Witches incorporated ra-2

by K. E. Mills

  “Mmm,” said Melissande, and decided to let the subject drop. Mainly because she had a nasty sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t feel so critical if she possessed the kind of wiles that would work on unsuspecting file clerks. “It’s just a shame you couldn’t learn anything useful about the office staff. Especially since nobody’s triggered those hexes. I wonder if our thief realises we’re onto her?”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” said Bibbie. “But let’s worry about that later.” She rubbed her gauntleted hands together. “Reg, are you sure Permelia told Eudora not to run this errand until after eight o’clock?”

  Reg sighed. “Yes.”

  “And you’re absolutely certain that’s the only piece of useful information you discovered? I mean, you were hanging upside down on the other side of a window with a curtain in front of it. And you’re not as young as you used to be. Maybe your memory’s playing tricks or-”

  “And maybe you’d like to put a sock in it!” Reg retorted. “I heard what I heard and I know what I heard and I’ve told you everything I heard. It’s not my fault if three-quarters of the conversation was done with by the time I got there!”

  “No, no, of course it’s not,” Melissande soothed, and shot Bibbie an annoyed look. “You did wonderfully well to hear what you did and make sense of it. But I do have to agree with Bibbie. I’d much rather be waiting for Eudora Telford at her destination than here outside her home. I mean, we’re not exactly what you’d call experienced at following people, are we?”

  Reg sniffed. “Speak for yourself, ducky. I’m very good at it.”

  “Yes, well, you’ve got what they call a natural advantage, haven’t you? But we’re stuck in this jalopy and-ow! What?”

  Bibbie let go of her arm and pointed down the street. “Look. There’s a cab coming.”

  “And here comes that wet hen Eudora Telford,” said Reg, staring at the bungalow. “We’re in business, girls.”

  Melissande and Bibbie stared at her.

  “What? I’m allowed to say wet hen,” said Reg. “I’m a bird.”

  “Ha,” Bibbie muttered. “Only when it suits you.”

  “Oh hush up, the pair of you,” said Melissande. “And get down, quick. We don’t want her to see us.”

  As one they hunched down in their seats to watch Eudora Telford lock her front door behind her and hurry out to the waiting cab. She was wearing a dark coat over a plain dark dress and carrying a small reticule.

  “Right,” said Reg, bobbing up as the cab pulled away with Eudora Telford inside it. “Follow that wet hen!”

  There was a slight delay as an excited Bibbie momentarily forgot everything she’d ever been taught about driving a car. But after a fraught few moments filled with unladylike exclamations, the jalopy fired up and Bibbie steered it in Eudora Telford’s wake.

  “Not too close!” said Reg. “You don’t want to put the wind up that cab driver. He might come over all chivalrous and try to do us a mischief. And not too far back either. There’s not a lot of traffic but we don’t want to lose them.”

  Bibbie flung an exasperated look over her shoulder. “Would you like to drive, Reg?”

  “Love to,” Reg said promptly. “I’d be very good at it, you mark my words. If you could’ve seen me with my coach-and-four…”

  Melissande saw the words Four what? flit across Bibbie’s face, ready to be disastrously uttered. “Don’t say it, Bibbie!” she snapped. “Just pay attention to what you’re doing.”

  They followed Eudora Telford out of the shabby-gentility of North Ott, around the edge of West Ott then over the Ott Bridge and onto the main Ott road. That led them eventually into the outskirts of South Ott, where a great many people of limited means were anonymously crowded into a definitely insalubrious stretch of township squashed between a looping bend in the Ott River and the huddled conglomeration of thaumic distilleries on the edge of the noisome Ott marshes.

  “Hmm,” said Melissande, starting to feel ever so slightly uncomfortable. “This isn’t what you’d call a desirable locale, is it? What was Permelia thinking, sending Eudora all the way out here?”

  “Nothing good, I’ll bet you,” said Reg. “And as for Eudora Telford, she’s the kind of silly, clinging woman who’d do anything for a friend. The trouble with her sort is they think they’re being needed but they’re only being used.”

  In this part of town the cobbled streets were narrow and poorly lit. From the looks of things the people of this sad, grimy district still relied on gas lighting, and many of the lamps had gone out. The night was moonless dark and empty of people. Eerily quiet.

