Snitch Witch

by J L Collins

  The basement was smaller than I thought it would be, and mostly filled with moldy-looking boxes. Heaps of junk spilled out of some of the boxes, as well as some old appliances shoved up against a far wall. It was like the Renaldis had used the basement as their own personal trash can. The stench pretty much supported this idea.

  With my heart still pumping overtime and my senses super-charged for protection, I started sifting through the junk. As sylphs they could really be anywhere…

  Something flashed in my peripheral and I spun on the spot, finding nothing but empty air. As gross as this place was, that was no dust mote. I kept a casual look on my face, continuing closer to the corner I saw the flash of light in.

  I took about three steps closer, my heart fluttering under my skin, all of my senses screaming at me, when a massive dark shape flung itself at me, knocking the air out of my lungs as it pinned me down on the unforgiving stone floor. The matted fur and glowing amber eyes gave it away immediately.

  Werewolf.

  Hot saliva dripped from his fangs as he pressed his weight against me, crushing the air out of my chest. I pushed as hard as I could, summoning the extra strength enchantment I’d casted on myself earlier. But he was in werewolf form—and werewolves were much stronger than Witches. I pushed him again, just enough to avoid the snap of his jaws barely an inch away from my face. I screeched, shoving at his shoulders.

  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he growled, baring his teeth in some sort of gross smile.

  “Nor do you,” a voice simply said from somewhere behind me. The weight of the werewolf was gone and he floated upward in a swirl of glittering blue magic, his arms jerked backward behind him.

  Uncle Gardner came into view with a grim look of satisfaction as he slapped the magicked restraints on the werewolf who was still floating now several feet off the ground. The body shifted again, this time into a thin man with sandy-colored hair and golden eyes. In his true form, Gianni Renaldi writhed against the restraint, still wearing a snarl on his face.

  “Put me down!” he shouted.

  I slid out from underneath him, wiping the disgusting drool off of me as I stood back up. I patted my pocket and placed the vial of sleeping draught into Uncle Gardner’s hand. “This ought to shut him up.”

  “Ah. A concoction of my sister’s no doubt?”

  “You betcha. Though I mixed it myself. Sometimes being an Alchemist comes in handy,” I said, repeating words he had told me long ago when I faced pushback about being the only Alchemist joining a class of Siren Shadow Hands.

  “Indeed, it does.” He smiled at me before tipping the contents of the vial into the squirming Changeling’s mouth, slapping the brother’s cheek lightly. “Oíche mhaith, Renaldi. Good night.”

  Gianni Renaldi’s body went slack and his eyelids slowly closed as Uncle Gardner began directing his body away from the fallen boxes of junk and up the staircase back into the room above.

  With both brothers apparently knocked unconscious (Benito had apparently taken three psychic stunning spells at once), it felt like the entire town was outside, watching as we sent them into the proper carriage transport to take them to prison. With all the commotion, I wasn’t really surprised.

  “Rourke’s murderers locked away, and it’s only three o’clock in the morning,” Uncle Gardner said, sounding much more chipper than I’d heard him in a long time. “I think it’s time for some coffee, don’t you?”

  I smiled back. “That and a very long shower.”

  23

  Back to Business

  “Ow.” The long scratch down my collarbone stung as I dabbed it with the strong-smelling poultice I found while rummaging around in Aunt Bedelia’s potion cabinet. The angry and inflamed wound cooled off after a moment, the skin losing some of the heat and throbbing pain as the medicine seeped deeper.

  “Better?” Uncle Gardner was leaning up against a wall of jars full of different herbs, not looking much better off.

  I nodded, glad that the poultice took the edge off. “I’ll live. That’s the important part.”

  “Now where have I heard that before?” Aunt Bedelia mumbled, shaking her head. “I still think you should have taken more people with you. Especially dealing with those vile beings. They ought to go back to the old ways with the two of them.” My aunt was one of the most laid-back and mild-mannered people I knew, so when she of all people suggested reverting to the old ways of execution for murder, it meant something. It was hard to disagree with her, though I didn’t relish the idea of anyone’s death to be honest. Even if they deserved it.

