David shook his head and replied, “I’m not certain at this point. What else can you tell us about this call?”
“Well, it was the first time that Gideon had called the estate. I know Morag worked closely with him, but all official business between them had been conducted during regular hours of operation before now, so it was strange for Morag to field a call from the Governor. Particularly on a weekend.” Infirma cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes again. “Anyway, Morag took the call in her study, and I was instructed to hang up as soon as she had picked up the call,” the frail woman said. “I didn’t hear any of the conversation I’m afraid, so whether it had anything to do with Morag not sleeping that night, and crying in her room, I couldn’t tell you. But, something had bothered my sister greatly, and her restlessness seemed to take over shortly after the call with Shields.” Infirma looked at us both, her eyes questioning.
“Did you ask her about it?” David queried.
“I did, yes. I was worried. I woke up to the sounds of Morag crying and pacing in her room. I went to her. Asked if everything was okay or if there was anything I could do.”
“So, did she share with you what was bothering her?” I asked gently.
“No. No, she didn’t. She barely acknowledged me, in fact. She was just mumbling the same words over and over again,” Infirma stated.
“What words?” David pressed.
“Well, I’m not sure you’ll make much sense of them, I know I couldn’t,” Infirma offered with a weak smile. “But, she kept saying: ‘I have to hide it, I have to hide it.’”
“And you have no idea what ‘it’ is?” David guessed.
Infirma shook her head, her bottom lip quivering.
David finished the last of his notes and then licked his lips, and fiddled with his glasses. I knew that look all too well. He was about to either ask or deliver a delicate question or statement.
“Ms. Devlin, I really hate to even ask this. But I need to. Did you and your sister get on well?”
The dam of tears Infirma had managed to hold back for the last few minutes erupted. David and I sat quietly, waiting out the fresh outpour.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry about that.”
“No need for apologies, Ms. Devlin,” David urged. “I’m just trying to paint a clear picture right now,”
Infirma nodded as she put down the last tissue on the table. “My sister was my world…and I was hers. We are the last of our long, celebrated family line. This fact has only made us closer. While it’s true that I will now inherit the whole estate we shared, nothing could ever replace my sister. My Morag.”
David sighed, snapped his notebook shut and leaned back in his chair again, rubbing his eyes. “If you’d like to take a moment, please do. When you feel up to it, I can have a constable take you home. If there’s anything you need from us, just let us know, and we’ll be happy to help.”
David and I waited in the hallway for Reverend Peacefield to be brought in for questioning. The station was still crazily busy, as staff and questionable characters alike busied themselves with fingerprinting, mug shots, intake forms, and whatnot. Eve Fernacre walked toward us with a weary smile.
“Sir, Peacefield is being brought up now,”
“Great, thanks, Eve,” David replied. “Wow, pretty lively here tonight, ain’t it?” He nodded toward a group of drunks who desk sergeant Spinefield was trying to calm down.
“Yes, sir. It’s keeping everyone busy tonight, that’s for sure,” Eve laughed. “In fact, sir, we don’t have enough room here this evening to process everyone. This chap here, for instance,” Eve nodded to the mysterious looking man I’d seen her with earlier. His head was bent forward, swinging ever so subtly over the folded hands he had resting in his lap.
“What’s his story?” David asked Eve Fernacre.
“A drifter, sir. No ID. No last known whereabouts, or anything. We just have his name. ...er…” She rifled through the top couple of pages of the clipboard she was carrying. “Typhon Jyldrar,”
“What’s he in for? Presumably more than just drifting?” David asked his voice taking on a weary edge.
“Well, only slightly more, sir,” Eve confessed. “Ribbs picked him up a couple of hours ago for vagrancy. Sleeping in the doorway of Glessie Glamor Emporium. Violet Mulberry called it in,” said the jail warden.
“Are you asking me if we should release him, Eve?” David asked.
“Kinda, sir. It’s a full house here tonight, and the cells are already stuffed with more, er … ‘qualified’ candidates,” she said.
