The Amulet of Caorunn (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 7)

by Juliette Harper

  “You want to help me out here?” I asked the old cat.

  Sighing, Festus reached out and tapped Rodney on the shoulder. The rat, who had continued to glare at me, wheeled around and turned his indignation on the ginger tom.

  “Look, Short Stuff,” Festus said, “as much as it pains me to admit it, Jinx is right. You can’t take your rodential personage into a bar full of shifted werecats of all shapes and sizes. Just because I have the self-restraint not to eat you doesn’t mean they will, especially if they’re drunk. I’m sorry, but you can’t go.”

  My sense of vindication at having Festus on my side warred with my annoyance when Rodney instantly caved and nodded his capitulation.

  “What?” I demanded. “When I say it, I’m coddling you, but Festus is suddenly the voice of reason?”

  Chase, who sat on the last step of the staircase in human form, suggested mildly, “Why don’t you just quit while you’re ahead?”

  “Fine!” I said, reaching for my coat. “Far be it from me to get in the way of male solidarity.”

  “That’s good,” Chase said amiably, “since we’re agreeing with you.”

  I wanted to smile at him, but I wasn’t going there. In his current frame of mind, Chase might have taken it as a sign of encouragement. I needed him discouraged where I was concerned.

  “What-ever,” I grumbled. “Are you riding with me, Rodney?”

  In response, the rat strolled across the carpet to Tori with exaggerated dignity. He stopped in front of her as if to say, “Well?”

  She offered him a hand. Without so much as glancing at me, Rodney hopped on her palm, ran up her arm, and disappeared into the collar of her jacket.

  “You,” Tori snickered, “are persona non grata.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s rodentia non grata. Let’s go.”

  Innis held the door open as we all filed out, directing us to “stay warm, don’t drink too much, and find your way home safely.”

  On the sidewalk, the men broke into a separate group and headed along the side street toward the Dirty Claw while the women cut across the village green and made for O’Hanson’s pub.

  Even though the entire population of Shevington had jammed into the town square just two nights before and no snow had fallen since, we found ourselves walking on a pristine blanket of white. The explanation became clear when I looked over my shoulder. Our footprints disappeared behind us.

  Moira followed my gaze and laughed. “We bespell the snow on the village green for the holidays,” she explained. “It’s more picturesque, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I would,” I agreed. “In fact, this whole town looks like it’s straight out of a Christmas fairy tale.”

  “Don’t let the fairies hear you say that,” Greer advised. “They don’t like the way the humans have appropriated that term for their bedtime stories. The Fairy Tales of Blood and Valor do not make for good nocturnal reading unless you want to have nightmares.”

  Your average fairy stands about 6 inches tall. The only one I’ve ever met, Ironweed, habitually dresses in black commando fatigues and a purple beret. I don’t recommend making Tinkerbell jokes in his presence.

  The garish beret might highlight his glittering, iridescent wings, but that’s not the reason behind the color choice. Only the most elite fairy soldiers win the right to wear the purple beret, and you seriously do not want to mess with those guys.

  In spite of his size, Ironweed does go to The Dirty Claw — even in the face of the serious risk that a drunk werecat might mistake him for a moth. The last one who committed that error, however, backed off with a bleeding gash on his nose courtesy of Ironweed’s combat knife.

  As we stepped through the door of O’Hanson’s, the sight of Myrtle brought the patrons to their feet for a sustained round of applause. The aos si held up her hands. “Thank you, beloved friends,” she said, “but really, this is too much.”

  It took fifteen minutes to wind our way through the tables. Everyone wanted to shake Myrtle’s hand or reach out and touch her arm. Finnegan O’Hanson himself settled us in front of the fire.

  “Drinks and food are on the house tonight, ladies,” he said. “What will it be?”

  We placed orders all around and settled in for a night of girl talk — well, girl talk plus one guy. Rodney reverted to his usual cordial self when presented with a plate of select cheese in the center of the table for his exclusive enjoyment along with a thimble-sized wine glass.

