What The Cat Dragged In (The Celtic Witch Mysteries Book 1)

by Molly Milligan

  But I got the feeling that Barry knew that the body in the undergrowth was her biological father. If he knew, and she knew, what was the big issue? It was unsettling and uncomfortable, sure. But her reaction was out of all proportion.

  There was something that I was missing.

  I slowed my pace. Unlike Rachel, I could not maintain a run for more than it took to reach an ice-cream van at the end of the road.

  Rachel was a powerhouse. She regularly ran triathlons. If she wasn’t on the front page of the paper for some charitable event, she was in the business pages with one of her schemes, and if she wasn’t there, she was in the sports pages being amazing at running or swimming or cycling.

  I considered myself to have done a triathlon the one day I went for a long walk, followed by a short bike ride to the shops and then had a bath. That was pretty much the same thing, just in the wrong order. It was all about scale.

  I blundered into the kitchen through the utility room, and found Maddie and Dilys sitting at the long table. It was littered with assorted paraphernalia. I grinned with delight as I stripped out of my winter coat and kicked my boots back into the utility room. It seemed that Dilys and Maddie had been talking magic, at last.

  “It looks like Mystic Meg’s exploded in a health food store,” I said. “What’s that?”

  Dilys stroked the smooth dome of a plaster skull. It had been painted black, badly, and had a snake twisting around it, also done in plaster. It was the sort of thing you’d buy in Sian Pederi’s shop. “This is Jerry,” she said.

  “Uh, hi, Jerry,” I said to the ornament. “Are you magical?”

  “It’s all in the perception,” Dilys said.

  “That would be a no, then.”

  “You don’t have the monopoly on the craft,” Dilys said.

  “I never claimed to have. I’m just curious as to what is going on here. Maddie?”

  She smiled back at me. “I’m making progress. Dilys did say a lot of stuff that you’d tried to tell me, actually. And we might have worked out what my path should be.”

  “Boo-yah!” I punched the air and grinned at the pair of them. “What do I win?”

  “The once in a lifetime chance to put the kettle on,” Dilys said. “Oh my back, bending over the table so much, poor me, I am old, and so on.”

  I wanted a brew anyway. “Tell me about this path of yours,” I said, “and it’s a deal.”

  Maddie tapped the skull. “Not this, at any rate. I told Dilys about the things trying to get to me, and how they made me feel. And the more I ignore them, the peskier they get. You know, when I wake up in the morning, my hair is more and more tangled.”

  I glanced at her curly black hair. “Um…”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “There’s curly and then there’s a knotted mess. You know that every time I handle the milk, it goes off?”

  “Really? That’s your excuse for not brewing up?”

  “Seriously. And Dilys thinks it’s the … Tulloth…? The Faerie Folk.”

  “The Tylwyth Teg?” I stared at my aunt. “Is she right?”

  Dilys nodded. “These are all hallmarks of the Fair Folk,” she said. “I think this is Maddie’s path.”

  I groaned. “Fairies. You’re going to start wearing pastel colours and putting up twee posters of pretty girls in scanty clothes sitting in strangely clean forests, aren’t you? I’ve seen postcards. They never seem to need bras.”

  “Not fairies,” Maddie said scornfully. “Faeries. You know, the odd spelling.”

  “The older one,” Dilys said. “And these are old beings, make no mistake. All the scantiness and the prettiness. It’s just glamour.”

  Glamour.

  Charm.

  Now it made sense. I looked at Maddie – slim, lovely, pretty, and personable. She was all of these things and her glamour intensified it. I grinned at her. “I think you’ve got it! But now what?”

  Maddie let her shoulders sag a touch. “I am not entirely sure. As Dilys says, these are old beings and powerful. I’m gonna tread pretty carefully.”

  As I set about the tea things, Maddie asked about how it had gone with Barry.

  I glanced at Dilys, and back at Maddie, and wriggled my eyebrows.

  Dilys huffed. “She’s told me everything. Everything! Ghosts, huh. Go on.”

