Apparently there were only a few ways to make it through the Wandering Wood without straying. It wasn’t an evil wood, Pru assured me. It just liked to have a little fun now and then. You would always get to where you were going, but you might take a little longer than you thought. Pru knew of a path that would get me there in the shortest time possible – but she warned me that, whilst it was the shortest path, it wasn’t going to be completely without wonder.
One minute I was looking at a pond on my left side, and another minute that exact same pond was on my right. Trees seemed to follow me, too. Even though Pru had done her best to prepare me, I still jumped every time the scenery changed.
She had offered to come with me. As had Nollaig, Jared, Greg and Malachy. But just as when Grace asked me, I’d insisted on going it alone. I had decided exactly what I was going to say to Arnold, and I knew that if they were with me, it would be all the harder to see that decision through. The last thing I needed was a fit of the waterworks.
When I saw an oak shift from my left to my right, I looked up at it and said, ‘Hey, tree. I’m not at all concerned that this whole forest can move about willy-nilly.’
The tree stayed still, but I had the eerie feeling that it was giving me a wink.
In all, taking Pru’s path took ten minutes, and I was now staring through the trees at the narrow lane that led up to the main street of Riddler’s Cove. I could hear the bustle from the market place. I could see kids riding about on brooms as though it were a perfectly normal thing to do. As I walked along, I even saw a woman repaint her front door without a paintbrush. She simply waved her hands, muttered some words that I assumed were a spell and … tada! A red door was now a purple one.
I knew that I needed to take the road that led east off the market square, and that Arnold’s house would be the third on the left side of that road. But for some reason, I found myself lingering in the market. Sure, the stalls were fascinating, but I knew it wasn’t only that. It was … well, I guess it was that I was suddenly frightened to death of what would happen once I got to Arnold’s.
‘Ash?’
I looked up at the sound of my name being called. It was the Amazonian goddess from the train. ‘Gretel?’ I gave her a shaky smile. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, I’m great,’ she said, cleaning up a spot of tea she’d just spilled down the front of her outfit. ‘Apart from the fact that this is the third breastplate I’ve spilled something on this month.’ She looked at the ring on my finger. ‘So … I guess you passed this mysterious test Dylan was going on about, then? You got the job?’
I looked down at the Ring of Privilege. ‘Not yet. The ring came along a little bit early. I suppose I was just too annoying for the detective to keep holding out.’ I smiled wryly. ‘I’m going to meet with Arnold Albright now. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be getting the job once he’s heard what I have to say.’
‘Oh.’ She looked disappointed. ‘That’s a pity. I have a good feeling about you. I really liked your hutzpah on the train – the way you argued with me was priceless. I told Dylan he should have let you help us out, actually.’
‘Really?’ I smiled. ‘Well … he should have, the stubborn idiot. I guess I’d better head off. It was great to see you again, Gretel.’
She smiled warmly. ‘You too. And Ash – I really do hope you stick around. It’s about time they got some new blood over at the Daily Riddler.’
≈
I stood at the front gate of an elegant mansion. Large bay windows were looking out onto the street, and I was fairly sure Arnold already knew I was there. I checked my watch – five minutes late. Totally unlike me, but today was hardly a usual day.
I pulled myself together (and by that I mean I smoothed down my hair and tried desperately to stop my hands from shaking) and approached the front door. I pressed the doorbell, stood back, and waited.
Less than a second later, Arnold opened the door. ‘Aisling,’ he said, looking as nervous as I felt. ‘Come in, come in. I have everything ready in the library.’
He was moving slowly, most of his weight supported on his cane. I followed him into a wide, high-ceilinged hallway, and on into a room to the right.
The wall next to the open double-doors was filled with brooms, sitting on holders and shined to perfection. One of those brooms was much simpler in its design than the others. The bristles looked older and messier, and the wood was crooked. But for all its flaws, it was the one I couldn’t keep my eyes off.
