A Magical Trio

by A. A. Albright

  ‘I wasn’t as brave as you, Wanda. I hid what I was. I went along with my family’s lies. So I just want you to know how much I admire you. You did what I never could have done. Made a life for yourself in the human world. Turned your back on your coven.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that might not have been the most sensible move on my part, actually,’ I admitted. ‘My mother is wonderful. All of the Wayfairs are. I wasn’t being brave Will. I was suffering from a massive case of sour grapes and stubbornness.’

  He laughed hoarsely. ‘See? There you go again, Wanda Wayfair. Being a hundred times more honest than I could ever be. Sometimes it seems like every word that comes out of your mouth makes me like you even more.’ He winced. ‘Aaand I just said that out loud, didn’t I?’ He pulled his hand from mine and stood up. ‘Never mind. No more embarrassing words shall spew forth from my mouth for the rest of the night. Shall we go and get dinner before it burns to a crisp?’

  ≈

  Will had made a casserole, and it wasn’t entirely ruined. Parts of it were even quite nice – you just had to dig a bit to find them.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got everything, but I did get a very nice bottle of champagne especially for tonight.’

  ‘That’d be nice. But I don’t want to have a hangover, so maybe I’d better have a soft drink, too. Um, do you have any Berry Good Go Juice?’

  I know, I know, my mother had sworn us against drinking it. But I’d been with Will for a couple of hours now, and the only thing I’d learned was his deepest, darkest secret. Fine, it was pretty big. But it wasn’t what I needed to know. Having the juice in front of us might give me an excuse to ask some questions.

  He poured me a glass of champagne and one of juice. I took a sip of the bubbly first, then pretended to drink some of the juice. The flower pot behind me would be getting a thorough watering tonight.

  ‘This stuff is so good,’ I said. ‘Hey, did you have any luck finding out who stole the recipe?’

  He groaned. ‘Not as yet. My aunt says she has an idea who it might be, but it’s not exactly the sort of evidence she can bring to the gardaí. We didn’t actually even ring them ourselves in the first place. One of the human security guards did. Alice is wondering whether she should tell the Wyrd Court about the robbery, or whether it’ll cause more trouble than it’s worth. I mean, what’s Mildred going to do? Start up a competing company? That’d be kind of obvious, even for her.’

  ‘Mildred?’

  ‘You know, that vampire politician. Oh yeah, maybe you don’t know. Lucky you. I wish I could forget everything I knew about supernatural politics, I tell you that much. Aunt Alice said the place stunk of Mildred’s blood after the theft, so …’ He began to clear away the dinner dishes, and brought out warm chocolate cake and ice cream. ‘Sorry, the cake isn’t homemade. It’s from Caulfield’s Cakes in Riddler’s Cove.’

  I took a bite. ‘Oh my stars!’ I tried to maintain my manners, and to chew slowly, but I hadn’t had anything from Caulfield’s in years. Between the broom, the cake, and my renewed relationship with my coven, I was suddenly feeling very fond of the witching world. ‘So … is the factory owned by your aunt, then?’

  ‘Yes and no. My aunt owns it legally. It’s in a human enclave, so it has to be done that way. But the whole coven are very much involved.’

  I took another pretend sip of my juice and followed it with some more champagne. ‘Do you guys have a lot of businesses in the human world, then?’

  ‘No, actually. This is one of very few, but Alice wants us to open some more. Berry Good Go Juice is Alice’s brainchild. Her recipe. Frankly, we were all surprised that she managed to come up with a drink that tastes so good. Usually, she’s about as good as I am in the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh?’ I felt my eyebrows quirk. Was I looking a tad too interested in all of this, I wondered?

  Will put his fork down. ‘Actually, do you mind if we move the subject onto something more interesting than my aunt?’ he said.

  So yes, then, I had been too obvious.

  ‘It’s just … I did have an ulterior motive in getting you here this evening,’ he went on. ‘Other than the broom, I mean. Wanda … I was wondering …’

  Oh dear me, my brain was beginning to buzz. No, it was all out ringing.

  ‘Eye of newt!’ cursed Will. ‘That’s the coven ringing. I have to get that.’

