to a nicer cell. One where the mattress is more than an inch thick.’

  Ju
stine sighed. ‘You’re making the wrong offer. Bring Aengus in to see me. Give me some time alone with him. Then I might consider speaking.’

  As my mother went to stand up, I put a hand to her arm, pulling her back into her seat. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to swing at the ex-Minister, but it wasn’t going to get us anywhere. We were supposed to be the ones infuriating her, not the other way around.

  ‘My father’s a bit too busy to come and visit you, I’m afraid. Busy enjoying the holiday season with his beautiful wife, the woman he actually chose to marry. Busy being part of a family again. Busy loving, and being loved.’

  I couldn’t be sure, but I could have sworn I saw a tear forming in Justine’s eyes. ‘I loved him. Everything I did, I did for love. I still love him. I always will.’

  Before my mother could respond, I sat forward. ‘Sure. I always like to make a profit out of the people I love. Force them to make brooms for my factory so I can sell them at a premium. Justine, you don’t know what love is. But you do know all about self-preservation. So take our offer. Let us make things easier on you. Bigger cell. Nicer mattress. Better food. All you have to do is give us some names. Tell us what we want to know. Tell us who the Dark Team are.’

  She looked down at her nails again. ‘I do love Aengus. And he loves me.’

  Just as I was withholding an almighty scream, a loud crash came from the other side of the room. We looked over, and my mouth hung open.

  Will Berry was in the visitors’ room, too. He probably had been sitting across the table from his father, before his father stood up and threw a chair at him. Will took the attack in his stride, righting the chair, and sitting down across from his father once again.

  ‘Interesting interaction, isn’t it?’ said Justine with a smirk. ‘Kilian Berry, turning on his very own son. Now why, I wonder, would he go and do a thing like that?’