by R K Dreaming
I blinked. Oh great. There went my only suspect. And it wasn’t like I could tell Agent Constantine about any of this. He hadn’t believed the cat existed. He was hardly going to believe that the cat was an alibi.
“Listen, you’d better sit down,” I said to James.
He looked alarmed. “Lily?” he said immediately.
I had implied that I had bad news, and she was the first thing he thought of. I felt sorry for him. He really cared about her.
I nodded, and the look on his face made me feel even more sorry for him.
“What’s happened?” he asked in a horror struck voice.
I told him as gently as I could.
He said, “No, no, no.”
He started pacing. He looked like he was going to run away, as if he thought that he could go and find her, and that I would be proven wrong.
“Don’t go,” I said quickly. “We have to talk. They think that you’re a suspect. I know that you’re innocent.”
He shook his head with bafflement. “Who says I’m a suspect? Why do you think I’m innocent?”
And then what I had said to him seemed to hit him hard. He sat down on the rocks really fast.
“They think I did it? They think I killed her?” His voice broke on that last part.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
I could tell that he had loved her. I had thought they were arguing in anger. But they had been arguing out of love.
She had been mad at me for hurting him. She had loved him too, in a way.
“Agent Constantine from the local police is looking for you,” I said. “I think it might be better if you went to find him, rather than running off. Because that will only make you look more suspicious.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” he said hotly.
“Good,” I said. “Will you tell me about her? What was she doing in Brimstone Bay in the first place?”
He spoke eagerly, as if speaking about Lily was all that he wanted to do.
“We came here in the summer, months ago. A group of us friends all together. She and I were together then. I thought we were for real, but then she met him.”
He looked angry.
“Oberon?” I asked.
He nodded.
Captain Villain had gone to sit next to James’s ankles, and James was absentmindedly stroking him. Captain Villain was purring like it was blissful. How very inappropriate.
You mind your own business, he said to me.
I gave him a dirty look.
James did not notice. He was staring into empty space with a stunned look on his face.
“She became friends with that Oberon and his group,” he said bitterly. “And she stopped hanging around with us. We were supposed to only be here for two weeks, but when it was time to go she said that she was going to stay. And I said to her that her mum and dad and sisters were going to be mad about her staying like that so suddenly. That they’d be worried…”
His voice trailed off. He looked stricken. “They don’t know,” he said.
I nodded. “Agent Constantine or Chief Gulliver Raine will call them. I think they’ll tell them as kindly as possible.”
He looked comforted by this. He rubbed his face, and didn’t say anything for a while.
“She stayed, but you and your friends all went home?” I prompted him.
He nodded. “I had to go home. I had a job to get back to. She told me she was finished with me. That she liked it here. She was having fun. I thought she would be okay. I might not have liked that Oberon guy, but I guess I was jealous. He and his friends all seem all right, don’t they? Posh sorts.” He said this last part bitterly.
I didn’t say anything. I waited for him to continue.
“It’s not fair,” he said. “They have everything. I guess that’s what she liked. You know, the rich people lifestyle. We’re just ordinary people back home. She’s just an ordinary witch. She said coming to Brimstone Bay felt like coming to Hollywood. So exotic and special. I mean all the famous witching and eldritch families live here. It was exciting, you know? The Blazes live here. The Westbrims, the Hardwicks, the Raines, the Rexs.”
I nodded. I didn’t tell him I was a Westbrim. I didn’t think it would help.
“Why did you come back?” I asked him gently. “Did you miss her?”
He nodded. “All the time. We were friends before we got together, you know. So she stayed in touch. Every time she messaged me she told me how much fun she was having. But then the messages changed. I could tell that she was keeping something from me. She was really excited about something and she wouldn’t tell me what it was.”
My heart leapt. This had to be it. She had a secret too. Had it been worth killing over?
“What was it?” I asked eagerly. “You must have had some kind of idea what it might be.”
He shrugged. “Not really. She wouldn’t tell me. I think it was something to do with this guy she was seeing.”
“Oberon?”
He shook his head. “Some other guy. Some older guy.”
I was surprised.
“What older guy?” I asked sharply.
He shrugged angrily. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me his name. She wouldn’t tell me hardly anything about him. But she still liked to rub it in my face. She said he was really special. That he had something extra. She called him a sugar daddy. Some rich git.”
I looked at him thoughtfully. A wealthy older guy. It could have been anyone. The whole town was full of wealthy older guys.
I suppose it made sense that if she was looking for love, she would know Oberon wasn’t a serious option. It wouldn’t matter if he was the nicest guy on the planet, witches and vampires were not supposed to fall in love. It was taboo.
“Did she say what this rich guy was?” I asked. “A wizard? Or someone eldritch?”
He shook his head miserably. Then he stood up abruptly, a fierce look coming onto his face. He bunched his fists tightly.
“I’m going to find him, and when I do he’s going to be sorry!”
“I don’t think you should do that,” I said quickly.
“You’re damn right he shouldn’t do that,” said an angry voice.