  I blinked. The ringing had not been in my head. The ringing was coming from a large, black telephone on the far wall. Will stalked towards it, picked up the receiver and, less than a second later he placed it back on the cradle. His face was paler than usual. His sea-green eyes had lost their shine. ‘Sorry, Wanda. I’m going to have to take you home. An emergency coven meeting has been called.’

  ‘Oh.’ I stood up. ‘What’s the emergency?’

  He gave me a regretful sigh. ‘I’d tell you if I could. Come on. We’ll grab your broom and I’ll take you home.’

  12. Wyrd News Nightly

  As it turned out, grasping Will’s hand while he brought me home was more tense than it was enjoyable. Whatever that call had been about had set him on edge, but he wasn’t saying why. There was no attempt at a goodbye kiss, just a curt, ‘See you at work tomorrow,’ before he clicked his fingers and disappeared.

  With my birthday present in my hand, I entered the house. As soon as I was in the hallway, music hit my ears. It was loud, it was folksy, and it was coming from my bedroom.

  I ran upstairs to find Dudley lying on his little makeshift bed, a remote control by his side. The music he was playing made me think of hippies with flowers in their hair. I always thought I would have suited the flower-power era but, much as I was enjoying his music, I took the remote and turned it down.

  He didn’t protest, just looked at me and said, ‘That was me and Maureen’s heyday, y’know. Late sixties, early seventies. We were involved in everything back then. Taking down the Wyrd Court. Making flying potions legal.’

  I sat in the edge of my bed, taking off my shoes and rubbing my feet. ‘But last night you told me that the Wyrd Court is more powerful than ever. And that flying potions are only taken by rebellious teenagers and ageing hippies.’

  He sat up against the cotton ball he was using as a pillow. ‘I didn’t say we succeeded in taking down the Wyrd Court, did I? And as far as flying potions go, anyone who isn’t on the stuff is missing out.’ He let out a whistle. ‘Great stuff altogether, so it is. Did you come back early so you could give me a bath?’

  ‘No. But I’ll give you one anyway. And while I do, maybe you could tell me some more about Maureen.’

  ‘I have been thinking about it, actually,’ he called out while I went to fill the sink with warm water. ‘Not just Maureen, but all of them. I told you Maureen was a court representative on behalf of the supernaturals referred to as others, right?’

  I nodded. During our strange little slumber party, Dudley had explained all about the supernatural legal system. The Wyrd Court wasn’t just a courthouse. It was the governing body for all supernaturals. Witches had been the only ones with government seats for most of the life of the Wyrd Court, but in recent years the vampires and werewolves had been given seats. Their representatives were issued with Pendants of Privilege, so that they could enter Warren Lane, where the Wyrd Court was situated.

  ‘Well, Maureen always knew her appointment was just given to her to get her to shut up protesting. If the Wyrd Court actually cared about others, they would have chosen an other to represent themselves. They wouldn’t have just brought Maureen in – a witch – to speak on their behalf. She took the appointment anyway, hoping she might be able to shake things up from the inside. Except it didn’t really work like that. She was called in once in a blue moon, whenever there was an issue concerning a weredog, dayturner, wizard or unempowered. And when she was there, she felt like the Wyrd Court never listened to what she said. Like she was there so that they could dot the i’s and cross the t’s. To make them look politi
cally correct.’

  I carried him over to the sink. ‘It was good of her, though. To keep trying. The more I hear about Maureen, the more I think I would have liked her.’

  He sniffed a little. ‘Yeah. It was hard not to like Maureen. Anyway, I was thinking about what connected her to the other victims. The one she knew best was actually one of the victims who got away alive.’

  I remembered the item in the Daily Dubliner. ‘Like Adeline Albright? My coven told me she’s a librarian at Crooked College, and a chronicler, too.’

  Dudley nodded, beginning to soap himself up. ‘That’s who I mean, yes. She and Maureen got on really well. They could chat for hours about magical history, so they could. Adeline spends most of her life in the library, keeping the compendiums up to date. The Compendium of Supernatural Beings is a favourite job of hers. Making note of what’s going on, year by year, in each supernatural faction. Well, this year she made some changes. She made entries for wizards, weredogs, dayturners and the unempowered.’

