The Warlock Weapon

by Pearl Goodfellow

  I wasn’t going to have my heart toyed with like this. It was already in tatters.

  But, is now the time to get ‘hard,' Hattie? The man you love is lying half-drowned on a rock in front of you. Is getting ‘flinty’ the right thing to do in this situation?

  I ignored that persistent voice, of course. I sat down on a rock, and let my friend come to his senses. My cats eyed me warily, as they continued to massage David with their paws.

  Jet was the first to notice we had a spectator. “Look!” His face trained on the highest part of the waterfall. I swung my head to follow where my zippy cat was looking. I just made out the rock grumlin’s short and stocky form behind the watery curtain. The creature popped his head out the side of the cascade and peered down at us.

  “Dilwyn!” I shouted to our friend. “Can you sign him from down here?”

  Werelamb nodded. He let David’s head slip gently from his lap where he’d been supporting the chief’s neck. He stood, and motioned in a series of snipping, slicing hand-motions at the grumlin above.

  Ordinarily, we’d hear a swoosh, click, swoosh, click noise from the grumlin’s spiky fingers. But the falls were too loud to hear the subtler points of the creature’s language, as he signed in his native ‘tongue’ to a receptive Dilwyn Werelamb.

  “What’s he sayin’? What’s he sayin’?” Shade tapped Dilwyn on the leg, hoping for immediate answers.

  “He’s saying they’re trapped in there. Governor Shields won’t let them out.”

  “I knew it,” I stomped my foot from the rock-seat I was perched on. “Ask them if they’re still mining the diamonds. Ask them if Shields has them working from dawn ‘til night,”

  Dilwyn’s hands sliced at the air as he presented my questions to the strange little beast on the rocky ledge.

  “No, apparently the mining has stopped,” Werelamb explained. “All work came to an end last week. Their sacred cave is nothing more than rubble. And it’s also their prison,” he said, his nose wrinkling in apparent disgust at this soul-crushing truth.

  I stood up. “Well, at least that’s something,” I said. “Maybe there’s a soft-spot to Shields after all? He worked the grumlins until they destroyed their own hallowed ground, but at least he’s giving them a break now.

  Gloom’s mouth hung open at me. She looked positively aghast.

  But it was David that spoke.

  “It’s not good, Hat,” he managed from his prone position on the gravel. “It means ….it means Shields …”

  “...Already has what he needs,” Eclipse finished for my friend, piercing me with his inscrutable gaze.

  “What? What does that mean?” I challenged. “What does that mean that Shields has what he needs? What are you talking about?” My voice became strident. On the verge of tipping over into hysteria, if I’m to be honest.

  “Hattie,” Onyx said with a calm that did nothing to assuage my frayed nerves. “If Shields is no longer mining the diamonds, then it means he doesn’t need the money derived from these gems anymore. And, if he doesn’t need the money, then it means his ‘project,' whatever his assignment might have been, is complete.”

  I raked my fingers through my hair and tugged back on my locks with a fierce yank. My eyes bulged at my soaking wet audience.

  “Oh, my Goddess! Can someone please tell me what the dickens is going on??” I screeched.

  Yep, I’d totally lost it.

  “Who is the bad guy here? Who’s making the dragon? The Unseelies? The Warlocks? Shields? Is one helping the other? Are they an alliance? What? What?!”

  “There are no answers, human,” said Gloom.

  “Our sister is correct,” Onyx opined. “The answers will reveal themselves much as the Wyrmrig will reveal himself. When the time is right.” The rest of the kitties nodded respectfully at my furry commander-in-chief.

  I felt like I was about to explode. My brain was rushed by a high-pitched whine, as my anger, fear, and frustration threatened to blow the top of my skull out.

  A weak voice jolted me out of my frenzy. “Dilwyn? Ask … ask if they can stymie the flow of the waterfall. Tell them we need to get in there. We need to get to the dragon-heart.” David’s eyelids fluttered again. It looked like he was about to lose consciousness once more. Shade and Midnight resumed massaging the chief’s head.

  I pulled my eyes away to watch Werelamb continue his conversation with the craggy faced critter behind the waterfall.

