Witch in Training

by Elle Adams

  I frowned. “So they’ll definitely be human again?”

  “If the curse was cast on him, then yes. They’ll have turned human again.”

  But they didn’t. Otherwise, surely one of them would have shown up by now, and told the police who the killer was. Right?

  “One thing, Blair,” said Madame Grey. “I have to ask—what were you doing at the crime scene?”

  “Looking for the mice,” I said. “Some of them were at my flat, but they ran away. Alissa’s cat kept chasing them, but mine… I think he knew they were human.”

  Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Cat?” she echoed. “Is this the familiar Alissa mentioned? We’re going to have to look into that situation after you get a wand.”

  “Er. If I get a wand.”

  “We’re going ahead as planned,” she said. “If you’ve studied for your test, you’ll have no trouble.”

  Studied. Right. Between snooping around and being arrested.

  “Also,” she added, “when I spoke to the police, I told them not to keep you in custody and that your presence at the crime scene was likely an accident. I won’t be able to do the same thing again.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Thank you.” Well, that was me put in my place. What in the world was I supposed to do now?

  I could always go to Annabel’s house and look for more clues, but the police would probably be watching the place. Same with Ava at the hospital. But if the curse really had been aimed at the apprentices, I doubted either of them would have been responsible.

  I’d been so certain Mr Falconer had a nefarious secret that explained how he’d ended up being the only wand-maker. His death, however, had completely unravelled all my theories and created a thousand new ones, not least about who might take his place. The only people who’d undertaken the bare minimum of wand-making training were currently running around as mice, and possibly being eaten by wildlife. Unless they’d turned back…

  I walked to Oswald’s mother’s house, hoping that she wouldn’t think I was unhinged, and rang the doorbell.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” I said. “I wondered—has your son come home?”

  “No,” she said. “Why—is he in trouble? Has something changed?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Sorry to disturb you.”

  No lies. The mice hadn’t turned human. The curse had been aimed at them—but the only way to know for sure was to catch one of them.

  I found Sky lounging in the doorway when I got home, apparently with the intention of tripping me up.

  “Sky.” I stopped walking, letting the door swing shut behind me. “I need your help. Can you bring me one of the mice?”

  He blinked his grey-and-blue eyes, and went back to washing himself.

  “Don’t pretend not to understand me. I know you do. You brought the mice here once. Why’d you chase them off in the first place?”

  “Miaow.”

  I crouched next to him. “Please? You know this is important. The mice must know who killed Mr Falconer. They might even know who set off the curse, so I can undo it. Can’t you find just one of them?”

  Sky miaowed again and licked a paw, with no apparent intention of moving. I stepped over him to get into the flat. If this was an example of what familiar training might be like, I might as well take one of the mice as a familiar.

  “Sorry,” said Alissa, when I’d updated her on the latest. “Maybe the mice weren’t what we thought.”

  I shook my head. “They’re still out there, and haven’t gone back to their families yet. I think that means the curse is still active. Is there a spell to make animals talk?”

  Her eyes rounded with understanding. “There is. I think I might have to look that one up… I’m not sure it works on animals that weren’t animals to begin with, though.”

  “Then maybe a spell that makes me able to understand animal speech?” I suggested. “Yes, I know the possible ways that could go wrong. But first I need to actually find one of the mice, otherwise I’d be wasting my time.”

  She nodded slowly. “That’s a great idea. It’s not a difficult spell—most of us have used it on our familiars at one time or another just to see what would happen.”

  “Wait, you’ve used it on Roald before?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. He didn’t care for it much. All he wanted to talk about was food.”

  I grinned. “I think Sky would probably be the same. He’s an enigma. I was so sure those mice were the real deal. Typical.”

  “Let’s not give up just yet,” she said. “Not all of them will have been in the shop, right?”