  She offered both me and Uncle Gardner steaming mugs. “Careful now. That’s my strong brew. I figure the two of you want to stay up long enough to wait for the High Judge’s judgment on the case. Though I think it’s pretty clear where the Renaldis are headed.”

  I slumped down into the chair at the little table, taking care not to bang my already banged-up elbow down on the tabletop. “Thanks Aunt Bee.” My eyes nearly bugged out of my head from the first sip—sure it was hot, but when she said strong, she meant strong. If I hadn’t been exhausted to the point of passing out, I was sure it would’ve been all down the front of my shirt.

  She gave me a cheeky grin. “I tried to warn you.”

  I took a much smaller sip this time. “Mm-hm.”

  Uncle Gardner barely had time to commiserate with me on Aunt Bee’s coffee before a blazing red ball of flame burst to life a few feet in front of him.

  “Sir. The Archmage is requesting to speak to you at once. In private. Do you have a moment?” the voice called from the ball of flame. “It sounded important.”

  “Absolutely. Tell him I will fire message him back in just a moment.” He turned to us as the flame went out, his eyes narrowed. “That’ll be the Archmage along with the High Judge. Bedelia, I hope you don’t mind me using your private stock room for this.”

  She waved him off. “Of course, dear. Go right ahead.”

  I yawned, earning the side-eye from her. “Do you really mean to tell me that my strong brew isn’t strong enough?”

  I took another slow sip, looking at her through the steam. “I think it’s just a long time coming, honestly. Now that we know who killed Rourke and even took them in, it feels a little . . . overwhelming. But then again,” I started, taking another sip and enjoying the warmth spreading across my chest, “this isn’t the end of things. We still need to find the Book of the Wise. And I’m still worried about the weird magic leaks.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “This is true. Though with as tight as things have been for Gardner’s team, I’m sure they will make short work of the other two things now that they have one less thing to worry about.”

  “Yeah, that’s my hope as well. With the Renaldis in jail, we might coax the location of the book out of them.”

  Aunt Bee tapped her long nails on the front display case that ran along half the wall. “My brother can definitely be persuasive when the situation calls for it. Did I ever tell you about how he and your father were fishing in Hag’s Pond and they came home all muddy? My mother was beside herself! We were meant to be on our way to a townhall meeting—Papa was the High Judge as you might remember. Gardner and Nathaniel were supposed to be washing up but instead, Gardner suggested they go fishing in the pond.” A slow grin spread across her face.

  “Mama was so angry with them because we were due at the town hall right away, and she had no time to get them fresh-faced and dressed well enough. Gardner, the clever thing he is, managed to convince Mama that the two of them didn’t need to go because I, being their older sister and oh so responsible, could watch us while her and Papa had a grand time at the town hall without having to worry about everyone staring at his and Nathaniel’s appearance. Mind you, I’d been looking forward to this town meeting in particular because there was a boy I was secretly pining after who’d be there and I wanted to make a good impression.”

  She pursed her lips. I could see where this was go
ing.

  “I got all dressed up for this meeting—heck, I rolled my hair, put on some of Mama’s perfume even. I was fourteen and bound and determined to get Edmund to pay attention to me. All it took was a few words from Gardner and my chances of making Edmund swoon had disappeared just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I was so mad, Gwennie. Mama agreed with the little bugger and actually thanked him for suggesting it! Can you believe it? I certainly couldn’t. I was going to make him regret it too. But even as mad as I was, he got both himself and Nathaniel cleaned up and ready for bed without any help on my part. When I went to tell him goodnight . . . and possibly bite his head off . . . he told me he was sorry but he was doing me a favor.”

  I let out a soft whistle. “Uncle G going all in.”

  “Hmph. He certainly thought so. I screeched at him, waking up your poor father in the process. But Gardner was adamant. He said it was all how he planned it. He made the suggestion to our mother for my benefit. That I deserved ‘someone better than silly old Edmund Burke with the boring face.’ And you know what?”

