All the while, Roarke’s band – The Powerless Ballad Band – let loose with a number of definite power ballads. Their music rose and fell in perfect time with the show, and I couldn’t help but dance along.
Roarke was the puzzle writer for the Daily Riddler, but when I watched him sing this evening, I could almost understand why so many women in Riddler’s Edge had a crush on him. Sure, they were interested in his puzzle-writing skills (the shallow hussies!) but I was far more impressed by his strong voice and excellent dance moves. He owned the stage.
As the battle re-enactment ended, Greg and his friends moved on to a display of wizard brooms, past to present, showing the improvements over time. I could tell we were coming to the crescendo, because Roarke’s voice was dipping before the inevitable soar. Pru gasped as Greg’s purple van appeared in the sky, patting my arm madly. Even Jared looked confused.
I’d already been in it when it flew, so I wasn’t quite sure what all the fuss was about.
‘You didn’t know it flew?’
Pru’s eyes widened. ‘You did?’
‘Yeah. We flew to Witchfield, and to Warren Lane. I guess it’s a bigger deal than I realised, seeing as how everyone is gawking at the van like it’s the second coming. Personally I was just a little bit ticked off to find out that I’d been an unwilling participant in the van’s virgin flight.’
There was something I couldn’t identify in Pru’s face, something I’d never seen there before. Was it jealousy? ‘You … you got to go on the test flight? So you and Greg are even closer than I thought, then. Is that why you dumped my brother? I thought it was because of Dylan, but I guess I was wrong.’ Her eyes were smarting. ‘I should have seen this coming. You guys are always giggling together about something or other.’
Jared moved closer to his sister. ‘Ash doesn’t fancy Greg, you twat. And Greg doesn’t fancy her, either. And seeing as you’re never going to ask him out, then why don’t you just get over yourself and be amazed by what he’s done.’ Jared pointed at the van. Greg was currently demonstrating the vehicle’s amazing capabilities – its cloak-mode and its hyper-speed. ‘He can cloak something that big in hyper-speed. No flash of light, even. This is big, sis. Be proud of your mate. Don’t be peed off because Ash got to ride in it first.’
I glanced at the van. When I’d been in it there had been a flash of light each time it moved extra fast. ‘He’s made improvements since I’ve been in it,’ I said. ‘But I really don’t get why it’s such a big deal. I’ve seen those carriages some of the Wayfarers use in Riddler’s Cove and Warren Lane. I’ve even seen a witch riding a flying motorcycle.
‘That’s Ronnie Wayfair,’ Jared told me. ‘And she uses her own magic to fly that bike. The bike itself is fairly standard. And those carriages you saw are sióga technology. Well, sióga magic, really. Wizard tech has been catching up for a while – teleportation devices are a real thing now. But a vehicle this large that can go into hyper-speed so seamlessly? Designed by a wizard and not borrowed from the sióga? This is a big deal. It would be an even bigger one if Greg would actually license some of his tech to the Wayfarers. Y’know, instead of just shoving it in their faces and saying “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah – you can’t have this!”’ He had a smile on his face during the latter part of his speech.
‘And honestly,’ he went on. ‘I can’t blame him. It’s going to take a bit longer for me to believe they’re actually different to the old Peacemaker force. And seeing as I know Greg feels the same, then I guess they’d better offer him a lot more money.’
Pru giggled. ‘See, that’s their mistake right there. Greg doesn’t care about money. If the Wayfarers want to work with any of his tech, then they’d be better off offering to pay him in lollipops.’ She said it with a fondness that surprised me. I’d seen Pru around Greg on many occasions, and she’d never given me any indication that she had a thing for him. But given her latest comment, coupled with the slight jealousy that I’d been the first one to fly in his van, I was beginning to wonder.
Greg’s van was doing its last circle of the area, and Roarke’s band were performing their last song, when Grace arrived.
‘Just came to see Roarke,’ she said. ‘He asked me to help him ward off the baying female fans after the gig.’
