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

by Molly Milligan

  “But we’re pagans.”

  “And so is all this.” I waved my hand at the circular wall around us. “Look at the yew tree. That predates Christianity in these islands.”

  “No way.”

  “Seriously. I come here when I need to think clearly, free of the influence of my own power.”

  “You’re right,” Maddie said in awe. “It’s calm here. I can see the spirits out there, on the other side of the wall. But they can’t get in!”

  “Other things are already in,” I warned her. “Don’t get complacent. But yes, as far as places go, this is a good place.”

  “Do you think you should try a banishing spell?” Maddie asked.

  “Not you as well!” I quickly outlined why that was a bad idea. “I’m stuck. What does he want?”

  Maddie pursed her lips and began to pace around the graves. “Rest. Peace. A grave. A burial.” She stopped abruptly. “His finger?”

  “His missing finger.” I clapped my hand to my forehead. “That must be it, surely? He wants his missing body part back before he can be buried completely. I asked him and he didn’t say no.” He hadn’t emphatically indicated yes, either. In the spirit world he’d appeared with all of his fingers. But what else could it be?

  “But where is it?”

  “I am pretty sure that it got used in the ritual to ensure the sports centre could be built,” I said. “It seems obvious.”

  “So it might not be around? Do you think it’s buried?”

  I nodded dejectedly. “Almost certainly gone.”

  “We probably can’t trick him, either, can we?” Maddie said half-hopefully.

  “For a start, I am not sure where we’d get a human finger from,” I said.

  “Adam could, couldn’t he?”

  “The British policeman is a marvellous thing,” I said, “but I think their skills stop at the obtaining of body parts. Generally.”

  We both resumed pacing, gloomily.

  Until our attention was caught by cries and yells coming from over the wall, in the direction of the house. It was Great Aunt Dilys and she did not sound happy.

  “Give me my socks back!” she was shouting.

  We raced to the wall. I got up on the top of it and saw, over the hedge, that Dilys was in the back garden by the door and she was hammering at invisible things by waving a long walking stick around in the air.

  “Oh my gosh, that is not the one with the hidden knife, is it?” Maddie squeaked as she got up beside me.

  Dilys whirled around, frantically. “And why is there dirt on my toothbrush, you vile gnome?”

  We leaped down into the bushes together and raced across the garden.

  Twenty-five

  I dredged up my remaining reserves and called on the spirits of our house to help us. There was very little real malevolence in the air. The whole thing felt like when you stood in the middle of a children’s playground and all the kids had spent the morning eating sweets in a classroom. Maddie dashed past me into the kitchen. I barely had time to wonder what she was doing when she had reappeared with a bottle of milk in her hands, and one of the earthenware bowls we had stacked on a shelf in the utility room.

  She knelt down and poured the milk into the bowl, and shoved it forwards. “I give that thou may be gone,” she said. She repeated it over and over. “I give that thou may be gone.”

  It wasn’t quite a banishment, I saw. It was an appeasement.

  And it seemed effective.

  “They’ll be back, soon enough,” Dilys forewarned, smoothing out her wayward grey hair and straightening her skirt. “You really do have to speak to Sian.”

  I groaned. “Sian at the silly shop?”

  “Don’t,” Dilys said. “Just because it’s not your path, doesn’t give you the right to look down on it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And you have to keep trying to communicate with the ghost. This is getting out of hand.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I know.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Dilys insisted.

  I want to have my breakfast, I wanted to scream.

  Instead, I said, on a sudden impulse, “I am going to the sports centre and I will try to talk with Robert Cameron there. That, of all places, was the most special to him.”

  “What if he isn’t there?”

  I just stopped myself from rolling my eyes at my aunt. “He will be,” I said. “Because I am going to invite him to come along.”

  ***

  Robert Cameron’s ghost trailed us all the way.

  “Do you have a plan?” Maddie asked.

  “I’m going to find somewhere to sit in the car park,” I told her. “I don’t think I will go journeying, exactly, but I think I can get my state to shift enough to speak with him. He can meet me halfway. Can’t you, Robert?”

  The cold hand touched the back of my neck. Was that a light touch of reassurance? It was hard to correctly interpret a spectral entity’s intention, to be fair.

  The car park was inconveniently disgorging a busload of school children, all clutching gym bags and shoving each other about. “I want to go in and collect a timetable of group classes,” Maddie said. “Let’s go inside and by the time we come out, I bet we’ll have a clearer space.”

  “I don’t think being close to so many healthy people is healthy,” I muttered as I followed her into the reception area.

  The teachers and staff from the school were crowded around the main desk and the plastic racks of leaflets were empty. Maddie sighed. We waited to one side. I tried not to look at the fit, toned people wafting around.

  Actually, a lot of them just looked normal. I suppose that made sense. If you were all fit and toned you probably didn’t need to keep coming. If I hit the peak of physical perfection, I’d be right down the pie shop as soon as I could.

  “What is that thing?” Maddie said. She was staring at the macramé dreamcatcher that hung in its display case.

  “I don’t know. It’s always been there,” I said.