  “Right. Okay, so, I am fairly sure that Barry knows that Robert Cameron was Rachel’s biological dad, though he also seems to hold him no ill-will. And I also think that Rachel knows, too, and she is full of … something.”

  “Ill-will?”

  “Not so simple. She wants me to stop asking questions about it.”

  Dilys rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously she will want that. This is such a difficult topic and one that was even harder to talk about back then in the sixties.”

  Something pinged at my mind.

  “Wasn’t it all free love?”

  No, that wasn’t it. Something else nagged at me.

  But Dilys was answering my question while I tried to work out the source of my present unease. “Not here, it wasn’t! Oh I am sure it was fine for those London folk but that sort of thing didn’t happen here in Wales. That’s why I went to Belarus…”

  “And that was more ‘hip’ than Wales?”

  “It was more … snowy. That’s irrelevant. It was Byelorussia then. I learned a little prisushki-otsushki…” She smiled and looked dreamy, losing herself in her reminiscences. “That worked rather well on that Russian soldier, as I recall. I suppose he is still pining for me.”

  “Aunt!” I said, and plonked the fresh cup of tea down on the table.

  ***

  It was a huge relief to have Maddie feeling positive. It made a real difference to the atmosphere in the house. We felt like a proper team, a real family. Great Aunt Dilys cooked that night, and we dined well on a fish soup with soft, homemade bread. Maddie talked about all the things she had been reading about, to do with the mysterious Fair Folk – changelings and fairy rings and nixies and the terror of a field of bluebells. This was all new to me.

  We cleared away the tea things and I began to wash up.

  Dilys went upstairs with a large glass of brandy, and told us we would not be able to use the bathroom for a few hours. Her soaks were legendary. I worried that one day she’d fall asleep in the bath and drown, but she always reassured me. “Harkin wouldn’t allow it,” she’d say.

  My cat followed her up the stairs, with a backward glance at me. I nodded. Keep her safe. He’d perch on the toilet seat and watch her. Personally, I could barely get undressed if the cat was anywhere in the same room. His eyes were just too knowing.

  Maddie went to the utility room to check the animals. We’d had a stray cat come in, and the birds had been released, but the grass snakes were still quietly hibernating. “Where’s the food?” she called. “This can is empty.”

  “The big sack is in the outhouse on the driveway,” I called back.

  I heard the outside door slam. It opened again. “Forgot my flashlight!”

  “Torch is on the shelf.”

  Clatter, thud – slam.

  I plunged a plate into the warm soapy water, and then all the lights went out.

  Thunk.

  I sighed. But my magic hadn’t interfered with the house electrics for quite a while, so we were overdue this. Dilys would be surrounded by candles upstairs and wouldn’t notice.

  I couldn’t go to the fuse box myself. The switches would have all flipped. If I tried to reset it, I’d cause chaos. I would have to wait for Maddie to come back in. When this happened in the past, if Dilys was out, I would usually end up reading by candlelight. At least I still had warmth from the massive kitchen range.

  I wiped my wet hands on the back of my jeans and groped my way to the left where we had a dresser against the wall. I knew exactly which drawer the matches were in, and candles would already be standing in their holders on the lower shelves.

  I pulled open the first drawer and felt around. It w
as almost pitch black in the kitchen. The curtains had been pulled across the windows to keep the heat in, so I didn’t even have a glimmer of moonlight.

  Something whispered its way across the room behind me.

  I sighed. “Robert Cameron, this is not the time to be all haunting and ghostly, all right?”

  Of course, it was exactly the time to be all haunting.

  It wafted back and got closer to me. All the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. I tried not to let my rising nervousness show but my hands were quite frantically fishing around in the drawer now. The box of matches was large. It could not go missing!

  Now I knew the ghost was standing directly behind my right shoulder. “Can you please take a step back?” I snapped, fear making me sound angry.

  It did.

  I was stunned. My left hand closed on the match box though I struck four before I finally got a candle to light up. I picked up the candlestick and turned around.

