by Mara Webb
Lyle yanked the lanyards from us, the clips popping to break the fabric loop around our necks. The photos had been replaced by a black square with no movement. Even the images of us had been evicted. There was still no sound. Everyone in the hall stood still to watch us leave. I felt a prickle of cold air on my skin, fear was encouraging the goosebumps on my arms to stand to attention.
Go faster.
We hurried out into the small laundry room, back out through the large wooden doors painted like an oil slick and then stopped on the steps just beyond them. I was breathing as if I had been sprinting, adrenaline rushing into my blood like my body was preparing for a fight. What had I done? I didn’t know how I had created that flames in my hand. Was I going to hurt her? What if Quin hadn’t stopped me?
I was lost for words. Quin was silent too, that was an indicator of the severity of the situation, Quin was rarely silent. I had thought he was just waiting until we were safely outside to speak, but we were alone now. He didn’t even look at me. He had paused on the steps alongside me but then started to walk down to the pathway through the lawn. I followed.
Signs appeared above the grass again, but they didn’t carry warnings about straying from the gravel. They span around with messages like ‘Don’t come back soon!’ and ‘We do not thank you for your visit!’. My heart felt heavy with the idea that I had done something terrible. Quin had worked there, people must know him, he had been so happy to show me around and return to this magical place, I had ruined it.
We finished the walk to the parking lot with a distance between us. He was ten feet ahead of me and I made no attempt to close the gap. Maybe a few more minutes of thinking would give Quin the time he needed to forgive me. Had I apologized though? He waited next to the car door. I turned the key in the lock and pulled it open for him to jump in. When should I speak?
I climbed into the driver's seat, closed the door, fastened my belt and started the engine. Warm air spluttered from the vents; my magic wasn’t working as smoothly as it had before because my mind was preoccupied with concern. I pulled out of the parking lot and aimed the car back towards Sucré.
“I’m sorry, Quin. I truly am. I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t stay mad at me. How do I fix this?” My eyes swam in tears on the verge of falling down my cheeks. I had seen an angry side of me that I didn’t like, I could only imagine what Quin had seen.
“It’s fine Nora. You just surprised me. I haven’t seen you react like that to anything before. Are you feeling calmer now?” His voice was steady, his face had turned from the window to look at the side of me as I drove.
“Yeah, I felt out of control back there. That has never happened before.” I had my eyes on the road, but I was able to sense Quin, his mood was changing. He had been closed off a few minutes ago, he was allowing me to use our bond again, the bond between a witch and her familiar. “Were you able to feel it coming? Did you feel what I felt?” I asked.
“No.” He laughed a little. “I think that’s why it scared me. Either your magic blocked me out, or someone else was causing you to feel that way. I don’t know why anyone there would have used magic to make you angry. It is a place filled with bored students looking for any opportunity to try out new spells though, stranger things have happened.”
He was relaxing, so was I. The rest of the drive was spent chatting about Quins time as a teacher at the University. He had helped out with potions and cauldron basics, ‘flight for fools’ which was the introductory broom skills class, and animal science, that was the class he was the most passionate about. It was clear from his voice.
“I once had a student in potions class, it was just some regular, basic human chemistry stuff that particular day. The boy had a terrible cold, a really stuffy nose, his voice was all weird and husky. Anyway, he sneezed at one point, set the walls on fire. The actual bricks that were part of the wall were burning, still have no idea how he did it.” He laughed.
We pulled up outside the house on Charm Close. It was getting late now; we had been out of the house for a couple of hours and the winter sun was setting. “If I order take out, do you and the kittens want anything? I am picturing Chinese food, a lot of it. There’s ice cream in the freezer too. I want to eat my feelings until I collapse in bed and wake up tomorrow without this weight on my shoulders.” Quin was salivating already.
He ran up to the house, almost dancing on the step waiting for me to catch up and unlock the door. Once the key had turned in the lock, he pushed his way in, screaming the kittens names to get them to assemble in one room. Within a minute or so Quin was back by my side relaying their requests as I dialed the number for the restaurant. “Hello? Yes, can I get some food delivered? Number thirteen Charm Close, Nora.” I could hear the guy on the phone jotting down me information, the pencil scratched loudly against the paper.
“One sweet and sour tofu, one mixed veg with cashew nuts, a portion of vegetable spring rolls, a mushroom fried rice, and,” I turned to Quin, “What did you guys wants again? Really? Okay, can I get four pounds of fried king prawns? Yes, I know that is a lot, it’s not all for me.” After telling me it would be about thirty minutes, he hung up.
As we waited, the kittens performed some magic that they had been working on with Quin when I was out cycling, before the break in. They were now able to summon small objects from around the house then put them back. “Does that mean the house will never be messy again?” I asked with a smile.
Echo summoned a jug of milk. It was not milk from the fridge in our house though, she had summoned milk from the house across the street. Somehow the glass container navigated its way through the open window over the road and hurtled towards the kitchen window of number thirteen. The pitcher shattered; milk covered the window which miraculously remained intact. That put an end to the game.
