Murder, Magic, and Moggies

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “P-p-protection?” Fraidy stammered. “Blast! I’m a screwy rat. Blast! I’m a screwy rat.”

  Scaredy Pants went back to chanting his mantra.

  She gestured to Grammy Chimera’s wand, which was nosing out of the pocket of my cloak. “You must have suspected that there was Fae magic at work in Gless Inlet, Hattie, or you would never have accessed the ancient magic in Chimera’s old apple wand.”

  I pulled the wand out, letting it lie flat against the open palms of my hand. It was long, as wands go, measuring nearly fourteen inches in length. Portia wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t bothered looking at Grammy Chimera’s old wand for years before today.

  “I don’t know why I dug up this old thing. I haven’t seen it since…that night. The fire caught so fast.” Did I tell you that Grandma Chimera passed the night my parents died in the fire? Cause of death never concluded. But, to this day I swear that Chimera Opal’s magic sputtered out like a candle in a cold draft the moment her daughter died in the flames.

  “It wasn’t me,” Carbon swore solemnly. Onyx shot him a stern look. Now was not the time.

  “I know you didn’t Carbon. Truth is…nobody knows exactly how it did start.” I sat on a nearby stool. My brow furrowed with the pain of remembering. “I don’t recall everything about that night. But, I remember the fire. It wasn’t like any fire I had ever seen. Some of the flames? They glowed a strange blue and green. Not like any flame I was familiar with. You expect flames to be hot, right?”

  Millie, who had only ever heard bits and pieces of my childhood nightmare, sat riveted on the chair next to Portia.

  I shook my head. “The flames were ice cold.”

  Millie sat bolt upright. “No!”

  I nodded. “Colder than ice. But, they burned enough like the real deal. Half the house was already up in flames when…when…” I stumbled, nearly choking on the memory. Onyx placed a steadying paw on my arm. I patted his head gratefully. I hauled in a deep breath and continued. “Half the house was already gone when Dad grabbed me and rushed me outside. I didn’t want him to leave me all alone, but he had to rush back in and save mom. The flames had engulfed the house almost entirely. I waited. I waited for him to come back out with my mother.”

  The weight of the sadness pulled my eyes down to the floor. “I waited. But they never came back out.”

  I willed my vocal cords to work. “My parents had started my magical training well before that night. I was pretty good at it, too. Dad said I was a natural. That he’d never seen someone as quick and adept at mastering magic. Because of it, he had started to show me some of the more complex spells, like 'Diluvium.' You know, the deluge spell? But I could never quite get the hang of it. If I had just been able to call up the spell right? I would have had all the water I’d have needed to put out the fire.”

  The tears pricked like burning needles as they threatened to soak my cheeks. It was as if the entire night was playing out again, right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop the flood of painful memories.

  “I couldn’t…I just…”

  “Trust me, my dear,” Portia said. “There was nothing you could have done.”

  People had been telling me that my entire life. Handing me platitudes in the hope that, somehow, that would make me feel better,

  You were just a kid.

  It wasn’t your fault.

  There was nothing you could have done.

  “Hat, that’s really something awful!” Millie offered. A tear had formed in her own eye, but it quickly gave way to unbridled curiosity. “But, what kind of fire burns blue and green…and is cold?”

  “Foxfire,” Portia stated. “Otherwise known as ‘Faery Fire.' And that is why there was nothing your Diluvium spell could have done to quench the flames. Your magic did not fail, Hattie. It was just the wrong kind of magic.”

  “What? What are you talking about, Portia?”

  “Where was your Grandmother? Where was Chimera when this tragedy occurred?”

  “My mind was reeling. “Um, I don’t know.”

  “Think!” Portia slammed an injured hand on the tabletop, the import of her query overriding whatever pain she may have felt. “Think, Hattie. Where…was…Chimera?”

  “I-I-I’m not sure. Grammy Chimera was always off, somewhere in the Isles, looking for unique items for the shop, building business partnerships.”

