The Great Catsby

by T. H. Hunter

  Atop the machine, I could barely make out a large, bright red sphere, wedged underneath the ceiling. It was venting thick, opaque steam that flowed throughout the entire room, making it impossible to see much further than a few yards at best.

  Both the steam and the machine itself made it impossible to tell if anyone was in the room with us. I turned around to Barry.

  “I can’t see a thing,” I whispered. “Is the steam normal, d’you think?”

  “This shouldn’t be happening,” said Barry, a worried look on his face. “The generator must have deteriorated more than I expected. Someone’s been doing a lot of magic near it. They must be breaking it down right now, as we speak.”

  “Let’s walk around the machine,” I said softly. “Keep an eye out to the back.”

  Barry nodded.

  “Remember, you have one shot at the most,” he said. “Any more magic and the whole thing might explode.”

  Wand held before me, I slowly walked into thick mist before us.

  I felt like a blind person trying to navigate an unfamiliar place, though walking along the wall gave me at least some sense of direction. More and more windows appeared in the wall, though the bright light within the machine room prevented me from seeing outside into the darkness.

  We had passed roughly half-way when there was a terrible scream.

  “NOOO!”

  “Repello!” another voice cried.

  The spell was followed by a horrible crack of bone on metal. Then, the entire room began to shake uncontrollably. The humming sound was replaced by a terrible, penetrating rumbling from the machine next to us.

  Without thinking, I rushed forward, trying to find the source of the commotion. I hadn’t anticipated that multiple people were here. But, quite clearly, someone was in trouble.

  And then, I suddenly tripped over something long and boney. I was sent flying, face forward, skidding along the cold stone floor until I struck my head against the side of the machine, sending my wand flying out of reach.

  I yelled in pain.

  “Stop right there,” a voice said.

  My head felt dizzy. The room around me was spinning uncontrollably. I tried to focus, to see who it was bending over me.

  “S-Sarah?” I said.

  Though my head was still throbbing, the room was gradually shifting into focus once again. Barry was nowhere to be seen.

  The shape in front of me slowly came closer. They were holding a wand, pointing it directly at me. And then, I recognised who it was.

  “Harriet!” I exclaimed.

  Harriet looked just as beautiful as ever, with her long, blonde hair tied into ponytail. She was wearing a black dress.

  “Amanda?” she said, a look of utter surprise on her face. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” I said, getting gingerly to my feet. “So Val got the message to you?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Harriet, pocketing her wand. “Just in the nick of time, too. I was about to leave for London. Alec asked me to keep an eye on things for a bit longer, you see. I flew up here, to the tower. And a few minutes later, I was ambushed by that woman over there.”

  She pointed to a body, slumped against the machine, feet outstretched. It was unmistakably Lord Pembroke’s assistant, Sarah. She was holding a wand.

  “I tripped over her feet, I think,” I said, as Barry approached us.

  “Hello,” said Barry stiffly.

  “Oh, hello,” said Harriet pleasantly.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” asked Harriet.

  “After we found Lord Pembroke,” I said, “we put two and two together.”

  “You’ve got a nasty bruise on your head,” said Harriet. “It’s bleeding.”

  She took out her wand again to fix it, but I held up my hand.

  “Don’t,” I said. “Any more magic, and we risk destabilising the generator.”

  “It looks bad,” said Barry, examining a complicated array of indicators on the side of the machine. “We’ve got to stabilise the machine right now. If we don’t, the generator will definitely exhaust itself.”

  “How long have we got?” asked Harriet.

  “No more than five minutes,” said Barry. “We’ve got to act quickly before it’s too late.”

  “What do we have to do?” I asked.

  “We need to infuse the generator with magic. That will take pressure off the essence coils until we can repair them.”

  “What’s the spell?” I asked.

  “The incantation is ‘infusio’,” he said. “Use repeating, half-moon movements. Point your wand at this valve here.”

  “I thought magic makes it worse?” I asked.

  “Not if it’s fed directly into the system,” said Barry, tapping the panel beside him with his paw. “Only external magic will destabilise it. And once it’s offline, even for a minute, there is no saving the Pembrokes.”

  “I’ve got to find my wand first,” I said. “It must be here somewhere.”

  Bending down to see through the mist, I began searching for my wand on the floor.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that, if I were you,” said Harriet.

  I turned around in surprise.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Didn’t you hear what Barry said? The generator is going to go offline within minutes. Steven, Beatrice, Carew, old Lady Wickersham, they’re all going to die if we don’t do something.”

  Harriet smiled, though it did not extend to her blue eyes at all. Then, she pointed her wand at me.

  “You stay right where you are, Amanda,” she said.

  Horrified, I stared at her.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Move away from the generator,” she commanded.

  “It… it was you all along!” cried Barry. “I should have known.”

  “Indeed,” she said, inclining her head as though she were bowing after a particularly good stage performance.

  “But… it can’t be,” I spluttered. “You’re Alec’s assistant. You’re on our side…”

  She laughed.

