“What is that?” He mused, stepping closer to the furiously spinning object. The green light pulsed brighter with every revolution of its obsidian body.
“Orville Nugget, you will get behind me this instant if you know what’s good for you,” Portia said, starting toward the boy, and leaving us without the Coven Isles most potent witch as our ‘wonderwall’ protector between us and the strange artifact.
Orville didn’t listen, however. The young alchemist stood rapt, already lifting himself on tiptoes for a better view of the curiously glowing gem. “Looks like Black Diamond,” he said, squinting up at the stone.
Without notice, the putrid light flashed, then arced in a blinding light of violent green toward all compass points.
“Wands!” Portia screamed. “Now!”
Everything happened in slow motion. Except for the beat of my heart, of course. It felt thick with blood, its rhythm erupting into a haywire beat so loud it threatened to pierce my eardrums. Because that’s where your life-giving rhythm flees to in moments of acute stress. That’s how close you are to your spiritual and life-giving center when your chips are suddenly down. You’re so near to your soul in these horrendous and frightening moments, in fact, that your heart is all you can hear, feel or sense.
I sucked in a ragged breath of air, and in one fell swoop, I had my applewood wand pointing at the spinning object. From the corner of my eye, I saw my fellow Custodians in the same wand-wielding stance; faces and rods confronting the spinning diamond, eyes squinting at the sickly illumination. The cats dropped to their bellies and slinked their way over to my feet on cautious haunches. Fraidy was on my head before I could blink.
“When I say, we’re going to cast Geodysia,” Portia instructed, not taking her eyes off the transfixed Orville and the spinning gem. “But, right this second, you are all going to create, between you, one full circle in the earth below your feet. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just needs to be done right away, and you need to ensure the circle is unbroken. Understand?” She looked back to check our understanding. We nodded dumbly. “When we cast, we are going to direct the spell above our heads, above that circle you inscribe. NOT at the device. Got it?”
Ooh, I itched to ask a question about this last bit of intel; you know, something along the lines of: ‘Isn’t that a bad idea? Shouldn’t we be aiming at the potentially lethal weapon floating in front of us instead?’ But I didn’t. Because there was no time, and I’d be too scared to backchat Portia Fearwyn anyway.
The cats, the faeries, David and I faced one another and began inscribing a roughly hewn circle with our feet, each taking a quadrant until we formed a whole outline of a sphere in the earth.
“Done!” David shouted.
The Witch Fearwyn twitched her head in acknowledgment and took one step toward the boy, who stood transfixed, under the threatening green light.
“Nugget, you get over here right this minute!” Portia’s thin voice warbled in near hysteria. I’d never heard her sound so scared.
Orville finally came to his senses and turned toward us.
“Get ready,” Portia said over her shoulder to us, as she charged into the rough-hewn circle. Orville was no more than three steps away from our half-made shelter… two steps … one step … one foot in …
Portia brought her wand to the sky immediately above our heads. “Now!”
“Geodysia!!” The Custodians chanted in Unison, flicking our wands skyward.
Our aim was true. Geodysia met in a spot just above our heads. Five currents of powerful magic flowed in purple, blue, orange, and silver streams, and then tumbled downward to meet the perimeter of the etched circle surrounding us. In a near perfect feat of combined sorcery, the Custodians had created a dome of magical glowing filaments; delicate to look at with its gauzy light, but robust enough to deflect an army of Sherman tanks coupled with the worst lightning storm in history if need be. I could feel the power in our combined magic flowing through my wand arm to join with a livid energy that surged up and down my spine.
But our living magic wasn’t enough. Because the tip of Orville’s left pinky finger resting just outside our protective dome was enough to negate the young alchemist’s safety entirely. Before I could even form a thought, Nugget was yanked with violent force from our magical haven. Now on the outside of our spell, Orville fell to his knees, only to be lifted again, and tossed like a rag doll in midair by a torrent of sickly green light. The brilliant teen’s face twisted into a mask of terror and confusion as he was mercilessly hurled toward the swarming dark clouds above our heads.
“No!” Verdantia screamed. She lifted her head heavenward, the veins in her neck standing out in stark contrast to her creamy skin.
