Night of the Dark Horse (An Allegra Fairweather Mystery)

by Janni Nell

  “Hey, what’re you doing?” Padraig yelled. “Stop—thief!”

  I rose to my feet, shoe in hand.

  “You,” he shrieked. “I might have known. Give that back.”

  “Yeah, yeah in a minute. First I want some answers. Do you know a pureblood Fae named Sharina Levara?”

  He reacted as though I’d slapped his face, then totally surprised me by saying, “No.”

  “Padraig, Padraig, Padraig.” I wagged a finger at him. “You could just be the worst liar I’ve ever met. Come clean.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  I lifted the shoe into a stream of sunbeams, admiring the way the glass-plastic, which was soft as silk, reflected rainbows of light. “Great workmanship. You’re a real talent, Padraig. I guess you’re making this for someone special. It’d be a real shame if it got stretched out of shape.”

  “Don’t ye dare. Give it back.” He snatched at the shoe, but I held it high out of his reach.

  “Not so fast. I want an answer. Did you have an affair with Sharina Levara?”

  “O’ course not,” he spluttered. “That would be...would be...” He struggled to find a word bad enough to describe what I was suggesting.

  “Okay, I get it, an affair is impossible. But maybe you and Sharina had a—oh, I don’t know—a brief liaison?”

  “No,” he snapped.

  “A one night stand?”

  “I never touched her.”

  “But you do know her.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  He snatched at my hand again. “Give me the shoe. Sure, it’s no use to ye, even if ye had its mate. The pair was made for fairy feet.”

  It was clear, even to me, that my size ten foot would never fit into to something that was barely a size six. But he wasn’t getting it back until I learned the truth.

  I looked from him to the shoe and faked an expression of longing. Not easy since I was probably the only woman in the world who didn’t have a thing for shoes. I owned about three pairs total. All flats. The only way I could summon a suitably longing expression was to think about Casper. And this time there was nothing fake about it.

  “I’d like to wear something like this just once.” I untied my running shoe and prepared to jam my too-large foot into the tiny pump.

  “Noooo,” screamed Padraig.

  I stopped, toe poised to dive into the shoe. “Tell me how you know Sharina Levara.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “That’s a shame.” I slipped my toes into the shoe, not far enough to do any serious damage, but far enough to drain the color from Padraig’s ruddy face. “You recognized her name. I know you did.”

  “Sure, o’ course I recognized it. Levara is the name o’ the Fae royal family. Everyone knows that. The shoe you’re defiling is for Princess Perfecta Levara.”

  I admired the shoe again. “The princess will love it. Providing it doesn’t get stretched or anything.” I slid my foot deeper. The glass-plastic made weird little noises as though it was protesting.

  Tears welled in Padraig’s emerald eyes. “I swear on the life o’ me sainted mother, I don’t know Sharina Levara. In any sense of the word.”

  Hmm. I wanted him to be lying, but my gut screamed that he was telling the truth. Looked like he wasn’t a candidate for Pooka Dad of the Year. Reluctantly I removed my foot from the shoe. Padraig collapsed with relief. But he wasn’t getting it back just yet. I wanted answers and clearly I needed leverage to get anything out of him. Even if he wasn’t the pooka’s dad, he might be of some help.

  “Why would a fairy be banished from Fairyland?” I asked.

  He seemed surprised by the question, but, keeping one eye on Princess Perfecta’s shoe, he didn’t hesitate to answer. “For committin’ a crime, obviously.”

  I ignored his snarky tone. “What crime?”

  “How should I know? Ask a pureblood. They aren’t like humans. They don’t air their dirty laundry on CNN. Oh yes, I’ve seen television. Through the windows in Dingaleen. The purebloods wouldn’t discuss a banishment. Not amongst themselves and most definitely not with outsiders.”

  “You must’ve heard stuff on the grapevine. A whisper of something?” My foot hovered over the shoe.

  He sighed. “Don’t quote me on this. Rumor has it that the usual reason for banishment is breaking the Fae Code of Honor.”

  “You mean like murdering another pureblood?”