  “Hang back a bit more, Bibbie,” said Melissande. “We really do stick out like a sore thumb.”

  Bibbie slowed until the jalopy threatened to stop altogether. Up ahead, Eudora Telford’s cab turned into a side street.

  “Quick! Quick!” said Melissande. “Don’t lose her!”

  Bibbie ground her teeth. “Melissande Cadwallader, make up your mind!”

  They crawled a bit faster towards the side street, then had to slam on the brakes as the cab appeared again. It pulled out of the side street and drove away.

  “What? What? Did they make a wrong turn?” said Bibbie. “Was Eudora Telford still in the back? I couldn’t see! What-”

  “Someone open a window,” said Reg. “I’ll go and look.”

  Melissande pulled her passenger window down and Reg took off like a rocket.

  “Well,” said Bibbie, after a moment. “This is exciting.”

  “I suppose,” said Melissande, sticking her head as far out of the jalopy as she could manage without decapitating herself. “Drat these broken street-lamps, I can’t see Reg at all! And if Eudora Telford’s not in that cab then she’s getting away in another direction altogether. If we lose sight of her then this was all for nothing.” She pulled her head back inside and gave Bibbie her sternest, most prime ministerly look. “Right. New plan. You stay here and wait for Reg. Whatever you do, don’t get out of this jalopy. The last thing we need is for it to get nicked.”

  Bibbie gave her a look. “It won’t get nicked, Mel, not with the kind of don’t-steal-me hexes I — ”

  “Then don’t get out because I said don’t get out!” she snapped. “If anything happens to you it’ll be me your parents come after with a shotgun-and Monk’ll be right behind them carrying the spare ammunition! Please, Bibbie. Stay put.”

  Without giving Monk’s appalling sister a chance to draw breath for her next objection, she shoved out of the jalopy, eked the door closed and hurried towards the side street where she hoped she’d be able to see Eudora Telford.

  Because if we’ve lost her… and something awful happens to the silly old biddy…

  She made her way as quickly and quietly as she could over the uneven cobblestones. What a piece of luck she hadn’t bothered to change out of her hideous Wycliffe uniform-she was practically a shadow herself, slipping through the darkness like a real secret agent.

  Reaching the corner of the side street she took a quick look behind her. Miracle of miracles, Bibbie was still inside the jalopy. She lifted her hand in a half wave, half you bloody well stay there gesture in the hope that Bibbie could see her clearly, then ducked clandestinely into the side street.

  Tall, decrepit tenement houses squashed shoulder to shoulder, marching down both sides of the street as far as she could see. Smoke drifted above them, thick and stinking. A few doorways here and there were illuminated by gas lamps, shedding just enough light to be useful. More light from a street brazier, cheerfully burning. But where was Eudora Telford? The street was silent-deserted. She was nowhere in sight.

  Melissande hugged herself, as close to dithering as she’d ever been in her life. What to do? What to do? How had Eudora managed to get so far ahead? Or had she been in that cab after all?

  Oh, where was Reg? Surely the wretched bird had caught up with it by now? So should she push on to see if Eudora was in fact ahead of her or should she go back to Bibbi
e, who was probably fine all alone in the jalopy? She was a witch with incants to spare, after all, she was perfectly safe, of course she was, but “ Melissande?” said an astonished whispering voice behind her. “Melissande, what the hell are you doing here?”

  Swallowing an undignified yelp, she swung around. “ Gerald?”

  Bundled in a long dark coat, an impressive-looking First Grade staff in one hand, Gerald stared at her in dismay. “I don’t believe this. How can you possibly be here?”

  “I could say the same thing of you,” she retorted. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re following a clue?”

  “Not a clue. A person,” said Gerald.

  “What a coincidence,” she replied. “So are we.”

  His jaw dropped. “We? We? What do you mean we?” He looked around wildly. “Is Reg here?”

  “Not at the moment, but she’s around. And Bibbie’s back that way-” She jerked a thumb. “Minding Monk’s jalopy.”

  Gerald grabbed her arm. “Mind it somewhere else, Melissande. Go back. Now. All three of you. Get out of here, quickly!”

