‘Greg said you spilled some cola on a loose wire that just happened to be connected to Roarke’s microphone, and that’s what electrocuted him.’
She sighed. ‘Sounds unlikely, doesn’t it? But it seems like it’s what happened. I mean, I can’t deny that it was my can of cola but … even that was strange.’
I looked more closely at her. ‘Why?’
She began to play about with the chin-strap of her helmet, looking troubled. ‘Someone opened the door behind me,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see who, but whoever it was slammed the door straight afterwards. There was a massive gush of air when it slammed, and then the next thing I knew my cola was all over the place.’ She chewed on her lower lip. ‘Not that I’m blaming anyone else. I was in charge of the electrics for the stage. I shouldn’t have left an open drink lying around.’
Greg patted her hand. ‘It’s okay, Amber. There’s no harm done, either way. Roarke is going to be fine.’
She gave us a small smile. ‘Yeah, it seems like it. He’ll even be back home this evening. And other than being a bit shook up, he’s fine. The burns should heal fairly quickly with the ointment Florence gave him – she’s the head healer in Night and Gale, the hospital in Dublin. But he’ll have to keep the poultice on for a few days, and he won’t be able to use his hands for a while.’
She looked exhausted, so we let her get off up to her flat.
The development was laid out around a courtyard, and Greg’s home was directly across from Amber’s. There was a fountain in the centre of the courtyard, with lovely gardens, a tennis court, and a large green where children always seemed to be playing, arranged around its edges. There was a swimming pool and a gym in the basement of the building, too. If I wasn’t so happy at the Vander Inn, I might think of moving in myself.
‘Hey, I saw you at Dylan’s this morning,’ I said as we made our way up the steps.
‘Oh yeah. Man, he has a ridiculously long alarm code. I thought my fingers were going to give up halfway through. How did you see me anyway?’ He clapped a hand against his forehead. ‘That’s right! I forgot that you and Brent were having your first lesson on the beach this morning. How did that go?’
‘It went okay. Hey, do you know how often succulents need to be watered and in what manner? Because I do.’
Greg patted his phone. ‘Thanks to the miracle that is the world wide web, yes. I do know how often succulents like Dylan’s aloe vera and his cactus need to be watered. Sean was giving them way too much water so they probably won’t need any more before Dylan gets back on Midsummer’s Day.’
I was seriously considering calling him out for being a know it all. That’s fair, right? I mean, I would have been an annoying know it all had he given me the chance to inform him of everything I now knew about Dylan’s plants. But he didn’t. Therefore I wasn’t. But the truth was, I wasn’t grumpy about that. I was irritated about one thing, and one thing only.
‘Midsummer’s Day? Dylan’s getting back tomorrow? He didn’t even tell me that he was going, let alone when he was coming back.’
‘Didn’t he? Oh well, you know what he’s like. Hardly the type for hugs and kisses and long goodbyes. He probably only told me so he could give me my incredibly specific instructions on what I’d need to do if Sean and Roarke weren’t available. Dylan says his plants like to be chatted to, so I’ll have to do that tonight and tomorrow morning even if they don’t need watering. Funny, but I don’t really see him as the sort of guy who chats to plants. You never can tell though, can you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said, crossing my arms. ‘That cactus of his looks pretty prickly. They’ve probably got a lot in common.’
Greg laughed. ‘Yeah, because Dylan’s the only prickly resident in Riddler’s Edge. Hey, speaking of prickly people that I’m not sure why I’m friends with … are you finally going to come over and play War of the Enclaves with me this evening? Whoever’s playing as the sióga Queen is getting very impatient. And so am I. Without you, I can’t advance.’
A short while ago, Greg had passed level one hundred in the War of the Enclaves, an online computer game. He had then been invited to play level one hundred and one, and I had been invited along with him. Since then, every time he tried to advance, he was told he couldn’t do so unless he convinced me to play.
He knew the game’s creator, a weredog called Fido, who had told him there was no level one hundred and one. If we continued on, then the game we were playing would no longer be the game that Fido designed.
