The Violet Countercharm: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 2)

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Those…um…those aren’t bats, right, guys?” The furry, leathery mass was moving all right, and I could only hope they weren’t the blood sucking variety. But, Jet’s bat concern was short lived; trumped by the sight of the wand.

  Carbon’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Is that Chimera’s wand?”

  Onyx nodded. “I haven’t seen that since, since…”

  “Since she passed away.” I finished the thought for him.

  The amorphous light spell sticking to the tip of the ancient wand washed the cellar in a warm, radiant glow.

  “But, boss,” Jet muttered under his breath, hardly believing that the wand was in my hand. “Does this mean…”

  I knew his question. It was the same question that was on each and every one of my present cats’ minds.

  “No. It doesn’t mean that I’m ready to dive into the deep end of the magic pool just yet.”

  Seven sets of furry shoulders slumped. I know it’s The Infiniti’s job to nurture and guide each generation of Opal witch to her magical destiny, and, well, I guess my continued reluctance to fully embrace my heritage meant that…well, to them, it meant they had failed.

  “Well,” Fraidy began. “What does it mean, Hattie?”

  The heavy clink and clang of chains dragged in a darkened recess of the shadows.

  “It means Seraphim Joyvive knows that she’s about to come up against some powerful enemies and she had better have more than Chamomile tea to defend herself.” A raspy voice cracked and heaved, breath wavering, then faltering.

  “Holy Himalayas! Who…what…is that?!?” The cry of alarm was from Fraidy, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that all seven cats clutched to me as they tried to identify the owner of the brittle voice.

  I turned the illuminated wand in the general direction of the sound.

  It was none other than Portia Fearwyn, dirty and huddled against a cobbled wall. She looked even gaunter than usual, her cheeks sunken and emaciated. Her eyes were red and bloodshot like she’d not slept in the last forty-eight hours. She didn’t resemble the formidable, powerful Gloomy Arts practitioner that had come to be feared and avoided. Rather, she looked like a spent, haggard old woman, ready for Midnight Hill’s Retirement Ward. Her typically stern features tempered by an emotion I’d never known Portia to be capable of.

  Fear.

  Her thin, bony wrists were hanging from the iron shackles bolted into the wall behind her. I guess now we knew why she had missed her delivery to Verdantia’s. I scrambled to her side, wiping some of the dirt from her face, and looking for the key to release her. I noticed then, in the light of the Apple Wand, two towering steel doors built into the wall adjacent to Portia. There were no handles, no locks, no other regular-door accoutrements. Where the doors met in the middle, the gap between them was barely perceptible, the doors’ pristine edges met so perfectly. A thin wisp of steam, or fog was curling out of the barest of gaps at the bottom of the imposing portals. I thought that this cellar was a guarded secret. These two imposing steel doors were like a secret wrapped in a secret.

  What the Tartarus?

  I turned my attention back to the clearly stricken lady of the house.

  “Who did this to you, Portia? Was it the same person who tossed Shade down the stairs?”

  “Oh, no,” Portia shook her head. “You completely misunderstand the situation.”

  I paused. “I don’t get it.”

  “No one did this to me. No one else locked me up. I,” she paused. “I did this to myself.”

  16

  A Purr-fect Mess

  “Blast! I'm a screwy rat. Blast! I'm a screwy rat. Blast! I'm a screwy rat!” Fraidy had been pacing nervously since we had gotten back to The Angel Apothecary with Portia. Dead Spithilda's nonsensical blurb from the kitchen seance had become the anxious cat’s mantra as he paced back and forth across the floor. Millie had abandoned her post assembling the shop’s Ghent display sign to help prepare a calendula ointment for the raw, angry welts on Portia’s wrists. We might have been able to do it at Portia’s, but her attacker had destroyed her herbal stores once Portia was a prisoner in the basement. And if there were any hope of Portia creating a Fae ointment, she would need the stores in my shop.