  “Partnerships that some would rather dissolve. No matter the costs,” Portia intoned morbidly. “The tragedy that befell you and your parents was no accident, Hattie. Those responsible were after something that Chimera was protecting. And, Chimera couldn't be with you at the time of the fire, because she was busy being warden.”

  “What? Grammy Chimera never had anything dangerous around the shop. And certainly not at my parents’ home. What was so important that someone would be willing to kill for?”

  “A weapon.”

  I burst out laughing, part in incredulity, partly in fear.

  “Do you know what kind of wood your grandmother’s wand is fashioned from?”

  “Apple,” I answered. I felt a little like I was back in grade school and Portia was the austere school marm at the head of the class.

  “Yes. The wood favored by the Fae. It is not often a wand is fashioned from the wood of an apple tree. When the Fae allow it, it is indeed for a special person, if not for a special purpose. Hattie, wherever that wand was crafted, and whenever it was crafted, Chimera knew that it was very old and very special. She didn't know why the Fae wanted their hands on it so badly, but that wand somehow fell into Chimera's hands, and believe you me that was no accident.”

  “So, it was meant for my grandmother?” I concluded.

  Portia clucked her tongue. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. One is never certain when dealing with the Fae.”

  Whatever that means.

  “Look at the symbols on Chimera’s wand, Hattie. What do you see?”

  I let my eyes rove over the delicate carvings that covered the wand in my hands. The first symbol looked a little like a succession of triquetra symbols, layered and rotated to form a petal pattern. In the center was a cobalt blue, seven-pointed star. I couldn’t understand the runic writing across the top.

  “Futhark. The writing of the Fae,” Portia explained, noting the confusion on my face. “Loosely translated it means: ‘Two Worlds, One Earth, One Hope.’ It’s the Fae flag. To display that symbol shows that you are a friend to the Fae and goes a long way to paving the roads of communication with their kind. They are not always the easiest to talk to.”

  “Tell that to Verdantia,” I muttered absentmindedly.

  “Yes, well, Verdantia is certainly an exception to the rule. Are there any other symbols on the wand?”

  “A Celtic knot in the form of a heart that’s inside another heart?” I offered.

  “Love and friendship. The bearer of such a symbol will learn that two hearts can indeed become one.”

  “Trew,” Jet sniggered. Onyx popped him.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Jet. I think that ship has sailed. David got pretty angry with me at the station yesterday. I’ve never seen him quite that upset. Not to mention, he’s sort of interested in someone else right now.”

  “Who? Amber?” Shade scoffed. “Look, I like ladies as much as the next cat, but that gal’s got nothing on you, boss lady. Don’t worry, doll. Pretty soon, Chief Trew-Love will shake himself out whatever spell he’s under and realize how he really feels about you.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to say, but I just don’t think it’s going to happen.” I turned my attention back to the wand. What’s this symbol with the two intertwined swans mean, Miss Fearwyn? This one with two crossed lances in the center. It looks like they’re tipped with arrows?”

  “Protection of the sacred center. Each bird watches the other’s back. It is a reminder to find your center. Find that thing deep inside that makes you…well, you. And, no matter what may try to turn you from your path, whoever
might try to turn your head, stay true. Protect your center at all costs. And only keep those around you who will help you in that quest. Those who, like the birds, will watch your back.

  I may not always have agreed with Chimera on all points of life, but we both recognized the power of that wand in the right hands.”

  As I turned the polished wand over in my hands, it occurred to me I was truly oblivious to my own history. I had had no idea that Grammy Chimera had had a relationship with the Fae. And I certainly had no clue that there were some members of the same civilization that may have been responsible for my parents’ death.

  “All these years I’ve held myself responsible for my parents’ deaths, thinking that my magic failed me. That I had failed…them. But, if this wand is so powerful, why couldn’t Chimera have used it to save them. Why couldn’t she have stopped what happened?”

  “The Apple Wand, Uirgae Malum, is, indeed, a powerful tool in the hands of an accomplished and worthy witch. However, true to their nature, nothing is quite as it seems with the Fae. They who graced Chimera with the wand inscribed those five symbols to ensure that she, or any who would wield its power, were truly worthy. Challenges, if you will. As the bearer passes each successive test, they can access more of the power the wand is capable of wielding. The Fae believed, that in passing all of the tests, a human could prove that, as a race, we were capable of enlightenment and worthy enough to participate in the world we live in. Or at least not be struck from its face.”

