Lucky Witches
Riddler’s Edge Book Three
by A.A. Albright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
Text Copyright © A.A. Albright 2018
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
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Table of Contents
1. I Ain’t Missing You
2. Nine Out of Ten Tractor Tests Can Be Wrong
3. Madam Montague
4. An Electric Performance
5. Inanimage
6. Women are Players, Too
7. Wishes Can Come True
8. The Crossroads
9. Byrne and Byrne
10. Level One Hundred and One
11. Gather Your Allies
12. Break a Heart, Break a Toe
13. The House Doesn’t Always Want to Win
14. Chaos
15. All We’re Missing is the Big Slobbery Dog
16. The Minister for Magical Mayhem
17. Penned In
18. The Pharuncoinic Conductor Spring
19. Impervium
20. Poke Her with the Pitchfork
21. Randall’s Riddles
22. A Dangerous Game
23. If Wishes Were Kisses …
24. The Glittering Garden
1. I Ain’t Missing You
I stood up on my widow’s walk, spinning my telescope around so I could look at the whole of Riddler’s Edge. My town, I thought with a smile.
This afternoon the town was busier than I’d ever seen it, as people arrived from all over the country to journey to the Riddler’s Edge Midsummer Fair.
I spun the telescope north of the bay, letting it settle on the lighthouse. Ah, lighthouses. I had absolutely no desire to consider the psychological reasons why I had such a thing for lighthouses. I’d let the Freudians of the world figure that one out.
When I saw Sean Ryan’s car in the lighthouse’s driveway, I didn’t grumble. Not even inwardly. I mean, so what if Detective Quinn asked one of his garda colleagues to check up on his house while he was on holiday? It wasn’t as though I was offended that he hadn’t picked me. And I certainly wasn’t checking up on Sean’s progress in the hope that he’d slip up. That would be petty of me.
‘You miss him, don’t you?’
I spun around at the sound of my cat’s voice. I was used to hearing him speak by now – mostly. What I wasn’t used to was the fact that he constantly said the most ridiculous things.
‘Miss who, Fuzz? I have no idea who you’re talking about.’
I began to disassemble the telescope, lifting it carefully down the steps, onto my small balcony, and into my bedroom, doing my best to ignore the cat while I worked.
‘You know perfectly well that I mean the detective. You should just get over him you know. I mean, he didn’t even say goodbye to you before he jetted off on his summer holiday. He didn’t even tell you he was going. Or where.’
I settled the telescope back in its usual place, in front of the French windows that led out to the balcony. Then I rearranged the filmy white curtains so that I wouldn’t be tempted to look outside again.
‘It’s his business where he’s gone,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing going on between me and Dylan Quinn. Why should he tell me his business?’
Why, indeed, I thought, forcing back a wistful sigh. I mean, it wasn’t as though he’d finally admitted he was attracted to me before he scarpered. Oh wait – it was. Under the thrall of a witch hunter, Dylan and I had both reluctantly told each other what we felt. Because that’s the sort of thing that happens when you live in Riddler’s Edge.
Afterwards, I’d been so sure that he’d try to force us to have the talk. I’d envisioned all sorts of ways in which it could happen. Of course, my reveries had to be tempered somewhat by the fact that the detective had insisted we could never actually be together – what with him being infected with the incurable dayturning vampire virus. Detective Quinn had never wanted to be a vampire, and he definitely hadn’t wanted to be a dayturner – a vampire for whom the darkness is unbearable. And what with his pesky moral code, he’d told me he could never risk turning me into the same.
I certainly didn’t want to become a vampire in any shape or form but, nevertheless, I’d had plenty of fantasies about the conversation we might have. I’d tell him I didn’t want to talk about it, because I’m ever so practical and have no interest in discussing something that could never be. He would insist and insist and insist some more, until one evening when he and I were stuck in an elevator together and … well, I don’t think I need to share all the details, do I? So far I hadn’t seen a single elevator in Riddler’s Edge, but I wasn’t letting that get in the way.
I was on day four of letting my imagination run wild when I learned he had left town. He’d been gone more than two weeks, and I was beginning to wonder if he’d ever return.
Fuzz shrugged his little shoulders, looking thoughtful. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he conceded. ‘Dylan has no obligations where you’re concerned. I mean, you’ve done little more than argue with him since you moved to Riddler’s Edge.’
‘Exactly. We’re barely even friends.’ I grabbed my bag from where I’d left it on my four-poster bed, and made my way out the door.
‘Unless you were hoping you would be more, and that’s why you’re dressed like some deranged hippy right now?’ Fuzz went on, following me down the Vander Inn’s winding staircase. ‘Are you heading out to find someone new right now? Someone you can use to make the detective jealous? Because if you think a swishy skirt and a whole lot of jewellery is going to find you a more attentive man, then you should probably reassess. You know you’re not the best person to be wearing dangling jewellery. Remember the incident with Pru’s necklace?’
