“So she has to be caught red-handed, you mean?” Clarissa asked.
“Yes, seeking to unleash the power that Jebediah’s tree has invested inside it.”
“Then—”
Old Joe sensed Clarissa’s next question and he held his hand up to stop her. “I feel it’s important that you know all the facts before we look at what you might do next,” he explained.
Clarissa sighed in frustration, altering her sitting position. “Of course,” she acquiesced.
“Grappletwigs was reluctant to see the back of any of the stones—”
“I’ll bet that’s what’s known as an understatement,” Toby quipped, well able to imagine Grappletwigs’ obstinate and furious disapproval.
“So, we negotiated that I would take half. I took the three from the top. The Four Stone, The Five Stone and The Six Stone. I gave them to people I would trust with my life.”
He looked Clarissa squarely in the eye, and she swallowed. “But Mrs Crouch… I… “
“You don’t trust her?”
Clarissa shrugged, unhappy to admit it. “I didn’t believe her story, or the evidence. I’m not entirely sure The Pointy Woman ever made it into her house.”
Old Joe began to grin, a wide smile that lit up the dark room. “That’s my girl. You’re smart. Like your mother. Smarter than your father, even though I say so myself. I’ll tell you about him sometime, but not tonight.” He cast a quick glance at the window. The moon had started to drop. Dawn would be upon them soon enough.
“Mrs Crouch is on the side of the good guys, that much I can share with you. She’s an old, old friend of mine. We wanted you to be careful about whom you chose to trust. If we sowed enough discord and bad feeling, we assumed you’d start to get a little jumpy. And jumpy is good when you need to watch your back. But I digress.” He pointed at Toby. “You’re going to find the next bit of my story interesting, young man.”
Toby sat down at Old Joe’s feet and stared up at the old man’s face in adoration. Old Joe could have recited The Owl and the Pussycat and Toby would have lapped it up.
“Go on,” he said.
“So I hid the stones and, in the meantime, the Ministry of Witches planted a rumour about me having them in my possession. We knew this meant Miranda would come after me with everything she had.”
Clarissa clamped her hand to her mouth and Toby whined.
“It was time to fit the final piece of the jigsaw into place.” He reached out to gently electrify the air around Toby. “This young rascal here.”
“Me?” Toby asked. “I didn’t know I was part of a jigsaw puzzle.”
“I needed a witness. Someone to pass the story on to those who would take my place.”
“So you chose Toby?” Clarissa asked. Toby looked startled at her words, and realising she sounded a little too incredulous, Clarissa pulled a face. “Sorry Tobes, no offence.”
“Offence taken,” Toby bristled. “I thought we were friends.”
“Now, now,” said Old Joe. “I did choose Toby. With very good reason. If I’d co-opted another witch, such as Mrs Crouch, or a human, Miranda would have killed them for sure. I gambled on the fact that Miranda Dervish wouldn’t kill a dog. She likes dogs, you see.”
“You could have fooled me,” Toby snarked.
“It’s true, she does. I believe she even has a few of her own, back in her hideaway someplace in Italy.”
“But you couldn’t have known The Pointy Woman would hex Toby, unless—” Clarissa stopped, thought for a moment, then laughed and clapped her hands. “You did it! You made him a spellbound hound who could talk to other witches!”
Toby’s head swivelled comically from Old Joe to Clarissa and back to Old Joe. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
“Clarissa’s right, Toby. I began looking for a puppy, asked people I knew to tell me if they heard of a litter. It didn’t really matter to me what kind of pup I found. He or she just had to be the right one. Some of my friends thought I’d lost my marbles, but eventually I found a lovely young couple in a little place called Combe Raleigh. Their Schnauzer had been caught unexpectedly in the family way after she’d escaped while walking in the forest—probably chasing squirrels—”
“I’m not allowed to chase squizzels no more,” Toby remarked gravely. “Grappletwigs made me promise.”
