by Elle Adams
I crept across the office and carefully locked the door behind me before heading into Rita’s classroom to return the keys to her desk.
Then I left the witches’ headquarters, switched on the levitating boots, and made my way to Ava’s granddaughter’s house. Unlike Mr Falconer’s shop, her house wasn’t warded, and she had only the one wand to defend herself with. I wasn’t looking for a confrontation, but maybe she’d see reason if I told her innocent lives were at stake.
It’d started to rain again when I’d been in the witches’ place. Raindrops dripped off my transparent hands and probably the rest of my body, too. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Anyone who looked at me would a half-drowned ghost.
I switched the boots off at the end of the road, seeing a female figure walking down the path into the forest. Why was Annabel going into the woods in the rain? I turned the boots back on and followed slowly, counting on the trees to hide my presence.
Then I stopped. Annabel stood face to face with an elf—not the one I’d spoken to, but another one. They conversed in whispers, occasionally glancing around, but I’d concealed myself behind a tree. I didn’t hear all the words, but I got the gist. Were relationships between witches and elves allowed? I hadn’t heard otherwise, but given their history, no wonder she’d sneaked into the woods out of sight of the other witches’ houses.
Watching someone else’s private conversation made me distinctly uncomfortable, so I backed slowly away, memorising the elf’s features so I’d recognise him if I ran into him later.
As Annabel turned away to head back home, I swiftly floated back down the path, out of sight of both of them. I could replace my ingredient supplies, but they’d be visible for all to see when I put them in my pocket, and I doubted I’d be allowed unsupervised use of the cauldron for long enough to brew up Invisibility Round Two. And I don’t have long until the exam. Until my fate would be sealed and, if I didn’t play my cards right, I’d be left wandless.
Mr Falconer was in, judging by the light in the single window. Since Annabel had returned home, I hadn’t been able to sneak into her house, and let’s face it, I wouldn’t be sneaking anywhere as long as I kept dripping rainwater wherever I went.
I floated upwards to look through the windows, figuring it’d got dark enough for me not to be spotted. I was sure the answers were inside. If I hadn’t failed so badly at my potion-making attempt, I’d have considered using another one to get him to admit the truth himself, but he was doubtless wise to that kind of trick. The only witnesses were—
Mice.
I dropped to the ground, sure I’d seen a tail disappear under the hedge. Yes. There it is.
“So you did come back here?” I crouched down. “What is it?”
They probably couldn’t even see me. The mice kept running, and I followed, floating down the road—
I nearly fell out of the air.
At the end of the road, there was a body.
I screamed. And kept screaming. There’d be rumours of a screaming ghost for the next week, but never mind that. Mr Falconer was dead.
My feet touched the ground as I backed away and ran to the shop. Leopold might be around, assuming he hadn’t been fired—but the door was locked. I grabbed and pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Blair?” said Nathan’s voice out of thin air beside me.
“Get the police.” My voice shook. “Mr Falconer is dead. Someone killed him.”
He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. I backed away from the door, and abruptly discovered that vomiting transparently did not make it less messy.
Nathan walked towards the body as I pointed without looking in that direction. There was a long pause, then he returned to the shop entrance. “Yes, he’s dead. Someone snapped his neck. Looks like a spell. I wouldn’t let them find you here.”
“They can’t seriously blame me? I don’t even have a wand.”
My mind spun. He’d been an awful person, but he was also the only wand-maker and the last week had hammered home how dependent the town was on him. Even those who hated him.
Who could have done this? The elves? Or—Ava? Surely not. Besides, she was under twenty-four-hour watch and didn’t even have a proper wand. And I’d seen Annabel, so she had a rock-solid alibi. Of course, it was entirely possible someone had decided to kill him now for some other reason than the curse. But my suspicions refused to be buried. After all, I’d come so close to solving the mystery. I’d been almost certain he was partially responsible himself, and now he was gone. Taking any chance I had at catching the person who’d cursed the assistants along with him.
11
The atmosphere at work the next day was subdued to say the least. The problem client—or recurring catastrophe—was finally out of our hair, but he’d left such a void behind that I found myself completely unable to concentrate.
Part of that was because I was still transparent, but this time nobody laughed when I fell out of my seat, dropped the phone or scattered my files. I’d barely slept, and what little sleep I’d managed to get was plagued with nightmares. Not even about Mr Falconer, but about waking up and still being transparent—except actually being a literal ghost this time. On top of that, the mice were still missing, and my exam was tomorrow. Reading over my revision notes was like tipping water through a sieve. If I’d retained any information at all from Rita’s lessons, I really hoped it resurfaced when I sat the exam, otherwise I might as well send the cat in my place.
I’d thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, but I should have known better than to challenge the universe at this point.
“Your phone’s ringing, Blair,” said Bethan, moving a stack of files aside.
I frowned in puzzlement. “It’s not—” Oh. She meant my mobile phone, which I kept in my handbag. I fished it out and saw Alissa was calling me. She never called me at work, since we were both usually run off our feet.
It took me two attempts to hit the answer button. “Alissa?”
