by Tess Lake
I checked the time and saw I was going to be late if I stayed any longer. I said goodbye to Meredith and went on my way. As I was rushing out the front gate I heard her shouting from inside the house at Rex again.
I don’t know cars, but I know luxury and this car was pure luxury. Inside were soft leather seats and it had that new car smell. It was also blazing hot because it had been parked in the sun, but only a moment after I started the engine and turned the air conditioner on, an icy breeze was blowing out, quickly dropping the temperature. It was so cold I swear you could have frozen a glass of water into ice cubes by holding it in front of the vent.
I took a few minutes to adjust the seat and then grinned at myself in the rear-view mirror. Then I saw my ancient car parked a little way down the street and cringed. That car had been with me through thick and thin, and now here I was abandoning it!
That slight pang of sorrow disappeared a moment later when I turned music on and the thudding sound system vibrated my very bones.
I realized I’d have to come back to get my car at some point, maybe later tomorrow, and perhaps take it around to Jack’s.
I carefully pressed the accelerator and then squealed as the car lurched forward. It was powerful but quiet.
I drove into town, grinning the whole way until I reached The Hardy Arms where Red would be staying for the duration of Writerpalooza. I wasn’t expecting there to be a parking space but then one opened right in front of me with perfect timing.
I was sitting in the car with the engine running when my phone rang from an unknown number.
“Harlow Torrent,” I answered.
“Good afternoon, Harlow, it’s Red–Angela sent me your number. We’re driving up to the hotel now and wondering where we could meet you?” she said.
“I’ve parked out the front so I can meet you at the visitor car park,” I said.
“Sure thing sweetness,” Red said. “We’re the ones driving the yellow military truck. See you in a few minutes.”
Her voice had a kind of throaty raspiness to it with a slight southern twang. As soon as she hung up I breathed an intense sigh of relief. I know it was a little much to judge from a few seconds of phone call but I could already tell that she wasn’t some horrible person or a megalomaniac.
It wasn’t long before a bright yellow military truck turned the corner and went around to the rear of the Hardy Arms. I only caught a brief glimpse of the driver. She had vivid red hair that practically looked like it was aflame in the hot sun.
I turned the car off and stepped out into the heat that hit me like a thousand bricks in the face. I swear I nearly burst into flames on the spot. I hit the button to lock the car and rushed over to the safety of the shade, although it wasn’t much cooler.
By the time I got around to the rear of the Hardy Arms I was drenched in sweat, which is exactly what you want to look like when you’re about to meet the person you’re going to be working for. I turned the corner and saw four people gathered around the yellow truck, hauling luggage out of the back of it as fast as they could, to avoid staying in the sun. There was Red, who I presumed was the woman with the vivid red hair, and then beside her was a mountain of a man, his arms and legs roped with muscle and covered with tattoos. He had an enormous black beard and spiky hair and was wearing a pair of mirror sunglasses. Next to him was a small Asian woman who seriously looked like she only came up to his waist in height. She was struggling to pull a bag from the back of the truck. Beside her there was a man with curly brown hair and glasses who looked like he’d stepped straight out of an office somewhere, wearing a pair of slacks and a buttoned blue shirt that was, unfortunately, looking quite sweaty at the armpits.
“Hi everyone,” I called out and rushed over to help them.
“Don’t you look as sweet as a piece of pie. I’m Red,” the woman with the red hair said and then gave me a quick hug, which in my surprise I forgot to return entirely.
“Let’s get out of this sun and then we’ll do introductions,” she said. I helped them unload their luggage and then the five of us rushed inside the Hardy Arms as fast as we could. We clattered into the foyer with a mass of suitcases on wheels and other bags.
“Last time I was that hot was in Iraq,” the giant said.
I looked over at the counter and saw Aveline Hardy, the owner of the Hardy Arms, was watching us with a welcoming smile.
Red turned to me and then whacked me on the shoulder with her hand.
“You have strong muscles, excellent for hauling luggage. Thanks for helping us,” she said and gave a throaty chuckle.
“Not a problem, that’s what I’m here for,” I said.
“Introductions,” Red said.
“This is Jenna Cheng, she writes cozy mysteries solved by cats,” she said, pointing to the shorter lady. “This is TJ McKenna. He writes Grandma Gough, who’s always making pies and cakes and also solving murders. Finally, this is Jay Savage who writes the most amazing bloodthirsty murder mysteries that are so wonderfully gruesome,” Red said. I greeted them each in turn, shaking their hands one by one. TJ was a giant; my hand practically disappeared in his.
“You have the hire car, right?” Red asked me.
“Blue sports car out the front,” I said.
“A blue sports car Red? Geez you’re making us look bad here,” Jay said with a smile.
“I didn’t pick it, darling… well, actually I did, that’s just something I say,” she said.
Red handed a set of keys over to TJ and then they all went to the counter to check in, talking as they went. I realized they were all close friends and that TJ, although he looked like he was a barbarian, was quite soft-spoken. Aveline checked everybody in, gave them the room keys, and then I followed them into the elevator.