  Sometimes it is easier to see more clearly in the half-light.

  I could see, or at least, I could detect, a tall man standing in the gloom, not far away from me. If I looked at him directly, he faded away. But I could use my peripheral vision to get a fair impression of him.

  “Hello, Mr Cameron,” I said, attempting politeness.

  There was no response.

  “I’m Bronwen Talog.”

  Still no response. But it was looking intently at me.

  “Can you talk?”

  Finally it shook its head.

  “What do you want?”

  It shrugged very slowly. Now, did that mean “I don’t know” or was it simply a gesture of frustration that it could not tell me?

  “Okay, Mr Cameron. Later on tonight I’m going to come and talk to you. Somehow.”

  It moved forward.

  I wanted to step away but my back was to the dresser. “Hey, steady on…”

  It stepped forward again and I felt an icy cold blast slam me in the stomach. I gasped and fell forward, the candlestick falling to the floor with a clatter. The ghost passed right on through, leaving a roaring in my ears. The candle flared and went out, and I was on my hands and knees, clutching my belly, and breathing hard.

  The outside door slammed.

  “Hey Bron, why are all the lights out? You playing some joke?” The kitchen was flooded by the light from Maddie’s torch, and I whimpered as I blinked in the sudden glare.

  ***

  The kitchen was lit up again, and Maddie was plying me with tea and cakes. “Are you sure you’re going to go through with this tonight? Don’t you want to check the phase of the moon? Is this the right time to do such a journey?”

  “There is never a really right time.” I wrapped my hands around the mug and drew in its warmth. “When Dilys is out of her bath I’ll take Harkin and I’ll go out to my willow cave.”

  “You will freeze to death!”

  “It will be fine.”

  ***

  It was cold. Bone-achingly so. The kind of cold that seems to paralyse you. Sometimes you can get so cold that the mere thought of moving is just torture.

  I had lit a small fire, contained by stones in a circle, just outside the entrance to my willow cave. It gave off very little heat but it was a useful real and spiritual protection. I usually rode the hedge a little earlier in the evening when it was wintertime. It was all about boundaries after all. The edge between daytime and night time was a powerful one. But dusk fell so early that I had chosen that other liminal space – midnight. Again, it was an edge, a fence … a hedge.

  Harkin curled up in my lap. I stroked him rhythmically and began to hum as I rocked back and forth. There were many ways to begin this journey but this was my method.

  Around my shoulders was a cape of many fabrics and furs.

  And on my face I wore a mask that I would never let anyone else see.

  I intended to slip between the worlds. Unlike the journeying I had done with Maddie, I wasn’t travelling to the Otherworld, not really. I was not climbing any world tree nor sliding into a netherland. This was hedge-riding, one foot here and one foot there, a totally different way of working, and yet so familiar to anyone who walked a curious path.

  I paid my homage to the spirits of the place, to my ancestors, and to the Raven who came to meet me.

  I told Her of my desire to fly the faery-roads that night and seek the spirit of the dead man, Robert Cameron. I placed one hand on Her back and became as the Raven myself. She flew alongside me, within me, and all-encompassing without and around me. She flew. I flew. I flew the corpse-road letting the silver skein spew out behind me, anchoring me by the finest thread to where my earthly body still sat, still stroked, still rocked.

  Here in the space between worlds, the souls of the dead walked and moved. Usually it was just the newly dead here. A few malevolent souls also stalked this place, looking to cause trouble, but generally it was a place of confusion, sorrow and the gradual letting-go of their corporeal bodies. The hidden part of my duty as a hedge-witch was to come here to commune with them on behalf of their living relatives, and to guide them in their path.

  But not tonight. It was strange, actually, to be here on my own behalf.

  On I flew, revelling in the sensation of flight, my shoulders strong and my eyes all-seeing. I rose up above the house and circled it, seeing the things I could not see during the day in the ordinary world. There were little hot spots which marked Maddie and Dilys, and the warm fug over my recovering animals in the utility room.