  “Sure, that would fit the criteria, but so would other things.”

  “Such as?”

  He folded his arms. “I don’t know anything else. You’d have to ask a pureblood.”

  Fat chance of that. The border of Fairyland was sealed. Anyway, I didn’t think I’d get much more out of him, not even if I crammed my foot all the way into the shoe. When I handed it back, he cradled it as though it was the fricking Precious.

  He shot me a venomous glance. “What are ye starin’ at? Go away.”

  Might as well. There was nothing to hang around for. Unless he felt like giving me a few more wishes. Nope, didn’t think so.

  I waved. “Have a nice day.”

  He grunted and blew a cloud of green smoke. When it cleared, the workbench, the shoes and Padraig had disappeared.

  I headed back to Ronan’s. The place was silent as the proverbial morgue. In Ronan’s room I checked the bump under the covers and even took his pulse to make sure he was still alive. Just barely. Next I headed to my room to check on Casper. I was too late. The bed was empty.

  Where was he? Had he suddenly become too weak to remain with me? Had the Powers-That-Be taken him and refused to let him say goodbye?

  “Casper?” His name fell into the empty silence.

  Ah crap. I picked up a discarded shoe and flung it at the wall. It connected with a satisfying thump. That woke things up a bit. First I heard Ronan stagger to the bathroom. Then my phone blasted the opening notes of Barry Manilow’s Copacabana.

  “Hello.”

  “Where the heck are you?” Wanda said.

  “In Ireland. Where the heck should I be?”

  “Dublin Airport. Did you forget we were arriving today?”

  “No, of course, not.” I had so forgotten. “I’ll be there within the hour.” Okay, maybe that was a tad optimistic, but I’d already hung up and was racing out to Ronan’s car.

  I didn’t ask how long Wanda and Mac had been waiting for me, I just bundled their bags into the car and drove south. Wanda chattered non-stop about the excitement of attending her first Witches and Wizards conference. Her only regret was leaving her familiar, Buttercup, at home. The cow would have been a challenge to transport on a plane even if Wanda had mastered a spell to make her invisible to flight attendants.

  “Mac is so lucky she has a small familiar,” Wanda said wistfully. Mac’s familiar, Orlando, was a spider, who had a nasty habit of crawling up women’s legs.

  “No, in-flight incidents with him?” I asked.

  “Just one with a supermodel, but Mac used a spell to convince her she’d dreamed a spider had run up her leg.” In the rearview mirror, I saw Orlando perched on Mac’s shoulder, peeping out from beneath her hair. He even managed to look innocent.

  Mac met my eyes in the mirror. “You’ve missed the turnoff.”

  Yikes, better concentrate on the road. I screeched into a U-turn, sped back the way we’d come and took a hard left, continuing down a private road until we reached a pair of electric gates.

  After being cleared to pass through, I drove down a tree-lined avenue to the site of the Witches and Wizards conference. Perhaps site is the wrong word since it implies an open field and tents. The event was being held in a medieval castle. Scaffolding propped up much of the west wing, but restoration of the east wing was complete and conference delegates would be housed there. The owner of the castle, J.J. Flanagan, was a writer not a wizard. He probably didn’t even know his Aunt Hazel was a witch. Or that she was hosting the Witches’ a
nd Wizards’ conference at his place. J.J. was currently holed up on a friend’s Caribbean island finishing his latest thriller. Most people would envy him. I didn’t. Not even if he was earning squillions, which, by the look of the castle, he was. The prospect of being chained to a computer for lengthy periods didn’t appeal to me. I’m an action girl.

  I’d have preferred to drop Wanda and Mac and rush straight back to Dingaleen and Casper—wherever he was—but Wanda begged me not to leave immediately. We hadn’t seen one another in six months and we were BFF. I stayed, telling myself that if the Powers-That-Be had summoned Casper for the final trip upstairs, there was nothing I could do to bring him back.