A window occupied another wall, and the other two walls were filled with books. There was one of those library-style ladders I’d often dreamt of. It seemed like a necessity here, seeing as the books were stacked from floor to ceiling.
One of those books, though, had pride of place. It wasn’t sitting on a shelf. It was atop a lectern, right in the middle of the room. The book itself was an enormous, leather-bound tome with symbols on its cover. Symbols that I felt like I should understand. I gazed at it, feeling an odd pull in its direction.
‘I see you’re a book lover,’ Arnold said. ‘That certainly bodes well.’
‘Actually, I think hard copies are ridiculous in this day and age,’ I said. Well, that was a big fat lie. Sure, I read mostly on an e-reader, but that was only because I spent my life terrified to accumulate too many belongings. I’d dreamt of a library like this ever since I was a kid.
And now that I was standing in the room of my dreams, I wanted to cry with happiness, because this space felt like home. I could picture myself as a kid, sitting in one of those enormous, over-stuffed armchairs, reading like a maniac with a cup of hot chocolate by my side.
I could picture what it would have been like to be here with a mother. Any mother. Just a mother. Maybe she would take me out on that crooked broom in the afternoon, and we’d fly to the shop to buy more books and hot chocolate.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well … I suppose I see what you mean. You can increase the font size on those new-fangled things, can’t you? That could come in handy for old eyes like mine.’
I felt my nose twitch in irritation. The niceness was all for show, just like everything about him. If I wasn’t the person he was looking for, he would push me straight from his mind and move onto the next person who fit the bill. ‘Look, I’m going to be upfront with you, Mr Albright. I haven’t come here to do your test.’
His eyes rounded. ‘But … you must.’
‘I must?’ I cocked a brow. ‘Mr Albright, I’m not your performing monkey. And I’m not doing this test. I don’t want to know if I’m your granddaughter. I don’t want to be your granddaughter.’ A wave of exhaustion came over me, as the events of the past week finally caught up. I wanted to be back in the Vander Inn right now, curled up on that lovely bed with Fuzz. No matter how much I liked this library, I wanted to be anywhere but here. ‘You need to hire a reporter, Mr Albright, and I’ve proven this week that I’m more than up to the job. So either hire me based on my work, or say goodbye to me forever.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘This is all because of that simple-minded Dylan Quinn. He had no right to tell you what he told you. Because of him, you’ve had all this time to let silly thoughts fester. You’re probably just nervous. You’ve spent the past nights worrying about what the test entails, no doubt. But I assure you – it’s nothing to worry about. I know you’re my granddaughter, Aisling, and it will only take a moment to prove it.’
I moved into his eye line, staring at him. ‘You’re not listening to me,’ I said. ‘Dylan did the right thing when he told me the truth. It’s you who’s in the wrong. But you seem to have a hard time accepting anyone’s wishes other than your own, so I’ll tell you again – I am not taking your test.’
He hobbled away from me, his hands shaking. ‘You have to. I’ve told you already – you’re the only candidate to have advanced this far.’ He pointed to the book standing on the lectern, the leather-bound one that I’d felt drawn towards. ‘That is our coven’s grimoire. It can only be opened by
Albright hands. The grimoire is the final test. All you have to do is open it. Then we’ll know for sure.’
I ignored the pull I felt towards the book, and stood resolute. ‘Firstly,’ I said, ‘if your daughter broke her daughter from the coven line, then what’s to say that the book will even respond to that child?’
‘Well, I … it’s just one in a whole series of tests, though, don’t you see? The final piece of the puzzle. You’re a good reporter. Your writing is just like Abby’s. You clearly have some degree of magic, even if it can’t be seen through an Aurameter. This final test is just … it’s just …’
‘It’s just impossible,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I touch that book, and it doesn’t open, and then what? Then your last sentences are proven to be a load of horse poop. You’re saying it’s just the final piece of the puzzle? The final hoop for me to somersault through? Yeah, right. All it is, is the thing that happens before you try and mess with my memories.’ I stepped closer to him. ‘And Arnold, any of those three women could have been your granddaughter. Any of them. You never let them get far enough to know. All of this time, you’ve just been prolonging your misery – and messing around with innocent people’s lives in the process.’