  We interspersed games of pool and a few rounds of darts with the food and drink. At one point in the evening, as I leaned over the felt to line up a shot, I caught sight of Myrtle, the moms, and Greer in what looked like a serious conversation.

  “Wonder what that’s all about,” I said to Tori. “Nine ball, corner pocket.”

  My cue hit the ball with a resounding smack, nailing the shot. As I stood up, Glory, who was hovering nearby on her broom with a minuscule piña colada in one hand, said, “Want me to fly over and eavesdrop?”

  “No, I do not,” I said. “I hate to break this to you, Glory, but with your . . . complexion . . . you’re not exactly inconspicuous in that outfit.”

  Looking down at her magenta blouse trimmed in flaming pink, Glory said, “I’m not? I thought this was understated for a bar.”

  “You look great,” Tori said, chalking her cue. “I don’t think whatever they’re talking about over there is any of our business. Let’s leave well enough alone.”

  Kelly took a sip of Scotch as she watched Jinx and Tori at the pool table. When Jinx turned and saw her mother looking at her, Kelly lifted her glass in salute, an action that momentarily stunned Jinx before she collected herself and grinned back.

  “Do you think she’ll ever get used to the sight of you with a drink in your hand?” Gemma asked, idly stirring the ice cubes in her bourbon.

  “Doubtful,” Kelly said.

  “Daughters have rather a persistent problem seeing their mothers as living, breathing people,” Greer observed. “I would not describe my mother as particularly nurturing, but the first time I saw her in action, I admit to having been rather shocked.”

  Downing the rest of her whisky and signaling Finnegan for a refill, Kelly said, “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what exactly do you mean by ‘in action.’”

  “We showed up at the same Elks convention,” Greer said.

  Then, when Kelly didn’t catch on, the baobhan sith added, “For dinner.”

  Kelly’s eyes tracked back and forth, then stopped as she mouthed the word “dinner.”

  “Oooohhh,” she said. “That must have been awkward.”

  “Indeed it was,” Greer said. “Mother looked smashing in her cocktail dress. It made me feel a total frump.”

  Gemma snorted. “If your mother made you feel like a frump, the rest of us would probably be suicidal around her.”

  “Katherine MacVicar generally inspires homicidal feelings,” Greer admitted. “Mum is not known for her diplomacy.”

  Kelly stared at her glass, running her index finger lightly along the rim. “Does your mother worry about the dangerous things your job requires you to do?” she asked.

  “Alas, my mother and I have not spoken in more than a decade,” Greer said. “You’re worried about Jinx, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t like all this talk about the damned In Between,” Kelly said. “No good ever comes from that place.”

  Myrtle reached across the table and caught Kelly’s hand. “There is no reason to believe that Jinx will be called upon to enter the greater In Between,” she said. “Do not torment yourself with these thoughts until the problem is upon us.”

  “No one enters the In Between,” Greer said, “but it certainly can be done. Why does the thought of Jinx going there trouble you so deeply?”

  When Kelly didn’t answer, Gemma spoke. “Because,” she said, “the In Between presents some unique problems for the Daughters of Knasgowa.”

  The next day I squinted painfully in the
bright sun of the lower valley and wished I had turned down that last beer the night before. As Beau, Dad, and Chase transferred the luggage from the sleigh through the Briar Hollow portal, I drew Connor off to one side.

  “Thank you for everything,” I said. “Mom and Dad had a wonderful time. So did I.”

  “I wish you’d let me come with you,” Connor said. “I want to help search for the amulet.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? He’d barely learned to place a mirror call, and our mother wanted him as far away from danger as possible.

  “Connor,” I said, “you know I appreciate the offer, but you’re just not ready yet, and Mom will have my head if I put you within a thousand miles of Irenaeus Chesterfield.”

  His gaze wandered over to Mom, who was directing the last of the baggage transfer and fussing at Dad for not being careful.

