6.Frozen Stare
I tried not to grin like a child who’s just been told that everything in the sweet shop is free. But it was hard to play it cool when Christine was taking the most amazing ice-tray out of the freezer.
‘She doesn’t even need to keep them in the freezer,’ Melissa told me with a roll of her eyes. ‘Mam could freeze an entire desert if she wanted to. She just keeps them in ice-cube trays because she thinks it’s funny.’
‘It is funny,’ Christine countered.
‘Yeah. Hilarious.’ Melissa looked at me. ‘Whatever you do, do not put the wrong ice-cube in your drink. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘If you want to be a Wayfair, then you’d better be vigilant.’ Christine gave her daughter a wicked grin. ‘I’m just making sure you always keep your eye on the details. Anyway … I call these my Frozen Stares. Envisioning is, unfortunately, an imperfect art. And where there are this many attacks so close together, it’s even more difficult to see everything. I have no visions of Connor Cramer or Adeline Albright, unfortunately.’
I recalled both names from In Dublin’s Scare City. ‘Connor was the guy who was attacked with the candlestick, and Adeline was the one who got away, right?’
‘Connor’s candles were amazing,’ said my mother. ‘He’ll be missed. Luckily, poor Adeline managed to escape her attacker. She’s librarian at Crooked College, and a pretty important chronicler to boot.’
The sections in the ice-cube tray were formed into snowflakes. After examining the tray a moment, Christine popped out the one she needed and took it to the scrying bowl. As the Frozen Stare melted in the water, a vision appeared.
It was the sitting room of the house across the road from my old one. Susanne Clemens sat on the couch next to a young, chubby male witch.
‘That’s Eoin,’ Melissa said sadly.
I recognised him, just vaguely. I’d seen him go in and out of the house, though I’d never paid him much attention. I never would have guessed he was a witch. But then, I didn’t have the power to sense such things. Now, looking at the vision of the two of them together, contentedly watching TV, I had the sudden sense of knowing. I knew he was a witch in the same way I knew Susanne was not. There was a certain tingle I felt when looking at poor, deceased Eoin, as though I could feel his power, even though I was merely looking at him via a vision.
As we watched, Susanne began to scratch her ear furiously. A moment later, her eyes grew cloudy. She drained the last of the bottle she’d been drinking from – my stomach churned when I saw that it was, as I feared, a bottle of Berry Good Go Juice – and then turned to look at her boyfriend with a dazed look in her eyes. She plonked the empty bottle onto the table next to her, picked up a crystal vase filled with flowers, and smashed it over Eoin’s head.
Ice-cube after ice-cube revealed the same as the Frozen Stare of Eoin’s murder. In every single vision, there was a bottle of Berry Good Go Juice. Either in the hands of the attacker, or close-by. Very few of the victims managed to get away. Unfortunately, Christine didn’t have visions of all of the attacks, but what she did have painted a very suspicious picture.
‘Well.’ Melissa shrugged her shoulders. ‘I suppose it could be a coincidence. The stuff is popular. Everyone’s drinking it these days. I mean, have you tasted it?’
‘I certainly have,’ my mother growled. ‘And I tell you this much. Delicious though it may be, none of us will be drinking it after this.’ She looked at me. ‘Now, technically, we’re not supposed to be looking at these murder scenes. None of us. The Wyrd Court are investigating. Justine Plimpton – the Minister for Magical Law – she says that because it’s humans carrying out the killings, it’s nothing to do with the Wayfairs.’
‘We’ve put in a gazillion requests, but Justine’s department insists that we have to stick to witches,’ Melissa added, passing me a glass of orange juice. It warmed me that she remembered it was my favourite drink. ‘But we think they just want to phase out Wayfairs altogether, so their Peacemakers can be the only enforcers of Magical Law. In this case, Justine’s being especially stubborn. There’s obviously a witch behind this. She’d rather screw the Wayfairs out of a warrant than save lives.’
‘And now with this.’ Christine nodded her head to the latest Frozen Stare that was playing in her scrying bowl. A woman in a business-suit was gulping down some Berry Good Go juice, before scratching her ear, removing her stiletto, and stabbing a victim through the eye. ‘We certainly have reason to think that the Berrys might be involved. I mean, it is the Berrys, after all. When have any of that lot been angels?’