I really did wish that my words would get through to him, but the expression of stubborn desperation didn’t so much as falter on his face. I backed away, keeping an eye on him, hoping that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
‘My decision is final, and you need to respect it,’ I said, my voice wobbling.
I turned and walked towards the hallway, but I made it less than three steps before the doors slammed shut, locking me inside.
Panic rose in my chest, and I pulled at the door handles. They wouldn’t budge an inch. Maybe this was it, at last. Maybe he was about to do his memory mojo. I forced myself to stop panicking, and turned to him with the most even of expressions I could muster.
Instead of a man hell-bent on messing with my mind, though, I found myself face-to-face with a man who seemed to have lost his.
He was standing before me, the coven grimoire in his hands and insanity in his eyes. ‘I won’t let you leave until you’ve touched the grimoire. I can’t. I won’t lose you, too.’
As he began to move closer, holding the book out, my eyes darted around the room, searching for a means of escape. The thought of being related to this man was even more terrifying than the thought of losing my memory. ‘If this is how you treated your daughter,’ I said, ‘then no wonder she left.’
I had hoped to shame him into submission, but he kept coming at me, leaning on his cane with one hand and clutching the book with the other. There was no way I was going to touch that grimoire. My fear of him was growing by the second. What would happen if I was his granddaughter? I had visions of a life in a locked room, while Arnold insisted that he was just trying to keep me safe.
Before he could thrust the grimoire into my hands, I ducked and ran for the window, grabbing a heavy book from a shelf. If I threw it through the window, maybe someone would hear the racket and come to see if anything was wrong. And if they didn’t, then I would crawl through that broken glass, and run for my life.
I hurled it with all my might, and then cried out in disappointment as the book bounced off the window and fell to the floor. I wanted to fall to the floor along with it, but I wasn’t about to give up. If he thought he was going to force me to stay here, then I was going to show him exactly what life with me would be like.
I picked up another book and threw it – I knew it wouldn’t break the window, I just wanted to make a very big mess. I threw more and more books, and then I grabbed ornaments, smashing them on the ground. I had just picked up one of the brooms, and I was holding it over my knee, about to snap it in two, when I heard Arnold say, ‘Conáil.’
As soon as the word left his mouth, my body stilled.
‘You … what have you done?’ Even as I asked the question, I already knew the answer. Conáil was an Irish word for freeze. And that was just how I felt – frozen, immobile.
He gave me a look of wounded innocence. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘But I had to do it. You gave me no choice. It’s just a simple freezing spell. A light one, too. You can still speak. And if you’re a good girl, and promise to do as I say, then I’ll ease it even more.’
I glared at him, more anger than I’d ever felt before welling up inside. I wasn’t just angry at him. I was angry at my stream of foster families. Angry at the system. Angry at my mother. Angry at myself for daring to hope he would do the right thing.
As he strode towards me once again, I felt like that well of anger was expanding within me, taking on an energy of its own. It was growing, spreading all through me, until it felt so big I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep it inside.
‘No!’ I screamed, the anger spilling into my words. ‘I don’t want to be your granddaughter. Stay away from me, Arnold. Stay away!’
As I screamed with all my might, his facial expression began to change. His stubbornness turned to surprise as his body was hurled back through the air. He landed against a bookshelf, a strange, dull thudding noise sounding all around him as the books fell to the ground.
And then … he just lay there. The anger inside me turned to dread as I stared at him, unable to move, unable to check if he was all right. ‘Are … are you all right?’ I asked. I had no idea what I’d done or how I’d done it. All I knew was that an old, frail man was lying on the ground, and I’d been the one to send him there. ‘Please say you’re all right.’
He let out a long, weary sigh. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not all right. But that’s not your fault. The blame is all mine.’