  “No,” I said. “Actually, my plan was go to the police station first. Annabel has an alibi. She’s not the killer. I don’t know if she’s told them yet, but I can back her up. Of course, that’ll also involve coming clean about the fact that I followed her into the woods, but there’s a dozen innocent reasons I might have been there, and I can’t let her stay in jail when she’s the one person who didn’t do it.”

  Whether she was guilty or not, Steve the Gargoyle knew hardly anything about the reality of the situation and didn’t care to learn more. He could have vital evidence staring him in the face and he probably wouldn’t know it. Just look at Mr Bayer. If Steve couldn’t think to fly over the fence of someone who kept important evidence in his garden right next to the crime scene, I’d bet my non-existent wand that he’d utterly missed obvious evidence this time around as well.

  “Ah,” said Alissa. “Yeah, that’s a dilemma, but you know what Steve’s like. Ask Nathan to back you up?”

  “He already got me out of jail once.”

  “Ooh. See, told you it’s meant to be.”

  I swatted half-heartedly at her. “Oi, focus. We have a situation to deal with. Can Madame Grey help?”

  “I’ll give her a call, but I doubt she’d support your plan.”

  “I know. But I need to tell the police that the mice were once people. It’s fairly pertinent information. It’s not like it proves I did anything.”

  “No, you’re right. I’ll come with you and wait outside, then. He knows Madame Grey is my grandmother, and to be honest, she probably scared him when she demanded he let you go. She does that.”

  “Good.” There was possibly nothing I wanted to do less than walk right into Steve’s office, but this needed to be dealt with. The police station might be guarded by terrifying gargoyles, but it definitely didn’t have a hundred activated wands waiting to scare off intruders. At least I could count on that much.

  Once I had reassurance that Alissa had my back, I swallowed my pride and walked to Steve’s office. The police station, which stood adjacent to the jail, was more modern than the dungeon-style place I’d been stuck in overnight, though it was still packed with huge muscle-bound gargoyles.

  “Guilty conscience?” said Steve, as I entered.

  “No, I have evidence to deliver.”

  He grunted and beckoned me into an office to the side. “Your funeral.” Just the sort of thing you wanted to hear in the home of the local law enforcement.

  He planted himself in a desk chair that made him look like an adult sitting at a children’s picnic table, and looked me over. “You seem more substantial than before.”

  “Yes, the potion wore off. I heard you arrested Annabel, the seer’s granddaughter.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Madame Grey,” I answered, knowing he wouldn’t retaliate against that name. He might run the show here, but the witches still owned the town.

  The gargoyle glowered at me. “Yes, we arrested the girl. She’s our key suspect at the moment.”

  “Uh—why?”

  “She rang him the morning he died, according to her call history.”

  “That doesn’t prove she murdered him,” I countered. “I actually saw her in the forest at the time when he died.”

  “You’re not a reliable witness, being a suspect yourself,” he said.

  “You mean, former suspect,”
I said, gripping the sides of the chair. “Have you managed to search his shop yet?”

  He scowled. “No.”

  “And did you, er, find any mice near the crime scene?”

  He rose to his feet. “Did you come here to waste my time?”

  “No, of course not.” I should have guessed he wouldn’t listen. “May I speak with the prisoner?”

  “No,” he said, “you may not talk to the prisoner.”

  I grimaced. So much for Plan A. “My witch power allows me to sense if someone’s lying,” I told him. “So—”

  “So that’s why you fancy yourself a detective?” He snorted. “Anyone can sense deceit if they spend long enough around criminals.”

  Oh, no. I’d thought playing my best card might actually work. Now I was out of options and out of luck.

  I left before he decided to lock me up again, and found Alissa waiting with her hands in her pockets. “Any luck?”

  “None whatsoever. He refused to let me get a word in edgeways, so I told him about my witch power. Even that didn’t work. I need a miracle to get through his rock-hard skull.” Never mind an invisibility potion. “Is there a potion for…?” I trailed off. “Lucky latte.”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” she said. “They work, but you know the side effects.”