“And quite right too,” Old Joe said. “All creatures are made equal under the sun, remember that.” He cupped his hands to show them how tiny Toby had been as a puppy. “You were the sweetest baby. I knew as soon as I saw you that you were the one. I sent the lady out on pretence of getting me something to clean my trousers with when you tiddled on me, you rascal, and then I cast the spell that would turn you into the incredibly special boy you’ve become.”
“We thought The Pointy Woman had hexed Toby,” Clarissa started to explain.
“She said, ‘speak to none but me’!” Toby added.
Old Joe nodded. “The spell I cast was far greater than that. I gave you your own magickal powers.”
“Oh my goodness!” Clarissa’s shocked laugh punched through the air. “That’s why he can talk, and read, and spell, and add up and subtract and do his own magick!”
Old Joe laughed in delight. “I’m glad the spell worked.”
“I got skillz,” Toby nodded, his face serene.
Clarissa pushed herself to her feet. She had cramp in her left foot and needed to shake it out.
The moon had disappeared from view and the candles were shortening and, although it might have been a figment of Clarissa’s imagination, a thin thread of light appeared to outline the houses across the road.
They didn’t have much time left together, but she still had dozens of questions to ask her grandfather.
He noticed her anxious glance and understood at once. “You don’t know how close you are, my darling, to reaching the end of this particular part of your journey. Remain steadfast. Ask me what you like, and if I know the answers, I’ll tell you true.”
“Where can we find The Pointy Woman?”
Old Joe shook his head. “Sadly, that is something I don’t know the answer to. You must stick with the plan you agreed with Grappletwigs and bring Miranda Dervish out into the open.”
“Then I need to find The Four Stone,” Clarissa confirmed. “Where did you hide it?”
“It wasn’t me that hid it,” Old Joe reminded her. “I gave The Five Stone to Mrs Crouch, knowing it would be found easily enough, and I left The Six Stone in relatively plain sight. But The Four Stone had to be hidden well. I entrusted it to one of my greatest friends and allies.”
“So?” Clarissa waited.
Old Joe lowered his voice. “I believe you have recently become acquainted with her nephew.”
Clarissa rocked back on her heels in surprise. “Winifred Breazeazy?”
Old Joe nodded. “Indeed.”
Clarissa raised her eyebrows in shock. “But she’s on a mountain halfway around the world right now. I Skyped her only the other day. Even if I can contact her again, which is doubtful, I’ll never be able to travel to where she is.”
Old Joe had no idea what Skype was, but he nodded as though he did. “I doubt she’s carrying The Four Stone with her. That would be foolhardy. And not an easy thing to get through customs, I’ll warrant.”
Clarissa frowned, remembering the tin shack attached to the side of Dom’s farmhouse. Hadn’t Dom said that all of Winifred’s belongings were stored in there?
“I’ll have to ask Dom if I can have a root through her stuff,” Clarissa murmured. “Goodness knows what he’ll say to that.”
Old Joe coughed and Clarissa returned to the present. She noted that her grandfather had started to become even more transparent, as though his spirit was fading away. The candles were on their last legs too, spluttering with the final throes of their own measured lives.
“Ask me your final questions now. I must take my leave,” Old Joe urged her.
Toby stared in ho
rror at Old Joe’s rapidly fading feet and began to cry. His anguish tore at Clarissa’s heart once more.
“Are my parents with you?” Clarissa asked the question that burned in her heart. Where were they? What had happened to them?
“No,” Old Joe replied simply. “But there is no time—”
“What about Grace Catesby?” Clarissa jumped in.
“She is alive, but in danger. It would be well to search for her. She can help you.”
“Search for her where?” Clarissa couldn’t imagine where to start.
“Begin by looking in a place you and Toby are acquainted with…” Old Joe’s voice began to fade. On the floor between them, Mabel’s previously inert body began to twitch violently.
“We’re out of time!” Clarissa cried, and Toby wailed in unison.
“Locate The Four Stone, Clarissa,” Old Joe urged. “You must find Catesby and The Four Stone!”
