by Ruby Loren
It never came.
It was with a little sigh that the detective finally spoke. “You’re investigating the murder, aren’t you?” When I didn’t reply he sighed again. “You don’t have to deny it. I’m officially here with my hat in my hand.” He twisted his fingers together awkwardly as he tried to think of how to say his next words. “We’re investigating many different avenues, but I would value the opinion of a local - someone who understands this town and its… eccentricities.” I noticed he glanced at the anti-vampire window display that had usurped my spring tea party when he said it. The merry stuffed animals were now gripping stakes and gathered around a disturbed grave with hex bags and garlic strewn all around. I should probably have a word with my aunts about that…
“Come on in,” I said, knowing it would most likely be quiet today. The vampire gold rush had worn off when no one else had been sucked dry of blood. Things were pretty much back to normal. I didn’t mind too much. We’d made more profit in the two days that the rush had lasted than the shop usually made in a month. I might even be able to actually pay my aunts a wage, instead of using them as slave labour.
I was still telling myself that they were making up for a lifetime of missed birthdays and Christmases.
The detective followed me into the shop. We sat down together at one of the tables in my tea corner.
“What do you think this murder is really about?” he asked me, his grey eyes curious.
I considered my next words carefully. I still couldn’t rule out this trip being some kind of ruse to get me to admit to some wrongdoing. “She was stabbed in the back, wasn’t she? Was that the cause of death?”
For a moment, the detective looked reluctant to answer, but he had to give me something to go on. “Yes, it was. The other interference happened post mortem.” He meant the neck mangling and the blood draining.
“You’re looking into anyone who might have wanted to get revenge on Bridgette?”
The detective nodded curtly. “As I said, our investigations are ongoing. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on other aspects of the case.”
“You mean the weird stuff.”
He didn’t say yes, but he gave me a look, and a look was all I needed.
“I did find something out,” I confessed. “But you’ll think it’s ridiculous.”
“At this stage, I’m willing to listen to all ideas.”
I told him about the folklore regarding the cauldron and the silver coin. Then I watched for his reaction. It was surely a sign of how the investigation was going that he genuinely looked like he was considering it.
“I’m not saying there’s any truth in this tale, but I will go so far as to say that it sounds like the victim may have believed the story. At least that gives us a plausible explanation for her being in that area prior to her death.” He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. “Other people know about this?”
I nodded. “I think it’s fairly common knowledge in Wormwood. But I missed the memo until I did some digging.” I thought blithely of the coven I’d somehow become in control of. I still needed to sort that out. I also suddenly found myself wondering if Heather knew anything more about the Devil’s Jumps story. “This town loves its folklore! I used to think it was all made up, but…” I trailed off, remembering who I was talking to.
“But?” the detective prompted, looking more curious than I would have expected him to.
I levelled him a sincere look. “You know this place has its quirks. Murder is a nasty surprise, but when I was growing up, I remember people going missing and not turning up again. No one saw it as a big deal. As a kid, I used to dismiss it as people skipping town, and I didn’t blame them for it, either.” I raised my brown eyebrows at him. “But there were always stories to go with the disappearances. Or rumours, anyway.” I bit my lip. “It may not be true, but I intend to do more research into local folklore in the hopes of uncovering an explanation.” I was careful not to say a ‘logical’ explanation, because I knew that the magic I now saw as real was not something that the average person would define as logical.
“Do you have any free time now?” The detective cocked his head and looked at me with his intelligent grey eyes.
For just a second, I sensed a flicker of the feelings I’d felt the first time I’d met him. We were a long way past that now. There were bridges that had been burned on both sides, but could this be an olive branch?
I looked towards the shop door, which remained empty. “Sure. If you’re not busy?”
The detective smiled a grim smile. “This case needs to be solved one way or another. I am choosing to invest my time in an alternative approach. So… where do we begin?”
It was a surreal feeling searching for the weird and wonderful folklore of South East of England with a police detective. I ran my theory by him that, whilst it was hard to find much out about Wormwood at all online, I had noticed that other local lore mirrored what was still believed in this town. The weirdest part of all was that he hadn’t questioned any of it.
“Look at this,” I said, pointing to the screen and reading off it. “According to local legend, the witches of Hobbling would steal eggshells left outside houses and use them as their boats. They were also able to transform themselves into cats and hares to go about their wicked witch business. It was only possible to identify a witch by the witch’s mark on the body of such an animal. There were also reports of ravens doing their dirty work, and even going so far as to attack babies in their cots. A local woman accused five others of using their supernatural abilities to make her hallucinate images of devils and demons. The accused claimed that their accuser had a grudge against them and that she was the one dealing in the dark arts. When the accuser suddenly went missing, the case was dropped against the witches of Cowsley Fold.”