It was only when we were walking down the corridor to Red’s room that I realized the last time I was in the Hardy Arms I’d been breaking in. It felt like it was ten lifetimes ago. I’d put myself under a concealment spell to break into someone’s room who I thought was connected to some old murders. It turned out I’d been wrong and had in fact pointed the finger of blame at someone who’d ultimately been innocent. He’d actually been in town searching for his lost friend. He’d forgiven me somewhat for that but as we walked down the corridor I felt a small twinge of guilt that Red must have seen.
“You okay darling?” she asked me.
“Uh, yeah, just recovering from the heat,” I said. I followed Red into her room and helped her move her luggage over to the bed. The air conditioning had been running in here and so it was lovely and cool, but somewhat dark because the curtains were closed to keep the sunlight out. Red opened them and looked out into the street.
“Harlot Bay, the small mysterious town with a mysterious past,” she said, as though she was narrating a movie trailer. She moved over to the bed and started unzipping her suitcase.
“You’re the one who used to write that online newspaper aren’t you?” she said.
“Oh, you read that? I sort of shut it down, although I left it still online,” I said, stammering a little.
“I always research the places where I’m doing readings or going to visit. It’s excellent grist for the mill and makes my books better,” she said. “You have a good writing style. Have you written any fiction?” she asked.
As she was saying this, she was pulling book after book out of one of her suitcases. They all had her name emblazoned on the side. She piled them on the desk that was against the far wall. All the front covers featured a woman with fiery red hair wearing a trenchcoat.
“Um… I’ve been working on a story recently. It’s about halfway done I think,” I said, feeling quite put on the spot.
Red looked at me and then narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger. “What kind of story is it? Cozy? You trying to come on to my turf?” she said in mock outrage and then laughed.
“It’s about a ghost. I think it’s a ghost romance, I guess.”
“Good choice, very popular, hear
tbreaking. When you’re ready you should send some to me to read,” Red said.
I stammered some reply. I wasn’t quite sure whether it was a yes or no and then Red came over and patted me on the arm.
“No pressure at all, Harlow. I never talk about my books until they’re done anyway. But if you do want to send it to me I’m serious about that,” she said and then she gave me a grin.
“Now let’s get in that sports car and find out what there is to do in this town,” she said.
She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out of the hotel room laughing as she went. I could barely keep my feet but soon I was laughing too.
Chapter Four
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife,” I said.
The assorted writers around me cringed and Jay shook his head and pointed his finger at the shot of vodka that sat in front of me.
“Sorry, Torrent. The correct line is ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’ Drink,” he said.
The surrounding writers cheered as I groaned and then drank the shot of vodka, the fiery liquid burning its way down my throat. I slammed the shot glass down on the table and sat down, my head starting to spin.
Beside me, TJ shot up out of his chair like a furious giant and waved his arms in the air.
“However, little-known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters,” he recited.
“Perfect!” Jenna Cheng shouted out. TJ high-fived her so hard she almost fell over and everyone cheered in drunken celebration.
Since leaving the Hardy Arms with Red… things had gotten a little bit out of control.
Firstly, the woman drove like a madman. Or madwoman. Whatever it was, she was mad.
She couldn’t drive fast in Harlot Bay, of course, given the streets were clogged up with tourists, vampires and other assorted fans who had gathered in Harlot Bay for Writerpalooza.
We’d even seen a couple of girls dressed up as Red Herringbone, the main character from Red’s book series. Red had beeped the horn and opened the window and given them all high-fives as we’d driven by, much to their delight and amazement. She wanted the tour of Harlot Bay, but as soon as we got bogged down by traffic she wanted to know the quickest road out, and so we went in the direction of the lighthouse. It was still closed to the public. Whoever had been renovating it had apparently stopped and so there were no more tours up to the top to look out over the bay. That was quite fine by me. The lighthouse and I didn’t have such a great history. The last time I’d been there I had only barely managed to stop a man from leaping to his death. I’d saved his life, but he’d ended up with a broken leg and other injuries instead. The time before that, there had been a gigantic fire and me, Molly, Luce and Adams had been up the top. We’d used a cleaning broom and a bunch of spells to fly off and land in the icy ocean. So I was happy to pass on by and as soon as we hit the coastal roads, Red hit the gas and I swear we were zipping along so fast that I felt like I was going to blink and next minute we were going to end up in Florida. It was slightly scary but also it was a sports car so it felt very comfortable to be speeding along in such a beautiful machine.
As we drove, we talked non-stop. She’d had a husband, Eoin. He’d died eight years ago in a workplace accident that she didn’t go into. He’d been a carpenter, working on building houses, much like Jack. They had a single daughter Rionach, Ri for short. She was due to go to college next year and with that line Red had looked at me and said, “And, yes, if you do the math you can work out exactly how young I was when I first had her.”