  I’d read the older compendiums, back in my childhood. ‘But we’re always listed.’

  ‘Yes. Under Other. This year, everyone once classed as Other is now listed in the main section. Right under Major Supernatural Beings.’

  I gasped. ‘That can’t have gone down well.’

  ‘It didn’t. So I was hardly surprised to find out that the chronicler had been on the hit list. I was surprised that she managed to escape unscathed. The woman is quieter than a church mouse. But you know what they say – it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.’

  ‘And the other victims? I mean, Melissa told me that Eoin, the guy who was killed across the road from my old house … he was a clerk at the Department of Magical Law. But Connor Cramer? Didn’t he just run a candle shop?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m kind of stumped when it comes to Connor Cramer, to be honest. But as for Eoin, I definitely remember Maureen talking about him. She said he was the best thing that had happened to the Wyrd Court for years. Said he was really going to make waves. He was in love with a human, and he was friends with weredogs and wizards. Changing things up wasn’t just some rebellious whim for Eoin. It was personal.’

  He was moving quickly through his ablutions, already on his third go-around with the scrubbing brush. No doubt he was as worried about all of this as I was. If we couldn’t figure out who was behind Maureen’s murder, he might never get to join her in the afterlife.

  ‘It’s only half past nine,’ I said. ‘What do you say we towel you off, and get over to my coven’s house? We’ll get to the bottom of this Dudley. I promise you.’

  ≈

  As I wound my way through the weeds towards the house, the front door swung open. ‘I’m in the kitchen, love,’ Christine’s voice called out. ‘Come and join me.’

  I walked through to the big, warm room. It was so good to be back here, especially after spending the evening in the Berry house. For all its grandeur, that place felt far from a home.

  Christine was huddled over a cup of hot chocolate. She waggled her finger, and another one appeared on the table. ‘Just one marshmallow, am I right?’

  I nodded gratefully and picked up the mug.

  ‘Melissa is upstairs studying her little heart out,’ she said, passing me a plate of chocolate bourbons. ‘She has her final exam on Friday.’

  ‘She’ll work with you guys then?’ I questioned, slurping hot chocolate through my marshmallow, dignified as ever.

  Christine ran a finger round the edge of her cup. ‘That’s what we’re hoping. Oh, look.’

  In front of the wood-burner, my mother appeared.

  ‘Oh good, you’re here.’ She took a seat at the table, panting. ‘I was worried about you. How did the snooping go?’

  I nibbled on a biscuit and passed some to Dudley. ‘I’ll tell you all about it in a sec. First, what happened with the Berry Good Go Juice?’

  She pulled the bottle from her pocket and placed it on the table, her lip curled. ‘Well, we were right about this stuff. Ronnie ran it through as many potions’ tests as she could think of, and there’s no doubt about it. Berry Good Go Juice is an incredibly nuanced hypno-potion. It’s been behind everything. A witch can drink as much of the stuff as they like, and it’ll have no effect whatsoever. But as for a human … they’d be open to suggestion, to say the very least.’

  ‘So … what now?’ I wondered.

  ‘I’ve filed a report with the Department of Magical Law,’ my mother informed us. ‘Told them everything we know, and applied for a warrant to investigate. The use of a hypno-potion makes it likely there’s a witch behind it, so it’s back in our jurisdiction. Once we get the warrant, we can go ahead and find the culprit.’

  I felt a strange mixture of excitement and dread. All my life I’d wanted to be a fully-involved Wayfair. Fine, I’d done a pretty good job of hiding the fact, but nevertheless it was true. Helping my family track down a wayward witch was a dream come true.

  But Will’s behaviour at the end of our date had put me on edge. Sorry, did I say date? I meant business-like dinner together, obviously.

  I quickly told them what had happened at his house. Going quickly had its benefits: it gave me an excuse to leave out one or two of the night’s events. I’d tell them about the broom at some stage. It looked so much like one of my father’s that I knew my mother would love to see it. But as for everything else that had happened? I mean, I’d held his hand for goodness sake. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  Dudley took the floor next. Well, he took the table, actually. He stood right in the centre of it, telling my mother and Christine all that he’d told me.

