I wasn’t exactly an expert on grimoires. I had seen Arnold Albright’s, the one from a TV show called Coven, and now this. This could have been the norm for all I knew.
‘Ah, here’s an easy one we can try. I just need a Seeker Stone.’ He moved to one of his drawers and pulled out a brownish stone. He placed it on his desk, then waved his fingers in the air. A plate filled with creamy pasta appeared, along with a cheese grater. He brought the stone to the grater and, with a teeth-itching sound, he began to grate it all over the pasta.
‘What the–’
Grace laughed huskily and patted my back. ‘It’s all right. You only need to eat one mouthful. A Seeker Stone is used to identify suppressed power. If your power is suppressed, you’ll turn blue.’ Seeing the horror on my face, she laughed again. ‘It fades away in under five minutes. Would I lie to you?’
‘I suppose not,’ I grumbled. ‘But you might take a photo just so you and the others can laugh about this later on.’
She glanced down into her bag and pulled out her mobile phone. ‘Good idea.’ She giggled and placed it back again. ‘Just kidding. Go on. Eat.’
Brent passed the plate my way, and I took the smallest forkful I possibly could. Surprisingly, the dish tasted amazing. After a moment, Grace said, ‘Nothing’s happening yet. Maybe try another bite.’
I dutifully took a much larger portion, and then pulled my compact from my purse. My skin was beginning to take on a faint, bluish tinge. It wasn’t quite the dramatic colour I’d been expecting. ‘I guess I look a little blue,’ I said. ‘But not much. What does that mean?’
Brent gave me a gentle smile. ‘It means you’re like quite a lot of witches. Not too powerful, not too human. You’re … a little bit witchy.’
I was happy enough with that assessment, I supposed. It was a term that seemed to be gaining popularity. But while Brent was smiling at me, Grace had begun to frown.
‘Could the stone be faulty?’ she questioned. ‘Could we try another?’
‘I don’t see any need,’ said Brent. ‘The spell worked exactly as it was supposed to. Even if I did think there was any reason to try again, it wouldn’t be possible. My supplies have been running mysteriously low ever since Malachy started serving this same pasta dish on his new menu. Not that I’ve perused the menu. Much.’ He turned to Grace. ‘Has he asked about me at all?’
Grace stole my trick of looking at her shoes. Hers were a rather fetching shade of yellow, though, and far more elegant than my plain black boots, so at least she wasn’t boring herself.
‘You know Malachy,’ she said. ‘Always the happy man. Who knows what he’s actually thinking?’
‘Indeed.’ Brent pursed his lips. ‘He’s the very happy man when he’s with everyone but me. Well, it’s not like I care. Please don’t tell him I asked. In fact, probably best not to mention me at all if you can manage it.’
Grace gave him a weak smile and made a turn-key motion at her lips, throwing the imaginary key over her shoulder. ‘Sealed safer than the Sword of Sylvia,’ she said. ‘But is there any other revelation spell we could try? I normally wouldn’t push the issue, but I have very good reason to believe that Aisling has more than just a little bit of power.’
While I looked awkwardly away from the exchange, Brent sat down at his desk, tapping his fingers and looking thoughtful.
‘The Seeker Stone has been used for centuries, Grace. Its results are sound.’ He pursed his lips again. ‘There are numerous more powerful revelation spells, but many of them would physically hurt her in the process of proving her power – or lack thereof.’ He tapped his fingers once more. ‘There’s one which might not cause strong physical pain, but it might be … emotional for Aisling. Even if a person isn’t empowered, it tends to open them up in other ways. And depending on the personality of the subject, it can either help or hinder to have a friend in the room.’ He fixed his green eyes on me. ‘Are you a private or outgoing individual, Aisling?’
‘Um, neither,’ I said unsurely.
He nodded. ‘Alone it is. Grace, the last time I left my brother in charge of the shop for this long, one of our customers wound up blowing a hole through our front window and another one burned her own hair. Perhaps you could go downstairs and help him keep an eye on things.’
Grace gave me a quick squeeze. ‘Is that all right with you?’
I nodded wordlessly.