  Lucky lattes. Unlike potions, they could be bought from any coffee shop in town. I didn’t need to brew up a potion to get a brief stroke of luck. And to be honest, I’d take five minutes of decent luck at the moment. That was all I needed to solve the case. I should have taken one of those from the start.

  “I know, I’ll have god-awful luck for the next week and probably fail the exam,” I said, “but to be honest, the last few days have felt like I’ve been suffering the backlash of a bad luck charm, anyway. There’s nothing more I can do. If nothing else, it might help me find those mice.”

  “Hmm,” she said. “A lucky latte is less harmful than accidental transparency. But it probably won’t get you through to Steve. And the other problem with those lattes is that everyone will remember what you did after the spell wears off, so if you break the law, the consequences will reach you as soon as your luck runs out.”

  That sounded ominous. “What, like going back to the crime scene? Wouldn’t it be lucky if nobody sees me?”

  “Yes, but you don’t get to choose how your streak of good luck manifests. And the police are watching the scene.”

  My shoulders slumped. “The mice are still in there. I just need to get hold of one of them. That’s all.”

  “It’s not a bad shout,” she said. “But you don’t know what those mice look like, so if you pick the wrong one and your luck runs out before the potion is complete, you’ll have a field mouse bleating in your ear for the next day.”

  I groaned. “Can’t it ever be simple?”

  “Nope,” she said. “Of all the people you suspected, who hasn’t been jailed?”

  “Ava, for a start,” I said. “Her granddaughter’s in jail… not sure about that elf she was meeting with. I think Ava is my best bet. I already have a good enough reason to enter the hospital.”

  I just needed to make the right call this time. I’d already messed that up thoroughly with the transparency. This time I might not be so lucky, latte or not.

  She shook her head. “Are you really sure? You might be throwing away your chance, if you get caught.”

  “I’ve already pretty much lost my shot at getting a wand. And these people are facing a lifetime in jail—or stuck as rodents—if I don’t help them out.”

  “If you’re sure,” Alissa said.

  “I am.”

  No transparency this time. Just me, my wits, and as much luck as I could conjure.

  13

  Alissa told me that the best place to procure a lucky latte was Charms & Caffeine, the most popular coffee shop on the high street. It also happened to be where Lizzie’s sister worked.

  I made my way over to the counter. It was easy to recognise Layla, who had the same warm brown skin and wide smile as her sister. Her hair was braided into a topknot. “Hey,” I said to her. “We haven’t met, but I’m Blair. I work with your sister.”

  She beamed. “You’re the newbie, right? What can I get you?”

  “I’d like to try a lucky latte.”

  Her brows shot up. “We only do those on special occasions. Anyway—not that it’s any of my business, but aren’t you supposed to be taking an exam soon? It’s illegal to take luck potions beforehand.”

  Maybe I needed a shot of luck just to get my hands on some. “Not until tomorrow,” I said. “Just for a few hours. It’s pretty urgent. I don’t know if your sister told you, but Mr Falconer was my client. And he died and left a real mess behind. I need some serious luck to sort it out.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she said. “But since you know Lizzie, and I heard what you did for Mr Bayer, this one’s on the house.”

  “Thanks so much.”

  Once she’d handed me my lucky latte, I drank it down. It tasted of soap, and I nearly spat it out again. “I can tell why people don’t make a habit of drinking this stuff.”

  She grinned. “Sorry. I should have warned you.”

  Alissa laughed. “I’ve never taken one,” she said, in answer to my accusing stare.

  “Oh,” I said. Then: “Oh.”

  A heady sensation rippled through my body like stepping off a rollercoaster, giving me a sense of weightlessness even on the ground. Like I’d accidentally turned on the highest setting on my levitating boots—or had my wings out. Hey, that was a great idea.