I took a sip of my juice, feeling my face grow hot. I knew nothing about the Berrys, or about most of the witch covens other than my own. I suddenly regretted all the years of ignoring that side of my life. ‘So … are all the Berrys a bit dodgy? The receptionist at the hotel seemed impressed that I was working for them.’
My mother snorted. ‘Yes. Well. Money and power do have that effect on some people.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going to go and buy a bottle of that stuff. I don’t care what the Wyrd Court says. There is a witch behind all of this, and I’m going to find out who.’ She snapped her fingers, and disappeared.
≈
While my mother was gone, the rest of us began to cook dinner. Even though I rarely came back to my old kitchen, I moved around the place easily. Melissa’s and Christine’s familiars – both black cats, a mother and daughter called Queenie and Princess – appeared at one point, meowing for their dinner. As soon as they were fed, they joined Mischief in the bed by the wood-burner, and completely ignored us.
Cat rudeness aside, it was all so lovely that it nearly brought tears to my eyes. But there was no point in crying over wasted years. I’d just have to make sure I never let my stubbornness get in my own way again.
By the time my mother snapped back into the room, a vegetable lasagne was on the table, along with salad, garlic bread and a bottle of red wine.
‘Well,’ she said, huffing into her seat and pouring herself a glass. ‘I’m certainly glad we’ve got a bottle of this. It might just take the edge off the fact that I couldn’t manage to buy a bottle of what we really need.’
Christine groaned. ‘How can that be?’
‘Every single shop was sold out. They all said they’d be getting their next delivery on Thursday morning.’
I nodded. That made sense. Tomorrow I was to work with Mike, the company accountant. Thursday would be my next day spent driving Miss Alice, so no doubt we’d be making the deliveries then. I was just thinking about how much I was not looking forward to seeing her again when I sensed six pairs of eyes staring at me. Everyone, including the cats, was looking in my direction.
‘Oh.’ I poured my own glass of wine. Sometimes, nice though it was, orange juice just wasn’t enough. ‘You want me to get you a bottle, don’t you?’
My mother patted my hand. ‘I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need to test it so badly. Mark my words, if the Berrys are behind this, they’ll be doing their best to make sure I can’t get my hands on any.’
‘But how will you even test it? None of you are potions’ experts.’
‘No. But we have one working on our side. Ronnie Plimpton.’
‘Plimpton? As in a member of the same coven as Justine Plimpton? The minister who apparently hates you guys?’
My mother and Christine shared a wicked grin.
‘Let’s just say that the Wayfair coven is a little bit bigger than appearances might suggest,’ said Christine.
‘Look, I know you’re a little wary of doing this.’ My mother fixed her brown eyes on me. Good Gretel, she knew just how to get to me. ‘But it has to be you. The Berrys know I don’t like them, so they’ll probably be expecting me to go snooping. They’ll have protections against me. Magic won’t be able to get me inside. Only a person who’s invited – like you – will be able to gain entry. And also …’ She bit her lip and looked at the floor. ‘Perhaps it might be better if they don’t know you’
ve come into your power. Just for now.’
I looked away from her and took a gulp of my wine. Snooping around the factory where I’d just been employed. Stealing bottles of juice. Spying on the Berrys. Lying about my newfound power. Could I do it? Will’s face crossed my mind. His lovely dimpled cheeks. His dazzling smile. Could he really be a suspect in any of this? I took another gulp of wine and sighed. ‘Sure. I’ll do whatever it takes.’
With a relieved smile from my mother, we all began to eat. Despite the fact that I’d helped with the cooking, the food was really good. We’d just started on dessert – more apple tart and ice cream – when my mobile rang.
I looked down at the number, not recognising it. ‘Hello?’ I said after answering.
‘Wanda Wayfair?’
‘That’s me.’
‘Ah good. Wanda, this is Sheila Flannery. Receptionist at the Hilltop Hotel. I’m calling because you left something behind.’
‘What?’ I scrunched up my forehead, trying to think what it could have been. ‘I’m sure I have everything. I mean, I didn’t even unpack.’