“Old Joe!” Toby cried. “Don’t leave us, please.”
Tears ran down Clarissa’s cheeks. Not enough time. “I feel like we’re losing you all over again!”
“No!” Old Joe’s figure had all but disappeared, but his voice rang out strongly. “I am never lost to you; I am always here. Nothing can bring me back because what’s done is done. Remember that. But you can always call on me for assistance.”
Old Joe’s image had faded to a shimmer. It shrunk closer to the floor and Toby felt his master’s energy wrap him up in love one last time. “You have each other, Toby. Care for Clarissa, and she will love and protect you and feed you sammiches every now and again. Be strong, my bright, brave, beautiful lad!”
“I will, Old Joe,” Toby promised. “I will!”
“You’re a good boy.” The old man’s voice had dropped to a dull whisper. “A very good boy!”
The air popped and fizzed, the candles sputtered out. Mabel groaned.
Old Joe had flown beyond the veil once more.
“It’s too hot in here,” Toby moaned. “Can’t we turn off the heating and open the window?”
Clarissa had every sympathy with her whingey hound. She’d already called down to reception twice to ask them to come up to the third-floor room and turn off the radiator. It was August, for crying out loud. Who has a radiator on in August? So far they’d had no success. Apparently the valve was faulty and, given that Clarissa had insisted on a dog-friendly bedroom that faced out onto the harbour, this was the only room she could be offered.
Clarissa and Toby had checked into the Harbour Lights Hotel approximately an hour and a half previously. Clarissa had scraped the last of her funds together to pay for one night in this slightly run-down and grubby establishment. Not because they needed a holiday. No, no. But because it looked out over Temperance House and it was Clarissa’s intention to stake out her Coven and watch the comings and goings.
“I’m going to die of suffocation unless we manage to open the window,” Toby repeated.
“Sit tight, my friend,” Clarissa told him. “It’s not forever.” She lifted a pair of children’s binoculars—bought from the local gift shop and the only pair she’d been able to afford—to her eyes and angled them so she could peep through the almost-closed blinds. Admittedly it was early days, but she’d only seen one or two people go in through the inauspicious front door to Temperance House. A number of tourists, idling along the harbour with ice creams in their hands, had glanced at the building but quickly lost interest when it appeared not to offer anything even as exciting as a postcard or a fridge magnet.
“I tell you,” Clarissa said, “ice cream sales is the business to be in. They must be making a mint down there today.”
“Mmm, ice cream,” Toby salivated. “Is there such a thing as an ice cream sammich?”
“I believe so,” Clarissa said, still studying the people on the harbour apron through her binoculars. Some of them would have bad sunburn come sunset. “Ice cream between two wafers, though. You wouldn’t put it between bread.” She glanced back at Toby. “Although thinking about it, when I was a kid, you used to get ice cream rolled up in sponge.”
“Cake sponge?” Toby pondered on this strange exotic food idea. “I could go for that.”
“The sponge was disgusting,” Clarissa said, and went back to her observations.
“Oh.” Toby deflated. “That’s a shame.” He considered taking a nap and jumped up on the bed, but the bedclothes made him even hotter so he returned to the floor. The thick carpet didn’t help matters. He began to yearn for his own cool living room floor, the bare wooden boards and the breeze from the open doors and windows.
Clarissa tutted at his restlessness. “Why don’t you read the book Dom gave you?”
“Why don’t you phone reception again and ask them to come up here and unlock the window?” Toby replied grumpily.
Clarissa levelled him with a long, cool, unblinking look.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “But I’ve finished my book. I read it twice.”
“Already?”
“It wasn’t hard to read,” Toby told her. “I just need to practise my magick now.”
“Well, there you have it. That’s something you could be getting on with, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” Toby mumbled. “But I can’t be bothered. I’m too hot.”
“You’re impossible,” Clarissa said, and turned her back on him. “There’s just no helping some people.”