Fido also had no information on who was playing as the character of the Queen – the character who had issued my invitation. Whoever it was had managed to hide every trace of their identity.
I wanted to play. No, I needed to play. Because whoever was playing as the Queen could have information about my father, a man I had never known. And seeing as I’d inherited my sióga powers from somewhere, then it wasn’t too big a leap to think that my father must have been sióga himself.
‘Count me in,’ I said. ‘We’ll have plenty of time before the fair. I’ll bring the cheesy puffs.’
‘We can order a pizza, too,’ he said. ‘Computer games use up a surprising amount of calories.’
I laughed. ‘Weren’t we supposed to be going on a health kick a while back?’
‘Meh. We’ve got a lot going on right now. I’ve heard it’s best to start a healthy regime when your life is stress free. In which case, we’ll never start. Hey, we’re just about here, so take your eyes off my handsome form for a second and aim them upwards – because you will not want to miss this.’
We were halfway up the stairs to his place when he spoke, and we both paused on the step. I could see why he wanted me to take a moment. In fact, I’d probably need quite a few moments to appreciate an oddity of this magnitude.
The flat on the right side of Greg’s looked very different to the last time I was here. It seemed to have stretched to at least three times its size. The walkway in front of it had grown, too. It now accommodated an even fancier fountain than the one in the courtyard, with a mermaid at the centre that looked like it was carved out of gold.
‘Em … is this some sort of spell?’ I said. ‘Because if it is, then I need to use it to embiggen my bed. Fuzz and the broom have been hogging way more than their fair share.’
Greg laughed. ‘It’s not so much of a spell. More of a dose of very good luck, according to Beth.’ He leaned over the railing and pointed to the carpark. ‘The nightmare car I parked beside? It’s just one of Beth’s recent purchases. Come on – she’s waiting for us to interview her.’
He tapped on the door, and a woman opened it, a beaming smile on her face. I did a double take. Every time I’d seen Greg’s neighbour in the past, she looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She often stopped to chat with me, but it was never a pleasant conversation. She was usually complaining about the fact that the empowered witches in nearby Riddler’s Cove didn’t know how good they had it. She once told me she’d been booted out of the Berry coven because she was unempowered, so maybe she had good reason to hate witches.
Towards the end of each conversation she usually spared a few minutes to complain about her rent, the price of food these days, and the fact that there were no good men in the supernatural world. Basically, she complained a lot. Maybe she’d won some supernatural version of the lottery. If she had, I just hoped it had cheered her up.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Can I get you some champagne? Some caviar?’
‘Defo on the caviar,’ said Greg. ‘I’ve never had it before. Always wanted to try the stuff.’
I shook my head. I wasn’t even that fond of chicken eggs, so I certainly wasn’t eager to try fish eggs. ‘I’m okay, thanks. Maybe just some water?’
Beth gave me a smile and a nod and waved her hand – a hand that had a lot of diamond rings on its fingers. I was surprised it didn’t fall clean off with the weight. ‘Grantly!’ she said. ‘We have guests!’
>
A man came forward, dressed up in full butler gear and holding a silver tray. He really had the unobtrusive yet efficient thing down pat. He even seemed to glide rather than walk. He was a little like Grace in that regard.
Beth quickly told him what we wanted, and he headed off into an enormous kitchen, complete with marble counter tops and golden taps.
‘Wow,’ I said as I sat down on her new couch. ‘You’ve clearly had a bit of luck, Beth.’
She shook her head in wonderment. ‘I know. I still can’t believe it. And all because of the Great Gwendoline.’
‘That’s one of the fortune tellers from the fair, right?’ I said.
‘She is. And honestly, when she told me that I was coming to a crossroads and my luck was about to change, I wasn’t all that impressed. I mean, that’s what they all say, isn’t it? But then, just as I was leaving her tent, I found this flyer on the ground.’ She reached into a golden box on the coffee table and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper. ‘I’m going to keep it forever, I think. I may have it framed.’