‘Well,’ Sheila replied with a high-pitched laugh, ‘some things don’t really need packing, do they. And according to him, he’s definitely yours.’
‘According to him?’
‘Yes. Him. Your familiar. He’s waiting in the foyer for you. Got his case packed and everything. Shall I tell him you’re on your way?’
7.Familiarity Breeds Unkempt
My mother stood beside me. ‘It’s up to you,’ she said. ‘I can hold your hand again, or you can try and do it yourself.’
I bit my lip. ‘I’ve only just got my power. Will I be able to travel without you?’
‘Probably not,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s as good an opportunity as any to try. You’ve been at the hotel, so you know it. That’s a good start. It’s much easier to travel to places you’re familiar with. All you need to do is picture it in your mind, let the power trickle to your fingertips, then click your fingers. I’ll travel with you, either way. It’s up to you.’
I brought an image of the hotel foyer to mind. That part was easy. But sending the power to my fingertips? I mean, what power? I felt a tingle, I supposed. But it could just as easily have been an itch. Earlier on I’d been able to sense the power in the other witches, while I watched their murders in Christine’s Frozen Stares. But sensing power, whilst a beginning, was just a beginning.
‘Okay,’ I said, despite my lack of confidence. ‘I’ll try.’
I snapped my fingers. I was still in the kitchen. My mother gave me a reassuring smile. ‘It’s okay, love. There’s plenty of time to practise. For now, I’ll hold your hand and we’ll go and get your dog.’
‘Yes,’ I said unsurely as she grasped my hand in hers. ‘My dog.’
But even before we appeared in the foyer, I had the sneaking suspicion that, although we were definitely going to find my familiar waiting for me, he was not going to be a dog.
≈
My mother brought us to a dark corner of the foyer, next to an old pay phone and the men’s toilets. It smelled … interesting. So interesting that the two of us ran as fast as we could to the reception desk.
‘Ah,’ said Sheila, the receptionist. ‘You finally came for the poor little fella.’
I got the feeling that she was far from impressed with my having abandoned my familiar. I suddenly noticed something I’d overlooked the first time I met Sheila. The large brooch on her lapel was not a simple piece of gaudy, cat-shaped jewellery. That bejewelled cat was stretching out and looking at me through narrowed green eyes. The brooch gave a golden flash, then jumped from her lapel. A furry, fat marmalade cat now stood on top of the reception desk, hissing at me.
Sheila stroked the cat and looked adoringly at it. ‘This is my Mr Cuddles,’ she said in one of those coochy coo voices. ‘Aren’t you my Mr Cuddles? Yes, yes you are my Mr Cuddles.’
Mr Cuddles hissed once more, and jumped onto the floor.
‘You really ought to get yours charmed,’ said Sheila, giving me a stern look. ‘He could get abandonment issues, you know. If brooches don’t take your fancy, you could have your little fella turned into a necklace, a ring … anything. Then you could take him with you anywhere. Even to the human enclaves.’
‘Well, I’ll think about that,’ I replied tonelessly. ‘Speaking of my little fella …?’
‘Oh, yes. He’s right over …’ Sheila bit her lip. Her eyes took on a feverish look and she screamed, ‘No, Mr Cuddles! No!’
My mother and I followed her terrified gaze. Over by the fireplace, Mr Cuddles was pouncing up onto an armchair. It was facing the fire, so we couldn’t see if anyone was occupying it. If they were, they were incredibly small. There was a loud screech, one that very nearly made my ears bleed.
We ran towards the armchair, Sheila at our heels. As we neared the area, we saw Mr Cuddles slinking away from the chair. He had a definite limp, and a bloody mouth. He made straight for Sheila, jumping into her arms and shaking like a pile of fat, furry jelly.
As we finally got to the chair, my eyes widened and my jaw dropped open.
My mother nudged me and whispered, ‘I thought you said your familiar was a dog.’
I looked at the small, toothless rat sitting in the armchair. There was a tiny suitcase by his side, and he had an even smaller crossword book open in his lap. He looked up from his puzzle and said with a lisp, ‘Ah, there you are, Wanda. About time too. Can we go home now? It’s well after my bedtime.’