Toby didn’t consider himself to be ‘some people’. He didn’t consider himself ‘people’ at all. People were things he didn’t really understand. Contrary, obstructive and obstreperous, and inclined to tell fibs. Toby was far more literal than most humans he’d come into contact with, and being a dog, his emotional intelligence was perfectly well developed.
He could sense, for example, Clarissa’s growing impatience. But he understood that her frustration stemmed not from him and his whining—well not entirely from him and his whining—but the fact that she badly wanted to find Grace Catesby and Miranda Dervish. This stakeout at the Harbour Lights Hotel would drain the last of their bank account. They were running out of time and resources.
For some reason, she’d prioritised finding Grace Catesby over searching for The Four Stone. When he’d asked her about this, she’d told him that she feared that once they’d located The Four Stone—and she now sounded more confident than ever that they would be able to do this—events would spiral out of control so quickly, they would run the risk of not being able to track down Grace Catesby.
That was something Clarissa would not compromise on. First, she would ensure Grace was safe, then she’d track down The Four Stone.
Toby’s eyes grew heavy as he watched Clarissa watching strangers watching the comings and goings of fishing boats outside… but he was startled wide awake by a rapping on the door.
“Hello? Maintenance.” An older man’s voice.
Toby leapt to his feet, ready to spring to Clarissa’s defence. She waved him back. “Settle down, buddy. With any luck, we’ll soon have a non-functioning radiator or a functioning window. One that opens and closes at any rate.”
“I sure hope so, or I might just magick the bedside table through it,” Toby grumbled.
Clarissa rolled her eyes at him and hastened to the door.
“Hi,” she said, pulling it wide open and smiling at the gentleman standing there. He’d come armed with an enormous toolbox. The name tag on his shirt read ‘Bob.’ “Come on in.”
“A problem with the radiator, is it?” Bob asked.
“Yes. The valve appears to be stuck on ‘high’. The manager came up to try and turn it but wasn’t able to.”
“It’s pretty hot in here,” Bob admitted; sweat had beaded on his brow and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
“Yes, it is.” Clarissa forgave him for stating the obvious. “I can’t seem to open the window either.”
“Ah yes. Well, see, the management like to keep the windows locked on these floors in case someone tries to throw th
emselves out of them.”
Clarissa’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Isn’t that a cheerful thought?”
“You’d be surprised how many people have tried to do that over the years.”
“Is the breakfast here really that bad?” asked Toby, and Clarissa snorted.
Bob cast a wary glance Toby’s way, perhaps wondering what the dog’s intentions towards him were, and then back at Clarissa. “It’s not a laughing matter,” he said.
Clarissa straightened her face. “No. Of course it’s not. Sorry. I sometimes… erm…” she flapped a hand at her face, “respond inappropriately to things people say. It’s a… erm… form of… ah…”
“Tourette’s?” Toby suggested.
“Yes. Tourette’s! That’s it.”
Bob chewed on his lip, his eyes uncertain, before evidently deciding Clarissa was not quite the full ticket. “Let’s get on, shall we?” He pulled open his enormous toolbox and began to rummage around for a large wrench.
“Yes, let’s.” Clarissa, praying that Bob would be quick about it so that she could get back to keeping tabs on the comings and goings at Temperance House, settled back on the bed with a grimace. She kept Bob engaged in harmless small talk, and it was a full ten minutes before she realised that the maintenance man had left the bedroom door open and Toby had taken his opportunity to escape.
Toby sauntered around the small neat square of lawn in front of the hotel, wagging his tail jauntily as he smelled the bushes, checking for peemails and inhaling the heady fragrance of the late summer rose bushes. Bees buzzed around the jasmine clematis that climbed a six-foot-high wooden fence separating the hotel from the building next door, but the garden had not been completely enclosed. It had been left fully accessible from the front vantage as an open invitation to visitors to step inside and enjoy a cool beverage or a freshly baked scone, positively lathered in clotted cream and freshly made strawberry jam of course.
Bark Side of the Moon: A Paranormal Animal Cozy Mystery (Spellbound Hound Magic and Mystery Book 3) Page 11