‘Okay. I’ll be back as soon as you’re ready.’
9. The Singing Stone
As soon as Grace left, Brent stood up and began searching through his drawers once more. ‘I just need some amethyst,’ he muttered. ‘Perhaps some turquoise. And obviously the Cloch Amhránaíochta.’
‘The what now?’ I questioned, my voice slightly high-pitched. The first two items had sounded so everyday – almost like the kind of things Heather might have used. ‘Wait … my brain is very slowly translating here. That’s Irish, right? A singing stone?’
‘Exactly,’ Brent confirmed. He gathered up a few stones and came towards me. ‘I shall lay the stones out in a circle,’ he said, gently nudging me into the centre of the floor. ‘There’s no point explaining what’s going to happen. We don’t want you to run away before we’ve even begun, now do we?’
‘Don’t we?’ I squeaked.
He gave me his friendliest smile yet. ‘Trust me.’ He began to lay the stones out around me. At first it seemed like there was just one of each, but then they began to multiply.
‘I merge them down for neater filing,’ he told me.
I watched, fascinated, as the space around me completely filled with brightly coloured stones. Once I was totally encircled, he pulled out the final stone – the Cloch Amhránaíochta. It was a dull shade of black, and it looked more like a shadow than anything else. It was a little scary, to be honest, and I had the sudden notion that I was staring into a black hole. He laid the stone in the circle but, unlike the others, it didn’t multiply. I gave him a look of confusion.
‘The reason will become clear,’ he said. ‘It’s important that you don’t talk from this point on. The Singing Stone will need absolute silence in order to focus on the harmonics.’
Okay. I kept schtum, watching while nothing happened. Then some more nothing. Then some more …
Just as my eyes were closing, I saw the dull black stone lift from the floor. It began to circle directly over the other stones. After three revolutions, it began to dip to one stone after another, hovering momentarily at a few of the stones. There was a noise, faint but high-pitched, making me want to scratch at my ears.
I glanced back at Brent, and for a moment his expression told me nothing. But then his eyes flickered with interest down towards the dull stone. I looked at it, too, and saw that it was on the move again, but in a zig-zag motion now.
I could hear that same pitch, louder than before. It was beginning to do more than just irritate my ears – it felt more like the sound was coming into me. I felt it invade me, felt my nerves begin to scream in the way they did when I was exhausted.
As time passed, the sensation grew stronger, travelling into my organs, into my mind. My chest felt filled to the brim with emotion, but it was nothing compared to the feeling in my stomach. No – not in my stomach. Somewhere else. Somewhere deeper. Somewhere where – if I were the sappy sort – I might start to fancy that my soul lived.
The pitch grew louder, and higher, and made me itch all over. And then … then I felt like I was bursting, opening. The sound travelled into my voice box. My mouth opened. And then I sang. Not my usual caterwauling, but a high, lovely sound. A sound that I could believe the angels actually did make. It filled me and burst out of me all at once, making my chest shake with sobs, making my knees tremble. I sang and sang, in perfect tune with the stone.
Somewhere at the edge of my awareness, I could sense that Brent was growing worried. I saw him point at the stone, and heard him mutter:
‘To master return
The song has been sung.’
/> But the stone sang higher and higher, and I sang along with it. My voice rose and rose, right up until the stone shattered into countless pieces, and I fell to the floor.
‘This is all a bit embarrassing,’ I said, standing up quickly. ‘I seem to have broken your stone. It’s my singing voice. I always used to say it could shatter glass, but I guess it’s so bad it can even shatter stone.’
Brent didn’t reply for a moment. He was too busy staring from the shards to me and back again.
‘I …’ he began after a few seconds.
‘Well, it’s like this …’ he said a moment later.
Finally, he drew himself tall and looked me in the eye. ‘Aisling, we have a really big problem.’
≈
Grace and I sat at Brent’s neat desk, looking at him and waiting for him to speak. Grace had returned a few minutes earlier with chamomile tea for us all, but even though I drank mine straight away, I was not feeling calm.