  Wanda and I headed for the great hall, where urns had been set up for coffee and tea—quite literally witches’ brews since they were kept hot and strong by magic. I’d never understood the charm of castles. Drafty, damp and cold even in summer, and the décor of the great hall wasn’t helping any. Apparently gloomy was the new black. Amongst the depressing color scheme of crimson and bottle green lurked the heads of dead stags, who stared at us with mournful eyes. At one end the huge fireplace remained unlit, which was a mistake in a room that seemed to shun sunlight. Even the plaster cherubs on the wall above the fireplace looked as though they’d rather be somewhere else. Wanda is the only person whose small talk doesn’t remind me of nails on a blackboard. I actually listened as she babbled about the flight across the Atlantic, the conference workshops she planned to attend, and her last date-from-hell with a pro athlete.

  “So,” Wanda said, when she’d finally exhausted her own news, “how are things with you? Have you solved the mystery of the pooka?”

  “You might be able to help with that. Could you turn the pooka into a My Little Pony?”

  Wanda smiled.

  “I was serious.”

  “Sure,” she said, and smiled again. “Do you know why it’s messing around in Dingaleen?”

  “I have a few leads—looks like there’s a pureblood Fae involved. I found her grave in the woods. The inscription on the headstone was in the fairy language.”

  “Not possible,” said Wanda. “A pureblood wouldn’t be buried outside—”

  “I know, I know, but it’s true. I dug up the body to be sure.”

  “Ew.” Wanda crinkled her cute upturned nose.

  “It wasn’t so bad. Did you know Fae dead bodies smell just like...” I named Mom’s favorite perfume.

  “No way.” Wanda giggled. “Better not tell her that.”

  I gave an evil grin. Wanda giggled harder.

  Then I got serious. “I’m thinking Sharina was buried outside Fairyland because she broke a Fae Law and was banished. It would help to know the laws she might have broken.”

  “The Fae are really secretive about their laws. You’d need to talk to an expert.”

  “Got anyone in mind?”

  “Even if I knew someone, it wouldn’t help. All the experts are in Fairyland and the border is sealed. Still, you seem to have a way of doing the impossible. If you do find a way into Fairyland let me know. I’d love to see the place.”

  That was all I needed. A witch entering Fairyland would set paranormal relations back centuries. Desperate to change the subject, I looked around for inspiration and noticed a wizard hovering nearby. His bright greenish-blue eyes reminded me of the mermen I’d met on an island near Tahiti. Was he eavesdropping on our conversation?

  “Hey, Wanda,” I whispered, “who’s the creepy guy? Twelve o’clock. Tall, slim, dark hair. Pointy nose.”

  Somehow Wanda managed a discrete glance. Her face paled when she saw who it was. “Shh. He’s a wizard of the First Rank.”

  Wanda’s mentor, Mac, was only Second Rank, which didn’t mean she was second rate. Mac had worked long and hard for her title and she deserved it. I’d hate to have to go through W&W as they called Witches and Wizards training. Mac and Wanda were braver than I was.

  Keeping my voice low, I said, “He might be First Rank, but he seems very interested in us lowly unranked persons. Oh wait, he’s not eavesdropping on us, he’s checking you out.”

  Wanda’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “He wouldn’t be interested in me.”

  “Oh, he wants you bad.”

  “Stop it,” she giggled.

  “You’re not interested?” I asked innocently.

  “He’s a wizard of the First Rank for Pete’s sake. And he’s...” Their eyes met across the crowded room. A chubby cherub detached itself from the wall above the fireplace, released a couple of arrows and froze back in place. Wanda touched her chest. “...actually, he’s kind of cute.”

  The guy did nothing for me, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Wanda and I had totally different taste in men. Being the good friend that I am, I decided to help her out a little.

  “Want me to introduce you?”

  Her eyes were round as puff-ball sprites. “Do you know him?”

  “I will in about five seconds.” Leaving Wanda opened mouthed I headed toward the wizard. A few minutes later he and Wanda were in conversation. My work here is done.

  As I headed out of the great hall, I sensed someone watching me from across the room. An older guy with a long beard and flowing gray hair, who looked like a middle-aged Gandalf. He seemed kind of familiar, which was weird since I don’t know many wizards. When I started to make my way toward him, intending to find out who he was, he immediately turned away and melted into the crowd. Trying to avoid me? My curiosity, which had been mildly piqued, ramped up. I took off after him.