  “So, it was like a, uh….pass or fail kinda thing?” Midnight asked.

  “Man, this is exactly why I hated school,” Fraidy moaned. “You passed? Great. You failed…complete annihilation.”

  “Like the tests they used at the start of Warlock Wars,” I gulped audibly.

  Portia nodded gravely. “Yes. Very much like the Warlock Wars tests.”

  “And, so my grandmother hadn't passed all five That's why she couldn't counteract that fiery magic?”

  “Sadly, no. Chimera was a powerful witch, nearly more powerful than me, but not all the secrets of the Uirgae Malum revealed themselves to her.”

  There were three more symbols carved into the wood of the wand. I was just about to ask Portia for further explanation when a sudden scattering clash echoed through the small shop. Hundreds of white, vinyl letters from Millie’s display sign skittered across the floor, along with the actual sign itself.

  Millie leaped to her feet. “JET!!!”

  As Millie went for the water bottle, Jet’s four paws tread uselessly through the remaining letters on the counter before they finally gained traction on a sticky note. He used the momentary grip to catapult himself onto the floor, across the shop, up the shelves, dodging Millie’s wild aim the whole way.

  I came into the shop and reached down to pick up the sticky note that had drifted to the floor. It was the cryptic message passed along by the ghostly Spithilda, the same crazy mantra Fraidy had been repeating all night.

  Blast! Im a screwy rat.

  It hadn’t made sense then. It certainly didn’t make sense now. Besides, my head was now swarming with other, more pressing matters. Like how it now seemed that Spithilda’s murder was small change when compared to a possible massive conspiracy to reignite the holy terrors that were The Warlock Wars. Could the two be connected at all?

  But, I was no closer to finding out who had killed her. I sighed and started to pick up all the loose letters that Jet had scattered from Millie's painstakingly made sign.

  “Jet, if you have no other magical ability, you have an incredible talent for making a mess,” I grumbled. I picked up the sign. “See? You’ve got poor Millie’s letters all out of order now.”

  “I catch him, and I’m gonna put him outta order!” Millie growled as she ran after my quickest kitty.

  And that’s when the lightbulb went off.

  Out of order.

  I looked at the sticky note with the gobbledygook words that Spithilda had communicated to us. Maybe she wasn't as bat-ship crazy as we had originally thought. Midnight had warned us that new spirits had trouble communicating.

  “Midnight?” I questioned quickly. “Is it possible that Spithilda did tell us the name of her murderer? That she gave us all the info we needed? It was just out of order?”

  “And that is why you are the real reigning queen of our little troupe, Hat. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  But, where to start? I grabbed a handful of the white, plastic letters and began to arrange them.

  Blast! I’m a screwy rat.

  I had no idea where to begin. I ran through the list of suspects in my mind. Rad Silverback.

  No. There was no “D.”

  I shuffled some letters around. Violet? No. No “V.”

  I looked up at Portia, hoping she wasn’t looking, then looked back at the letters.

  E-A-R-W-Y…whew! No “F” or “N.”

  That only left one, albeit improbable name left.

  I reshuffled the letters, and suddenly, everything became crystal clear.

  There’s a little magic in everything if you’ve half a mind to look.

  Good old Grammy.

  Jet was zooming past on another lap around the shop, Millie hot on his heels. I scooped him up by the scruff of his neck and planted a big, wet kiss on his furry little face. “Jet, you great big beautiful disaster. You’re the greatest!”

  He floundered under the immediate attention, still confused whether he should be hightailing it for the hills. “I am?”

  “Yes. You are an absolute mess, my dear sweet cat. An absolutely purr-fect mess!”

  “Wait!” Millie said, skidding to a sudden stop. “You mean we’re not mad at him anymore?”

  I pointed to the letters, neatly arranged in a perfect sentence.

  I – T – W – A – S – A – M – B – E – R – C – R – Y – S – T - A – L.