  Honestly. Some people never learned, did they? “Save your breath, Gerald,” she said, pulling her arm free. “Witches Inc. is on a case and-”

  “Hey ho,” said Reg, joining them in a rustle of feathers. “What are you doing here, Gerald? Don’t tell me Eudora Telford’s an international master criminal!”

  “Who? Eudora who?” said Gerald, distracted. “What are you talking about? Who the hell is Eudora Telford?”

  Melissande winced, just a little bit, as Reg settled onto her shoulder, claws pricking through her black blouse. “If you have to ask, Gerald,” the bird said, “then probably she isn’t an international master criminal. At least not the one you’re looking for.”

  “Well, Reg?” said Melissande. “Was Eudora in the cab?”

  Reg shook her head. “No.”

  Rats. “That means she must’ve been dropped off somewhere along this street. Right then, we’d better push on. See where this thoroughfare leads, and if we can still find her.”

  “What?” said Gerald. “No! You can’t do that. You have to get out of here, you two, and take Bibbie with you. Any second now the person I’m following is going to come out of the laneway over there and-”

  “How do you know?” said Reg.

  He looked at her. “I know.”

  “Yes, but how do you know?” Reg persisted.

  “I know because I’ve had a few tricks shoved down my kni-up my sleeve over the last six months,” he said, exasperated. “Which I don’t have time to explain right now. Please, will you just trust me? You have to-oh, damn.”

  Further down the street, a tall figure wearing a long black coat emerged from a deeply shadowed laneway and turned right.

  “Oy,” said Reg, flapping upwards to get a better line of sight. “ That’s Errol Haythwaite.”

  Melissande peered around Gerald. “Are you sure? How can you tell?”

  “These eyes don’t lie,” said Reg, still hovering. “So. He is up to something nefarious. And he’s about to get done for it.” Sniffing, she dropped back to her human perch. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer pillock.”

  Gerald rounded on them. “He’s only going to get done for it if you two skedaddle.”

  She sighed, irritated. “Gerald, are you sure turning into a rogue wizard hasn’t done something to your hearing as well as your eye? We are on a case. We are not skedaddling anywhere. ”

  “Melissande-” He sounded like he wanted to shout. “Why are you following this Eudora Telford?”

  “Because she’s a wet hen running some kind of errand for Permelia Wycliffe,” said Reg. “Why are you following Errol Haythwaite?”

  “Good question,” said Melissande. “If he’s as upper crusty as you and Monk say, what’s he doing in crustless, mouldy South Ott?”

  Gerald muttered something impolite under his breath. “He’s meeting with Haf Rottlezinder-which is why I don’t want you two anywhere in the vicinity.”

  “Haf Rottlezinder?” Melissande looked at Reg. “You don’t suppose that’s who Eudora — no. That makes no sense. Why would Permelia need to-unless she’s the one-and we’ve accidentally crossed paths with-Reg, are you sure you didn’t hear anything else Permelia told Eudora?”

  “ Yes,” said Reg, and chattered her beak crossly.

  “Melissande, what are you talking about?” said Gerald.

  She turned to him. “Earlier this morning I overhead bits and pieces of an argument between Permelia and Ambrose. They were fighting over something to do with the company. And not long after that Eudora turned up, and Reg overheard Permelia begging her for a favour. But surely she wouldn’t send Eudora to see-”

  “She might,” said Reg, slowly. “If she wanted to keep a prudent distance between herself and a questionable character like Haf Rottlezinder.”

  “But that would mean Permelia is behind the portal sabotage.”

  “Who says she isn’t?” said Reg. “Or maybe she and Ambrose are in on it together.”

  “But-but Gerald said Permelia and Ambrose were in the clear.”

  Gerald pulled a face. “I might’ve been wrong about that. Obviously there’s more going on here than Sir Alec’s team managed to uncover.”

  Reg chortled. “ We uncovered it all right, sunshine.”

  “Yes, well, there’ll be plenty of time to gloat later,” he muttered. “And we both know you will.”

  “But- Permelia?” said Melissande. “She’s so-so law-abiding. Such a stickler for the rules. Why hire us to find a biscuit thief if she’s merrily romping around Ottosland blowing up portals? It doesn’t make any sense. And where does Errol Haythwaite fit in? He and Permelia don’t have anything to do with each other.”

  “Apart from the fact she’s his employer, once removed?” said Reg.