‘I want to begin by assuring you both that what happens in my office stays in my office,’ Brent said. ‘Unless you’re Malachy, of course. Then it’s perfectly all right for you to tell the world about the time I wore red trousers with a blue shirt.’ He cleared his throat. ‘So are you happy to have a little discussion?’
I looked at Grace, who nodded.
‘Good. Grace, you know how the Cloch Amhránaíochta works. It senses magic or power on a harmonic level. Even the simplest of crystals, it will sing to. But it will always gravitate towards the strongest magic in the room – or, in the case of this spell, within the circle.’ He sighed. ‘But the thing is, I designed this spell so that once the stone has elicited a song from the most powerful object – or person – within the circle, it will return to me.’ He looked pointedly at the shards on the floor.
Grace’s expression was nonplussed. ‘I know how the spell works. But I’ve never seen a stone shattered before.’
Brent scratched his head, looking almost frightened. ‘I haven’t seen it, either. That’s why I’m feeling incredibly worried right now. You saw the effect that the Seeker Stone had on Aisling. She was barely a pale blue, which indicates a very basic power. But to go from that to shattering the Singing Stone? I struggle to think of an explanation. It could be that whoever suppressed Aisling’s power used magic so strong that the Seeker Stone struggled to reveal it, only showing a pale blue hue when she ate a second, much larger helping.’
He sat up and steepled his hands, looking seriously at us both. ‘But whatever the reason, you have to come up with a plan of action. Power that could shatter the Cloch Amhránaíochta is unheard of among witches. Given what Grace said to me, I assume there’s already been one occasion where this power made itself known?’
I nodded mutely, thinking of the force that had sent Arthur flying. I really had done that. Me.
‘Which indicates to me,’ Brent went on, ‘that the suppression is coming to an end. The power will continue to display itself, and it will do so at unexpected times. Perhaps when you’re stressed, Aisling, or afraid. And judging by what I saw today, it is not going to come out in a gentle, controllable wave. It may be more like an explosion.’ He fixed his eyes on mine. ‘We’ll need to find you a teacher. Quickly. Someone who can help you to control things. Otherwise … woe betide anyone who gets in your way.’
≈
I’d already finished my work for the evening edition, so instead of going back to work, Grace dropped me off at the Vander Inn.
‘Criminy,’ I muttered as I searched through my bag. ‘I can’t find my keys and I don’t want to wake Pru and her mother up. Pru was working all last night at some night fair, and Nollaig hosted an all-night poker game.’
Grace glanced into the carpark at the side. ‘Jared’s car isn’t here either. You know what? I think you really need to go and have a lie down, so why don’t I just ring the bell?’
I chewed my lower lip. The one and only time I’d rung the Vander Inn’s doorbell, it had played Row, Row Row Your Boat – my go to song in times of discomfort. What? I never denied I was a weirdo.
As Grace reached out a perfectly manicured finger, I braced myself for the tune. Except … it didn’t come. In fact, it played something entirely different. It sounded like the tune to Cry me a River – the version from the fifties.
‘Huh,’ I said. ‘They must have changed it.’
Grace smiled. ‘I’m guessing it played something rather different for you? That’s because it’s a mind-reading doorbell.’
Oh, dear God. That doorbell knew everything I was thinking? It knew how often I compared Jared’s physique to Dylan Quinn’s?
‘Don’t worry,’ said Grace, clearly noting the look of horror on my face. ‘It has limited capabilities. It can only sense your favourite song.’
‘I wasn’t worried,’ I replied. ‘Oh, and by the way – I’m also a liar.’
As Grace laughed, Pru drew open the door. Her eyes were blinking and sleepy, and she was wearing a bathrobe. Strangely, she also had on full make-up and jewellery.
‘Sorry for waking you. I must have forgotten my keys this morning.’
She pulled me in. ‘You didn’t wake me. My brother did that about five minutes ago.’
Grace patted my hand. ‘I’ll leave you girls to it,’ she said. ‘And Ash – I would tell you to spend the evening resting, but since you’ve already borrowed my best Aurameter, I have a funny feeling I’d be talking to myself.’