I ran upstairs to change into sweats. Binge eating Chinese food on the couch with a low budget martial arts movie sounded like heaven. I came back down to the kitchen to get some dishes out ready to eat. I don’t make a habit of tipping the food out of the take-out containers but I had ordered quite a lot so I figured I could just pile it up into one giant bowl with a side plate for the spring rolls. I didn’t want to get grease on the fabric of the chair.
A loud thud against the front door reverberated through the house. It sounded like something had been thrown against the wood. The kittens were all in the lounge ready for food, they had all spun around when at the noise. They were surprised. Maybe it was the delivery guy, it had been about half an hour.
I opened the door and lying on the grass at the bottom of the stairs to my home was the body of the cheerleader with one earring. She was dead.
6
There was a dead girl in front of my house. I had made a huge display of yelling at her in public only a few hours ago and now she was dead. Quin must have sensed my shock as he appeared next to me in the doorway. “This is not ideal, Nora,” he said.
We needed a plan. What should we do? Did we call the regular police? Is there some sort of special police force we call because she is a witch? Was a witch. Should I call someone on the high council? Despite the cold air I could feel my palms moisten. A nervous sweat coated my skin and it allowed me to feel every breeze, however slight. “I should call Ryan,” I said.
Ryan was a co-council member. He was a wizard, a very capable one. Could I trust him with this? What would he be able to do for me here? I needed advice from an adult. In a state of emergency, I had chosen Ryan as the voice of reason to steer me away from a situation where a girl I had threatened was lying dead at my feet.
My cell phone was inside, on the kitchen counter where I had put it after ordering take-out. The food. Someone would be here soon. A delivery driver would arrive any minute and stumble across a crime scene. I couldn’t move her though, that would be a separate crime. No one would believe I hadn’t killed her if I started messing about with the evidence. I didn’t want her body covered in my fingerprints and DNA.
All the thinking had taken up too much time. He was here. A small car was bumbling towards the house, the headlights slicing through the darkness. Tiny beads of rain started to fall. I could see the water droplets falling through the car’s headlights. I was out of time. I took a hurried step backwards and closed the door, Quin stepped in with me.
My genius idea, like a child being told a rule they don’t wish to obey, was to pretend I hadn’t seen anything or heard anything. I scripted out my reaction, playing the part of myself and the delivery driver.
He would scream, I would open the door delicately and scream also. ‘Oh my goodness, is she okay? Check for a pulse!’ I would yell from the doorstep, feigning surprise with a squeamish edge that suggested I was afraid to come closer. He would confirm she was dead. I would cry on cue, then maybe he would call the police? Or a neighbor would do it? All the screaming would have gotten someone's attention by that point.
That wasn’t how it played out. I pressed my eye to the small spy hole in the door. He didn’t turn the car off when he got to the house, he left it idling, the two right tires on the sidewalk. After throwing the door open the little light came on inside his car, he picked up the bag of food from the passenger seat and climbed out. The beams of his headlights didn’t shine across the grass. He hadn’t seen her yet.
Now the sand in my timer was running out, down to its last few grains. It was just a matter of time, a few seconds? A whole minute?
He screamed.
I watched as he went to take a shortcut over the lawn, tripped over her ankle, turned to see what had caused him to stumble. Flickering light danced across the street as neighbors twitched their curtains open, the glow of their lamps and fireplaces falling across the crime scene. At least I could be grateful for the small mercy that the delivery guy hadn’t thrown food all over her, spared her that indignity.
What had I been planning to do? Did I wait? Should I rush outside now?
“So, are we just standing here all night then chief? Or should we react to a street full of screaming people that we can obviously hear?” Quin asked.
“Do you have any idea how this is going to go? What am I supposed to say out there?” I had taken a step back from the door now. I knew that there would be someone out there calling the police, officers would be hurtling towards my lawn any minute. Brent. I had told him my cousin was coming over, a fictional Julia. What should I say to him?
“Look, this bunch of humans outside don’t know that you are a witch or that you had an argument with our deceased friend earlier. You aren’t at risk here. Go outside.” Quin headbutted the back of my calf, nudging me forward.
I have to go out and face it, “The best way out is always through.”
The street was busy with onlookers now. They hadn’t been satisfied with the view from the comfort and safety of their houses, so had shuffled out into the cold rain to take it all in. There were a couple of suspicious glances in my direction, but mostly they were gossiping amongst themselves. I overheard one elderly gentleman bemoaning the alcohol use in teens today. He clearly thought she had polished off a bottle of something cheap and blacked out on the ground.
I looked horrified and shocked because I was. It wasn’t an act. I looked over at the delivery driver who was talking into his cell phone.
“Have you called the cops?” He hadn’t. He was calling his manager to let him know the next order would be arriving late.
A middle-aged woman wandered over to me. “I have dear, they said to stay away from her. They had me check for signs of life. I’m a nurse, she’s as dead as they come. Do you know her?” I didn’t, so I shook my head. We had met once; I didn’t even know her name. I had accused her of something, and she had recognized Quin. That was the extent of our relationship.
Gossip travels fast. People from the next street over, some from beyond that, had walked over to ogle at the event. Small towns get their entertainment where they can. They had all beaten the police to it, twenty minutes after being called a cop car whirred down the street, lights flashing. They didn’t need the sirens, there was no traffic here to warn.