“Hold the dome!” Portia shouted.
I saw David’s arm shaking, and watched as the tremor moved through his body. My friend looked paler than a whitewashed moon.
My own arm shook. The energy from the magic shelter bolting through my core now. My stomach clenched in a painful knot. Tears poured freely down my face as I heard, rather than saw, Orville’s lanky body land with a thud on the earth outside of the Geodysia. The thick and sickly crack of bone resonated through the fine glowing threads of the dome. A dragging sound now, as his body was dragged mercilessly along the ground, only to be picked up and slammed against the earth once more. Both Hinrika and Verdantia sobbed, while Portia’s expression remained grim, her focus not veering away from keeping the dome intact.
My kitties purred. The loudest I’d ever heard them purr. I felt each isolated vibration from deep within their bodies. Fraidy’s rumblings vibrated through my head, into my face, down my neck and flowed in pulsing streams around my heart. The seven cats at my feet pressed their faces against my legs and purred their healing purr in concert until the vibration traveled upward through my body to where Fraidy’s purr resonated. I felt like a tuning fork, but the Infiniti’s rumblings brought me a sense of calm that only the most healing kind of magic could provide.
Keeping his wand held high, David shouted to me. “Can you see him? Can you see Orville?”
I squinted through the threads of protective light for the unfortunate teen. I couldn’t see him. I turned my attention back to the spinning device. The black diamond, having spent its lurid green energy, slowed in its revolutions and fell, like a dead raven, to the ground.
We said nothing for a few seconds; just held our wands upward and kept our magic flowing into the dome that had no doubt just saved our lives.
Portia tracked her head in a slow, smooth line; left then right. She turned, looked at us, and held up her hand. She made the same fluid tracking movement with her head, and then the Witch Fearwyn lowered her wand hand.
“We’re safe,” she said.
“Orville,” I choked on his name.
Portia’s beady black eyes glistened. She turned her head, but not before I saw a solitary plump tear fall down her cheek.
She saw what happened to him.
There were no words needed. We all knew Orville was dead. Gone. A young and promising life snuffed out without warning, and in a senselessly violent manner.
Verdantia and Hinrika held one another. I watched as the two fairies cried into the other’s shoulder.
Practically dragging his feet, David walked over and wrapped his arms around me. I could feel his body trembling against mine as his face pressed into my hair. I pushed into him, hugging him as tightly as my strength would allow, feeling the taut ladder of muscles along his spine. He pulled me in, holding the back of my head with one hand, and his other strong hand pressing on my back. My kitties purred on. Pouring their love, peace, and strength into me.
Keeping my face pressed against David’s chest, I could hear the Witch Fearwyn’s labored breathing as she tried to steady her respiration.
Finally, she spoke. “Chief Para Inspector Trew, take everyone inside, and then join me out here immediately,” she snapped. My friend pushed me gently away, and I caught sight of Portia;
her shoulders hunched up around her ears. Her eyes seethed with black rage. I watched as she clenched and unclenched her hands until they came to rest as tight fists at her sides.
“Portia, I want to help … I can --”
“Now, please, CPI Trew.” The Witch Fearwyn ignored my plea, and David pushed gently on my lower back once more; nudging the kitties with his feet as we trudged back to the porch of Gaunt Manor.
I looked up into my friend’s eyes. “David, please,” I begged. “Let me stay out here and help you find Orville.”
The chief stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “Hat, you heard Portia. Go inside, okay? Just for now. Just until we can make sure the area is secure. I need to call my men ... the place will be swarming soon. Go inside with Hinrika and Vee, and we’ll be in just as soon as we have everything under control.” He passed a hand over his face. His bloodshot eyes seemed to have sunk ever-deeper into his shaded sockets. He offered me a wan smile, and with that, the man I loved joined the Witch Fearwyn to investigate the murderous diamond device and to find the body of our friend and fellow Custodian, Orville Nugget.
CHAPTER 3
“The area’s clear, Chief. Want us to put the weapon in evidence until you return to the station? Or ship it to Talisman right away?” Constable Smallbridge perched himself on the edge of Portia’s dining table and looked at the chief.