“Yep, I agree,” David nodded toward the man in dirty clothes, and greasy long hair that hung over secret craggy features. “You can see Typhon Jyldrar to the door, Eve. No point using up resources for someone who just wants a bed for the night,” CPI Trew admitted. Eve nodded and walked toward the slumped drifter. “Make sure he knows not to make his bed in the downtown core. West side, near the Myrdwen cliffs, is probably his best bet for a hidey-hole,”
Spinefield approached us as Eve was taking care of her charge.
“Sir, Reverend Peacefield,” the sergeant announced. Reverend Peacefield’s head popped out behind the desk sergeant. “Hello,” his ruddy cheeks lifted with a genuine smile. I really liked this guy.
“Vicar, let’s go in, shall we,” David made a ‘go ahead’ gesture, and we followed the Reverend into the questioning room.
“I really should apologize, Vicar,” David said as Reverend Peacefield took his seat. “I know that the hour is less than convenient and that you’ve already—“
“It’s all in the interests of justice, Inspector,” Peacefield said, waving away David’s concerns while directing his smiling gaze to my corner. “Besides, we all know the longer you wait to uncover all the clues and data, the colder the trail gets.”
“We do?” David asked, a warm smile lifting his full lips. He likes this guy too.
Reverend Peacefield waved his arms in mock dismissal. “Oh, take no notice of my rumblings, CPI Trew,” the vicar chuckled. “If I’m to be completely honest, I’m a tiny bit thrilled by all this mystery that’s been ‘dropped’ before us. I’m not sure how the Goddess would feel about that, in the face of this tragedy, and the loss of a dear beneficiary, but I can’t help but think of what Father Dowling might make of all this treachery,” Peacefield beamed with unmasked excitement.
“You’re a fan of Father Dowling?” I screeched. “I love him too!” I leaned forward in my seat, and Reverend Peacefield turned and mirrored my gesture.
“Oh, Goddess, yes,” the religious man burbled, “And, Father Brown too. Do you follow his adventures?” Reverend Peacefield’s eyes were dancing now.
“I LOVE Father Brown!” I clapped my hands together in enchantment. “Riding around on his bike, in his robes. Enjoying his little tipple and espousing his wisdom with full humility!”
“That’s right! That’s our Father,” the vicar sputtered. “And, let us not forget Brother Cad--”
“Ahem,” David was peering over his glasses at us both, his pen knocking his notepad to bring us back to what we were here for.
“CPI Trew, forgive me.” Peacefield pulled himself back to the table to face the chief; his Godly sleuthing heroes temporarily put on hold. I caught David’s eye and gave a sheepish shrug. Could I help it if the Reverend and I shared great taste in the sleuthing classics?
David flipped through his notebook. “Reverend Peacefield, can you tell me why the Devlin sister’s donated a church bell to Saint Pendragon’s when their congregation is at Our Lady of Shallot on Cathedral?” The chief began. “Wouldn’t it make sense for them to stick to their local parish? Why St Pendragon’s?”
“Yes, of course. Morag and Infirma were born in Gless Inlet. Their family's church -- before their move to Cathedral, that is -- was our church. St Pendragon’s. The bonds have always been tight, CPI Trew. Also, there’s really no ‘competition’ as it were, between St Pen’s and OLOS. They are the same network of chu
rches, albeit Our Lady Of Shallot is the wealthier of the two. Reverend Stormhead is a master at raising funds.”
“So, you made the pledge for a new bell, and Morag came through for you? Just like that?” David’s eyes narrowed.
“Exactly like that, CPI Trew,” the Reverend confirmed. “I asked, and the Goddess provided. Through the generous donation from Morag Devlin.” Thaddeus Peacefield cleared his throat. “I truly have no reason to believe this was a suspicious endeavor on Morag’s part,” he finished.
“So, presumably you’ve had several interactions with Morag of late, then? With regards to the bell donation, and I believe the …” David consulted his notes again. “...the ribbon cutting ceremony for the bell is supposed to be tomorrow?”
“Yes, that’s correct, Para Inspector,” Thaddeus replied. “Morag and I have been planning the ceremony for some weeks now.”
“And how would you say Morag was behaving just recently? Any noticeable changes in character or behavior?”