  “He says it can be done. But, they’ll need time. They’re going to need to dig through some rock layers within the peak.”

  “Okay … sounds hopeful,” David said. “How much … time do they need? How thick is the rock they need to bore through?”

  Dilwyn lifted his eyes again as he snipped ribbons out of the moisture-laden air.

  “At least a few meters thick, so they’ll need...ah, wait … sorry, I got that wrong. It’s a few miles thick, not meters.”

  It was as if the weight of all that stone in question had been dropped on our heads. Dilwyn’s news crushed our voices, our questions. Our spirits.

  “They’ll need some time.” The farmer hung his head, his words barely a whisper.

  Time.

  How luxurious and plentiful that word sounded when innocently uttered. But, in reality, its meaning was cruelly tight and compact.

  A whoomping sound overhead interrupted our bout of quiet desperation.

  The grumlin on the ledge dived for cover within the bowels of the rock face as the noisy vibration got closer.

  “We need to get out of here,” Dilwyn said, picking up the three broomsticks, and snatching up David’s personal belongings. “It’s their overhead patrol. If we can leave this place before they see it, then they won’t suspect anything out of the ordinary with this waterfall. They’ll most likely bypass it and not think anything of it,” he said tossing my ride over the expanse of gravel. I caught my besom with one hand.

  “Here,” Dilwyn said, sitting David up. “Hattie, you and I will ride your broom. We’ll put CPI Trew between us.”

  With kind eyes, he looked at my kitties. “Think you crazy cats can manage four-a-piece on each of these?” He presented the remaining two broomsticks to my eight cats.

  Jet’s eyes widened in unbridled excitement. “Yep, yep, I’ll drive this one,” he pattered, already jumping at the front of the stick.

  Onyx didn’t say anything. He just trotted to the front of the other stick and took up his captain position.

  “I-I’m not going with him,” Fraidy said, cocking his head over his shoulder at Jet while climbing on the broom behind Onyx.

  The remainder of my kitties jumped into action. All at the same time. Seven bodies crammed in behind Onyx.

  Jet looked perplexed at first. But, realization soon dawned that he had the broom to himself, and he bounced with newfound joy.

  “Suit yourselves, yep. I’m gonna have some fun, fun, fun!” With that, Jet’s broom lurched into the sky, and at helter skelter angles, he zig-zagged up into the clouds.

  “Yeeehaaawwwww, yee-Eee eep!”

  We followed my recklessly speedy cat upward in a sharp ascent, just as Shields’ helicopter surveillance team nosed their way over the ridge of the waterfall below us.

  With an almost unconscious David between us and the feline broom riders to our sides, we made our way back to Glessie Isle.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  T he atmosphere at the Moon was lively. A bustling lunchtime crowd threw back goblets of white wine as if the beverage were going out of fashion. David pointed to a quieter section of the restaurant. I stormed across to the vacant table he was referring to, still angry that we were at the Fingernail Moon and not Howling Mercy Hospital where my friend should be.

  I dropped into my seat like a sullen teenager and folded my arms across my body.

  “Hat, you're not still mad at me are you?” David's eyes looked like chipped ice as they settled on my face. “ I'm telling you, Dilwyn’s medicine really helped. See?”


  The chief held up a hand to demonstrate how unwavering it had become since landing back on Glessie.

  “Dilwyn gave you a homemade honey lozenge, David, not a Nobel prize-winning antidote,” I said sourly.

  Drop it, Hattie, Drop it. Remember your resolution?

  David looked helpless. “I feel fine, Hat, I swear.” He crossed his heart. Like a five-year-old. His silliness got a grin out of me.

  “I’ll take a griffin’s beak,” I said, waving him off. He gave me a grateful smile and walked to the bar to order our drinks.

  Goddess, why was I so angry? I was as tight and compressed as a coiled spring, held down by a crushing force. Honestly, I felt if I could just go … well, Boing! I’d feel a whole lot better.

  I sighed and combed my hair with my fingers. No doubt I looked a sight from the gusty broom ride on the way over. Dilwyn had made sure the kitties had gotten back to The Angel okay after he had dropped CPI Trew and me off here at the inn.