I looked at the flyer:
The Crossroads Casino – where dreams come true.
There was a picture of a Victorian-looking building, with directions beneath. It was just a few miles outside Riddler’s Edge, on the side of the town that was most definitely human.
‘So you went to this casino?’ I asked. ‘And I take it you did well at the tables there?’
Our refreshments had arrived, and I sipped at my water while Greg picked up a little toast point with caviar on top.
I watched his face as he bit into his snack. He grimaced. Then he coughed. After a few uncomfortable seconds when I wasn’t sure whether he was going to spit it out or puke it out, he finally swallowed. ‘So,’ he said. ‘That’s caviar. It’s em … it’s … lovely?’
Beth beamed. ‘Isn’t it?’ She turned to me. ‘Yes, Aisling. I went to the casino. It was very glamorous, I must say. And I mean, it seemed like fate, didn’t it. And I’ve had such bad luck all my life, what with being an unempowered witch and all. I figured that maybe it was my time at last. And it was, because I actually won! At poker! I’ve never won a game of poker in my life. Then I won at blackjack. Then I won at roulette. Three coins. Three wishes. Can you believe it?’
‘Wishes?’ I questioned. ‘The casino pays out in wishes? Is that normal?’
Beth shrugged, but Greg vehemently shook his head. ‘Definitely not normal. So that’s how you got all this? You wished for unending wealth or something?’
Beth let out a high-pitched laugh. ‘Good goddess no! That’s a condition of the wishes. You can’t wish for unending wishes or infinite wealth. You can only wish for specific things. So I wished for a super-fancy apartment. I wished for my rent to be paid up for the rest of my life. And I wished for a butler called Grantly.’
‘Huh.’ I sat back. ‘And did anyone else win any of those wishing coins?’
Beth nodded. ‘Four other people won while I was there, but I expect there are quite a few I don’t know about. Let’s see now … ‘ She scratched her chin. ‘Well, there was a wizard who won two coins, and another unempowered witch won one coin. I’m almost positive that a witch who runs one of the supermarkets in Riddler’s Cove won a coin. And … oh, yes, that’s right – a weredog won five coins.’ She whistled. ‘Five coins! You can bet I’m going back tonight to try and win some more. Because if last night was anything to go by, then I’m a much better gambler than I thought I was.’ She picked her glass up, drained it in one go, and then called for Grantly to fetch her some more.
If she kept guzzling champagne all day then she was barely going to make it out the door tonight, let alone to a casino.
‘I’d love to see one of these coins,’ I said. ‘Greg could take a photo, maybe, and we could include it in the article.’ Not that I was sure I was actually going to write one. Did I really want to give free advertising to a strange new casino that had appeared overnight?
‘Oh, you can’t see one, unfortunately,’ said Beth. ‘They disappear as soon as you make your wish. But you should go to the Crossroads tonight and try your luck – you never know, you might win one yourself.’
Greg had abandoned his caviar to take some snaps, and I was eager to find out more about the coins, so I stood up. ‘I might just do that, Beth,’ I said. ‘Thanks so much for the refreshments.’
‘Oh.’ Beth sounded disappointed. ‘Well, Greg’s only got photos of my fountain and my marble countertops so far. I thought your readers might like to see my bathroom. I’ve got a new bidet. It’s golden.’
Greg looked at me, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. He clearly wanted to see the bidet.
‘I guess we could stay for another couple of minutes,’ I said. ‘I mean, who wouldn’t want to see a photo of a golden bidet?’
8. The Crossroads
As soon as we left Beth’s, Greg got on his computer to look up any recent permits granted in the area. It was a long shot, but who knew? The mysterious casino in the creepy old house could have been operating above the law.
‘Nothing,’ he said, chewing on a chocolate bar. ‘The only permit granted in the past while has been for the fair at the community hall in Riddler’s Edge. There’s nothing about the Crossroads. And when I look up the address, it’s listed as a derelict building. I guess we could go and check it out, anyway. Maybe the casino owners are there.’