She told me that her husband had only seen the beginning of her writing career before he’d passed away. She hadn’t remarried, although she had, in her words, a few flings here and there, giving me a devilish smile. She’d spent all the years since writing books and traveling around the country going to readings and meeting her fans. She’d even been over to the UK twice and had included a tour through Germany where her books had taken off unexpectedly after they had been translated. Sitting beside her in the sports car as we zoomed along it sounded like an absolutely divine kind of life. I told her about Jack, my former policeman now carpenter boyfriend, and then talked about my family, leaving out of course any witchy business. I wasn’t entirely intending to lure her to the Torrent mansion, but I guess I did talk up its mysterious past. As soon as I mentioned it, she knew exactly what I was talking about, given that as you drove in Harlot Bay, it was practically impossible to miss. I then let slip that Aunt Cass was one of her fans and Red had then clapped her hands and said, “That settles it then. We must have dinner out there; let’s arrange it.”
Time had flowed by easily. At one point we’d stopped and went out onto the beach, Red wading out to her knees while I stayed in the shade under a tree. When she returned I was surprised to see that she was wiping away tears. She’d told me it had always been her husband’s dream to retire to the seaside, but they’d never got to achieve it, and he’d never got to see the success that her books had brought her.
She told me that her character Red Herringbone was dating a man in the book series and really it was Red’s husband in different form, immortalized in prose.
I even wiped away a tear at that point, feeling the sudden loss of someone I’d never met. We returned to the sports car and continued down the coast before Red checked the time and turned us around and we raced all the way back to Harlot Bay. When we arrived at the Hardy Arms, I discovered that she and the other writers had arranged to take the conference room and a party was underway. There were more varieties of alcohol than you can imagine: bottles of champagne and wine and spirits; and soon I had a drink in my hand and was eating fish and chips that one of the writers had ordered. Varieties of take-out kept coming—Indian and then some pies, more fish and chips, Chinese and Thai. There were at least thirty writers and their names went by in a blur. Some of them I thought I recognized but I couldn’t be sure.
Soon there was a flood of food and wine, and then shots that were tied to a literary quiz that I knew those sneaky writers had the advantage in.
“Once upon a time there were four little rabbits, and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter,” Jenna yelled out.
“And then the murders began…” Jay quipped. I laughed along with everyone else as the drinking game descended into chaos, everyone reciting first lines of famous novels and then saying “And then the murders began.”
The night spun on in a blur. I found myself talking to TJ at one point. He was telling me about his books featuring Grandma Gough, a lovely old lady in her seventies who baked pies and cakes and also solved gruesome murders. It seemed almost every writer I spoke to was able to tell within a minute that I too was working on something and they were always encouraging, telling me to keep working, keep going and I could get it done.
Near midnight, the party began to wind down. I’d had too much to drink and so when Red suggested we all head out for a midnight stroll down to the beach I shouted out yes! along with everyone else. The party burst out into the streets and then exploded, going in different directions. I soon found myself with the original four: Red, TJ, Jenna, and Jay. I’d confirmed during the afternoon drive that they were close friends and had been for many years always helping each other and frequently meeting up on tour.
I’d also learned that TJ had been a former Navy Seal who’d spent quite a lot of time in hot countries. When he left the military, he’d turned to writing and now was an incredible success with his little old lady who solved mysteries.
Even at midnight, it was still hot, the road under our feet warm from the sun during the day. The five of us went roaming down the street. I think we’d somewhat forgotten that we’d intended to go to
the beach because we were all still babbling along in that way that people who have had too much to drink do. We’d turned away from the beach, heading into town again for who knows what reason when somewhere close by there came a bone-chilling howl that ripped the night. We stopped and then Jenna blurted out “Are there wolves in Harlot Bay?”
The howl had echoed away, but it didn’t sound like any wolf I’d ever heard before. There was pain in that howl and anguish, and I think, also fury.
“No wolves here,” I said, shaking my head, I think trying to convince myself as much as them.
Although I’d had far too much to drink, and it was certainly helping numb the senses, it couldn’t stop the sudden feeling of wrongness that I had. The surrounding magic that ebbed and flowed in its own rhythm was stirred up like a muddy glass of water with chunks of grit throughout it. I took a breath and tried to calm my thudding heart. Of course, that failed a moment later when a man came staggering out of an alleyway toward us.
He was a tourist, that much was evident from his ridiculous Hawaiian shirt and shorts and the sunburn. His clothes were shredded, torn as though he’d been attacked. His arms and legs and face were bloody with deep scratches from something with sharp claws.
“Help me, help,” he slurred and fell into us. None of us were quick enough to grab him so he sort of bounced off TJ’s leg, leaving a streak of blood before he crashed to the road.
“Call an ambulance,” TJ said kneeling down to roll the man onto his side.
I reached for my phone, but I didn’t have it. I must’ve left it back at the hotel. Jenna had hers though.
“What happened to you?” Red said.
The man looked up at her, and I realized behind the blood and his wounds he’d been crying too.
“A monster attacked me,” he said before he passed out.
The anxiety began to win its battle against the alcohol in my blood. The magic all around me was still wrong, and I had a sudden vision of a vicious creature leaping out of the dark to kill us all, me trying to perform magic to save us, and failing badly.