“Very good, Smallbridge,” David said. “Take it to the station for now. Leave it with Spinefield … he’ll know what to do with it. I’ll inform Talisman once I’ve had a chance to look at it properly.” Smallbridge nodded and pushed back from the table. “And the body, sir?” I noticed the constable looked at his shoes as he asked the tough question. The vibration of my phone interrupted the chief’s response. Reverend Peacefield’s name flashed on the call display. I ended the call quickly, pocketed the phone and gave my friend a quick nod.
He looked at Smallbridge. “Call the coroner’s office,” David said, keeping his voice level. “Hector Muerte and his men can pick up the …” The chief cleared his throat. “Hector will take care of Orville. Tell Maude that I’ll be over to see her just as soon as I can.” The constable nodded, and, in low whispers, he ushered the rest of David’s men to the door. Smallbridge looked back. “Chief, if there’s anything else I can do … anything at all …” the constable shook his head, gave his boss one last apologetic glance, and crept out the door. David waited until the latch clicked, and then turned toward us. He gave Portia a tiny nod, and the Witch Fearwyn moved into the middle of the room. She folded her arms and pressed her lips together until they formed a hard white line. “We have lost a brother and a friend today,” she began. Fresh sobs from Hinrika and Verdantia. At least they had the kitties surrounding them now. Maybe the faeries would benefit from the same state of calm I felt while our friend was being crucified by the green-lit gem. A flash of guilt lit up in my stomach.
“Orville Nugget will be remembered by us all. His dutiful and impeccable work ethic for the Custodians shall never be….” Portia’s shoulders heaved as her breathing became more labored. She stomped her foot. “By Brigid! Orville Nugget’s death will be avenged!” Her tiny, bird-like eyes sparkled with bright fury. “Shields won’t get away with this. This is war!” She spat.
“Mrs. Fearwyn, please,” David said, resting a tentative hand on the old witch’s shoulder. Portia shrugged it off immediately and folded her arms again. The chief sighed and ran a hand through his white-streaked hair. The pigmentation loss appeared about four months ago now. It wasn’t there one day, and there the next. My friend had dissuaded me from asking too many questions about it, but the shock of white hair had arrived at about the same time as David’s other freaky symptoms had shown up. He was unwell; that much was true. And it was mine and Portia’s belief that he was being controlled like nothing more than a puppet on a string. The puppeteer? Gideon Shields, of course. The suave governor of picturesque Cathedral Isle, and newly appointed Chief Warlock to boot, had been on our (that is, the Custodians) radar for some time now. But the slimy politician came up squeaky clean every time we investigated him. The same was not true for his close circle of confidants and advisors, however. Oh, no, the governor’s’ inner circle of the self-built cabal had fallen one by one, in fact. Funny how Shields’ closest allies turned out to be so dirty, while the governor’s reputation remained impeccably clean. It was evident that Gideon Shields didn’t mind who he took down in the process of doing his evil deeds; even if it was his closest friends. As long as the governor kept his name and his honor unblemished along the way, he thrived.
“We need to keep a clear head here,” David finished, dropping himself onto a dining chair.
Portia said nothing. She stared at a spot on the floor, keeping her lips tight.
“You tryin’ to say that slimeball governor ain’t behind this carnage, Chief?” Shade said, his fur on end. My nice-guy kitty’s eyes were as black as deep space.
“What I’m saying, moggie,” David said, “Is revenge doesn’t belong here.”
“Okay, great, so no revenge, got it,” Gloom said. My female cat sat like a loaf of bread on Verdantia’s lap, staring at the chief. “So how do we kill Shields?”
“Gloom!” I gasped. I could barely believe my ears. “Honey, don’t ever let me hear you talk like that again. You hear me?” I bent forward from the waist to make sure my snarky cat could see my face and how serious I was. Gloom turned her head away from me.
“But she’s right!” Fraidy whimpered. “If we don’t kill Shields now, we’re gonna be the first ones to end up dead! Um, hello, did anyone see what just happened out there?!” Fraidy jerked a jittery paw over his shoulder. “Orville’s dead!”