“Great question, Sir!” Peacefield exclaimed. “And, just the type of question Brother Cadfael would ask. Trying to gauge the character’s journey and whatnot!” The vicar bubbled with enthusiasm and swiveled in his chair to face me, his eyebrows raised in an invitation for me to agree with him. Which, of course, I did, with a rabid bobbing of my head. Brother Cadfael would ask EXACTLY that sort of question!
“Guys, please,” came David’s weary voice. I folded my hands and pulled my features into a grave look. Reverend Peacefield did the same.
“Of course, Inspector,” Thaddeus mumbled like a schoolboy who had just been warned for talking in class. “Morag, you understand, had been under an insurmountable amount of strain just recently. What with both the Hagatha Jinx and the more recent Norris Copperhead trials, it’s no wonder she was feeling a little… ah … fidgety.” Peacefield looked at David, and the latter nodded for him to continue. “All the same, I’d say she was just a smidgen more jumpy than usual. And, last week she showed a peculiar interest in the Avalon Vaults. Which was quite strange.”
David raised his eyebrows in question.
“Ah, the Vaults that lay under St Pendragon’s. I’m not sure how familiar you are with your church history, but--”
“Sure,” David chimed in. “Three-tiered vaults, all with different levels of security charms to protect the secrets within, kinda thing?”
The vicar chuckled. “Something like that, yes. The Vaults house a complete collection of the history of Witchcraft and Wizardry across both the Coven Isles and the Mainland. They come to us by way of the Albigensian Crusades in France.The first-ever Inquisition was putting Cathars and more than a few witches to the pyre, which, in turn, caused a mass migration to our fair shores. That was how a good many items that remain in our collection to this day formed the basis of what resides in the Vaults.” David nodded at Thaddeus to continue.
“The rooms hold artifacts, tomes and treasures of yore, the lower the vault is, the more secure the charms and wards. Level 3 is the bottom-most chamber, and, so, of course contains the real treasures. Some of the rarest and oldest documents on sorcery ever recorded.”
“And, what was Morag’s interest in the Vaults?” I enquired from my corner.
Peacefield turned to face me. “Well, this is what’s strange. Ms. Devlin wasn’t enquiring about what the Vaults contained, as most history-curious people would. No, she was more interested in the wards that protected them.” The vicar scratched his chin with a chubby finger. “I caught her in the topmost Vault, just last week. It appeared she was searching for the mechanism that would allow her access to the chambers below. She was practically babbling when I escorted her out of the room. ‘How safe are the chambers? Could they withstand top-level magic? Had anyone managed to break into them before?’ That kind of talk. I admit, it was quite puzzling behaviour.” David and I glanced at one another (again.) Thaddeus caught the exchange and he bobbed his head between the two of us.
“I just assumed it was because she was under tremendous strain. So, do you think Morag might have been interested in the Vaults as some kind of hiding place for something?”
Well, we did now …
By the time we finished questioning St Pendragon’s frontman, it was nearly eleven PM. I was weary from the tidal wave of crazy events, and I could tell David was too. He walked me home, nonetheless. It was another pensive affair with neither of us talking, both lost in our own thoughts. I was still wearing my alleged ‘man-catching’ sweater, (Divinity Prettykins’ words, not mine,) and I hadn’t yet ‘caught’ my man. Alas. I chanced a sideward glance at my friend. David was holding his stomach. I looked up to his face. A little shiny and definitely pale.
“Everything okay, David?” I asked, catching hold of his arm.
He gave me a weak smile and shook his head. “I stuffed a chili-dog into my face before leaving the Mabon Fair,” my friend grimaced at me in mock discomfort. “No, seriously, it’s nothing, Hat. Just flaming indigestion.”
I squeezed his arm. “I can get you some bicarbonate of soda to help with that,” I offered efficiently, picking up my pace a little.
“No need, really, I have these,” David produced a packet of antacids. “Spinefield gave them to me,” he confided. We had reached the doorstep of The Angel. I could see Millie and the cats, all sitting in a loose circle round the counter. They were in the middle of some lively discussion by the looks of it. I turned back to David.
“You sure?”