  Chapter 17

  “But, isn’t the Chief out on a date with Amber tonight?” Fraidy’s voice quavered. More than just a little. My heart leaped into my chest.

  “Omigosh! Fraidy’s right! Amber said something about cooking him dinner. At her place!”

  A nice, home-cooked meal.

  Amber had made someone else a nice, home-cooked meal. Spithilda.

  “Quick! Portia! Had you already harvested your Pokeberry leaves to bring for Verdantia’s before we showed up at Gaunt Manor?”

  Portia shook her head. “No. As a matter of fact, I did not.”

  “But, someone did!” I turned to the cats. “Remember we saw fresh breaks on the pokeberry stems? Like someone had just ripped some of the leaves free?”

  “You’re right, Hat. You think it was Amber?” Eclipse asked.

  “I’m not sure yet. Shade. When we found you in Portia’s basement, you said ‘she’ dumped you in the basement. What made you think it was a woman?”

  “It was that funky perfume. Some cats go for that earthy aroma, but not me. It’s kinda like a musky, sweet, greasy…”

  “…straw.” I finished his statement.

  “Yeah! That’s exactly it. How did you know, Hattie?”

  I scrambled for my cloak, the Apple Wand (not that I thought I would be able to do much more than light up a room with it), and Grammy’s pentacle charm.

  “Because,” I replied as I fastened the necklace around my neck. “I smelled the same exact scent when the Chief was kicking me out of the station, and Amber was fiddling with her necklace. Ugliest brown crystal I’ve ever seen.” I shuddered.

  “Hyraceum,” Portia said.

  “Amber’s mother?” I asked.

  “Well, yes, but hyraceum is also a powerful magical crystal. It’s used in many control spells.”

  “Hyraceum!” I slapped myself in the head.

  “Yeah, Hat. We’ve gone over this,” Shade quipped.

  “No! Don’t you see! Hyraceum is Amber’s mother.”

  “Duh,” Shade interjected. Midnight knocked him off the sill…again.


  “Druida told me that when the Roach family fell apart, Hyraceum moved to Mag Mell...”

  “…where she married one of the Fae and learned some of their magic,” Onyx finished.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “Magic along the lines of a glamour, you mean?” Shade offered. “Like Verdantia was talking about?”

  “Like a glamour,” I confirmed. “I thought something was a little off about ‘Alban Dewdrop.' He had this funny webbing between his fingers, and he started acting all strange when a fly started buzzing around the room. When Druida showed me a picture of the Roach family, guess who had a toad for a familiar?”

  “I’m guessing Hyraceum,” Millie offered.

  “Bingo. And I’m sure it would be nothing for her to generate a portal between Mag Mell and here. The only thing I don’t understand is why create a glamour to make us think Alban Dewdrop was still running The Mutley Crew Operation?”

  “A good question, Hattie. But, a better question is ‘What does Amber have in mind for the Chief’?” Onyx reminded me.

  “Holy Saint Brigid! Portia, I beg of you. Can you please make me a batch of fairy ointment? If I’m going to go up against a wife and daughter of a Fae, I want to be able to see what I’m up against.”

  “It’s not a spell to be taken lightly, Hattie. The Fae are extremely judicious in whom they ‘allow’ to have the sight. If they think you have come about it dishonestly…well, there is more than one tale of a person being blinded forever.”

  I steeled myself. “That’s just a risk I have to take. David is my friend, and he has no idea what he’s getting involved in. I know he told me to butt out, but I know what’s at risk.”

  Portia nodded solemnly. “Very well then. Do you have Hawthorn, Eyebright, Elecampane, and Yarrow? Oh, and I’ll also need some St. John’s Wort. And, I’m telling you now Seraphim Joyvive, if you get caught with this ointment, I will, of course, deny all knowledge of having anything to do with this.”

  “Of course, Portia. I completely understand. I swept a wide gesture toward the shelves. “Use what you need.”

  Portia went about her ministrations.

  “Hat,” Fraidy said somberly. “The Chief said he would have you arrested. Worse. He would never speak to you again.”