I grabbed a banana from his glove compartment and nodded. ‘We’ve got to start somewhere. But just as a matter of interest, how long does that potion you gave me a while ago last?’
‘You’re good for the next few hours,’ he said with a smile as he started up the van.
Once again, the journey took next to no time. As he set the van on the ground and turned off the cloak-mode, Greg frowned. ‘The house looks just as grotty as it always has. Maybe they’re using a distraction spell to make us believe that – because didn’t Beth say it was super glamorous?’
I stepped out and approached the house. I hadn’t been out this way before, but if I had I probably would have stayed far away from this building. It brought new meaning to the word dilapidated. Crows stood on the hole-filled roof, glaring and cawing down at me, and the only thing that seemed to be holding the house in place was the ivy on its facade. There was even a tree growing right through the centre of the floor in the hallway. And the reason I could see into the hallway was because there was no front door. Or windows.
There was, however, an abundance of animal droppings, nettles, old birds’ nests and (most disturbing of all) an awful lot of abandoned underwear.
I entered, hoping that the ancient floorboards would hold my weight, and took a look around. Even though there was nothing but junk, dirt and weed-filled rooms, there was something that made me want to investigate further. As I narrowed my eyes, I thought I could just about see some of the same shimmering air that I often saw around supernatural enclaves and objects.
‘Is there some kind of spell that can reveal what a building really looks like?’ I wondered as Greg made his way in behind me.
‘Oh crap!’ he cried. ‘I’ve just stepped in crap! And it’s horse crap, too. Why would a horse even come in here?’ He pulled his purple wand from his back pocket, pointed it at the mess on his shoes, and mumbled a quick cleaning spell. ‘Sorry about that. And yeah, I guess it’s possible to reveal what a building looks like, but I wouldn’t have any idea how to do it myself and I don’t know anyone who could do it, either. Some places are hidden unless you’ve got some sort of password to enter, or an invitation or a reservation. That’s the way it is with Swanks in Warren Lane. It’s this really posh hotel, but it looks like a doss house on the outside. You can’t see it for what it really is or even enter the place unless you’re a guest.’
Well, that put paid to the only bright idea I had. ‘The flyer Beth showed us said “Come at dusk. No earlier.” Maybe it stays hidden until then? Do you remember ever seeing this house look fancier before?’
/> ‘Nah. But then … it is the Crossroads.’
I was none the wiser, so Greg went on.
‘It’s a funny spot,’ he told me. ‘Always has been. It’s one of those soft spots, y’know – where people can get lost. There are lots of stories about people hearing fae music here and going astray. It used to be the entrance to a local faery enclave, back when their borders were open to all supernaturals. But there’s no enclave here anymore. Hasn’t been since the Year of the Worm.
I narrowed my eyes, looking more carefully at the shimmering in the air. ‘Is it possible that the sióga have moved back to the enclave they used to have here? That this whole thing could be something to do with them?’
‘This isn’t the way they operate,’ Greg replied with certainty. ‘But there are plenty of other outsiders who grant wishes, and with it being almost Midsummer’s Day, it’s possible they could have borrowed the magic here. They could be using what remains of the sióga veil. Whether they’re using it to turn an ugly building into a beautiful building or a beautiful building into an ugly one, though … that’s anyone’s guess.’
I knew that when Greg said outsiders, he meant any of the myriad supernaturals who had nothing to do with witches. The sióga – the Irish faeries – were the main beings in that category, but I knew there were hundreds more.
I was so deep in thought that I leaned back against a wall. As soon as the slimy moss and mould that was living there brushed against my forearm, I leapt away. ‘Well, I wish it was a tad more beautiful now, that’s for sure. But unless either of us can think of a way to see beyond the veil or the magic or whatever … then we’re not going to find out much more about these wishing coins by hanging around here.’
Greg gave me a smile of relief. ‘Back to the Wizardly Wagon it is.’
Lucky Witches Page 6