  ‘So,’ my mother said as she emptied another packet of bourbons onto the plate. ‘What we have so far is this: Someone broke into Berrys’ Bottlers. We know that they stole a recipe, but they could have done more whilst there. The Berrys think it was Mildred. That’ll be Mildred Valentine,’ she explained to me. ‘She’s a vampire politician. Running for presidency of the Irish vampire enclaves as we speak.’

  ‘And,’ said Dudley, ‘she hated Maureen. She had an all-out row with her last year. She told her that as soon as she gets elected – because Mildred is very confident – that she’d do her best to make sure that weredogs, dayturners, wizards and the unempowered get chucked out of the supernatural world altogether. It’d be goodbye to Westerly Crescent, and any other enclaves like it.’

  I crammed another biscuit into my mouth, thinking over the almost-argument with Will in the park earlier on. I’d thought his attitude was outmoded enough. But Mildred’s? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘Well,’ said my mother, ‘if she did break in to the factory, then she could have tampered with the Berry Good Go Juice while she was at it.’

  Christine let out a frustrated little moan. ‘And it explains the ear scratching, too. Fiddlesticks.’

  ‘It does,’ said Dudley with a nod. Then, seeing my confusion, he explained. ‘Vampires can get in pretty much anywhere they want, Wanda. They can turn into a bat or, what probably happened in this case – they can turn into this sort of misty, vapoury stuff. They’re nearly invisible when they do it, and they can get in through the smallest crack. Mildred could’ve vaporized herself, then whispered into the humans’ ears and told them what to do while they were under the influence of the hypno-potion. Vampire whispers are ticklish, to say the least. Hence the scratching.’

  ‘I have to admit, it makes a horrible sort of sense,’ I said. ‘But seeing as it most likely was Mildred, what will that mean for our warrant? Your warrant, I mean. Will we –you – still be able to investigate?’

  Dudley shook his head. ‘It’ll go to the Peacemakers. They report directly to Justine Plimpton.’

  ‘Oh.’ My earlier surge of excitement was replaced with a disappointed swell.

  ‘But we don’t know it is Mildred,’ said Christine. ‘Not for sure. And if we mention it, we might never get our warrant. I think we ought to keep quiet, get our
warrant, go ahead and investigate … and if we do find concrete evidence that it was Mildred, we’ll turn it over to the Peacemakers.’ She shuddered. ‘And I kind of hope it was anyone other than Mildred. Because I’ve had it up to the back teeth with Peacemakers. I hate those guys.’

  As Christine was speaking, my mother’s pocket began to buzz. She pulled out her mobile. ‘It’s Ronnie,’ she said, before answering.

  The conversation was short, and one-sided. My mother slid her phone back into her pocket, stood up and said, ‘Do you want the bad news or the worse news?’

  There was a collective groan, and my mother continued. ‘We’re not the only ones who asked Ronnie to test the Berry Good Go Juice today. Justine Plimpton had her stay back and test a bottle a short while ago.’

  ‘Well if that’s the bad news,’ said Dudley, ‘then I fail to see what could be worse.’

  ‘Let’s get to the lounge,’ my mother replied with a sigh. ‘Ronnie says there’s something on TV we need to see.’

  ≈

  When I walked into the lounge, it looked the same as it always did, no matter where the house was situated. It was a large, comfy room filled with three old sofas, two beanbags, and a 1950s TV that still worked perfectly. On top of the TV’s wooden frame there were half a dozen photos of our coven, a selection of candles, and a crystal ball.

  My mother switched the TV on, and we all sat forward to watch. I had no idea what we were about to view, but I felt a surge of excitement. I’d never been able to watch the witch channels as a child. Well, I could watch them, but all I’d see was fuzz. You needed to be empowered to view them. Well, either that or you had to have one of the supernatural adapter chips, and TVs with those things installed cost a fortune.

  In the top right of the picture, there was a banner that read: Wyrd News Nightly, bringing you all the latest from all the enclaves.

  There was a tall, broad, mousey-haired woman speaking with a journalist. The banner below her told me she was Justine Plimpton, Minister for Magical Law.