Brent stepped out of the car with Emma, the other officer I had spoken to in the station a month or so ago. He ran over to me with his arms outstretched and wrapped them tightly around my body.
“Oh Nora, I got a call that a female body had been found at number thirteen and I thought it was you, Emma had to drive. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.” His chin was pressed into my shoulder, his cheek against my ear.
He pulled back and briefly locked eyes with me, I could see the tears sparkling in the moonlight. He kissed me, firmly, just for a second. Then let go. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...that was not how I wanted that to be.” He looked down and tried to regroup. His hand slipped into the top pocket of his shirt and he pulled out a notepad and pencil, Officer Brent was back to work.
Emma walked around the cheerleader on the grass, crouching to get a closer look at the finer details. She pulled a camera out of a small bag she had brought with her and started taking photographs. Yellow plastic flags were put around the arm, hands, head of the girl and more photos were taken. It felt so clinical.
Brent asked me a few questions and made notes. At some point he decided he was no longer the right person to continue; the line of questioning had changed and his relationship with me would interfere. Emma took over and began to ask me about where I had been, if I recognized the girl, if I know of any reason why she would have been brought here. Brought.
Whatever Emma had inspected on the grass made her think that the body had been brought here after she was dead. The girl didn’t randomly die next to my Toyota, she was killed somewhere else and put here for me to find. I was being set up, but why?
Once the questions were over, I was encouraged to go back inside. More vehicles showed up, forensics and a van to transport her somewhere else. There were more photographs. It was advised that I don’t travel far which let me know that at the stage of the investigation I was their only suspect. I couldn’t be mad about it, if I were them, I would suspect me too.
A knock on the door brought me out of a daydream and I dragged my feet towards the entryway to see who it was. The crime scene circus had been going on for over an hour, I figured it would be someone else with questions. Maybe a local journalist on the hunt for a story. Not much happens around here so this murder would be a big deal in the newspapers. It was none of the people I had guessed it would be, it was Ryan.
I turned the handle and pulled the door inwards; Ryan rushed into the room and wrapped his arms around me. As he reached behind himself to close the door, I caught Brent looking towards us. I could see the hurt in his eyes. My heart ached a little.
“I heard what happened, well I have heard what the rumor mill is spinning. Are you okay?” he asked. This hug was firm and soothing. I could smell lavender and cologne on his neck, I couldn’t help myself, I took another deep inhale of his scent.
“I’m fine, just a bit shaken up. I didn’t kill her Ryan. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I didn’t kill her. I need you to know that,” I insisted.
He released his arms from their embrace and moving backwards placed them on the sides of my shoulders. “Of course, I know that. You should have called me, or any of us. The council can help you when people are threatening to harm you. We protect our own.” He was looking deep into my eyes. I felt a tingle of anticipation in my fingertips. Quin reached up and stuck his claws into my thigh. Moment over.
I recognized that Quin was trying to prevent me from confessing about the missing books to Ryan. Neither of us knew how he would react to the fact I have a library full of forbidden books in the attic and that they have been stolen. I didn’t understand what the implications were of that. What danger had been released into the world now that a teenager has ten books on illegal magic? Or… had at least.
Which raised another question in my mind. My book thief was dead now, and my books were still nowhere
to be seen.
Who has them now?
7
I sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen as Ryan swirled about preparing dinner. He had looked in the refrigerator and somehow found enough ingredients to prepare homemade Chinese food for both us and the cats. He was obviously a better chef than me, looking in the cupboards earlier I had not been inspired whatsoever.
“You don’t have to do this you know. I’m sure the delivery guy is still wandering about outside; I could just throw all the cold food in the microwave.” He looked horrified at the thought.
“Nora, I am in the middle of making you fresh food and there are cookies in the oven. I am a man of many talents. It would be easier without these animals hanging off my shirt, but I think I am working the look.” He stepped back from the stove and, sure enough, three of the cats were holding on to his shirt with their front claws, hanging like Christmas ornaments on a tree. He was right, he made it look good.
He poked at a wok full of vegetables and sauce with a spatula, turned to look in the oven for a ‘Are they golden enough?’ check on the cookies and then turned back to face me. I grabbed an extra dish out of the cupboard and set it down next to the one I had retrieved for myself earlier. Now it was a dinner date for two. Wait, is this a date?
As he portioned out the meal onto our plates I drifted back to earlier at the University, screaming at that poor dead girl with purple fire coating my hands. I knew that telling Ryan about the books would be a mistake, but could I tell him about the fire? Would he know what had happened to me? How could I bring that up without mentioning the break-in?
The cats were now deliriously purring as they buried their faces in the seafood platter Ryan had prepared for them. He sat in the seat beside me and passed me a fork. “Bon appetit,” he said. He took the first bite. I watched a little too long, I felt like I was betraying Brent somehow. Sharing this food with my friend felt inappropriate. No one had labeled this as a date, no one had labeled Brent and I as boyfriend and girlfriend either, not officially anyway. We had shared a kiss briefly on my steps earlier, but that was it.