Her eyes went to the stage, and I could see that despite her business-like manner, she loved Roarke’s singing just as much as everyone else.
It seemed as though the gig was just about to end. Roarke was clutching the microphone, singing the last notes of a song called No Magic, No Problems when his hands lit up, and his hair stood on end. He staggered back from the microphone, howling in pain and staring down at his palms while his bandmates and the broom flyers gathered around him.
We made a run towards the stage to see if there was anything we could do to help.
When we reached Roarke, we could see that both of his hands had been badly burned.
‘It was my mike,’ he said, wincing with the pain. ‘Something went haywire with it and it electrocuted me. But the only part of me hurt seems to be my hands.’ He chuckled. ‘Oh well, at least now I can tell people that the band gave a truly electric performance.’
5. Inanimage
Roarke was going to be fine, according to the healer. But he would need to go up to Night and Gale – the hospital in Dublin – for the night. And his hands would need to stay wrapped up in a special poultice for a couple of days, making sure that the burn marks would fade completely.
All of the band’s equipment was being tested, but so far the consensus seemed to be that it had been a freak event.
Roarke didn’t seem too concerned about what had caused the electrocution. He wasn’t worried about keeping up with his puzzle-writing work, either.
‘Oh, I have plenty of extra puzzles created,’ he said. ‘I always work ahead in case of emergency. But I’m a bit disappointed that I won’t get to water Dylan’s plants.’ He lowered his voice. ‘When he asked me to fill in if anything happened with Sean, he actually offered to pay me. Can you believe that? I could never take money for helping out a friend. And honestly? I was just a little bit excited about getting to wander around his lighthouse and check on things for him. That place is just about the most gorgeous house I’ve ever seen. It’s like something out of a magazine. Is it just me, or are lighthouses kind of … sexy?’
And there was me thinking I was the only one who felt that way. But sexy buildings aside, there was something a bit iffy about all this.
‘It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’ said Pru. ‘First Sean has a heart attack while driving, now you get electrocuted. And both of you just happened to be looking after the detective’s house?’ She looked at me. ‘What do you think, Ash? You’re the most suspicious one out of all of us.’
‘No I’m not!’ Judging by the looks the rest of them were giving me, they were all in agreement with Pru. ‘Look, maybe for once this is just an accident. Or … two accidents. It could be just a weird coincidence.’
Grace laughed. ‘Mm hmm. And when will I be expecting your exposé about it all?’
‘Listen, it’s not my fault that you’re all a bunch of murder-happy supernaturals in this town,’ I grumbled. ‘I’m just going to wait and see on this one.’
Yes, I was going to wait. Impatiently and suspiciously, but I was going to wait. The two accidents weren’t the only oddity about this whole thing, however. As far as I was aware, all Dylan had was an aloe vera and some kind of cactus in two small pots near his kitchen sink. Didn’t plants like that need very little water? They were from arid climates, for criminy’s sake. Upset as I was for poor Roarke, and suspicious though I was pretending not to be, I couldn’t help but think this might be my time to shine.
‘Hey Roarke, you were right when you said Dylan’s house is gorgeous,’ I said. ‘And don’t worry about doing the watering. I’ll take over from you. I love looking after indoor plants.’
Roarke frowned. ‘No you don’t. I’ve heard you say a hundred ti
mes that the only plants you like are the ones that are growing outside. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he’s got it sorted. He had a list of people as far as I could see. I think I might have spotted Greg’s name below mine, actually, so he’ll probably be doing it next.’
‘Oh.’ I probably wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding my disappointment. I mean, sure, Dylan had known Sean, Roarke and Greg far longer than he had known me, but I would have liked to have been at least considered for the job. Just because I didn’t like to keep indoor plants myself didn’t mean I would have killed them. And I wouldn’t have even considered going into his bedroom and smelling his clothes while I was there.
I was just about to ask if there was something special I should know about these succulents which needed to be watered more than usual (maybe they were magical?), when a group of Roarke’s fans broke through the crowd. They were mostly female, and were squealing so loud I could barely hear myself think.
