‘Because I have a million calls to make,’ he replied agitatedly. ‘I need to get a search warrant. I need to get the Wayfarers there, too, in case Donald tries any tricks. I’ll need to get a Potions’ expert, as well. Because even if we do find the Thermos, we’ll need to test it for Night potion. And I’ll want to have that done straight away, so I’ll have to try and get someone into the lab. And–’
He realised that I had slowed to a stop, and his babbling halted along with me. ‘What? Why are you stopping? We need to get there. We need to search his house.’
I turned off the engine and looked at him. ‘Detective, do you really want to go off half-cocked again?’
‘Half-cocked?’ His voice went a little high-pitched. Oh dear, I did seem to be developing a habit of saying exactly what he didn’t want to hear. I might feel bad about it, sometime in the future when he stopped being a pig-headed idiot. ‘Again? You mean like with Gunnar, right? You know what, you really will fit in at Arnold’s paper, seeing as all the old goat ever does is accuse me of being bad at my job.’
‘Whoa,’ I said, glaring at him. ‘If you want people to stop accusing you of being bad at your job, then maybe you should get your head out of your behind, stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with being good at your job.’
I bit my lip, gripped the steering wheel, and wondered if I should just get out of his car right now – because if I didn’t, he was probably going to throw me out.
‘I guess I deserved that,’ he said quietly.
I cleared my throat. It seemed safer than responding.
‘I do feel sorry for myself,’ he went on, his voice still quiet. ‘I never thought I’d be the sort of guy for self-pity, and yet here I am.’ He turned in his seat, and I got the feeling that, somewhere beneath all of that night gear, he was looking right at me. ‘Someday I’ll tell you how I became a dayturner. Maybe then you’ll get why I hate Vlad’s Boys so much. But you’re right – I need to stop feeling sorry for myself, because it is affecting my job. Miss Smith … Aisling … how do you want to play this?’
I looked at him. ‘Whatever Donald did, I believe he did it for love. So I’d like to try, oh, I dunno – maybe talking to him.’ I held my hands up. ‘Before you argue with me, hear me out. You can call your people, have them on standby. But I really believe that talking to him is the best way to go. And in a few days’ time I’ll be miles away from here, working for the Daily Dubliner again with no idea that any of this ever happened. But you’ll remember. You’ll remember tonight. So tell me, how do you want to remember it? You want to recall yourself as the guy who couldn’t at least give me one win before I get magicked back to Normalsville?’
For some reason, he was shaking a little. He seemed to be … no … he couldn’t be. ‘Are you laughing at me?’
A great big bellow escaped his mouth. ‘I’m trying very hard not to. But you really are hilarious. Come on. Start the engine back up. We’ll do it your way.’
I held out a hand and wiggled my little finger. ‘Pinky swear?’
I was sure I saw him do an eye-roll behind those sunglasses, but he caught my finger in his. ‘Pinky swear – you madwoman. And by the way, I’m going to do my best to make sure you get to stay.’
≈
All the lights were blazing in Donald’s house. I could see him through his window, sitting by the fire, sipping a glass of something red and viscous and crying into a photo album.
He looked up as though he knew we were there, and left his seat. A moment later, he drew open the door.
‘I know why you’re here,’ he said. ‘And I’ll come peacefully.’
The detective’s eyes grew round. If this were a less upsetting situation, I might be feeling the urge to gloat.
‘She asked me to do it,’ Donald went on. ‘But that’s not really what matters, is it? I heard that a young man from Vlad’s Boys is your chief suspect. I know what they are. I know what they stand for. Gunnar was always horrible to my wife, and that group do poison dayturners, I know they do. But even if Gunnar and his group killed those other dayturners, they didn’t kill my wife. I just wanted one more night, here with my photos of my Bathsheba, before I handed myself in.’ He gave us a shaky smile. ‘She made me promise not to follow her to the afterlife,’ he said. ‘That’s why she insisted on the Night potion. So it would look like the other deaths. No one would know I did it, and I could go and live my life without her.’ He wiped his eyes and blinked back tears. ‘But I don’t think she knew what she was asking of me. I can’t let that young man take the fall – no matter what sort of person he is.’
23. The Test
It was late on Friday afternoon, and I was sitting across from Grace, twiddling my thumbs while she checked her make-up in the mirror. I wasn’t sure why it needed so much attention, seeing as it looked just as perfect as always.
‘Just tell me you hated my story,’ I said. ‘I’m a big girl. I can take the criticism.’
She looked up, her eyes wide. ‘Why would I tell you that? It would be a lie.’ She put her mirror on the desk and pushed it across to me. ‘In case you were wondering, I wasn’t checking my make-up,’ she said. ‘It’s another Aurameter. Different design.’
I picked it up and looked into it. Instead of my reflection (which was, no doubt, absolutely horrendous) I saw Grace, surrounded by that same golden light.
‘I still can’t see any power when I look at you,’ she said. ‘But everything that you’ve done since you’ve been here … it made me want to see something, so badly.’ Her long lashes fluttered. ‘You look so much like her, but so did the other three girls. It was never about looks. They might have had the right colouring, but they were nothing like Abby. You are.’
I looked down at my hands. I didn’t want to hear that I reminded her of Abby. Because the more I heard it, the more I might dare to hope. And to hope I was related to a dead witch? That was the sort of hope that was going to bring nothing but misery.
‘Anyway,’ she said, her voice sounding strained. ‘That hardly matters, does it? Arnold chose you for the same reason he chose the others – because you are like Abby. He, um … he read your piece.’ She reached for a handkerchief. ‘Excuse me. Allergies. Anyway … it really was more than satisfactory.’
‘Oh.’ I turned the latest Aurameter over in my hands. ‘Good. Satisfactory is … good.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, it is. Now. He wants to meet with you again this evening. For the final test. It’ll take place at his home in Riddler’s Cove. I thought … well … I thought maybe I could accompany you?’
I gave her a grateful smile. ‘That’s a nice thought, Grace. But I need to do this alone. And, em … is there anything else you want me to work on for the rest of the day?’
She shook her head, golden curls bouncing. ‘I think you’ve earned an afternoon off, don’t you?’
≈
I didn’t know how to feel as I walked through the Wandering Wood. All my life I’d convinced myself I didn’t care who my mother was, or why she’d left me in front of the hospital. I told myself that what mattered was who I was, and who I became. I told myself that I was perfectly fine on my own.
Sure, the fact that so many foster families had dumped me had probably made me a little unsure that I was perfectly fine. But it had made me get used to the fact that I was born to be alone.
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 t
he 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.’
A Little Bit Witchy (A Riddler's Edge Cozy Mystery #1) Page 15