  “ That’s what I’m trying to find out!” said Gerald. “But you two are making it very difficult!”

  She opened her mouth to say something blighting, but was interrupted by a door opening further down the street. She and Gerald stepped back, flattening themselves against the wall behind them, as a well-wrapped figure emerged from the house.

  It was Eudora Telford. “Thank you so much,” she said to someone standing in the open doorway. “Yes, I do feel much better now. And I understand perfectly where it is I need to go. I do appreciate you giving me such clear directions.”

  A murmuring, as the person she was speaking to said something indistinct.

  “Oh, no, no, I mustn’t put you to any more trouble,” said Eudora Telford. “I shall be quite all right. Thank you again.”

  The door closed and Eudora Telford stepped back. In the dim gas lamp lighting she looked quite limp with fear.

  “Oh, Permelia,” they heard her say. “Oh, this is dreadful. If you weren’t such a dear friend-if you didn’t need me…”

  She turned and started walking away, following in Errol Haythwaite’s footsteps.

  “Oh lord,” groaned Gerald. “Go after her, Melissande. Stop her. It might be nothing more than a bizarre coincidence that she’s here… but even if that’s so, this situation-this area-they’re far too dangerous for a woman like her. Please. Get her to safety.”

  “And what are you going to do, sunshine?” said Reg.

  “My job,” said Gerald. “Now go on. Get out of here. Hurry.”

  “All right, ducky,” said Reg, with a rattle of tail feathers. “You heard the boy. Let’s go.”

  Melissande looked at Gerald. In the flickering brazier-light his face was older and grimmer than she’d ever seen it. Very nearly the face of a stranger. “Um-did you know you’ve-ah-turned silver again?”

  He touched his blind eye. “Oh.” On a deep breath he covered it with the palm of his hand and muttered something. The air shivered. And when he lowered his hand she saw that his silver eye had turned brown. How eerie. “Thanks.”

  She nodded. “All right then.” She wanted to say, You be careful, Gera
ld. She wanted to say, Don’t get killed. But nothing she said could make any difference. He had a job to do, and so did she. “So, I suppose we’ll hear from you later?”

  “Hopefully,” said Gerald, staring after Eudora Telford. “ Melissande — ”

  “Yes, yes, we’re going!”

  Reg leapt off her shoulder, flapping ahead. Melissande hitched up her horrible long black skirt and ran after her.

  Oooh, Saint Snodgrass, don’t you let me go arse over teakettle on these stupid cobbles!

  There was no sign of Errol Haythwaite when she and Reg caught up with Eudora, some ten doors down from where they’d last seen her. The silly woman shrieked and turned when she heard her name called.

  “Gracious! Your Highness!” she squeaked, eyes popped wide with shock. “What are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Reg had settled on top of a defunct lamp post, sufficiently shadowed for Eudora Telford not to see her. Melissande flicked her a glance, hoping she’d get the message to stay put. From the corner of her eye she saw a running shadow-Gerald-sprinting down the other side of the street as he chased after Errol Haythwaite.

  “What am I doing here, Miss Telford?” she said, wrenching her attention back to Eudora, and then realised she had no idea what to say next.

  Obviously she couldn’t tell the silly woman the truth. Spying on you and Permelia wouldn’t help matters at all. She could say Permelia had changed her mind, but then Eudora Telford would go back to Permelia Wycliffe and, lo, see the cat making a meal of the pigeons.

  “Um-” she said, knowing she now looked exceedingly silly herself… not to mention suspicious. Eudora Telford. Eudora Telford. What do I know about Eudora Telford…“ Ah-well-His Majesty sent me.”

  Eudora Telford stared. “His Majesty? You mean-”

  “Yes, Miss Telford. My brother. King Rupert the First of New Ottosland.”

  “But-but why?”

  Oh, what a very good question. On top of the lamp post, Reg was shaking with suppressed laughter.

  “Well, Miss Telford, the thing is, Rupert-I mean, His Majesty-has-has a sweet tooth,” she said, frantically wracking her imagination. “Yes. He’s very fond of his cakes and pastries. And I-um-well, I mentioned to him that I knew you, a luminary of the internationally renowned Ottosland Baking and Pastry Guild-and he’s very anxious to meet you himself.”