  “That shows you how fleeting alliances can be sometimes,” she said. “Take Sarah, here, for instance. She was easily manipulated into believing that I was actually trying to protect Lord Pembroke’s precious magical field, along with the pointless lives of his relatives. So naïve.”

  “But she found out it was you,” I breathed.

  “She certainly became more suspicious after the essence coils malfunctioned for the second time,” said Harriet. “The stupid girl ran to Lord Pembroke and told him all about it.”

  “That’s why you had to kill him,” I said. “He knew it was you.”

  “Full marks, Amanda,” she said, smiling. “Though a little late, I might add. In about five minutes, the generator will begin to degrade. Enough time for a little chat.”

  “Why did you kill Emma?” I asked.

  “She saw me one night, up here,” said Harriet with an air of mock regret. “Such a pity. I quite liked her, you know. It was quite fortunate for me that she tended to put her nose where it didn’t belong. Many more likely suspects.”

  “Why do you want to destroy the magical field generator so badly?”

  “Who said anything about destroying it?” she said, her eyes flashing.

  “You… you want to dismantle it,” I said slowly. “And erect it somewhere else.”

  “Very good,” she said, nodding her head. “Why should the Pembrokes enjoy it for all eternity? They have had a long, albeit pointless life. It’s time for the torch to be handed over to more capable hands.”

  “You have no right…” I began.

  I was interrupted by a babble of voices coming from the entrance of the machine room. For the first time, there was real fear in Harriet’s eyes.

  “We’re at the other end,” I yelled. “It’s Harriet. She’s the killer…”

  “SILENCE,” she bellowed.

  She whisked her wand like a lasso, firing a spell in m
y direction.

  But I was ready. I dodged sideways, rolling off the floor and underneath the machine.

  “Amy, we’re coming!”

  It was Val.

  “Careful,” I bellowed. “She’s armed.”

  Harriet was now wildly hurling spells in all directions, trying to keep everyone at bay.

  I looked around desperately for my wand, but the thick fog made it impossible to find see anything.

  Meanwhile, the generator above my head was spitting and spurting horribly, sending tremors throughout the room. With so many spells cast in its vicinity in such a short period, there was no way of telling how quickly it would degenerate.

  Making sure that Barry was out of the way, I got into position.

  “Give yourself up, Harriet,” another voice boomed.

  It was Alec. My heart leapt. With him around, Harriet was no match for us.

  “Stay away, you fool, or I’ll blow the whole place up!” screeched Harriet, though I could tell that there was fear in her voice.

  At first, I thought we had Harriet cornered, with her back against the wall. Alec and Val were making progress, dodging in and out sight, using the machine itself for cover.

  But then, I saw what Harriet was planning. She was trying to inch closer to the open window only a few yards away from her. Lying on the floor was her umbrella-turned-broomstick.

  After casting another torrent of spells, Harriet made a wild dash for the broomstick, just as Alec and I emerged from behind the machine from either side, closing in on her.

  For a moment, it looked as though she couldn’t decide on whom to fire. But then, she aimed her wand at Alec, screaming:

  “Exculpo!”

  A beam of red light shot across the room, blinding me temporarily.

  In the corner of my eye, I saw Alec collapse to the ground in front of her. Without thinking, and with no weapon to hand, I hurled myself on top of her, sending her wand flying through the air.

  She struggled like a cornered animal, but I was winning the fight. I almost had her pinned down.

  But then, the machine suddenly emitted another terrifying tremor that shook the room like an earthquake, sending me off-balance.

  While I got back on my feet, it was just the split second that Harriet required. With one last, desperate dash, she sprinted to the broomstick, kicking frantically off the ground.

  I jumped forward, but I was too late. Harriet was already in the air. She shot out of the window like a bolt of lightning. Within seconds, she had disappeared into the darkness.

  A moment later, Barry had reached me. He was carrying my wand in his mouth and dropped it at my feet. I bent down to retrieve it.

  “Amanda,” said Barry. “You must repair the generator immediately. There’s not a second to be lost.”

  “Alec…” I began, hurrying over to him.

  “Amy,” said Val, who was crouching next to him, “there’s nothing you can do for him. He’s gone.”

  “No,” I whispered frantically. “No, it can’t… he just can’t…”

  “Amy…”

  “Get out of my way, Val,” I said.

  “Amy, what are you doing?” said Val.

  “I’m going after her,” I said. “I’m going to kill her.”

  “No, you can’t!” she said, just as the generator released another massive amount of steam. “We’ve got to repair the generator.”

  “She can’t get away with this!” I yelled.

  “She’s gone, Amanda,” Barry said. “Come to your senses. The Pembrokes will die if you don’t inject magic into the machine RIGHT NOW.”

  The words reverberated in my skull for what felt like an eternity, though in reality only seconds had passed.

  Though my entire being screamed for revenge, to hunt down Harriet, I turned to the machine behind me and began with the incantations.

  12

  By the time the MLE and the healers had finally arrived on the spot, it was already too late for them to help, in any regard.

  I had been able to inject the generator with magic just in time. As I channelled the spell, and the minutes slowly passed, the same images of Alec collapsing to the floor flashed before my mind’s eye, again and again. For as long as I lived, I would not forget that horrible moment.