  Alissa grabbed my arm, and I became aware that I’d raised both arms at right angles like a child impersonating a superhero. “Focus, Blair. You had a plan. Right?”

  I nodded, but my head was in the clouds. I wanted to fly. To remove my glamour. But without the waterfall, I couldn’t, and—Mr Falconer. The mice. Annabel.

  I skipped out of the coffee shop, oblivious to any stares, and danced into the shop next door, a flower shop. Less than a minute later and I bounded away with a bouquet of flowers that flashed like traffic lights.

  “What’s that for?” Alissa asked. “Blair, I don’t think you’re thinking clearly.”

  “It’s a gift. For Ava.” And I was off again, down the road. I managed to slow down when I entered the hospital, and casually walked to the ward.

  “Hey,” I said to the nearest nurse. “I came to give these to Ava, to tell her how sorry I am about her granddaughter’s arrest.”

  If my luck had been at its usual levels, she’d have taken them and told me to get lost, but she merely nodded, her expression slightly dazed. Another side effect? Whatever it was, I wasn’t complaining.

  Ava appeared a moment later, as dishevelled as ever, but her eyes gleamed with amusement. “She’s elf-struck,” said Ava, jerking her head in the direction of the nurse. “The elf got her when she wasn’t looking.”

  “Wait, there’s an elf here?”

  “Yes, in the ward next door.”

  Alissa prodded me in the arm, whispering, “We sometimes have elves in here. Focus.”

  “I thought elves only had weather magic?”

  Ava cackled. “For the most part, but when they’re really annoyed, they can also befuddle the senses. They sometimes do it to the witches who wander too close to their territory in the forest.”

  Territory… “Like the witches? The wand-makers?”

  “Crooks,” she muttered.

  “Who, Mr Falconer?” I dropped my voice. “Or the others? Have you head of the Wormwood Coven?”

  She eyed me with an appraising look. “You know of them?”

  “I heard they were… they’re the ones who pay for the wand supplies. For Mr Falconer. But you made one, too. Do you remember why you ended up coming in here?”

  Luck couldn’t jolt someone’s memory, but she was lucid sometimes. I crossed my fingers that this was one of those moments.

  “An accident,” she said, dropping he
r voice dramatically.

  Truth.

  “Your granddaughter thought Mr Falconer was responsible,” I said.

  “Oh, not at all,” she said. “She was angry with him at the time, because he fired her with no warning.”

  I gaped at her, all my other questions forgotten. Ava’s granddaughter had been Mr Falconer’s apprentice.

  How had she gone through my questioning and not let that slip?

  “Why… why him? Why does it have to be him?”

  She cackled again. “They have him by the throat. They might not remember the wand-making craft, but they’ll see to it that he makes wands until he dies.”

  “He did die,” I whispered. “Is the coven—are the original wand-makers alive? Did they forget on purpose, or…?”

  Alissa trod on my foot, hard. “Blair. The nurse is coming. We have to go.”

  “Okay.” I took a step backwards. I’d learned what I need to—I think.

  But Annabel had managed to get around my lie-sensing ability. She’d been aware of it the whole time and had deliberately skirted around the truth to stop me from guessing. Why?

  When a nurse accosted Alissa on the way out of the hospital, I sneaked out and went on the hunt for Annabel. The idea that Steve might refuse me entry to the jail crossed my mind, but despite the shock of Ava’s revelation, the humming sensation of the lucky latte buzzed in my veins like a lingering caffeine high.

  Part of me was unsurprised to run into the woman herself walking down the road from the jail. “Annabel?”

  “Blair,” she said, not sounding thrilled. “What are you doing here? I heard you were arrested, too.”

  “They let me out. They did the same to you?”

  She nodded. “Not enough evidence. Apparently the spell that killed him was too advanced for me to have cast it. It—was one of his own wands.”

  “Seriously?” I stared at her. “That—wow. Did they tell you anything else?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to hear that part. Were you going back there now?”