It seemed as though he had enough friends and fans around him, and the healer informed us that he was going to be fine, so Grace went off to the hospital with him while Pru, Jared and I headed back to the Vander Inn.
When we walked into the dining room, though, Jared frowned. ‘Really glad I came back to Riddler’s Edge to help Mam out with her Midsummer Poker Madness,’ he said. ‘I can see that I’m totally needed to cope with the rush.’
Pru rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, like that’s why you actually came back from London. I see what you mean, though. Where is everyone?’
Their mother, Nollaig, seemed to be trying to put on a brave face, but I could see just how disappointed she was. There were only three poker players in the room. Even some of the people from her regular games were absent.
‘The fair only closed a few minutes ago,’ I said. ‘I’m sure more people will turn up over the next while.’
‘Yeah,’ said Pru, sounding unconvinced. ‘That’ll be it. Because my mam’s Midsummer Poker Madness is always a big hit.’
I gave her a hug goodnight and made my way up to my room. Jared began to walk after me, but instead of following me up the stairs, he stood at the bottom of the staircase and said, ‘Sleep well, Ash,’ before exiting through the front door and heading out into the night.
≈
Early the next morning, I made my way onto the beach next to Dylan’s lighthouse to meet Brent, my new teacher. As the co-owner of Pointer Brothers, the most popular wand store in Ireland, he probably didn’t have the time – or the experience – necessary to teach me. But he had witnessed first-hand what my power could do when I shattered the Singing Stone, and as we were trying to keep certain qualities of mine under wraps for now, Brent seemed the best option. He was extremely powerful himself, and was well used to helping young witches to direct their power in his wand store.
‘This was a good choice,’ he said, giving me a conspiratorial grin. ‘No humans ever find their way to Dylan’s stretch of beach – the wards upon the lighthouse make sure of that.’
‘It was his suggestion, actually,’ I said. ‘He does have some bright ideas every once in a while.’
Brent laughed. ‘He also fills out a shirt quite well, but I have a feeling you’re already aware of that. Just as a matter of interest … does anyone else know you were meeting me here today?’
‘Grace does, of course,’ I told him. ‘And Greg. But if you’re wondering about Malachy, then no. I’ve not said anything to him.’
‘Good,’ said Brent. ‘Malachy was by far the most generous and loving boyfriend I’ve ever had. But he was also the chattiest. If he does happen to spot us together we can say it’s plain old magic lessons – nothing about the sióga problem.’ He rubbed his hands together, looking surprisingly enthusiastic and wide awake. ‘It’s so beautiful here,’ he said, taking in a deep inhalation of sea air. ‘It’s a real little paradise Dylan’s got for himself. Plus we’re out in the open, so the chances of us doing too much damage are minimal.’
‘Sure,’ I said wryly. ‘Us doing damage. More like me doing damage and poor old you having to sort it out.’
He waved a finger and a box appeared in his hands. ‘Ah, a nice positive attitude – just what I like to see. Open it up and we’ll try it out.’
I took the box from him. It was labelled My First Wand – a training wand for inexperienced witches. The wand was bright orange, but that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing about it. There were labels with arrows on either end. On the handle, it said, ‘Hold at this end.’ On the tip it said, ‘Point at this end.’
Oh well. Seeing as my first display of power had seen me send an old man crashing against a wall, and my second had turned a stone into shards, it was probably just as well that Brent was being cautious.
‘I have no experience with sióga power, Aisling,’ he said, taking a seat on a nearby boulder. ‘And I have the feeling that it was that part of your nature which shattered the Singing Stone. But the fact that you can now communicate easily with Fuzz is clear evidence that the suppression on your witch power is beginning to lessen. We can at least teach you to temper that side of you. It was rather wise of your familiar to hold off for so long. He waited until your power enabled you to hear him, rather than using his power to try to communicate with you. Wise little kitty, by all accounts.’
