“Finally,” Shade said. “Something sensible comes out of your panicky mouth.”
My scaredy cat, slinking in low profile toward me, looked up at my face, his eyes glassy and pleading. “I don’t want to die here,” he rasped.
“Nobody’s going to die here, buddy, so just take a deep breath and know it’s all going to be okay. Okay?”
I motioned to the door. “There’s a phone in the front parlor,” I said, picking up Fraidy on the way out the room. “We can call the GIPPD from there.”
“What a waste of a life,” Shade observed as we walked to the parlor. “I mean, she was so worried about looking good until the end of her days. Now the end’s come and gone and what good did it do her?”
“This from the immortal ladykiller?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, spotting the phone out of the corner of my eye.
“Hey, I’m vain, not stupid,” Shade said defensively. “I know nothing’s forever (well, except my siblings and me). Nebula Dreddock didn’t want to look that one in the eye. Now she’s got no choice.”
Chapter 2
I got my second surprise of the day when the constables arrived. David Trew, the chief of Glessie Isle Para Police Department, was along for the ride. Looking at him, it was hard to believe that a) he wasn’t a romance cover model and b) that he wasn’t in his mid-twenties instead of the edge of thirty-five. He deemphasized his good looks with John Lennon style glasses (which had a charm to adjust to the available lighting), black hair, cropped just a little longer than military grade and an official dress uniform that swallowed up most of his toned physique he spent four times a week maintaining. Still, considering we’d been best friends since we were kids, I marveled at how I could still be attracted to him after all these years. All these years of nothing romantically whatsoever happening between us, that is.
“David,” I said as soon as the constables started combing the house. “I know that we’re old friends but why—“
“Actually, Hat,” David said with a sigh, his modulated announcer’s voice sounding tired. “I’m afraid you have nothing to do with why I’m here with my officers.”
Leading me back out to the helipad, he explained, “I got a call from the powers-that-be on Talisman about five minutes after you reported the crime scene.”
“They found out about it that fast?” I asked, seeing Fraidy taking his place close to my ankles, and wondering where Shade went off to.
“Scuttlebutt is that they keep some sort of stock ticker to keep them apprised of what all is going on in my department,” David noted with disgust. “Doesn’t matter…the fact is that I’m here to provide political cover for one of our most prominent—“
“Bitches?” I asked without humor.
“—citizens dying in her own home,” David finished without missing a beat. “Could be an accident, for all we know, but—“ he trailed off.
“David, there’s something I should tell you about that,” I said quickly.
“You saw the killer?” David asked, transitioning from disgruntled to interested in the same amount of time it had taken Nebula to die.
“Not exactly,” I admitted. Then I laid out the Scrye spell that I had used; giving him all the details of what I had seen and felt. David had whipped out a pen and notepad while I was talking, a habit he’d kept from his own constable days.
As he finished up his notes, he asked, “What were you doing here anyway, Hattie?”
“Making a delivery of Wraithsgourd, plus some Mother Night hair dye,” I said. “Everything you see now is just the way we found it when we went through the house.”
“Sir,” one of the constables said from the door. “We found someone stock still in the kitchen. Looks like a golem.”
“Ahh, there was one thing I did do,” I added to David. “I moved the pot from the stove. The water in it was boiling over.”
David made a note of that and asked, “We got someone who can revive the golem?”
“Already working on it, sir,” the constable called back.
“Good,” David said, looking at his officer for the first time. “As soon as it’s conscious, start interviewing it.”
When the constable was out of earshot, David said; “You know, between moving that pot and the Scrye spell, you’re a little too close to interfering with a police investigation.”
“I found the golem first,” I said in my defense. “Between the state she was in and all the lights being off, I knew something was wrong.”
“It’s a fair point,” David said, taking yet more notes. “I’ll have my people do some Scrye spells of their own just to verify what you saw.”
Flipping the notepad closed, he sighed again as he pocketed it and the pen. “I really wish you’d gotten a better look at that person you saw in the scrying vision. It could have made this case a lot easier.”
I knew what David meant. While Nebula Dreddock was adored and admired by a loyal fan base worldwide, she was known to be an absolute bitch in private. After our shop’s first delivery to her residence, Millie had threatened to quit if I ever made her do a supply run up to the Spires again. My assistant’s impression of Nebula was backed up by plenty of anecdotal evidence from various fashion designers, interior decorators, and makeup artists. The last one of the latter had quit a month ago, which was why Nebula was alone when she died.