“You bet, Saint Apothecarius,” my best friend teased. We embraced. It felt awkward, and as if David was keeping the length of his body just out of reach. The millimetre gap he created between us felt as vast as that giant canyon on the Mainland. I felt the harsh squeeze on my heart almost immediately. What have I done wrong?
I was about to open the door to The Angel Apothecary, my place of work, my business, my home, when David stopped me.
“Hat, what was that spell you pulled out tonight?” My friend’s eyes searched mine.
“I - I- I’m not sure, David. I think it was the levitation charm, but I can’t be sure. It’s all a bit foggy, for some reason.” I shrugged my shoulders. Strangely, I was on the brink of tears just thinking about it. David rubbed my head. The way he would rub one of the cat’s heads. Or his kid sister’s head. If he had a sister, that is. Bast! I’m the sister, aren’t I? My heart shriveled a little more.
“Speak tomorrow? Maude should know more about those spider-vein networks on Morag’s temples, hopefully.”
“Of course.” I offered a smile that I didn’t feel, and turned to open the door of The Angel.
I gave one last glance over my shoulder at him as he walked away. My whole being told me the truth. Something was really bothering the love of my life, and I had no idea what it was.
The tinkle of the shop announced my interruption to the conversation was taking place before I barged into the room. I just had time to hear the last few words coming from Eclipse:
“...still say it was the levitation charm. I mean, Hattie’s a reasonably skilled witch, but powerful enough to pull off a Chimera Charm?” He flicked his tail in disgust. The shop bell tinkled my entrance, and nine heads swiveled toward me.
Millie was seated in the easy chair she’d pulled in from the back kitchen. She’d situated it next to the fire where Carbon was sprawled. Fraidy and Jet were draped across Millie’s shoulders; the latter’s two front paws resting easily on Millie’s cerulean blue hair, while the former used my assistant’s hair as a concealing veil. Onyx and Gloom occupied the two arms of the chair, facing one another. Eclipse sat on the counter looking down at all of them, while Shade and Midnight played a game of paper toss across the shop’s polished floor.
My assistant sighed when she saw me. She ‘de-catted’ herself and walked the short distance so she could hug me. It felt good, and I returned the gesture in earnest.
“Oh, Hattie,” Millie said. “Here we all were, determined to have some well-earned fun and instead som
ething like THIS happens.” Millie walked backward and flopped with perfect timing into her comfy seat once more, the cat’s taking up their previous positions without missing a beat.
“I’m okay, honey,” I told her, resting my back against the counter next to Eclipse. My mind-wiping cat nudged me and purred his contentment at having me so close.
“Better than poor Morag.” Shade quipped, scoring a paper-ball goal past Midnight’s unsuspecting paws.
“Who’d have ever thought you’d be saying ‘poor’ and ‘Morag’ in the same sentence?” Gloom grumbled from her perch on the chair arm.
“Gloom,” Onyx said with a tone of reproach.
“Speaking of people saying things,” I said, giving my audience a careful look. “What were you all talking about just before I came in the door?”
Eight sets of yellow eyes turned to me. Millie’s too. A pregnant pause.
Millie let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, if you won’t tell her, I will. We were talking about that spell you used to try and catch Morag.”
“I swear on Granny Chimera’s grave,” I said. “I still have no idea what I—“
“It was the Chimera Charm, Seraphim,” Onyx said, his tone appropriately grave.
You could have heard a pin drop. And then Shade piped up.
“Preach, brother,”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Onyx,” I said rubbing my eyes. I was tired, and I didn’t want to think about this right now. I didn’t even know myself what happened at the Mabon Fair, so I wasn’t about to have a public debate about it.
“What-whatever it was,” Fraidy said, from under one-half of Millie’s blue hair. “There’s no way it was just…regular run-of-the-mill magic. I’ve seen enough of it to know, you know?”
“You mean you’ve run away from enough of it to know,” Gloom quipped. “Probably why you can’t tell the difference between the Chimera Charm and a levitation charm.”
I shook my head. “Levitation charms take concentration and focus. If I were that spacey when trying to fly my broom, it’d never even get off the ground.”
The Chimera Charm (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 6) Page 4