‘Wise cracking kitty, more like,’ I muttered. ‘But either way, I want you to know how much I appreciate this. Grace has said she’ll teach me some spells as well if you think it’s safe, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be up to the job herself.’
He gave me a knowing nod. ‘Grace’s talents are immense, but her witchcraft might not be up to what we’re dealing with here. When we have a better handle on it, and you have enough control, then by all means she can teach you some spells. She does have some areas of expertise when it comes to the newspaper, so I’m sure there’s a lot you could learn from her.’
I’d seen some of those powers first hand. Grace used spells to type out her articles, spells to handle the layout, spells to print the paper, and spells to deliver it to shop shelves. When it came to the newspaper, she was like a well-oiled magical machine. But I could see that doing so much on her own exhausted her at times, and I was looking forward to being able to help. I was also looking forward to being able to use spells to do my own typing, but I never said I was a selfless saint.
‘So let’s start with how the wand feels in your hand. Pick it up slowly and carefully. Are you feeling as though anything is trickling towards it? Or perhaps rushing?’
With a shaky hand, I took the wand from the box. I definitely felt like something was rushing down towards the wand. I was just about to tell him so when a small fire appeared on the ground beneath us, and I fell backwards, bashing my back against the boulder.
Brent moved towards me, helping me to my feet. ‘That went a lot better than I expected.’
‘Oh really?’ I brushed the sand from my jeans. ‘I dread to think what would have happened if it had gone any worse. Maybe I would have catapulted myself all the way to America.’
He chuckled. ‘You know, I wouldn’t put it past you. In many ways, a witch wand is like a witch broom. Unlike the wand a wizard uses, it has little power of its own. But there’s no great need to perform a bonding spell as one would when attempting to fly a broom. Some people insist on it, but it’s really not necessary. The wand is more of a conductor. And when it’s in the hands of someone with exceptional power, it can often seem more like a lightning rod. Contrary to what you might think, powerful witches have more trouble with wands, not less. And sióga power … well … I have no idea how they teach their young the art of control.’
He picked the wand out of the sand. ‘We could try to contact the sióga, of course,’ he went on. ‘But the truth is that they’re the ones who get to choose who they shall deign to speak with, and when. So until we can arrange a meeting with one of them, let’s try again.’ He handed the wand back to me. ‘Right now, you’re like a leaky container. Some part of you rushed out t
hrough the wand. You have to find the source, and control it from its centre. Try and send it out in a more directed stream this time.’ A bottle appeared in his hands, and he placed it on the boulder. ‘For now we won’t worry about spells or incantations. Just try and learn to direct what’s inside you.’
I knew where the source was. I’d felt it before, when my power had erupted. And I’d felt it when I fought off the witch hunter, too. On the latter occasion, I had been fully in control of myself, and able to pull myself out of his thrall. So I knew I could control this power of mine – I just needed to remember what I’d done then, so I could repeat it now.
But how had I managed to keep control of myself? I glanced up the beach in the direction of the lighthouse, and felt a swell of sadness in my stomach. I’d controlled myself because, despite pretty much everything about Dylan Quinn’s personality, I cared about him. Not even a witch hunter with an object of awesome power could force me to kill someone I cared about. So maybe that was what I ought to do now – remind myself that I needed to control this for the friends I loved. If either side of my power went haywire, the way Brent feared it might, then I could put them in danger.
Putting aside the realisation that this was my umpteenth sweet and lovely thought in the past few days (what were these people in Riddler’s Edge doing to me?) I held the wand cautiously, and tried to direct some of that power through it. Just a small burst – enough to hit the bottle.
As it cracked apart and fell to the sand, I looked at Brent to assess his reaction.
His expression told me nothing. ‘Not too bad. Now let’s see if you can knock it over without smashing it.’ He pointed at the broken bottle, mumbled some words, and it reformed. Now that was a spell I needed to learn. Just the week before I’d knocked my only bottle of perfume onto the bathroom floor. The smell was still invading my nostrils every time I went to the loo.
Lucky Witches Page 3