“Ava’s granddaughter has been arrested.”
My heart lurched. “No.”
“It’s true. She’s—distraught.” Alissa sounded it, too. “It’s been hard to deal with. They’re rounding up suspects left and right. The man might have been awful, but killing the only wand-maker…”
I’d been too out of it last night and this morning to ask how the rest of the town had reacted, but I’d assumed the people I’d been questioning would be safe from arrest unless they’d done something to implicate themselves. After all, as far as the police knew, Nathan had discovered the body himself. He’d covered for me, so Steve didn’t have me arrested for being near the murder scene. I didn’t even have words to express my gratitude, and yet Annabel was the one person who’d had an alibi.
“Does Steve the Gargoyle believe she did it?” I asked.
“No idea. I’m just passing on what I heard. She got arrested, and there are other names on his list, too.”
“Oh no. What about his apprentice?”
“Wait—you found someone? Before he died?”
“I swear I told you.” The last few days had been so confusing. “Leopold. Mr Falconer was never going to keep him around, but I haven’t seen him since. I guess he was staying in the shop, but—” The door was locked, I wanted to say, but the others in the office didn’t know I’d been there. Only Alissa and Nathan did.
“Sorry, I haven’t heard a word about Leopold. Everyone’s talking about Falconer, though. Why did he not defend himself?”
“He didn’t?” I hadn’t looked close enough to determine the cause of death, since the little I’d seen had given me enough nightmares.
Alissa exhaled. “Apparently not, according to the reports from the crime scene.”
That can’t be right. Those wands of his threw tantrums and spat out sparks when he was angry. How was this possible?
Bethan leaned over and whispered, “The boss is coming.”
“I have to go,” I said, and hung
up.
I hadn’t come to any conclusions about how, exactly, he’d died. That wasn’t my job. But the man had a few thousand wands inside his shop, and he’d been down the road from his own front door when he’d died. How could anyone have got close enough to murder him?
The office door flew inward and Veronica sailed in, wearing a periwinkle-blue suit. “This is quite a dilemma.”
That was one way of putting it.
There were a few murmurs of agreement from the others.
“Our client is dead.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but it was like hearing a quiet declaration from a thunderstorm. Not threatening. Still terrifying. “That will pose problems for us.”
“Why?” asked Bethan. “Clearly it has nothing to do with us. We found him an assistant, same as usual.”
“Precisely.”
“Wait, do people think Leopold did it?” I asked. “He can’t have. He was harmless.” And not even qualified, I added silently. “Of all people, he’s the least likely. He was desperate for a job, and he wouldn’t have killed off his employer.”
“I suppose not,” she said. “I’ve been called to a meeting of the covens while we discuss what to do about the craft of wand-making.”
“You have?” I asked. “The other wand-makers stopped making any wands decades ago, right? Is there anyone else who can take over for him?” Probably not, if they really had all lost their memories fifty years ago.
“That’s what we’re meeting to decide,” she said. “As for you… I’d suggest you all go home, and recuperate. Especially you, Blair.” Her gaze lingered on me for a moment and I held my breath, certain she suspected I was involved. But she left without saying another word.
I wanted nothing more than to go home and bury myself under my bedcovers, but I had less than a day of being almost invisible left, and several potentially innocent people to save. Mr Falconer’s death had completely thrown me off. What would happen to the mice now? Would they stay stuck forever, or would the curse wear off, with its target dead?
Either way, maybe the security on his shop wouldn’t be as stringent now he was gone. Some spells needed the caster to be alive to work, though I was far from an expert on the subject. But maybe the mice could be turned back without having to undo the curse.
Or maybe they’d seen who’d killed him. I doubted the gargoyles would have thought to question a bunch of rodents, unless Nathan had told them.
I walked to Mr Falconer’s shop, relieved it wasn’t raining this time, though mud still streaked the road and made it impossible to hide my footsteps. I approached the door and found my way barred by a strange shimmering line of material, wrapped around the entire shop. Paranormal police tape? This was a bad idea. The mice must still be inside, alone. Someone needed to tell the police they were human.
A hand rested on my transparent shoulder, and Steve the Gargoyle loomed over me. “I knew I’d catch a rat. Or mouse.”
“Don’t kill the mice!” I said, alarmed. “Please don’t.”
“That’s an odd request for someone who’s about to get arrested.”
What? “No. I’m not the killer. I wouldn’t be returning to the murder scene if I was.”
He didn’t let go. “I’m aware you’re not a ghost, Miss Wilkes, but there are some disturbing stories about you going around. You’re coming with me.”
I sat transparently in my cell, my legs aching from the discomfort of the wooden bench, eyes squinting against the darkness. There were lanterns in the corridor, like an old-fashioned dungeon, but nothing within the cell itself, and my imagination kept itself busy conjuring up images things that might be hiding in the corners.
When Steve had brought me to the police station, I hadn’t thought he’d really lock me up without letting me say my piece, but he’d ignored my protests and handed me over to another gargoyle the moment we’d arrived at the jail next to the police station. That gargoyle had led me down a corridor into the dark, and here I was.