  I felt numb inside, as though I were underwater and only heard and saw everything through a filter. Despite saving the occupants of the house, as well as the generator itself, it was a hollow victory to me.

  Harriet had been able to escape. And Alec was dead. It felt so unreal, and yet it had happened.

  In the hours that followed, I answered the MLE’s questions as if I were in a daydream. Again and again, I went over all the clues, the suspects, the chronology of events.

  Had there been a way to avoid the catastrophic chain of events that led to Alec’s death and Harriet’s escape? Perhaps, I thought, I had underestimated the allure of the machine that the Pembrokes possessed; that many people would be drawn to it, as Emma had been, albeit in a journalistic way. Had it been so unlikely then – human nature being what it is – that eventually someone would try to steal the magical machine? In hindsight, it seemed almost a miracle that the Pembrokes were not faced with regular break-ins and attempts to steal it.

  ***

  Back at Fickleton House, I must have spent days on end in my room, my head locked in circular ruminations that led nowhere. Had there been a chance to stop Harriet, to recognise what she was? But she had pulled the wool over all of our eyes, including those of a seasoned private investigator. But in Alec’s business, even a single mistake could be enormously costly indeed.

  His funeral had taken place a week after the events at the Pembroke estate. It was a short, unceremonious affair, though I had been surprised at how many people had attended. A warlock from the MLE, an old colleague, gave a short eulogy, espousing his life’s work and drive for justice. Then, he was buried.

  Though Val encouraged me to stay and talk with his relatives and friends, I couldn’t do it. Instead, I retreated to the prison of my room and my thoughts.

  As the days and then a week had passed, Val and Barry tried to lure me out into the open again. It felt wrong, somehow, to do so, before I had come to a solution. And yet, my thoughts were trapped in some sort of horrible and endless feedback loop. I had lost a friend. And possibly more than that, though now I would never find out. We had also been robbed of the opportunity of discovering what might have been, too.

  Now, however, that avenue was shut forever. I could do nothing to change the past. All that remained was to honour his memory by seeking revenge and bringing Harriet to justice.

  ***

  One afternoon, Val finally persuaded me to go out of doors again. The weather, as though belittling the tragedy that had just occurred, was bright and warm and lovely.

  Val had set a table in the garden. It was stacked with all of our favourite things, from Yorkshire puddings and fresh gravy to Mrs. Faversham’s homemade Cornish pasties to scones, whipped cream and jam.

  Barry was already outside, perched atop his high chair. In his own peculiar way, I could tell that Barry had been deeply worried about me, too, a fact that I was able to appreciate even in my present, miserable state.

  “All your favourites,” said Val, pressing my hand warmly. “Mrs. Faversham is going to bring tea in a minute. I hope you like it, Amy.”

  “Thanks,” I said, making my best effort to be sociable, though I didn’t feel like it at all yet. “It’s great. You’ve outdone yourself again, Val.”

  “Barry helped, too, you know,” said Val kindly.

  Barry gazed into the clear sky as though he hadn’t heard what Val had said. Val hesitated briefly.

  “Are you feeling any better?” she asked tentatively.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “Amy,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “I can tell whether you’re telling the truth, you know. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m an empathic psychic. You made me one.
”

  “Right,” I said, attempting a smile. “Sorry, Val. I… well, I just need a bit more time. The funeral didn’t really give me any closure.”

  “Give it time,” said Val, nodding wisely. “Ah, here comes Mrs. Faversham.”

  Since I had been eating in my room, I hadn’t seen Mrs. Faversham since my return to Fickleton House. It was reassuring, somehow, to see her familiar figure stride across the lawn, carrying a tray full of cups and a large pot of steaming tea.

  She smiled warmly when she saw me.

  “Glad you’re out and about again, Miss Sheridan,” she said, placing the cups and saucers neatly on the table in front of us. “Here is your tea. Oh, and before I forget, several letters arrived for you, Miss Sheridan.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Faversham,” I said.

  “If there’s anything else you’d like, I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said. “I need to prepare dinner.”

  Taking the tray with her, she bustled across the lawn again in the direction of the house. And for a brief, yet fleeting moment, things seemed to be perfectly normal once again.

  Val, meanwhile, was scanning the addresses on the letters.

  “Most of them are bills,” she said. “But there is one from a lawyer in London.”

  She handed the letter to me, but I refused.

  “I don’t think I want to deal with anything official at the moment,” I said.

  “It might be important,” Val insisted.

  “You open it, then,” I said.

  Val carefully opened it and read the contents.

  “It’s Alec’s lawyer,” she said.

  “What does he want?” I asked. “Surely, I’m not inheriting anything…”

  “No,” said Val. “But apparently Alec reserved you the right to buy his detective agency’s premises in London. The proceeds are to be donated to a charity of your choosing.”

  “He can’t be serious,” I said.

  “It’s all in here,” said Val. “And for a place in London, the price seems pretty fair to me…”

  “That’s not the point,” I said. “I failed. Alec is… well, I wouldn’t have the option of taking over his place if I had come to the right conclusion. It’s because of me he died.”