  CALENDULA SALVE

  1/4 cup dried calendula petals

  1/2 cup of extra virgin olive oil

  2 tablespoons of beeswax

  15 drops of chamomile essential oil

  10 drops of lavender essential oil

  Heat calendula petals and olive oil in a crockpot or slow cooker on low for approximately 2 hours.

  Pour the oil and calendula flowers very, very slowly through a piece of cheesecloth secured to the top of a glass measuring jug or similar. Fasten the cheesecloth with an elastic band. Pouring slowly will limit the possibility of overflowing hot oil.

  Pour the freshly strained oil into a heavy saucepan. Grate in the beeswax and heat the mixture on low until the wax has melted. Let the mixture cool for about 10 minutes and then add the essential oil. While the mixture is still fluid, empty into clean, small glass jars (amber or cobalt) and allow to cool. Once cooled, cap the jar, and keep refrigerated for up to one year. An excellent salve for rashes, skin irritations, cuts, burns, grazes. Also, perfect for baby -- but, if making for your little one, then limit the essential oil to 10 drops.

  As I dabbed a bit of the healing salve on an unusually swollen section of abraded skin, I felt compelled to ask Portia what exactly had happened. “So, you locked yourself in the shackles?”

  “Not just any shackles, Hattie. Iron chains.” I bandaged the wounds on her hands, and she rubbed them gingerly. “Thank you., that feels much better already.”

  “Iron is one of the few ways to ward against the Fae. I shackled myself in the irons for protection.”

  “P-p-protection?” Fraidy stammered. “Blast! I’m a screwy rat. Blast! I’m a screwy rat.”

  Scaredy Pants went back to chanting his mantra.

  She gestured to Grammy Chimera’s wand, which was nosing out of the pocket of my cloak. “You must have suspected that there was Fae magic at work in Gless Inlet, Hattie, or you would never have accessed the ancient magic in Chimera’s old apple wand.”

  I pulled the wand out, letting it lie flat against the open palms of my hand. It was long, as wands go, measuring nearly fourteen inches in length. Portia wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t bothered looking at Grammy Chimera’s old wand for years before today.

  “I don’t know why I dug up this old thing. I haven’t seen it since…that night. The fire caught so fast.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Carbon swore solemnly. Onyx shot him a stern look. Now was not the time.

  “I know you didn’t Carbon. Truth is…nobody knows exactly how it did start.” I sat on a nearby stool. My brow furrowed with the pain of remembering. “I don’t recall everything about that night. But, I remember the fire. It wasn’t like any fire I had ever seen. Some of the flames? They glowed a strange blue and green. Not like any flame I was familiar with. You expect flames to be hot, right?”

  Millie, who had only ever heard bits and pieces of my childhood nightmare, sat riveted on the chair next to Portia.

  I shook my head. “The flames were ice cold.”

  Millie sat bolt upright. “No!”

  I nodded. “Colder than ice. But, they burned enough like the real deal. Half the house was already up in flames when…when…” I stumbled, nearly choking on the memory. Onyx placed a steadying paw on my arm. I patted his head gratefully. I hauled in a deep breath and continued. “Half the house was already gone when Dad grabbed me and rushed me outside. I didn’t want him to leave me all alone, but he had to rush back in and save mom. The flames had engulfed the house almost entirely. I waited. I waited for him to come back out with my mother.”

  The weight of the sadness pulled my eyes down to the floor. “I waited. But they never came back out.”

  I willed my vocal cords to work. “My parents had started my magical
training well before that night. I was pretty good at it, too. Dad said I was a natural. That he’d never seen someone as quick and adept at mastering magic. Because of it, he had started to show me some of the more complex spells, like 'Diluvium.' You know, the deluge spell? But I could never quite get the hang of it. If I had just been able to call up the spell right? I would have had all the water I’d have needed to put out the fire.”

  The tears pricked like burning needles as they threatened to soak my cheeks. It was as if the entire night was playing out again, right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop the flood of painful memories.

  “I couldn’t…I just…”

  “Trust me, my dear,” Portia said. “There was nothing you could have done.”

  People had been telling me that my entire life. Handing me platitudes in the hope that, somehow, that would make me feel better,

  You were just a kid.