≈
Pru led me into the kitchen, where she fiddled about with the coffee pot for a few seconds before giving up and sitting down across from me. ‘Is everything okay? How come you’re home from work early? You’re not sick, are you?’
As Fuzz jumped up onto my lap, I shook my head. ‘Not sick. I just had a funny day. Hey, why did Jared wake you up?’
Pru sighed. ‘He wanted to know what your favourite flowers were. And also if I thought it was too early to buy you jewellery. This date tonight is really happening isn’t it?’ She banged her head against the table. ‘You were the only friend of mine he hadn’t managed to bag. I was so proud of you.’
I stroked Fuzz’s fur, laughing. ‘He hasn’t bagged me. I promised him weeks ago that if I wound up staying in town I’d go out with him. It’ll be a one off, believe me.’
She lifted a perfectly pencilled brow. ‘Sure it will. Listen, I might think that Jared is about the grossest looking guy on the planet, but I’m perfectly aware that other women don’t see him that way. He’ll get around you, somehow. He always does.’ Although she seemed to be joking, I could sense a little angst beneath the mirth. ‘I mean, he saved you from being drowned by that crazy Miriam, didn’t he? Of course you’re going to fancy him. Just … do me a favour?’
I nodded. ‘Anything.’
She looked down at her nails. ‘If it doesn’t work out, don’t start avoiding him. Because, y’know, I live here too. So you’ll also be avoiding me.’
I reached across the table and tilted her chin so she’d have to look at me. ‘I promise you, I’ll never avoid you, Pru. And I’ll even let you read my mind for a short period of time, only so you can see that I mean it.’
She shook her head, trying to laugh off her fears. ‘I’m not going to read your mind. And I’m just being an idiot. To be honest, I’ve never seen my brother go to quite this much effort. If you actually do like him, then you should carry on with the hard to get thing a little longer, because it’s definitely working.’
I wasn’t sure what I felt about that. If playing hard to get was working, then once I stopped playing hard to get, he’d soon lose interest. Which meant that a relationship was never going to be on the cards. Not that I wanted one.
‘What did you say about the flowers?’ I wondered, feeling fearful. I preferred flowers outside, not in vases. Seeing them droop and die made me ridiculously sad.
‘I told him you only like them if they’re growing in gardens.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘You have been reading my mind.’
‘Nope. Just paying attention. Oh, and you probably already know this, but your broom followed you to work again today.’
I sighed. ‘Yeah, I know all about what the strange new additions to my life have been up to.’ I looked pointedly at Fuzz. ‘And that includes you, little guy.’
Fuzz looked up at me with innocent eyes, and purred.
10. A Choir of Angels
As I was walking in through the door to the church hall, I almost collided with the local postman. I’d only seen him briefly in the past, as he threw the Daily Riddler’s letters on Malachy’s desk and then ran off again.
‘You’re the postman,’ I said.
He nodded, and extended a hand. ‘Marius. You work at the newspaper, don’t you?’ He wiped his forehead. ‘God, I’ve never seen anyone get so much fan mail as your puzzle writer.’
I laughed. ‘Yeah, Roarke does seem to inspire some very strong feelings in the folks around here. So … you’re in the choir?’ Well, our conversation so far had been a whole lot of stating the obvious, so I might as well continue the trend.
He nodded again. ‘I’m not the best singer in the world, but I do enjoy the companionship. Of course, my wife hates me coming here. She hates pretty much everything about it – the music, the amount of practise we put in and … well, some other things.’
Hmm, how do you pounce on a dangled carrot? Well, I could give it a good go. Just as I was about to encourage him to tell me more, he spoke over me.
‘The detective came to see me a few minutes back. He was asking about Heather’s mail. He wanted to know what day I’d delivered her electricity and gas bills, and if there had been any other mail along with them. What do you think that was about?’
Well, bugger it anyway. Detective Dreamy – I mean, Dylan – had beaten me to the punch. ‘Oh? And … when did you deliver those bills last? And was there any more post for her that day?’ We hadn’t found an envelope with the love letter, and it was probably hand-delivered, but it didn’t hurt to ask. I also couldn’t ignore the fact that his name began with the letter M.
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