  For the first time in my life, I went to study it more closely.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said. “I don’t think it’s made from cotton or string or anything.”

  She was right. The strands were thin and pale and fuzzy.

  “Horsehair, do you think?” I said tentatively.

  I knew that it was not.

  So did she. “That’s actual hair,” she said. “And that white thing in the middle is not plastic, is it?”

  “It’s bone. Three bones.”

  Maddie dropped her voice. “Three finger bones.”

  I started to whisper too. “That’s how they built this place! This must have been enough of a sacrifice, in the end. Robert Cameron’s hair and his finger.”

  He was there, right next to me. I could feel him. He was cold and throbbing with some urgency.

  “Do you want me to steal this back?” I asked.

  “Hey! You there!”

  Suddenly we were being loomed over by a burly-looking gym staff member. I thought he must have overheard us until he said, “You’re Bronwen Talog, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” I plastered on a smile. Maybe he just needed my healing skills.

  “I’m very sorry. I’m afraid you’re barred.”

  Oh. Obviously not.

  “I am what? This isn’t a pub. Unfortunately.”

  “Ms Harris has left us a poster behind the front desk,” he said. “You are not allowed in. Nor anyone associated with you.” He cocked his head to one side. “What’s it about? She said the police were involved. I mean, it’s not personal, you know? But you have to leave. If you won’t, apparently we have to phone the local police station.”

  “What crime am I committing?” I demanded.

  “Um, hang on. Let me get the notice.” He disappeared behind the desk then popped his head up again. “Harassment, it says. So, you have to go. Sorry.”

  “Even me? I am a member here!” Maddie exclaimed.

  “Yeah, the p
air of you. You count as a ‘known associate’ I think.”

  “That makes me sound like a criminal,” Maddie said.

  “Yeah,” the man said. “I suppose you both are.”

  We looked at one another, stunned.

  “Er,” I said, retreating into stiff formality, “I think you will find that in this country, one is considered to be innocent until proven guilty, and furthermore, no crime has been committed and I would strongly suggest that actually, you are the one who is harassing us, and not the other way around, and-”

  “Bron, this isn’t time for a speech. Let’s go, okay?”

  “It is not okay! This is my town!” But I let her tow me out of there.

  And we were plagued by faeries and sprites and the ghost of Robert Cameron all the way home.

  I said to Maddie, grimly, “This ends. Tonight.”

  She nodded.

  Twenty-six

  I wrapped myself up in coats and a blanket and my cloak and my mask, and I went out to my willow cave that night. Maddie and Dilys asked me what I intended on doing, but I answered tersely and they backed away. Dilys put out her hand to Maddie’s arm, and Maddie understood.

  I was glad they saw that I needed peace and quiet to prepare myself.

  I didn’t journey regularly. I did it when there was a great need, and I tried to ensure I was fit and well. The events of the past few weeks had been tiring and on any other occasion I would not have undertook the task.

  The ghost had followed me out and I could feel him flitting around as I prepared myself. I knew I was hurrying through the motions, and I tried to slow myself down, but I was cold and tired and I wanted everything to be done. Over. Finished.

  I also wanted to act quickly – get in and out – before I alerted Rachel Harris, somehow. I knew she was watching us. She’d seen us visit the druid. Whether her paranoid observation extended to having a watch on our house, though, was unknown. She would not see much inside but I was sure she had ways of getting to our garden. That’s the thing about working with the Wild. The clue is in the name, there. Wild. Not tameable, not even by someone like me. The best I can hope for is to ride the currents.

  I was wings, I was bird: I flew and I banked and I soared through the freezing air, where ice crystals hung like decorations on a Christmas tree and somewhere, far away, I could hear a tinkling laugh and I knew the Fair Folk were also here, and I did not trust them at all.

  There he was. Robert Cameron, looking almost real and solid now. I landed in front of him and took on as much of my human form as I needed to so that I could speak to him. “I have found your finger,” I said. “And I know what it was used for. It was your sacrifice for the building of the sports centre. I’m impressed that it was enough for the spirits to be appeased.”

  He nodded.

  “Can you talk yet?”

  He winced. He part-opened his mouth, and I stepped back, expecting another rain of black-winged butterflies. Instead he coughed, but without any sound. It was horrible to watch. It seemed as if I was looking at someone who was choking but they were behind a glass screen. I put up my hands. “Stop, stop trying. I’m sorry. You’re getting desperate, aren’t you?”

  He nodded again.

  “Right, well, we can still do this,” I said. “You can nod and shake your head. You can move. We can do this like charades.”

  He raised one eyebrow and his face was full of sorrow.

  “Do you want your finger back?”

  Now he raised both eyebrows in shock. He shook his head.

  “What? You don’t? We thought you were haunting us because you wanted all your body to be put back together so you could move on in the afterlife.”

  He actually rolled his eyes at me and I felt very stupid. “So that’s not it?”