  I swiveled my neck around and scanned the room, smiling when I heard Horace’s booming voice greet David at the bar.

  I clocked Zinnie Kramp sitting at a four person table by herself near the window. She had her head in a book. Some trashy romance novel, by a quick glimpse of the cover.

  Well, well, well, we’re in luck, I thought. I hadn’t really expected to see Zinnie at the Moon. It was more wishful thinking than anything. But, here she was, ready and waiting for someone to come along and rudely interrupt her quietude.

  I bent backward over my chair to get a view of the bar. Horace was engrossed in telling David one of his time-tested jokes. The burly bartender erupted in booming laughter while my man merely looked puzzled. I’ve always found it cute to see David in a state of bafflement.

  Making sure Zinnie wasn’t looking, I waved my hands over my head at David and pointed to the lone widow.

  He looked over at Kramp’s wife, and then back at me and nodded.

  I slumped back into my seat and waited.

  “Mrs. Kramp?” I heard my friend say. “Chief Para Inspector Trew. We met briefly before. Before, uh, your husband was arrested?”

  Silence.

  “Mrs. Kramp?” David pressed again.

  “Sit. If you must.” Zinnie Kramp’s voice was tight.

  “This isn’t protocol, and you’re free to say ‘no,’ but I have my friend here. She’s helping me investigate your husband’s death. Is it okay if she joins us?” David swept an arm out toward where I sat. Zinnie’s head popped out to get a look at me and gave a curt nod.

  I grabbed my bag and slid in next to David at the table with the widow Kramp.

  “Mrs. Kramp,” I said, my face sincere. “I want you to know how sorry I am for your loss. This must be a tremendously difficult time for you, so we’re very grateful for you answering just a few questions.”

  The woman blinked at me but said nothing.

  “Mrs. Kramp, can you tell us where you were at 15:00 hours on October Sixth?” David began, already scribbling in his notebook.

  “I was with Ulrich Darkmore,” she said. “Concluding a business transaction.”

  The signing in the courthouse?

  “Ulrich Darkmore?” I said. “Of Shadow Supplies?”

  “That’s right.”

  Goddess, this woman’s lips were tight.

  “Can we ask what business you had with Mr. Darkmore?” I went through all of the nastiest, ‘killer’ herbs in my head. Wolfsbane, Hemlock, Nightshade.

  “No. You may not,” Zinnie said. “My business with Ulrich has nothing whatsoever to do with my husband being blown to pieces.”

  I flinched. I think David did too.

  “Can you verify where and when your business transaction with Darkmore took place?” David asked, not looking up from his notes.

  “Inside Ulrichs’s Jaguar XJS in the parking lot of the court, from approximately two-forty-five p.m until roughly three-fifteen-pm,”

  The chief scribbled. “Mr. Darkmore can confirm this?”

  “I damned well hope so, he was the only other person in the car.”

  David nodded. “Can you tell us your relationship to Ulrich Darkmore?”

  Zinnie stiffened. “Chief Para Inspector, I thought the purpose of this conversation was to find more information as to why my husband’s police vehicle was bombed?”

  “Just trying to leave no stone unturned, Mrs. Kramp,” David explained, leaning back in his chair. His hair was still tousled from the ride, the white streak laying in unmanicured tufts around his temple.

  At least his color was returning.

  “I assure you, CPI Trew, you will get no leads from trying to define my relationship with Ulrich Darkmore. Now, do you have any pertinent questions regarding my husband and his untimely death?” I saw Zinnie’s hands ball into fists at her sides. Her face remained impassive.

  This chick’s one tough broad.

  “Okaay,” David drew out the word. “Could you describe your relationship with Barnabus for us?”

  For a second her hard veneer crumpled. She blinked her eyes rapidly, and her mascara stayed in place.

  “Barny was a provider,” she began. “And a workaholic. Back, when we first met, money, status, power … none of those things mattered to Barny.” Her eyes took on a faraway look, but they cleared quickly, and she leveled her gaze back to David and I. “But you can’t be in the same circle as Shields and have no ambition,” she said bitterly.

  “How long had Barnabus been working for Governor Shields?” I asked.