  And there – a greyish silvery patch, moving too smoothly to be human.

  That was him.

  It moved through the house, disregarding where I knew there to be walls, and came into the utility room at the back. I realised it was looking for me.

  “Well, you’ve found me,” I muttered, though my Raven-beak just moved soundlessly.

  I flew down and assumed a semi-human shape as my feet touched the floor. The ghost was just coming out of the back door and he – yes, he was a “he” now, as I could see him far more clearly – he stopped.

  “Robert Cameron,” I said. I had enough of a human shape to speak.

  He was a strong-looking man, and looked exactly like that photo I had seen of him before.

  He smiled slightly, and it lit up his face. I was suddenly reassured. I let down my guard a little. “Hi, Mr Cameron. It’s me, Bron. The one you’ve been haunting. Look, can you talk, now? Now that we have met like this, here, in your world?”

  He opened his mouth, his eyes still creased in relief and humour.

  And then he grabbed his throat as he gave a rough strangled roar and nothing but black-winged butterflies flooded from his mouth. I leaped back as the dire cloud raced over me, and I batted my arms, my wings, in the air. I didn’t want those things anywhere near me.

  He slammed his mouth shut and stared at me, horror and desolation in his eyes.

  “Oh, Robert,” I said, sympathy making me call him by his first name. “Does that happen every time you try to speak?”

  He nodded warily.

  “Someone wants you silent.”

  Again the nod.

  I looked around. Shadows and ghosts shifted around me, like I was standing in thick fog. I suddenly felt very unsafe.

  “Why can’t you move on?” I asked. “Is someone stopping you? A person?”

  He shook his head.

  Then he raised his hand and spread his fingers. His thumb and his three remaining fingers.

  “Oh, is that it? You need to be re-united with your missing finger?”

  He looked confused, and gave me a half-nod, half-shake of the head. But he shook his hand, and suddenly all four fingers were there. I could not tell what he meant. He creased his face in frustrated concentration. He stepped forward then, putting out his hands to me. I wanted to reach out and take his hands, to reassure him.

  There was no cloud of black butterflies this time. Instead a wind whipped up around us. My feathers, my hair, whate
ver the hell it was that I wore in this realm – I had no real idea – wrapped around me, pining my arms, or my wings, to my body. All was confusion. Dust and wings smacked my face and I closed my eyes. I couldn’t see. I tried to fight it off but it was powerful.

  “Robert!” I called, choking on something. I hoped like hell I hadn’t swallowed a black butterfly. I coughed and stumbled, and the wind lifted me into the air. I had to get away from it, and I let the upwards motion give me an added propulsion – I raised my wings, now fully wings not arms, and jumped, taking flight.

  It was a fight to get away from the encircling wind. I felt as though I was caught in the centre of a tornado. But when I had enough height, it dropped away. I flew back above my house once more.

  There was Dilys and there was Maddie.

  I hunted for the ghost of Robert. Suddenly I felt very protective of him. No, he wasn’t at all malevolent. He was as much a victim here as I was.

  There he was, a silver blur just outside the back door. I took a deep breath and fell into a dive, and as I shot past him I took on enough human form to shout, “Robert! It will be all right!” I was Raven again before I lost control and hit the ground, and I managed to pull back up into the air again.

  I could not simply slide back into my body straight away. I flew with Raven and as Raven. I thanked Her and I thanked the Others, and took my time in returning to my safe place in the willow cave.

  Harkin stretched and purred. I pushed my fingers into his thick fur and inhaled his comforting scent. Then, slowly, as my aching limbs were stiffening now, I removed the mask and the cloak and bundled them up carefully.

  The fire had hardly burned down at all. Time was different when you were riding the hedge.

  I scraped away the unburned wood and let the fire die down naturally. I stared into the fading flames as the embers glowed and I tried to make sense of what I had just encountered.

  I was up against a strong magic and I didn’t know why.

  But now I felt a duty to find out: I had a duty to the poor trapped soul of Robert Cameron.

  Nineteen