  “Does she know I’m a grown man?” he asked.

  I realize the question sounds resentful now that I’m telling you about it, but Connor’s tone was quiet and gentle.

  “I’m not sure she does,” I admitted. “To her, you’re still the baby she gave up.”

  “That was such a horrible thing to happen to her,” he said. “Dad, too, but Mom blamed herself for so many years. That’s why I wanted her to see where I live and work so she would understand what a good life I have.”

  “Intellectually, she does understand that,” I said, “but emotionally, she just got her little boy back, and she’s not ready to have you in harm’s way again.”

  Connor caught my gaze and held it. “Do you think I’m ready to have my mother and sister in harm’s way either?” he asked.

  There was nothing I could say around the lump that rose in my throat.

  “Promise me, Sis,” he said, “promise me that if there is anything I can do to help find the Amulet of Caorunn and keep you all safe, you will tell me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

  I nodded, pulling him into a hug. “I think I like having a brother,” I whispered.

  “I think I like having a sister, too,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against my temple. “Stay safe.”

  So that’s how we left our first Christmas in Shevington to go back to Briar Hollow, where we walked straight into a deep freeze.

  23

  When I stepped through the portal, I ran smack into Tori who had stopped in her tracks less than a foot inside the opening.

  “Excuse me!” I said. “Oncoming traffic here.”

  Moving to one side, she simply pointed at what should have been an extended, empty corridor through endless rows of shelves. Normally that would be our one-hour long path back to the basement.

  Instead, the lair lay waiting for us 20 yards away.

  On the other side of Tori, Myrtle looked up as if listening to a voice none of us could hear.

  “Thank you,” she said, speaking to the ceiling. “I have missed you as well. It’s a lovely gift. I know the others will appreciate it, too.”

  Tori caught on first. “All these months of walking a freaking hour to the portal and all we had to do was ask the fairy mound to make the distance shorter?” she said. “Do you think maybe that might have been worth mentioning sooner?”

  “During the time when Fiona was standing in for the true Witch of the Oak, the fairy mound placed the portal at a greater distance from the lair as a security measure,” Myrtle said. “To move it back now is a tremendous expression of faith in your abilities, Jinx, and in that of this band of friends.”

  Festus, who had been prepared to make the return trip snoozing inside the special mesh backpack one of us always carry in deference to his bad hip, used a single claw to pull the zipper back on the enclosure.

  Springing free and nailing a three-point landing, he ambled toward the fire. “About time this pile of dirt did something for an old guy like me,” he said. “Somebody want to get over here and open a bottle of Scotch? I’m exhausted from the trip.”

  He was referring to the thoroughly enervating nap he’d taken under a lap robe in the sleigh from Granddad’s house to the portal.

  As I watched the old cat limping away giving us the tail, my eye fell on an arched door in the wall to his right that I’d never seen before.

  “What’s that?” I asked Myrtle pointing at the door. “Another surprise?”

  “Hardly,” she said. “That’s the entrance to my quarters. It’s always been here, you just couldn’t see it. Did you think I lived in the stacks among the boxes?”

  Truthfully, I’d always believed Myrtle was sort of like the genie in Aladdin, poofing off to some hidden inner sanctum when she wasn’t with us.

  When I said as much, the aos si laughed and said, “I could always conjure up a bit of purple smoke when I come and go if that would bolster your fanciful illusions about me.”

  “Sorry,” I said, “but you did introduce yourself to me back in the beginning as a talking store. I didn’t realize that was a combination of you and the fairy mound itself.”

  Myrtle looked around her with an expression of gentle affection for her home. “The fairy mound and I have a long and deep history,” she said. “If you will excuse me, I think the two of us have some catching up to do.”

  When she opened the arched doorway, I caught a glimpse of a richly paneled room aglow with welcoming lamps before Myrtle disappeared inside.