  It wasn’t your fault.

  There was nothing you could have done.

  “Hat, that’s really something awful!” Millie offered. A tear had formed in her own eye, but it quickly gave way to unbridled curiosity. “But, what kind of fire burns blue and green…and is cold?”

  “Foxfire,” Portia stated. “Otherwise known as ‘Faery Fire.' And that is why there was nothing your Dilivium spell could have done to quench the flames. Your magic did not fail, Hattie. It was just the wrong kind of magic.”

  “What? What are you talking about, Portia?”

  “Where was your Grandmother? Where was Chimera when this tragedy occurred?”

  “My mind was reeling. “Um, I don’t know.”

  “Think!” Portia slammed an injured hand on the tabletop, the import of her query overriding whatever pain she may have felt. “Think, Hattie. Where…was…Chimera?”

  “I-I-I’m not sure. Grammy Chimera was always off, somewhere in the Isles, looking for unique items for the shop, building business partnerships.”

  “Partnerships that some would rather dissolve. No matter the costs,” Portia intoned morbidly. “The tragedy that befell you and your parents was no accident, Hattie. Those responsible were after something that Chimera was protecting. And, Chimera couldn't be with you at the time of the fire, because she was busy being warden.”

  “What? Grammy Chimera never had anything dangerous around the shop. And certainly not at my parents’ home. What was so important that someone would be willing to kill for?”

  “A weapon.”

  I burst out laughing, part in incredulity, partly in fear.

  “Do you know what kind of wood your grandmother’s wand is fashioned from?”

  “Apple,” I answered. I felt a little like I was back in grade school and Portia was the austere school marm at the head of the class.

  “Yes. The wood favored by the Fae. It is not often a wand is fashioned from the wood of an apple tree. When the Fae allow it, it is indeed for a special person, if not for a special purpose. Hattie, wherever that wand was crafted, and whenever it was crafted, Chimera knew that it was very old and very special. She didn't know why the Fae wanted their hands on it so badly, but that wand somehow fell into Chimera's hands, and believe you me that was no accident.”

  “So, it was meant for my grandmother?” I concluded.

  Portia clucked her tongue. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. One is never certain when dealing with the Fae.”

  Whatever that means.

  “Look at the symbols on Chimera’s wand, Hattie. What do you see?”

  I let my eyes rove over the delicate carvings that covered the wand in my hands. The first symbol looked a little like a succession of triquetra symbols, layered and rotated to form a petal pattern. In the center was a cobalt blue, seven-pointed star. I couldn’t understand the runic writing across the top.

  “Futhark. The writing of the Fae,” Portia explained, noting the confusion on my face. “Loosely translated it means: ‘Two Worlds, One Earth, One Hope.’ It’s the Fae flag. To display that symbol shows that you are a friend to the Fae and goes a long way to paving the roads of communication with their kind. They are not always the easiest to talk to.”

  “Tell that to Verdantia,” I muttered absentmindedly.

  “Yes, well, Verdantia is certainly an exception to the rule. Are there any other symbols on the wand?”

  “A Celtic knot in the form of a heart that’s inside another heart?” I offered.

  “Love and friendship. The bearer of such a symbol will learn that two hearts can indeed become one.”

  “Trew,” Jet sniggered. Onyx popped him.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Jet. I think that ship has sailed. David got pretty angry with me at the station yesterday. I’ve never seen him quite that upset. Not to mention, he’s sort of interested in someone else right now.”

  “Who? Amber?” Shade scoffed. “Look, I like ladies as much as the next cat, but that gal’s got nothing on you, boss lady. Don’t worry, doll. Pretty soon, Chief Trew-Love will shake himself out whatever spell he’s under and realize how he really feels about you.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to say, but I just don’t think it’s going to happen.” I turned my attention back to the wand. What’s this symbol with the two intertwined swans mean, Miss Fearwyn? This one with two crossed lances in the center. It looks like they’re tipped with arrows?”