‘I …’ I began, eloquently. ‘You …’ I added, even more eloquently. ‘But … I … You …’
‘Enlightening though this conversation is, perhaps we could finish it off later.’ He extended a tiny hand – or was it a paw? – in my mother’s direction. ‘I assume you’re Goodwitch Wayfair? Very pleased to meet you.’
Though my mother extended a hand and shook his paw, I couldn’t help but notice she wrinkled her nose ever so slightly as she did so. It wasn’t long before I realised why. As well as having patchy fur and nearly no teeth, the rat also gave off an interesting smell. Interesting, as in disgusting. Maybe that enchanting musk we’d noticed upon arrival hadn’t been emanating from the men’s loo, after all.
The stench did have one thing going for it, however. It made me feel incredibly alert. Probably a fight or flight response, I surmised, because there was no doubt about it – I wanted to run as far as I could from the creature in the chair. My mind kicked into gear, and I regained the power of speech.
I turned to my mother. ‘I was joking about the dog,’ I lied. ‘I hadn’t met my familiar yet. I thought it’d be funny, y’know, to say I had a dog. Because all of the coven have cats.’
‘So … not a dog then? And you hadn’t met this rat before?’
‘Oh, I met him all right. He was here in the hotel toilets while I was getting changed for my interview. But I had no idea he was my familiar.’ I eyed the rat again, doing my best not to breathe in as I asked him, ‘What’s your name then, oh familiar of mine?’
He gave me a toothless grin. ‘Dudley,’ he said. ‘And I really wish you’d stop making me look like the rude one, Wanda. Because I have to ask you – yet again – can we get the hell out of here?’
‘Sure,’ I replied weakly. ‘Why the hell not?’
≈
The journey back was technically just as fast as the journey there. But this time, it felt a lot longer. Holding a rat with hygiene issues can have that effect.
We reappeared in my mother’s kitchen. The three cats, all curled up by the fire, gave Dudley a brief glance before returning to their slumber. They were cleverer than Mr Cuddles then. Though I doubted it would take much.
‘Is that really a thing, then?’ I asked my mother as I placed Dudley onto a dining chair and went to wash my hands. ‘Having your familiar charmed into a piece of jewellery.’
My mother shuddered. ‘It’s the latest fashion. Most familiars would never let you do it to them. I mean, they’
re not accessories, are they? And they have their own ways of getting about the place. They certainly don’t need our help.’
‘I saw Veronica Berry wear hers as an enormous ring on TV last week,’ Melissa said.
‘Berry? Any relation to my new employers?’ I wondered.
Melissa shrugged. ‘It’s a massive coven. And like all covens, they all take the same surname, whether they’re related or not. You’ve really never heard of Veronica Berry, have you?’
Dudley snorted. Some sort of yellowish substance came from his nose as he did, and he opened his suitcase, pulled out a box of tissues, and blew his nose. ‘Of course she’s never heard of Veronica Berry. I almost envy you, Wanda. I often wish I could forget some of her performances. Witches do it Better … now that one was particularly bad.’
Melissa and Christine suddenly noticed the new arrival. Christine held a hand above her nose and said, ‘I thought you said your familiar was a dog.’
‘Yes. Well. That was a joke,’ I said, repeating my earlier lie. I scooped Dudley up, along with his little case and crossword book. ‘And now I’d better get him home. I have to get up bright and early if I want to get some Berry Good Go Juice without anyone noticing.’
My mother’s face fell. ‘You’re not staying with us?’
My heart ached. My nose also ached, throbbingly so, because Dudley was a lot worse this close at hand. ‘All my things are there. And I don’t want to let Max down. He’s my new housemate and he’s been … well, he’s been … well, he could have been worse, I suppose. He doesn’t seem to write his name on his food, which is a plus point in any house share. Anyway, he could probably do with the rent money.’
All three witches gave me a strange look, glanced at each other and mouthed, ‘Money?’
But whatever that was about, it would have to wait. Because I really did need an early night. And before I could slip under the covers, Dudley would need to slip into a bath.
Bottling It Page 5