I felt my body free up, and a clicking sound came from the door behind me. ‘You’re free to go,’ he said. ‘I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, Aisling. All I ask … all I ask is that you forgive me.’
I hesitated for a moment. Thoughts and fears were rushing through my mind, banging into one another and creating a right ruckus. This could be his one last ploy. He could be pretending to be contrite just to get me to go over there and touch that stupid grimoire. But he didn’t look like he was feigning anything. He just looked weary, sorry, and sad.
He sat up and nodded to the door. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ he said. ‘Get out of here and leave me in peace.’
He was right. What was I waiting for? I pushed all doubts aside and ran for the door, dashing through the hallway, yanking the front door open and rushing out into Riddler’s Cove.
I didn’t stop running, not until my lungs screamed out and my legs grew weak. By then, I was almost at the market again. And it was at that moment, as I stood holding my chest and panting, that I realised: there was a broom right beside me, hanging in the air.
24. A Little Bit Witchy
There was no rider on the broom. It was just hovering there, next to me. And it wasn’t just any old broom. It was a broom with a crooked shaft and uneven bristles. I reached out and, as my hand came in contact with the wood, a spark of electricity flew through me.
‘You look like one of the brooms from the library,’ I said, trying to minimise my shivers of excitement. ‘Why are you here?’
The broom made a funny little judder, and I gasped. ‘So … what’s the plan, broom? You’re just going to stay flying beside me, all the way back to the Vander Inn?’
There was another judder from the broom.
‘Okay then. Do what you want to do. But you’d better be prepared, broom – because pretty soon, the deranged old guy who may or may not be my grandfather is going to come after me and try to get me to touch that book again. Which will lead to a fight. Which will lead to him doing some jiggery-pokery with my memory and sending me back to Dublin. And you can’t come there with me. Because I live in a human enclave. A grotty flat in a human enclave, might I add. There’s barely room to swing a cat. Not that I would. I have a feeling that Fuzz might swing me right back.’
I kept babbling away as I wal
ked through the town and on into the Wandering Wood. Just like when I yammered to Fuzz, I felt sure the broom was listening.
By the time I arrived back at the Vander Inn, the evening poker crowd had arrived. I couldn’t face that many people, so I kept my head down and made my way to my room.
My room. I sighed. It wasn’t my room. It never had been. It was just a lovely dream that I’d enjoyed for a while. Arnold was sure to have gotten over his shock by now, and if his actions over the last thirty years were anything to go by, then he wasn’t going to stay docile for long. He’d be speaking to Grace any minute now, telling her that I needed to touch the grimoire or get out of town.
And if that was the case, I really shouldn’t be cut up about it. Sure, I’d met some people who I liked a lot. But there was also the small matter of the supernatural-on-supernatural hatred, the steady stream of murders, the local humans who were oblivious to the magic that was happening all around …
And then there was Detective Quinn. He was the grumpiest, rudest man I’d ever met. And I was including my old editor John in that assessment.
All in all, it might be good to get back to normality.
When I opened the door to the bedroom, the cat was sleeping on the bed. ‘Hey Fuzz,’ I said, scratching behind his ears. ‘I won’t bother asking if anyone let you in. Your ways and means can remain a secret. I don’t think you’ll be too surprised to hear that my meeting with Arnold didn’t go all that well. I refused to touch the Albright coven grimoire and then sent him flying against the wall. So … I’ve had better job interviews.’
Fuzz purred, rubbing his head against me, sending a lovely wave of calmness my way.
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘Things will work out the way they’re meant to. You and me will stay together, somehow. No matter what Arnold does.’
He stopped purring suddenly. His ears pricked, and he turned to look at the open door. I followed his eyes there, watching as the broom flew right in and settled down on the bed beside the cat. Fuzz began to purr again, and then he rubbed his head against the bristles and lay down next to the broom. Well, of course he did. And of course I was convinced that the two were having a conversation while they lounged. Because … y’know … I was in the kind of town where anything was possible.
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