Startled, both of us jumped and looked around.
Agent Constantine had appeared from behind a rocky outcrop. He was glaring at the both of us, as if we were conspiring to cover up the murder.
I felt my face go bright red, and I knew that I looked horribly guilty. I glared at him defiantly.
“Ever heard of announcing your arrival? You startled us!”
“That was the point,” he said coldly. “I thought you said you didn’t know where James Bockelman was?”
“I didn’t,” I insisted.
“Oh really?” He looked down towards my feet. Captain Villain was winding himself around my ankles. “Did your cat tell you?” he asked acidly.
I raised my chin. “And what if he did?”
He scowled.
I scowled back. What the heck kind of eldritch was he? He couldn’t be working for the Conclave of Magic or he should have known it was true that some familiars had special powers.
He probably thought Captain Villain was my familiar. He probably thought I was being metaphorical about the cat talking to me. Either that, or he thought that I was outright lying.
I didn’t care. “Agent Constantine, meet James Bockelman. There. You wanted an introduction, and now you’ve got it.”
Agent Constantine did not look impressed. “You had better tell me what you are doing down here right now,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Is it against the law now to come for a walk on the beach?”
James had sat down on a rocky outcrop again, looking miserable. I thought I had better leave them to it. So I ducked away a few steps deeper into the cave.
To my surprise, Chris Constantine came after me and grabbed hold of my arm. I froze, alarmed at his sudden and unexpected proximity. He bent down until his mouth was near my ear
.
“Did you think for a moment he could be dangerous?” he said quietly. “Don’t you ever do anything like this again!”
I yanked my arm away from him, scared that he would feel how cold I was to the touch.
Shooting him a defiant look that told him I would darn well do what I pleased, I retreated back into the cave.
4. Old Acquaintances
Captain Villain dropped me off back at the castle and left through the tunnels again. It looked like he had better things to do than hang out with me all day.
I called a cab, arranging for it to come at exactly ten past four, officially sunset. It would mean spending more of my precious money, but I had come to Brimstone Bay for one reason only. The library closed at exactly six o’clock and I didn’t want to waste time walking down into town.
Until then, I kept Aunt Adele company in the kitchen, where she fed me a late lunch mainly consisting of cake. Lots of little samplers of flavours that exploded delightfully in my mouth. The fruity ones were particularly refreshing, especially the lemon curd tartlets.
I liked cake, but this was getting a bit much.
But I didn’t want to ask her to make me something else. Any food at all was fine by me. I had expected to be eating tinned beans and toast for the duration of my stay, given my current cash flow situation.
“Aunt Adele, has a cat ever spoken to you?” I asked her.
“No.”
“Oh.” I was disappointed.
“But Alaric said that dratted Villain spoke to him,” she said. “He was always sniffing around here for salmon and he knew that Alaric had a soft heart.”
“You know Captain Villain?” I asked her in astonishment.
She was eyeing up a freshly baked fluffy victoria sponge suspiciously, as if it had not risen to her liking.
“And prawns,” she said. “Absolutely loved prawns. Alaric was always spoiling that dratted cat. Here, try a bit of this sponge. What do you think?”
She handed me a sliver cut off the top.
I thought it was light and moist and rich, and I wanted a whole slice to dip into some tea, and told her so. She promptly put the kettle on.
“So Captain Villain did speak?” I persisted. “You didn’t think that was odd?”
“Only when he wanted something,” she complained. “I ask you, what is the point of a talking cat? As if cats didn’t already know exactly how to get what they want.”
I laughed. “I always liked Captain Villain. I thought I was going mad when I heard him talk. Oh crap! Is that the time? I need to get ready. I’m going into town for a bit.”
She looked excited. “Here!” She pressed a stack of flyers into my hands. “Nobody has come in to the café all day. I don’t think they know I’m open. You make sure to hand one of those to everyone you see!”
“Uh… sure.”
“And you tell them that there’s a Perk-Me-Up truffle free with every slice this week. That should get them in the door. Everyone loves my potion syrups. Why did I never think to make truffles before?”
She looked pleased with herself for having this bright idea.
I felt guilty, because I knew I couldn’t hand out her flyers. People would notice me if I did. They might even stop to ask me questions.
But I would do her the favour of leaving them in the library in a prominent position where people might pick them up. Hopefully business would pick up enough to satisfy her. After all, she had to get rid of all those cakes she kept baking somehow.
I went up to my tower bedroom and did my ritual of covering all of my skin, not just the exposed parts, with sunscreen before I went out.
And I put a bottle of it into my backpack to take with me too. I lived in fear that I might get trapped out there somewhere overnight. Unable to escape. Caught somewhere where the sun might get to me.
It wouldn’t happen, I told myself as I got into the taxi. I asked the driver, the same finfolk man who had brought me from the station, to take me to the library.
He made conversation as we went, and I was relieved that he didn’t ask about Lily. Clearly news of the murder hadn’t got around town yet. That was good news. It meant news of me hadn’t got around town yet either.