“How could he have known? How could Shields have known the Custodians were all together tonight?” Verdantia stroked Gloom’s head, but the elven beauty’s eyes were empty windows as she posed her question.
“I don’t know, Vee,” David said. “But you can probably appreciate just how lucky we were.”
A bolt of livid fire shot through my body. “Lucky?!” I shrieked, taking a step toward my friend. “We’ve just lost Orville, in case you didn’t notice.” The hot tears began their well-traveled descent down my cheeks. “Tell us how it’s lucky to have the death of a talented, respected, well-loved young man on our hands. Please, go right ahead.”
“Hat,” the chief tried.
“Dear Hattie,” Onyx said, trotting over to join me. My wise cat began to knead the uppers of my shoes. “What I think Chief Para Inspector Trew is trying to say is the body count could have been far more … ahh, significant, had the Witch Fearwyn not summoned the Geodysia spell.”
“It’s true, boss,” Midnight said, joining his brother in the bread-making. “My bet is Shields wanted us all fried by that pukey-green-rock-thing. Thanks to Portia’s magic dome, I reckon we probably got off lightly.”
Hinrika let out a warbling sob. The faery queen stuffed a string of Icelandic licorice into her mouth and dragged a sleeve of fine lilac silk across her nose. I could see her tears had made clean rivulets through her blackened lips only to fall in dark droplets onto her exquisite ball gown. Whatever the occasion, formal dance or a walk through a muddy cow field, the eccentric faery liked to dress in expensive frocks. In Hinrika’s world, high quality Icelandic licorice and fabulous party wear reigned supreme.
From his spot on the table, Fraidy nudged my arm. “I don’t get why we didn’t point our magic at that device, though,” he complained. “I mean, why didn’t we blow it up while he had the chance? Orville could still be alive if we had turned our magic on that gizmo instead of making a … a … tent.”
My scaredy-cat’s line of questioning made me see, though. Suddenly, Portia’s instructions for creating the shield and not to attack the device, made sense. She knew we needed to stay safe. The Custodians needed to live. Because we were the only chance the Coven Isles -- and maybe even the world -- had for a secure and safe future for humans, paranormals and
pixies alike. Our collective safety is paramount.
And, anyway, open-firing your magic at an unknown spinning entity is likely a bad idea in the first place. Who knows what that diamond-weapon could have done had it sensed a counter assault? Portia certainly didn’t know. Which is exactly why she pulled us into her dome. She’d never risk all of our lives on a misguided hunch.
“We had to be protected, sweetie,” I said, scooping Fraidy into my arms. He turned on his side, tucked his head under my chin, and purred. I kissed the spot between his fidgety ears. “If we’re going to stop the governor and his plans for world domination, then the Isles’ hope lies in us. Understand?” My cat handled his stress in the only way he knew: he made air bread with a pair of curling paws.
“Are you going to tell them what was inscribed on the device, or shall I?” Portia’s tone sounded like cold metal.
I looked at David. “What?” What did you find?”
The chief leaned back until the chair rested on its two back legs. “An inscription. A serial number, and ….”
“And?” The kitties questioned in unison. Fraidy wriggled in my arms, jumped onto the table, and studied the chief.
“Some words,” David said. “‘Made in Mag Mell.’”
“What does that tell us?” Eclipse stared at CPI Trew with blank eyes. You could never tell what went on in the mind of my mind-wiping cat. “Does this mean the Fae are responsible? Or is Shields still the baddie?”
Verdantia Eyebright stood up, displacing a rather disgruntled Gloom. The faerie looked at us. “My people have been manipulated. I think we know this already. Shields … I don’t know what he’s offering them, but, the Fae-kind are being used right now. Ankou in particular”
Hinrika Jonsdottir bobbed a head of white-blonde curls. “This is true,” she whispered through her blackened teeth. “The Warlocks are misleading our kin in terrible, terrible ways.” The faery queen turned to Verdantia and put her hands on Vee’s shoulders. “Verdantia, we must go to Mag Mell, and speak to Ankou,” Hinrika urged. “Find out what our cousin knows of the terrible man’s plans.”
Moggies, Magic and Murder Page 59