“Well, look at this way, David,” I said with a cheeky smile. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to narrow it down to only five hundred suspects.”
David looked less amused by my assertion as we walked back inside. As we got close to the kitchen, we heard a long sighing moan. David and I picked up our pace to see what had made the sound.
The golem, now awake and alert, was weeping uncontrollably, punctuating her sobs with more of the same moaning that had got our attention. The constable from before was doing his best to interview her.
“I’m sorry…miss,” the constable said, clearly uncomfortable with this outburst of emotion from a non-human creature. “I had no idea that you loved your…owner so much.”
“My mistress,” the golem corrected the constable as she looked up. “And she did not love me. Every day, I was treated with contempt. She loved her reflection, nothing else.”
The constable was thoroughly confused by this as he wrote down the answer. “Then why are you crying over her now?”
Wiping away her tears, the golem stated, “She was all that I knew. Where shall I go from here?”
Being there felt wrong all of a sudden. I nudged David, and we made a discreet exit. I don’t think either the constable or golem noticed us in the first place.
“What is going to happen to her, David?” I asked as we walked to the front parlor.
“Well, technically, she’s property rather than a person in the eyes of the law,” he said, sounding like he had a major disagreement with the law on this one. “So we’ll hold her as ‘evidence’ for a few days and get all the details we can learn from her.”
“At least you can be sure she’ll tell you the truth,” I added. “Golems are incapable of lying.”
David got this serious look I knew all too well, stroking his chin as he contemplated how to tell me what he wanted.
“Okay, David,” I said. “What’s the big favor you want to ask me?”
A quicksilver smile came and went from David’s lips, a sunbeam poking out between storm clouds. “I’m wondering if you would mind being a consultant on this case for me.”
Okay, definitely didn’t see THAT one coming. “What? Why?”
“You’ve got a good working knowledge of herbs,” David offered. “And, as this is likely a case of Wraithsgourd abuse, your mastery in the herbal world would definitely come in handy for when those final reports roll in.”
“Yeah and I bet that you’ve got at least one expert on the payroll who is just as good, if not better,” I countered, still not seeing why he’d want to tap me.
“Strictly clinical knowledge,” David said. “They co
uld tell me how it’s a bad idea to ingest anything with belladonna or the exact amount of arsenic you’d need to put in someone’s daily tea to kill them. But you run an apothecary, working with herbs day in and day out. Considering that we’re likely looking at an overdose of some kind, I’d want someone who might have an idea on how that could have happened in the real world.”
I frowned a little. “Like you said, David, I run a business, one that needs my tender loving—“
“Unless Millie is incapacitated, Hat, I’m calling BS on that excuse,” my lifelong friend who also happened to be a police chief told me. “You’re going to be out making deliveries anyway. Just fit in the time you can work with me whenever it’s convenient.”
I sighed, but I also nodded. I have to admit I got an unexpected wave of thrilling energy course through my body at the idea of helping out in an investigation. “The only thing I liked about Nebula was that she paid a month in advance. But nobody deserves to die like she did.”
David gave my shoulder a squeeze with a more lasting version of that smile on his face. “Knew I could count on you.”
For just a second, I felt a jolt of electricity go through his hand and into my shoulder. I did my best to ignore it as I said, “Unless you need me for something else…”
“I’ll let you know when I do,” David assured me.
I nodded again and, with Fraidy in tow, we went back towards the helipad. Suddenly, my least brave cat snagged my ankle.
“Fraidy!” I hissed.
“Ah, don’t be mad at him, boss lady,” Shade whispered from a shadowy nook, showing me his yellow eyes. “He just wanted to let you know I was in the neighborhood.”
“Where have you been?” Fraidy asked.
“Here, there,” Shade said casually, eyes fading to black. “Always out of sight. Speaking of which, I’m hanging here while the constables do their thing. Anything interesting, I’ll pass it on.”
“How are you getting home?” I asked.
“Hitch a ride with the Blue boys and girls. Probably crash with my latest squeeze overnight, but I’ll be back by tomorrow morning.”
“You mean I’m going to be riding home alone?” Fraidy asked. “How can you do this to me, brother?”
“Would you rather follow Shade on this little jaunt?” I asked. “I could use the peace and quiet.”
“And catch a ride with people I don’t know?” Fraidy countered, outraged that I’d even suggest such a thing.
“Hey, they’re the police,” Shade said.
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Fraidy asked.