  I shook my head. “No. But I bet you’re going to tell me anyway.”

  “By the end of the night, I believed him. I didn’t give a unicorn’s rear-end about Edmund after that. All because your uncle has a way with words. The most ridiculous part of all is that a few years later, when I brought it up with him, he casually admitted that it was all just an excuse to get off the hook with Mama, and then with me after he accidentally made me mad. Without batting an eye.”

  I sat there chuckling, shaking my head some more. “That . . . is pretty hilarious, not going to lie. And it definitely sounds like him.”

  The door to the stock room opened and out came Uncle Gardner, speaking of the devil. I wasn’t sure what to make of the look on his face. Was he… happy?

  “So. That was Archmage Bacchus. It turns out that the High Judge struck a deal with the Renaldi twins.”

  Both me and Aunt Bedelia groaned. “What!?” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper as not to wake up Fiona-Leigh upstairs.

  “I know, I know. It doesn’t sound ideal—but the conditions were that they spend the rest of their lives in the higher-tiered prison cells. They’ll have more freedom around the prison, though they’ll have to wear their enchanted ankle monitors from now on. No more changing.”

  “That hardly seems fair considering they killed Rourke. Life in an upgraded prison cell and a dumb ankle bracelet?” I said through gritted teeth. “What the heck were they thinking, coming up with that? I hope it’s worth it!”

  But Uncle Gardner shrugged. “It was, in my opinion, because not only did Benito confess to his murder and Gianni confessed to being complicit in his murder . . . they admitted they stole An Leabhar na Ciallmhar and gave its location. Rufio’s team has just sent word to me that they have in fact, found it. It’s on its way back to the Athenaeum as we speak.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Really? They have the book?”

  “It appears that way, yes. I’m going to have them do a full scan of it to detect any dark enchantments or traps in it, but they said it seems in good shape from what they could tell.” The expression on his face really was one of relief. He clinked cups with me, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he did.

  “Oh Gardner, that’s wonderful news!” Aunt Bee said, squeezing his shoulder. “Everything is as it should be now. Hopefully this will give everyone a bit more closure.”

  “And keep those criminals from harming anyone else,” he added.

  I blinked. In a matter of one night, we had closed out not only the investigation into Rourke’s murder, but the whereabouts of the Book of the Wise. Was I the only one finding this hard to believe?

  I explained my concerns and Uncle Gardner listened, finishing the rest of his coffee in the meantime. Apparently, he was more of a coffee drinker than I was.

  “I understand it looks too neat and tidy from the outside, and I would usually encourage you to dig deeper to find out why that is. I’m not stopping you, certainly. But in this instance things really do fall into place.”

  I put my mug back down, feeling a rush of energy suddenly. “What about the short sword? Why was Zoya’s wand concealed like that? And why turn it into a short sword?”

  “They did that to hide it. If it were found, it would look like it implicated the Fae and Zoya herself, throwing us off the scent. Which it did, unfortunately,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And they got the idea to transfigure it from the book, apparently.”

  I froze. “But . . . they’re Changelings. They can only change into humans—not Witches. How did they do the spell?”

  “I was wondering that too, Gardner,” Aunt Bedelia chimed in.

  “Yes, at first I was concerned about this—surely someone else must have. But they knew of a spell in the Book of the Wise that could give the power of magic summoning to specific creatures. They used this to help them cast the transfiguration on Zoya’s broken wand.” He leaned back against the wall.

  Well. That explained that… sorta. “And do we know why they stole the book? Was there something specific they wanted?”

  “That one’s easy. Money. The Dark Market’s prices have gone up considerably since the vampire, Enoch’s death. They thought if they owned the most powerful spell book in the world, they’d sell the spells one at a time and then the whole book. It would’ve made them wildly rich, at least according to them.”