I spun on my sandaled heels, narrowing my eyes at the little black cat. I loved him, really I did. But right now I wished I could go back to the days when I hadn’t understood a word he said. ‘I caught Pru’s necklace on the kitchen taps because I was trying to fish you out of the sink. It had nothing to do with the jewellery, Fuzz. It was more to do with the fact that you wanted to nick the fish that Nollaig was defrosting for that night’s dinner.’
The cat cleared his throat and gave me a haughty look. ‘It was mackerel, Aisling. Any self-respecting cat would have done the same. Listen, the broom and I both think that–’
‘The broom?’ I questioned as he hastily cut himself short. ‘Aha! So you can speak to the broom. I knew it. And speaking of the broom …’ I glanced up the stairs towards my bedroom. ‘Where is it right now? I haven’t seen it since yesterday evening.’
He picked up a paw and examined it with interest. ‘You know, if you carry on with all of these questions, you’ll be late for the fair.’
≈
When I arrived downstairs Pru was waiting in the kitchen. The expression on her face was pensive, and she was plaiting and unplaiting her long black hair.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked her. ‘You’re usually pretty happy to get a job like this.’ Sure, a fair in Riddler’s Edge might not sound like the best gig in the world, but as it was running for three nights in a row, finishing off on Midsummer, it would give Pru a far more steady trickle of income than usual.
‘It’s not that.’ She pulled out her latest plaiting attempt and brushed her fingers through her hair. ‘I always mak
e a fortune at this thing.’ She gave me a rueful smile. ‘It’s just … Jared’s back from London.’
I sank into one of the kitchen chairs, suddenly feeling just as pensive as Pru looked. Ever since I told Jared I wasn’t interested in dating him, he’d been hiding out in London. Although, considering he owned an art gallery over there, maybe hiding out was exaggerating things. Seeing as this was his mother’s home, I supposed it was a little unfair of me to hope he’d stay away a little while longer. ‘Where is he now?’
Pru looked down at one of her many necklaces. She wore her jewellery so well. As a person who normally wore black on black with little decoration, I was feeling more than a little uncomfortable in my own current get-up. But I knew Pru’s customers were always more comfortable when fortune tellers (and their assistants) looked the part.
‘He wanted to have a chat with you,’ she told me. ‘I told him he’d have to wait, seeing as we were on our way out. So he said …’
‘He said he was leaving. But then that gorgeous, loveable rogue went and changed his mind,’ said Jared, appearing in the kitchen doorway. It had seemed as though he came from nowhere, but that was the thing about being an ancient powerful vampire – Jared was able to move far faster than most. He looked at me, his left eyebrow lifting, a grin on his face that wasn’t nearly as confident as usual. ‘Ash, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it. But I thought that now I’ve given you a couple of weeks to yourself …’
‘You thought what? That I’d have changed my feeble, feminine mind?’
He crossed the floor in two quick strides and knelt before me. ‘No. Yeah. Maybe. Not the feeble part. Look, this is all because you found out that I slept with Detective Dorky’s fiancée, isn’t it? But you and me weren’t even together then. And neither were they. Or that’s what his fiancée told me, anyway. Honest, Ash. Do I look like the kind of guy who needs to nick another bloke’s bird?’
I stood up, moving my body in the most awkward manner so I could stay as far away from him as possible. Just because I’d decided I didn’t want to be with him didn’t mean I was completely immune to his charms. He smelled good. He looked good, too. ‘Jared, I told you before. It’s not about what you did. I’d decided I didn’t want another date with you long before I heard about you and Darina.’
He looked truly flummoxed. ‘Yeah but … you were bluffing, weren’t you? Playing hard to get. I mean, of course you want to go out with me. We get on like a house on fire. Don’t we?’
Despite my resolve, I found myself laughing in a fond way. He was acting like he’d never been given the brush-off before. His puzzlement was kind of adorable. ‘We do get along,’ I said, edging my way towards the back door. ‘But just as friends. I’ve really got to go now, okay.’
He went to say something else, but his sister stood in his way. ‘So help me, Jared Montague – if you make us late for this gig, I will make you suffer. The lady told you she’s not into you. Accept it.’
Jared pouted down at his sister, then held up his hands and said, ‘Fine. But I’m going to prove it to you, Aisling Smith – I’m not the sort of man you think I am.’
2. Nine Out of Ten Tractor Tests Can Be Wrong
Pru and I walked arm-in-arm through the town. We had a little time before her tent was due to open, so I stopped at Norman’s Shop to buy some water and snacks. As usual, the convenience store was busy. Norma, Norman’s mother, was serving at the cash register, while Norman worked furiously at his deli counter, making sandwiches and wraps.
‘Nice and busy today,’ said Norma as I went to pay for my purchases. She had one of her usual knitting projects on the go – today she seemed to be knitting a red bikini – but she seemed perfectly able to work the cash register and knit at the same time. Despite the fact that I’d been told otherwise, I often wondered if some of the magic in Riddler’s Edge rubbed off on the human inhabitants. Norma had to have had some kind of superpower, in order to be able to knit and serve simultaneously. ‘I suppose it must be people out for a nice drive, given the weather.’
I gave her a brief nod and said, ‘That must be it, I suppose.’