  As we’d been talking, Chase and Dad worked to ferry luggage and packages to the lair and up into the store proper. I’d just put Glory’s tiny suitcase inside Graceland East for her when Dad came clomping back down the stairs.

  “Did you forget to leave the heat on up there?” he asked me, going over to the fire to warm his hands. “The store is like ice.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, “but I may have set the thermostat too low. You know, Dad, I don’t . . .”

  “Own the electric company,” he finished for me. “Very funny, young lady. That’s supposed to be my line.”

  Rodney, who was sitting on Tori’s shoulder, mimed a shiver and shook his head vehemently.

  “God,” Tori said, “you are such a drama rat. I know you don’t like to be cold. I’ll take my stuff up and check the thermostat. We can all stay down here in front of the fire until upstairs gets warm.”

  Hefting the last of their suitcases, Dad said, “Not us. We’re meeting with the realtor in the morning, and I have to pick my dogs up from Leroy’s. You coming with us, Gemma?”

  “No,” she said, “I’m bunking with Tori tonight so I can meet the painters in the morning. I’ll ride back to Cotterville tomorrow afternoon with Kelly when she comes over to take the furniture delivery at your place.”

  Everyone exchanged hugs all around. I followed my folks upstairs to say good-bye. They’d left their car behind the store while we were in the Valley. When I opened the back door to let them out, a blast of frigid air hit us in the face.

  “Whoa!” Dad said. “Guess the weather guy was wrong about spring coming early. It looks like a cold front blew in while we were in the Valley.”

  “I’ll say,” I said. “If I’d known that was going to happen, I would have left the heat on. You guys let me know you got home safe, okay?”

  “We will,” Mom promised, giving me another hug. “Love you, honey.”

  After I watched them drive off, I climbed the stairs to the apartment to check on my cats. If the store was cold, my apartment wouldn’t be much better, and the guys were not going to be happy with me.

  I found the four of them in an enormous cuddle pile in the center of the sofa. They didn’t even get up when I came in. When I saw the amount of food Amity put out for them, I understood why.

  “No wonder you guys can’t move,” I said. “If you’ve been eating like that for the last three days you might as well be furry, beached whales.”

  Winston opened one eye and gave me a reproving look before going back to his nap.

  “Good to see you, too,” I said, unfolding a plaid wool blanket and settling it around their
sleeping forms.

  When I came back downstairs, I found Tori staring at the thermostat. “It’s supposed to be 70 degrees in here,” she said, “but it’s actually right at 58. If the store doesn’t warm up pretty soon, I’m guessing the furnace is on the blink.”

  “Great,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don’t even want to think what that’s going to cost us.”

  Darby almost gave me a heart attack when he popped out of thin air beside me. “I took the liberty of examining the machinery, Mistress,” he said. “I am quite skilled with all things mechanical. The box that makes heat is working as it should.”

  “Then why is it so cold in here?” I asked.

  “Perhaps because the temperature outside is 28 degrees according to the scale developed by Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit?” he asked.

  That would do it.

  Taking a page from Rodney’s book, we all opted to spend the rest of that Sunday in the lair. Festus wasn’t the only one who needed a nap. Even Beau confessed to “having imbibed a bit liberally” at the Dirty Claw.

  Chase, sensing my ongoing discomfort in the aftermath of our conversation in Shevington, excused himself to go work in his shop. “Might as well get a head start on Monday,” he said. “You coming, Dad?”

  In a move reminiscent of what Winston had done with me, Festus opened one eye, which he trained on his son with an arguably malevolent and completely silent glare.

  “Okay then,” Chase said. “I’m taking that as a no.”

  He looked at me expectantly, hoping, I think, that I might say something or even walk next door with him. Instead, I said, “Have fun with your work.”

  His expression wilted a little. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m sure I will.”

  After Chase left, I went into my alcove to read, but it was a losing battle. I kept falling asleep in my chair. You’d think with everything that was going on, we might all have been energized and in a state of high alert, but post-holiday exhaustion can take down the best of us.