  “Well over twenty years now. So, you see, I’ve been a widow for much longer than two days. Barny never stopped working. Even when we were supposed to be on holiday, Gideon had ‘access’ to my husband twenty-four-seven. I may as well have lived alone.”

  “Did you love him?” I asked, touching Zinnie’s arm reflexively.

  David shifted in his seat next to me.

  “In my own way, yes, I suppose I did,” Zinnie said. “Of course, the romance days were a long time ago now, but they still live on in my memory,” she allowed a flicker of a smile to grace her lips.

  “No domestic disputes, recurring arguments? Anything unusual about Barny before he died? I mean, apart from the arrest, the trial and the sentencing.” David said.

  “We rarely argued, CPI Trew. We were never together enough to have enough ‘material’ to quarrel. And, as for Barny’s behavior? Well, I’d spent most of my time with him looking over his shoulder, so I’m not sure I’d be able to determine anything ‘unusual’ about his conduct of late.”

  “Sounds like a perfect marriage,” I teased, smiling at the woman. I was hoping she would soften up a little. “No quarrels? Must have been bliss.”

  “Well, as I said, it was like we hardly knew one another. We’d cozy-up as the perfect couple for media and public functions, of course, but even then we were entirely awkward in each other's company.”

  My mind cast back to the night of the fair. The night Kramp killed Morag Devlin. We had seen Zinnie and Barnabus together not an hour before Morag tumbled from the Ferris Wheel. I remember observing then that the two looked painfully uncomfortable with one another.

  “I guess … there was one… oh, it’s of no importance,” she waved her intriguing statement aside.

  “No, please, do go on,” I urged. “You never know what could prove to be helpful,”

  “Well, there was one recurring … I wouldn’t call it an argument, but, rather, a ‘theme,’ that cropped up during our years of marriage,” Zinnie’s eyes darted from me to David.

  “Go on,” the chief encouraged.

  “I was used to my husband working and womanizing,” Kramp’s wife started. “I paid it no mind; it just meant a peaceful life for me.”

  Wow. Nice relationship.

  I tried to keep my mouth closed.

  “But, there was one woman in particular. Her name was Deeva something …. Oh, what was it ….” Zinnie clicked her thumb and forefinger together hoping to snap the n
ame from thin air. “Greenfield. That was it. Anyway, she used to sign her letters ‘Deevie.’ That’s what I DO remember.”

  “Barnabus had, ahem, relations with this woman while you were together?” David asked.

  “No .. well, maybe a little, yes.” Zinnie exhaled and shook her hands in the air as if to shake out any blockage she might be experiencing. “Barny and ‘Deevie’ used to be an item before I had ever met my husband. But, he kept in contact with her for some time after we got together. I didn’t let on that I knew about all the other women, but I did tell Barny I knew about Deeva.” She paused and pulled a face. “The woman was uneducated. Poor, even.” Zinnie wrinkled her nose at this apparently unsavory fact. “But, Barny must have had a soft spot for her, I guess. It wasn’t fair how he strung her along though.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “Barny and I got married eighteen months after we met. He was still writing to Deevie after our first anniversary,” she said flatly. “Her letters were impossibly whiny; ‘Barny, when will you come for me?’ ‘I can’t wait for the day when we three can have lazy Sunday sleep-ins,' et cetera.”

  David’s and mine heads snapped up. “ We three?”

  Zinnie nodded slowly and twirled her glass of wine in lazy rings along the table top. “They had a child. A girl. Summer, her name was.”

  Was that a tear I saw forming? No, probably just a miniature ice cube.

  “So, possibly the girl’s name is Summer Greenfield?” David asked, scribbling in his pad.

  Zinnie burst into hoarse laughter. “CPI Trew, she won’t be a girl anymore. Summer will be a woman. I’d imagine in her late twenties, or so.”

  “What about ‘Deevie?’ Have you heard anything from her lately?”

  Mrs. Kramp stared at David. “She took her own life when her little girl was seven years old. Barnabus’ handiwork. Summer spent the rest of her childhood years in another kind of slum from her childhood home. North Illwind’s state run School of Corrections for Girls.” Zinnie tossed her head back and downed the rest of the pino grigio from her glass. She pursed her lips.