Inwardly I was cringing at my lie. I hated being untruthful, but I knew perfectly well that even if I said, ‘Well, actually the reason for the influx is that there’s an enormous supernatural midsummer fair taking place across the road this very minute,’ Norma would just laugh at me and ask me to tell her another joke.
As we left the shop I glanced at some of the other townsfolk, gathered on benches along the main street and chatting. Not a single one of them was looking at the spectacle across the road. But then, no matter how much they stared, all they would ever be able to see was a sheep-filled green, leading all the way down to the beach.
They couldn’t see the large, newly-constructed community hall, and they certainly couldn’t see the festive tents in the green just behind the hall. There was so much of the town that was invisible to the humans in Riddler’s Edge, but they never seemed to sense – or long for – the world just beyond their own.
Pru and I were just about to head across the road when a large green tractor pulled out of Mossy’s Tractor Showroom and drove towards us. The man in the cab was someone I knew, a fellow member of the choir. And now that he was no longer under the influence of our former choirmaster (who happened to be the witch hunter I previously mentioned) he wasn’t nearly as creepy as I’d first thought. He was, however, just as obsessed with tractors as ever.
‘Hey Ash!’ He slowed the tractor down and waved at me from the cab. ‘She’s a beaut, isn’t she? The most hi-tech, hardy tractor in the world, according to Tractor Mag Monthly. She can withstand anything – and I do mean anything. In nine out of ten tests she was able to crash into a train and come out unscathed. And nine out of ten tractor tests can’t be wrong, now can they?’ He patted the small area of seat next to him. ‘Fancy coming for a spin?’
He seemed so genuinely excited with his new tractor that I almost wanted to say yes. But even if I thought I might actually enjoy a spin in a tractor, I didn’t have the time. ‘I’ve got something on just now, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’ His face fell. ‘That’s a shame. Maybe another time? We could go out the road a bit, take a picnic maybe?’
Criminy! He was persistent, I’d give him that. Just because I no longer found him creepy didn’t mean I now found him attractive, though. This was beginning to feel like one of those things that should be nipped in the bud. And before you start thinking it, the fact that more than one man was chasing me did not mean I looked like a supermodel. It just meant that there weren’t that many available women in Riddler’s Edge.
‘I’m afraid I get travel sick,’ I told him. It wasn’t a complete lie. I had been travel sick before, when Greg took me to Witchfield prison in his flying van. I doubted I’d fare much better in a tractor.
It seemed like Mark was beginning to say something else, but the sound of gears crunching made me turn around. Someone was driving a garda car through the town, and not doing a good job of it.
When I saw that it was Sean – the garda who was looking after Detective Quinn’s plants – I gasped. Sean was a slow, careful driver. Usually. But right now, he was driving like a drunk person.
‘Does Sean’s car seem to be wavering a bit to you?’ Pru said in a panicked voice, pointing at the vehicle.
Sean was doing more than wavering. His driving was becoming more erratic by the second. The few other cars on the road were doing their best to keep out of his way. But unfortunately for Sean, there wasn’t really anywhere that an enormous tractor could move to – at least not in time. The garda car hurtled towards it, travelling at breakneck speed.
As the inevitable happened, Pru and I jumped back. Sean’s car had smashed right into Mark’s new tractor. I wasn’t an expert on tractors, but this model didn’t really seem to be holding up to its promises. Mark had been sure it was the hardiest vehicle on the market, but the enormous dent and the buckled wheels seemed to
belie that assertion.
Mark sat there in shock for a second or two. As the windows of the cab shattered, he finally hopped down from the tractor, his hands on his head.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Nine out of ten tractor tests proved that this model could withstand anything.’ His face grew flaming red, and he marched towards the offending vehicle.
‘Listen, Sean, you might be a copper, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to go ruining my brand new tractor. I expect you to pay me for the damage. I …’ Mark’s voice trailed off, and I could see why.
Sean wasn’t responding. In fact, I didn’t think Sean was going to respond to anything, ever again.
≈
Gretel arrived on the scene a few minutes after I called her. She was a member of the Wayfarers – the supernatural police force. Detective Quinn might have left without so much as a goodbye, but he did leave word with my paper’s editor that, should anything that seemed odd come up in his absence, Gretel would be covering his work.
Apparently, he’d tried to get another garda detective to cover, but it seemed that everyone with knowledge of the supernatural world had gone on holiday at the same time. Since Gretel had been liaising with the detective for the past few months, she seemed the best alternative.
So far there was no evidence that Sean’s crash was supernatural, but in a town like Riddler’s Edge it was sensible to make sure. There had been a number of deaths since I moved here, and the most important thing those deaths had taught me was that nothing was ever as it seemed. In this town, even cases that seemed like natural deaths inevitably turned out to be murder.
When Gretel arrived, she came with the Wayfarer healer in tow. He was a handsome man called Shane Moore, an unempowered witch who had studied wizardry and worked as a pathologist in the human world. He hadn’t been with the Wayfarers long, but he was more than capable of coping with any form of fatality, whether it was magic-related or not.
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