  Slightly jittery, Uncle Gardner pulled back away from the wall and started to pace. “Oh! And I also had something I meant to tell you in the morning, but with everything happening I just didn’t get the chance to.”

  Aunt Bedelia and I shared a glance. It was like the coffee got stronger and stronger by the moment.

  “Oh yeah?” I said.

  His head nodded up and down a little too quickly. “Yes. I had my guy at the Department of Realm Magic look into those magic leaks for you. It turns out that they were already working on those sizeable leaks, trying to patch them up the best they could. Peter was concerned about them at first, but we’ve sealed off all of the leaks that were strong enough to break through the realms’ boundaries.

  I frowned. “Okay, but do we know what was causing them?”

  “And instability in the energy levels around the Amaranth Forest gateway. It is very old and stagnant energy and sitting around too long like that can manifest in some strange and unpredictable ways. The leaks have been contained and you shouldn’t have any more issues with it in the Human Realm. See? I had some people working on that too, despite everything else.”

  I had to admit it… the relief lifting off of my shoulders was a much-welcomed feeling. If Uncle Gardner was pleased with the outcome of everything and didn’t see anything suspicious about it, it seemed silly for me to look at it differently. Honestly, I’d done enough worrying over these cases to last me a Witch’s lifetime.

  A smile spread across my face. “Good work, sir.”

  “Same to you. I’m glad to see your training in full use again.” There was a stern nod, but it was quickly followed by a smile I hadn’t seen in far too long.

  “Yes, our niece is rather impressive, is she not?” Aunt Bee said, putting her thin arm around my shoulders.

  “I . . . I wouldn’t go that far. I just managed to distract one of the brothers with my terrible balance long enough for Uncle Gardner to restrain him. It’s not really a big deal.”

  Footsteps trudged down the steps that led up to Aunt Bee’s apartment over the shop, and Fiona-Leigh was staring at us blearily, rubbing at her eyes. “What’s going on down here? Why is everyone awake before sunrise? Or is this one of those weird Fairy weather change things?”

  Uncle Gardner raised a brow but I cut him off. “There’s a lot to catch up on sweetheart. Why don’t you go back to sleep and I’ll tell you all about it in the morning?”

  24

  Drinks on the Porch Swing

  For a Monday evening on my supposed vacation, I was exhausted. Eve
rything had been settled as far as the MARC was concerned. The Renaldi brothers were in jail, An Leabhar na Ciallmhar was back in its rightful place under even more protection magic, and according to my uncle, the magic leaks were being contained successfully.

  Fiona-Leigh crashed on the couch next to me with Jax jumping up into her lap and whining. “I’m sorry buddy. I know you have to be starving.”

  “He’s fine,” Oisín purred from his favorite spot on the window sill. “I may or may not have accidentally spilled some kibble into his bowl. Pure luck on his behalf, really. Though his bowl is half water, half slobber so someone might want to look into that.” He raised his fluffy black shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

  It was surreal to come back home after the events of the past twenty-four hours, to see the normalcy of our home. I sunk down even further in the soft cushions. “I think I need a vacation from my vacation.”

  “Are you at least feeling better?” Fi asked, scratching behind Jax’s ears.

  I pulled the collar of my shirt to the side, inspecting the fading wound caused by Benito Renaldi’s stupid werewolf claws. “Yeah. My head is still hurting, but I think I’ll just take some aspirin and call it day with that.”

  “Hey Mom?”

  “Hm?”

  “Before we left, Erie said something about turning down a job offer. Do you know what she meant?” Everyone had come to Aunt Bee’s to see us off. I wasn’t planning on a returning for a little while—not after the ridiculous drive back and forth. But Erie had pulled Fi aside to give her a hug and show her something.

  “Oh. It was probably about the MARC tapping her to be the next Keeper of the Pages. She didn’t take it of course,” I quickly added, seeing the look on her face. “You know she’s much more concerned with taking care of the menagerie for all that. Plus cooping her up in the Athenaeum wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors.” Erie was far too free-spirited for that. Just like my girl.