When we arrived at the library, I got out of the cab and immediately pulled my hood firmly over my head, low over my face even though it was dark. I didn’t know who was going to be in the library and might recognise me.
I had always hated that about growing up in Brimstone Bay. Everyone knew each other, and the oddest of people would be excited that I was back for no reason that I could fathom, other than idle gossip. I hardly thought myself worthy of it, but there it was.
It turned out I hadn’t been quick enough to hide my face though. As I darted up the library steps towards the front entrance, a voice called out, “Seven graces! Look who’s back in town.”
I recognised that strident nasal tone. If I’d had hackles, it would have made them rise. It was too late to ignore her. I was about to walk right into her.
I looked up, and there she was, Giselle Hardwick in all of her mean girl, Queen Bee glory.
Half our lifetimes later, and she was still exactly the same. Lean and slim hipped, perfectly styled in a form-fitting knitted cream dress. Carefully groomed and sleek dark blond hair. Those same hard blue eyes and that slightly too square jawline.
Back then she had looked beautiful. Now she had an added elegance. It made me feel even more frazzled and unkempt.
“Look at you,” she said blocking my way. “You look like a hellcat’s dragged you through a sewer. At least you’ve finally got rid of that ridiculous pink hair.”
I blinked in disbelief. She hadn’t changed.
She had said things like that to me all through high school. This time at least there wasn’t her gaggle of sycophantic friends surrounding us, giggling that her every word.
“I must say though,” she added, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down, “starving yourself has done wonders for your figure. I hardly recognised you.”
Her words still hurt. I was in the habit of letting them cut me.
The difference was that this time I was not frozen with helpless quivering rage. She couldn’t really harm me anymore. I didn’t belong here, in this little town where people like her had all of the power.
And so I didn’t even bother to look at her. Brushing past her, I continued on into the library.
It felt empowering.
She didn’t like this. She followed me in.
“You look like you’ve fallen on hard times,” she said in a ringing tone intended to be loud enough for everyone passing by to hear her. “And there was us thinking that smarty-pants Esme Westbrim might have made something of herself out there in the Humble world. I guess that was asking for a bit too much?”
I ground my teeth. I wondered what she would do if I turned around and smacked her in the mouth. This was unheard of. Grown witches did not tussle like Humbles. Which is exactly what would have made it so funny.
“I always knew though,” she continued. “You never were very good at life. No good at magic here, no good at whatever it was you were doing out there. What was it anyway that you were doing out there?”
I spun around to confront her. I told her I’d made a living writing stories about people like her, only I used a very rude word to describe her.
Her face went pale. I doubted anyone had spoken to her like that in a long time. She was Giselle Hardwick after all, daughter of Gwyneth Hardwick, granddaughter of her family matriarch Lavinia Hardwick, one of the most powerful witches in Brimstone Bay.
And even more influential now that her nephew-in-law was the new mayor.
Lavinia Hardwick was Granny Selma’s nemesis. Lavinia was also Aunt Adele’s sister-in-law. It hit me suddenly why Giselle might have a bee in her bonnet. Perhaps she had heard from her brother Lorcan that I had inherited Mansion House.
Yes, that was bound to have made her mad.
The castle was a
symbol of prestige and power. I bet it made Giselle’s blood boil that I had inherited it and she did not.
And so I gave her a jubilant smile.
Her expression soured. She knew exactly what I was smiling about. Her lips pressed together into a thin line and her eyes blazed.
Suddenly I felt the tip of her wand pressing against my ribs.
It was all I could do not to gasp.
“Are you any good at using your wand yet?” she asked.
I was so shocked by what she had done that I couldn’t even respond. I was furious. Stabbing your wand at someone like that was as good as punching them. It was an invitation to a dual. It was incredibly rude. And it showed me exactly how much contempt she had for me.
She knew. She knew that I still had no wand-magic. Or none that I could control anyway.
I considered getting my wand out and sticking it in her ribs too. Two could play at this game.
But where she had magical control, I had none. My magic probably wouldn’t work. Or even worse, it might. What if my anger burst out through it like it had done the other day? What if I hurt her?
She saw the look in my eyes and she looked triumphant. She had won without even having to fight.
“How long are you here for?” she drawled. “You’d better make it a quick visit because you won’t last long in this town.”
“It’s none of your business,” I ground out. “And if you don’t take that wand away from me, I’m going to break it.”
She looked shocked. To threaten to break someone’s wand was incredibly rude. It was worse than threatening to break someone’s limb.
I meant it too. I was different now. The old me would never have considered breaking someone’s wand. Not even a bully’s. The new me would snap it like a twig and laugh about it.
“Stupid Meek,” she hissed. “You think you’re so powerful now you’ve got Mansion House? You can wipe that smug look off your face. My family is going to contest the will. That castle belongs to us. Great Uncle Alaric ploughed half the family fortune into restoring it. It is ours.”
“Not according to the will it isn’t,” I said. “And do you want to tell that to the seven ghosts or shall I?”
The tip of her wand poked harder into my ribs.