  “Protection of the sacred center. Each bird watches the other’s back. It is a reminder to find your center. Find that thing deep inside that makes you…well, you. And, no matter what may try to turn you from your path, whoever might try to turn your head, stay true. Protect your center at all costs. And only keep those around you who will help you in that quest. Those who, like the birds, will watch your back.

  I may not always have agreed with Chimera on all points of life, but we both recognized the power of that wand in the right hands.”

  As I turned the polished wand over in my hands, it occurred to me I was truly oblivious to my own history. I had had no idea that Grammy Chimera had had a relationship with the Fae. And I certainly had no clue that there were some members of the same civilization that may have been responsible for my parents’ death.

  “All these years I’ve held myself responsible for my parents’ deaths, thinking that my magic failed me. That I had failed…them. But, if this wand is so powerful, why couldn’t Chimera have used it to save them. Why couldn’t she have stopped what happened?”

  “The Apple Wand, Uirgae Malum, is, indeed, a powerful tool in the hands of an accomplished and worthy witch. However, true to their nature, nothing is quite as it seems with the Fae. They who graced Chimera with the wand inscribed those five symbols to ensure that she, or any who would wield its power, were truly worthy. Challenges, if you will. As the bearer passes each successive test, they can access more of the power the wand is capable of wielding. The Fae believed, that in passing all of the tests, a human could prove that, as a race, we were capable of enlightenment and worthy enough to participate in the world we live in. Or at least not be struck from its face.”

  “So, it was like a, uh….pass or fail kinda thing?” Midnight asked.

  “Man, this is exactly why I hated school,” Fraidy moaned. “You passed? Great. You failed…complete annihilation.”

  “Like the tests they used at the start of Warlock Wars,” I gulped audibly.

  Portia nodded gravely. “Yes. Very much like the Warlock Wars tests.”

  “And, so my grandmother hadn't passed all five That's why she couldn't counteract that fiery magic?”

  “Sadly, no. Chimera was a powerful witch, nearly more powerful than me, but not all the secrets of the Uirgae Malum revealed themselves to her.”

  There were three more symbols carved into the wood of the wand. I was just about to ask Portia for further explanation when a sudden scattering clash echoed through the small shop. Hundreds of white, vinyl letters from Millie’s display sign skittered across the floor, along with the actual sign itself.
/>   Millie leaped to her feet. “JET!!!”

  As Millie went for the water bottle, Jet’s four paws tread uselessly through the remaining letters on the counter before they finally gained traction on a sticky note. He used the momentary grip to catapult himself onto the floor, across the shop, up the shelves, dodging Millie’s wild aim the whole way.

  I came into the shop and reached down to pick up the sticky note that had drifted to the floor. It was the cryptic message passed along by the ghostly Spithilda, the same crazy mantra Fraidy had been repeating all night.

  Blast! Im a screwy rat.

  It hadn’t made sense then. It certainly didn’t make sense now. Besides, my head was now swarming with other, more pressing matters. Like how it now seemed that Spithilda’s murder was small change when compared to a possible massive conspiracy to reignite the holy terrors that were The Warlock Wars. Could the two be connected at all?

  But, I was no closer to finding out who had killed her. I sighed and started to pick up all the loose letters that Jet had scattered from Millie's painstakingly made sign.

  “Jet, if you have no other magical ability, you have an incredible talent for making a mess,” I grumbled. I picked up the sign. “See? You’ve got poor Millie’s letters all out of order now.”

  “I catch him, and I’m gonna put him outta order!” Millie growled as she ran after my quickest kitty.

  And that’s when the lightbulb went off.

  Out of order.

  I looked at the sticky note with the gobbledygook words that Spithilda had communicated to us. Maybe she wasn't as bat-ship crazy as we had originally thought. Midnight had warned us that new spirits had trouble communicating.

  “Midnight?” I questioned quickly. “Is it possible that Spithilda did tell us the name of her murderer? That she gave us all the info we needed? It was just out of order?”

  “And that is why you are the real reigning queen of our little troupe, Hat. Why didn’t I think of that?”