  He shook his head vehemently. His head which, I noticed, had a full head of hair. And that was in spite of his hair being used as part of the charm in the sports centre. I looked down. And yes, both his hands had all his fingers. Just like before. It clearly wasn’t an issue. I supposed that made sense. Otherwise the spirit realms would be clogged up with people who’d made organ donations, or had their tonsils out, and that wasn’t the case.

  “Then what do you want? We can’t bury the rest of your body under the sports centre, you know. Is that what you want?”

  He paused. Then he shook his head.

  “Then what?”

  He stared at me.

  I stared back.

  He put his hands over his chest, one flat and one a fist. He hammered with his fist over his flat hand.

  “Oh no. You want a stake through your heart?”

  No, no, no! He shook his head again.

  “Heart,” I said. “Love?”

  He wobbled his head. Not yes, not no.

  “Is this to do with your daughter Rachel?” I asked.

  He paused again and I dared to hope that I had the answer.

  No.

  Damn it! I was getting so frustrated that I was losing my focus. The air around me shimmered. Things were getting closer. They were attracted to my lack of attention. I was looking vulnerable, an easy target.

  “Why don’t you, I don’t know, spell out the problem? You can obviously move things around in our world. You’ve been knocking chairs over and things. If I go back to the kitchen and put rice on a tray, can’t you write out words?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me then mimed trying to do something detailed, and suddenly threw his arms and legs around.

  “Oh. So you don’t have great motor control?”

  He nodded.

  I suppose that explained why he hadn’t tried writing a message in steam on a mirror or anything useful like that.

  Something small and maybe furry ran past my feet, and brushed against me. I recoiled. It did not have a good feeling to it. Then something flew past my right ear and I flailed at it.

  “Robert,” I said, “I’m really struggling and I can’t concentrate on finding out what you want if you keep bothering me.”

  His eyes bored into me.

  “You have to relax and let me work it out.”

  He stared, and he stepped forward. He did not look happy.

  “Please,” I said.

  He came on another step closer. Something was laughing just behind my head. A hand – or claw, who knew? – reached out and tapped the back of my knee, lightly but enough to make my bend my leg in a reflex action.

  I tried to shield myself as much as I could but it was time to go. I leaped into the air and flew, spiralling upwards to shake off as many of the irritating things as I could.

  Robert was there with me, keeping pace with me, his face turned to mine and far too close for comfort.

  Then I was plummeting, falling, hands plucking at me, and I landed in a pit of blank black softness.

  ***

  Harkin licked my face frantically until I awoke. I was in a crumpled heap, in my willow cave. Something furry pressed against my hand and as I sat up, it darted away. A weasel or a stoat – something I had helped to heal, now returning the favour. Other creatures moved in the twigs and dry leaves around me. I was protected, for now.

  I thanked them all, and packed away my things. I got to my feet, slowly. I was woozy and groggy and in dire need of food to ground me. I stumbled out onto the patchy rough lawn and staggered down the slope towards the house. All the lights were out. Had they both gone to bed? How late was it?

  I rubbed at my eyes. The night was overcast and the grey clouds blotted out the moon, making everything almost too dark. I was following my memory and my instinct, and so I was not expecting my foot to collide with something soft on the paving slabs that led to the back door.

  The thing groaned.

  I knew that sound.

  “Maddie?” I reached out and felt for her. She was lying on her side, curled up in a ball. “Maddie!” I shook her. I had so little reserve left but I called for help. An off-white glow encircled us both, surprising me. The garden and the ho
use really did want to help us.

  It gave her enough energy to sit up. “Bron? Oh my gosh, Bron. I heard music. Did you hear music?”

  “No. What sort of music?”

  But I knew before she even told me.

  “I think it was Faerie music,” she said. “It was so beautiful!”

  “And you just had to follow it, didn’t you?”

  “Well, no. Yes. I think I thought about it. Did I follow? This is my path…”

  “Let’s get inside.”

  She leaned on me and I got her into the dark kitchen. The lights weren’t working again but this was no time for me to be messing around with the fuse box. I lit a candle and sat Maddie at the table. We both needed to eat. I raided cupboards and the fridge to pile up as much easy-to-eat-now food as I could find.

  In the flickering candlelight, Maddie looked strange.

  Her eyes were large and shining, and her mouth seemed wider than usual, and her chin was narrow and pinched. She had a half-smile on her face and she still seemed to be listening to distant music.

  I shoved a pork pie at her. She picked at the thick pastry crust and began to eat it, without really noticing what she was putting in her mouth.

  That confirmed it.

  My cousin was becoming Fey.

  Twenty-seven

  I had the best night’s sleep I had had in a long time. I reckon my body had just had enough and simply shut down. I awoke feeling refreshed and still very hungry.

  I went down to the kitchen and I was pleased to see that Maddie looked normal. We went out to see to the animals together, before we had our own breakfast, and she didn’t mention music or Fair Folk or anything.

  “Do you remember last night?” I asked her in a low voice.

  She shivered. “They can hear you,” she said. “Let’s talk inside. Light a candle.”

  I did so. It was odd to have the candle burning in the daytime but I wove a mental spell around us and she told me about the previous night. She could not remember much.