“Hang on… getting rid of the person making the claims made the charges go away?” The detective looked bemused. “In my book, that would make the case even stronger against the five.”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Perhaps the person making accusations was the one doing all the bad stuff after all. Maybe those hallucinations were more than just imagined.” I smiled at the detective, teasing him with the idea.
Predictably, he crossed his arms and looked unimpressed. “I don’t know about this lore stuff, but… there have been disappearances in town that no one seems to have investigated properly.” He pulled out a folder, making sure to look around before he opened it to reveal a list of names and several photographs. “These records are for your eyes only. I do not want to see this conversation being written about in any publication, or hear it shouted about town.” His eyes strayed back to the front window when he said it.
I bit my tongue, knowing that it would sound petty to blame Jesse. Even though he was the one responsible for blabbing. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” I said, earning a disapproving look from Sean Admiral.
He pointed to a list of names. “I thought it was interesting when you mentioned people going missing from this town earlier. After the first murder, I did some research and found out that there are quite a few locals who’ve been reported missing at some time or another. I was hoping to find something that would help me identify the two strangers who came into town with the murder victim. I’ve been carrying the file around ever since. Some were investigated when family members followed it up, but a lack of leads means that all of these cases remain unsolved. They date back as far as the records go. It’s certainly a higher number of disappearances than your average town.”
I considered the list of names. I recognised many of them, but I hadn’t really even thought of them as missing persons. Wasn’t that strange?
I flipped through the photos next. There was a man dressed in a sensible suit with side-parted hair, who looked like a lawyer, and then there was a woman with wild curls, haunting green eyes, and about ten different charm necklaces around her neck. They didn’t look like they’d have a thing in common, but they were both miss
ing from Wormwood. I thought I vaguely recognised them and the majority of the other faces I saw in the photos, but just like the names, they hovered outside of my brain, like the memory of them had turned to mist after they’d gone.
“Do you think that what happened to Bridgette might also have happened to these people?” I asked, curious if the detective thought this was some kind of epidemic that had so far gone unnoticed.
“I’m not sure.” He considered it. “I don’t think so. It’s probably something different, but I was wondering if the local folklore might lend us an explanation. Not literally, of course… but what if there is something going on that people have just been explaining away for one reason or another? There could be something serious going on.” He narrowed his eyes at me for just a second. For some reason, I felt like there was something he wasn’t saying.
“I suppose you could be right,” I said, careful to look like I was considering it. A short time ago, I’d have shared his view. But now the world that had previously been hidden to me was coming alive before my eyes, I believed that there could be many reasons for the disappearances. Many that could never be explained within the bounds of what most considered ‘logical’.
I was about to ask the detective if he had any ideas about what that ‘something serious’ might be, when my aunts walked in from the kitchen, having completed their morning delivery round.
“Ooh! If I’d known we had company I’d have made cookies,” Linda said, immediately coming over and pulling up a chair. “You’re looking very well, Detective,” she said, looking into the police officer’s eyes. Any second now, she’d probably reach for his hand.
He removed his hands from the table and shoved them down by his sides.
“My aunts might know something more about the local folklore,” I said, seeing an opportunity to get them to open up in front of the police officer when they otherwise liked to avoid answering my questions.
Aunt Minerva’s steely glint let me know that I’d been rumbled.
I kept my smile hidden. “Have you ever heard of witches turning themselves into animals and riding around in eggshell boats?”
“And turning the milk sour, too?” Aunt Minerva was not amused.
“Only the shape-shifters,” Aunt Linda said without thinking.
Aunt Minerva coughed loudly.
“I mean… that’s what the folklore says!” she corrected.
“A person might be able to shape-shift and also be a witch?” I asked, curious. After the vampire revelation, I wasn’t even going to question the existence of shifters. Someone could tell me the Easter Bunny was real, and I’d just go along with it at this stage.
“Witches can be a lot of things… just not vampires,” Aunt Linda told me, before her eyes widened again. “So the folklore says.”
I sensed the detective was hoping that an opportunity to slink out of this situation would soon arise.
“Eggshell boats, deals with devils, and flying ointment are all part of our rich and varied history. Do you think Wormwood’s folklore might have some bearing on the case you’re currently investigating, Detective Admiral?” Aunt Minerva asked.
“I wouldn’t say that…” he blustered, his hands swiftly shutting the folder of missing persons that had been left lying open on the table.
“Can’t witches hypothetically turn themselves into animals with a spell?” I asked, curious about what was, and wasn’t, possible with magic.
“If you did it to yourself, you wouldn’t be able to turn back. It’s a catch 22. Maybe if you cursed someone else. Remember what I said about toads and frogs? Historically speaking,” Linda added, forgetting herself once again. “That’s where the stories come from. In the books, you kiss them to turn them back.” She looked dreamily at the detective.
He looked alarmed.
“Aunties, do you remember anyone going missing when you were living in Wormwood before me?”