I hated dark, cold places. My skin crawled all over, and looking through my own transparent feet made the place even more creepy. Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to ask any questions before throwing me in here. Not even how I’d ended up transparent. If only I’d managed to get that spell right… well, maybe I still wouldn’t have any answers, but at least I wouldn’t be stuck in this horrible cell. It smelled like something had decomposed in here… several times over. I gave up holding my breath because it made me dizzy, and just resigned myself to smelling of this place for a week after I got out.
If I got out.
You’re innocent. They can’t keep you here forever. Not even the notoriously harsh paranormal police. Right?
I had no idea what human police stations looked like, but the paranormal prison was dark and dank, like a dungeon aboveground that hadn’t been cleaned in a few decades. Mould on the walls and floor. Cockroaches in the corner. Maybe I’d be expected to eat them. Not that I was particularly hungry, though I’d been sitting here for hours.
After some indeterminate amount of time, I looked up at the click of a lock as someone unlocked the cell. A gargoyle I didn’t know beckoned me to come out. Like the chief of police, he was a huge brute of a man even in his human form. My sixth sense showed me images of fists like rocks, cruel smiles and wings, and then leapt into overdrive when I left the cell itself. Images of the other prisoners’ paranormal types bombarded me all the way down the corridor, from witches and wizards to goblins and shifters. They watched with fascination as I transparently walked past, tripping over in the dim light several times. The gargoyle glared at me like I was doing it on purpose. I wished I had pretended to be dead. Ghosts couldn’t get arrested. But as accomplished as I was at pretending, I should probably draw the line at faking my own death.
The interrogation chamber was a bright cold room with stone walls. My interrogators were all gargoyles. Four large muscular men witch very serious faces, looking at me as though my transparent state was a personal insult.
“I didn’t kill Mr Falconer,” I said, for the fourth time. “I was at his shop because I was looking for his apprentice.”
Considering how much I’d had to fudge my story to cover up that I’d been spying on him, I was glad to be the only person in the room with an inner lie detector.
Steve the Gargoyle, the biggest, most stony-faced of the lot of them, glared at me. “Most murderers aren’t stupid enough to return to the scene of the crime.”
“I’m not the murderer,” I said. My head throbbed painfully, the bright lights a sharp contrast to the dark cell. “I told you, I was looking for his new assistant. I worried he might have been hurt, too.”
“Which assistant?”
“Leopold. He just started working for Mr Falconer, since I helped him find a job,” I explained. “I hadn’t heard an update so I went to check he hadn’t been hurt.”
“The assistant quit his position that morning. We’ve already questioned him and found he had an alibi. Seems he was at the Laughing Pixie while the murder took place. But nobody can verify where you were.”
“I was on my way to check on him. I was supposed to go there the day before to see how he was getting on, but…” I gestured at my transparent body. “I had an accident while making potions and wasn’t able to. But Mr Falconer was pretty insistent that Leopold wasn’t the man for the job and that I’d need to find him a replacement, immediately.”
“And for that, you killed him?”
“No, I told you I didn’t.” It was like talking to, well, a piece of stone. “I didn’t know Mr Falconer was going to turn up dead. But I can help.”
“No,” Steve said flatly.
One of the other gargoyles cut in. “She did bring us to Mr Bayer’s killer.”
Steve snorted. “Pure luck. She’s not even a proper witch.”
Maybe he wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t his call to make. I wondered if Madame Grey had heard about my arrest yet. “Whatever I am is irrelevant. Except not guilty. Which I’m
not.”
“Nobody could see you, could they?” Steve said. “That’s convenient.”
“You can all see me,” I pointed out. “Who else have you arrested?”
“That,” he said, “is none of your business. It seems to me that you killed him, and then made yourself invisible to cover up the crime?”
“Er, excuse me?” I spluttered. “This was an accident, and I’m transparent, not invisible. It happened two days ago.” The potion also should have worn off by now, which was worrying. Maybe permanent transparency would work in my favour if I was doomed to be jailed for life for a crime I hadn’t committed.
Steve tutted. “Conveniently, we wouldn’t be able to see bloodstains on you in that state.”
I resisted the impulse to sigh. “I didn’t do it.”
“You said he was a problem client.”
“There are a lot of problem clients. I was supposed to be getting a wand from him this weekend. I wouldn’t kill the only wand-maker in town. Wouldn’t kill anyone, in fact. As I said.” My head really hurt, and I kind of felt like I might vomit all over his feet.
“Your track record does you no favours,” he said. “You’ve broken enough of our rules.”
“What?” I said, genuinely shocked. “I’ve never broken any paranormal laws. It’s not illegal that I went to his place yesterday, either. I never thought anyone would kill him. He was going to sell me a wand. I wanted one more than anything. Ask Madame Grey.”
I’d said the magic word. His expression stilled, and he turned to the others. “We’ll make a decision on your case by tomorrow morning,” he said. “For now, you’ll return to your cell.”
“But—” I protested. “I have an important exam tomorrow.”