  More than once I had to shove a witch or wizard out of the way. It was a miracle I got out of there without someone casting a spell on me. Gandalf reached the opposite side of the great hall and exited through a stone archway. I bolted after him and ended up in a dimly lit corridor. Electric lights that mimicked flaming torches lined the narrow thoroughfare. A few people strolled or hurried along, some heading for the great hall, others going deeper into the castle. I searched the faces, but Gandalf wasn’t among them. Had he gone right or left? I chose left and ran along the corridor past the open doors of a library and a sitting room before I reached the enormous kitchen with its team of caterers.

  “Did anyone see a guy?” I yelled over the clatter of pots and pans. “Middle-aged, gray beard, long hair, looked a bit like Gandalf?”

  A guy who seemed to be in charge put down the spoon he was using to taste the sauces bubbling on the stove. “The guy looked like Gandalf? Is this a joke?”

  “No. I need to talk to him.”

  “Well, if you’re referring to a real man, he hasn’t been in here.”

  I waited a beat in case any of the other workers contradicted him. When no one did, I left the kitchen and headed down the corridor in the opposite direction. I didn’t have much hope of finding him, but I went all the way to the end, which culminated in a kind of conservatory. Three witches were huddled around a copy of Witches’ Digest featuring an article that claimed to reveal the love spell Angelina had used on Brad. Yeah, like she needed a spell.

  I asked the witches whether they’d seen Gandalf.

  “Yes, I have seen this wizard,” said the oldest witch in a European accent I couldn’t place. “I do not know his name.”

  “Oh sugar,” said the blonde witch. “Ah know the guy you mean. His name is...something with an H—”

  “Did he come through here?” I asked.

  The old witch said to the blonde, “Was his name Howard?”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “Never mind the name,” I said. “Which way did he go?”

  Ignoring me, the third witch joined their game of Name that Wizard. “Henry?”

  “Ah don’t think so. Ah think it was a movie star’s name.”

  “Hugh?” said the old witch.

  “Hey—time out,” I yelled. “I don’t care what his fricking name is. Which way did he go?”

  “He hasn’t been in here, sugar. We’ve just seen him around the castle. Right, ladies?�
�� The others nodded.

  I swallowed my anger. You don’t yell at three witches for wasting your time. Not if you want to avoid a lifelong curse anyway.

  As I headed out of the conservatory, the blonde called after me. “Hey sugar, Ah’ve remembered the name. Harrison.”

  I froze. No, it can’t be him. Impossible. He’s not a wizard. Anyway he looked nothing like... My cell phone began to ring. I yanked it from my pocket.

  “What?” I yelled.

  It wasn’t good news. The pooka had struck again and this time Casper had been called to ride. Payback for disturbing Sharina’s grave. My fault. And Casper had paid the price.

  Chapter Nine

  Casper had been taken to Dr. Gallagher’s house. I screeched to a stop outside, vaulted over the garden wall and hammered on the doc’s door. Mrs. Gallagher let me in and took me to a bedroom. Dr. Gallagher sat at Casper’s bedside, taking his pulse.

  I was frantic with worry, but the doc merely regarded me with kind eyes and kept doing what he was doing. When he was satisfied with his patient’s condition, he stood up and headed for the door. He closed it behind him, giving us privacy.

  Ignoring the bruises and scratches on Casper’s face, I said, “Are you crazy? Why did you ride?”

  His expression said, Dumb question, Allegra. What he actually said was, “To avoid further destruction.”

  “Who did the pooka threaten this time?”

  “Liam O’Reilly.”

  “Crap. This is the first time he’s threatened a kid.”

  “It’s also the first time he’s called someone to ride during the day.”

  In criminal terms, the pooka was escalating. “Tell me what happened.”

  “There was a freak storm. I was in the woods with Liam.”

  “Why? Liam can’t help with the case. We’d already established that he’s not the pooka.”

  “It’s not all about the case, Allegra. We were looking for bird’s nests.”