“Oh, loads of people disappear,” Linda said cheerfully. “Vanishing without a trace is part of what makes this town so interesting. No one ever finds anything. No offence to the police intended.” She smiled at the detective.
For a second, the detective hovered indecisively, before he relented, reopening the folder and handing over the list to Aunt Linda.
“I remember all - most - of these names,” she corrected herself when Aunt Minerva nudged her in the ribs. “They go back a long time, don’t they?”
“Close to a century,” the detective agreed. “How long did you both live in Wormwood?” He knew my aunts were new in town. They’d been brought in for questioning regarding a body in the woods, when the police had been trying to rule out any strangers to the town being involved.
“Twenty years,” Aunt Minerva said with a sharp look at her sister.
“How old were you when you moved here?” the detective asked them.
“Do you see anything that these people had in common?” I said, cutting in before my aunts could get a mathematical calculation wrong and dig themselves into a hole. The detective was displaying a surprisingly open mind by coming here to ask about folklore, but I very much doubted he’d be ready for the revelation that both of my aunts were over one-hundred-years-old.
“No, I see nothing in common beyond living in Wormwood and being part of the supernatural community,” Aunt Minerva said. “But I’m sure that you’ve already drawn that conclusion?” She directed it as a question back at the detective, hoping to distract from the fact she’d just lied. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I knew it.
“Thank you for your assistance in the investigation. I should be getting back to work. Guarding that grave is taking up valuable police time.” He looked around at each one of us with suspicion written across his face.
“Pleasure to see you again, Detective,” Minerva said, ignoring anything he was implying.
“Could I interest you in an anti-vampire charm? They’re very popular at the moment,” Aunt Linda contributed.
We all stared at her.
“I’m just saying! You’re spending a lot of time by that grave. You never know what might pop up out of the ground around here,” she carried on, apparently oblivious to the amount of trouble she was getting me into.
“I should be going. Ms Salem… Hazel… please call me if you think of anything else,” the detective said, gathering his stuff together and standing up to leave. And then, wonder of wonders, he smiled at me. And just like that, I felt a spark reignite within me for Detective Sean Admiral.
Of all the stupid things…
“Can I have a copy of the folder that you showed me?” I asked at the last moment.
He looked between us like a rabbit caught in headlights. “Sure, I’ll get it sent over.”
We watched him walk out of the shop together, three witches, and the man who didn’t have any way of seeing the truth.
Speaking of truths…
“What do you know about those names on that list?” I said now that we were alone in the shop again.
My aunts exchanged a look.
“Don’t even think about pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know you lied,” I warned.
“Fine,” Linda said after a tense moment passed. “They were all witches and magicians.”
8
Dead Man Walking
“Aren’t most people in Wormwood?” I said, failing to see any great significance.
“No,” Linda scoffed.
I looked at Aunt Minerva for clarification.
“When she says all witches and magicians, that’s what she means. Not voodoo priests, or druids, or fortunetellers, or wise women, or psychics…”
“We get the picture,” Aunt Linda cut in. “It’s just witches and magicians. Isn’t that weird? I’m sure it’s nothing.” She smiled scarily. “Now we can all move on with our lives…”
“No way,” I said, cutting her off. “You’ve seen this happening for years. Why have you never wondered where they all went? Or do you know what
happens to them?”
My aunts turned their heads to look at one another but I shouted ‘NO!’ so loudly that they stopped. This was not going to be another ‘let’s keep Hazel out of this’ secret session.
“What I do know is that Bridgette Spellsworth does not fit the pattern, so you don’t need to worry,” Aunt Minerva told me, pragmatically avoiding answering the question.
I let my expression do the talking. They were not going to get out of telling me what they knew this time.
“Minerva…” Linda started to say.
“You know the rules!” her sister bit back, before smiling, really weirdly, at me. “Not all of the disappearances can be explained by one thing. Of that much, I am 100% certain. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say a lot of those witches and magicians tried magic that they weren’t ready for and paid the price.”
“What kind of magic?” I asked, curious enough to risk changing the subject.
“Never you mind,” Linda said, surprising me by being so matter of fact. Usually she was the one encouraging me to do questionable things.
My surprise obviously showed because she wrung her hands and spat it out. “It’s probably better you know something. Otherwise you’ll run off and do it yourself. It’s what I did, anyway.”
“And you barely survived,” Minerva commented.
“We can’t all be you, Minerva. I thought it would be a good idea to try some of the really fun spells in our mother’s secret spell book. She always kept it behind the other books on the shelf where she thought no one would look, but I found it when I was hunting for sweets that she also liked to hide from me. So really, it was her fault.”
“Linda…”
“Oh, shhh! Anyway, this spell book was the real deal, and I’d just come into my powers, so I was pretty much itching to do something more than illusions and simple charm work. The spells in this book were crazy awesome. We’re talking finding piles of treasure in underground caverns, ruling the world, getting great hair for life…”
“Wait, what?” I said, blinking.