“Look, make up your own mind, Fraidy,” I finally said. “Me? I’m leaving, with or without you.”
Shade faded back into the darkness while Fraidy trotted alongside me, evidently very eager to escape this “kill zone.” Mentally, I prepared myself for the barrage of freaked out comments my cat was going to make the entire flight home.
Chapter 3
Maybe because of the grave situation we’d just come from, or maybe because he didn’t have his brother to spar with, Fraidy was blissfully quiet the entire flight back to the apothecary. As usual, I had to squint to spot it amongst the various quaint shopfronts as we approached our street. The Angel Apothecary was just one shop in a block of many. A little bigger than either of our neighbors, but otherwise indistinguishable with its medieval facade.
The Angel was a family business that went back a century. Founded by my two-times-great-grandmother when she left Edwardian England at the turn of the twentieth century. Personally, I was amazed it had managed to survive the first half of that century. The World Wars did a lot to disrupt its commerce. The rise of scientific rationality on the Mainland didn’t help either. Tourism to the Coven Isles back then, and, Glessie in particular (because of its old-world charm and sugar dunes) was steady. But, because of science and its squawking about empirical evidence being the only trustworthy answer to life, the usually brisk tourist trade at The Angel slumped significantly. It was really the 1960s, 1970s, and 1990s that helped get the regular clientele to keep the Angel above the economic floodplain; where poverty was waiting to sweep us away. Add a steady stream of Unawakened, (yet, open-minded) tourists, refugees from all parts of the world, who were fleeing the shockwaves of the Great Recession, and business has never been better. People today are on the lookout for remedies outside of the limits of our scientific knowledge. They were catching on that the body was a whole system, as opposed to a series of moving parts, and consequently needed to be treated as such. Herbal therapies were holistic, and in our fragmented, stressed out societies, holism was definitely making a comeback.
After a quick flyover to ensure that the back of the shop was clear of any potential spectators, I set the broom down at the back door. But Fraidy was still clinging to the straw thatch as I disembarked.
“This is the part where you unclench those claws, Fraidy,” I said with a cocked eyebrow.
“Why are there lights on?” Fraidy asked with a nervous purr. “Millie never forgets to turn off the lights, and it’s waaaaay past closing time. She should be long gone by now. So, wh-wh-who’s in there?” he gulped.
“Millie probably had something on her mind, and left without thinking about the lights, sweetie,” I said in the most convincing tone I could manage. I must admit, I felt a shiver down my spine. Fraidy was right; I don’t ever remember a time when Millie left the lights on. She was all precision and checklists, that one.
“Ok,” he whispered, not sounding in the least bit convinced.
My trembling cat finally let go of the broom while I cautiously opened the back door. It didn’t have a traditional lock so that I could open it easy with a bit of harmless magic. I had left remnants of magic from Grandma Chimera’s days to remain, even though no new charms were added to the establishment by me personally. But God and Goddess help the poor would-be thief who tried to open this door. The “Fat Hand Charm” was lightning fast to take hold, and completely irreversible, unless you pleaded with Grandma for the cure. An intruder’s career would be over immediately, once he was hit with hands large and round enough to become weather balloons. Grandma was not known for her mercy to such uninvited guests, so, maybe I should have just been comforted by the strength of her spell, instead of being swept away by my timid cat’s paranoia.
We walked through the door, my senses on high alert despite my attempt to shake off Fraidy’s harsh buzz. I had barely closed the door behind us when I was suddenly enveloped in an almighty bear hug. It took a couple of seconds of holding my breath before I realized it was Millie Midge. My assistant can be such a raw bundle of nerves at times, that she can actually make Fraidy look as cool as a cucumber. My adrenaline fell back into a gentle wave almost immediately, and I returned the hug to my very agitated co-worker. Millie released her crushing embrace.
“I’m glad to see you too, Millie,” I said carefully. “But, what was—“
“Oh, I was just so afraid, Hattie!” Millie interrupted. “Midnight told me—“
“Wait, Midnight, the cat for whom the dead of night is his version of sunrise? THAT Midnight?”
“Yeah, him,” Millie said distractedly, wanting to get to the point finally. “Anyway, he heard from some nightgaunts that something terrible had happened at the Gorth Spires and I remembered that you were making deliveries there and how I was so childish about ever going back there and.. and—“ Midnight. Another member of my blessed cat brood. He slept more daylight hours than the rest of The Infiniti; likely saving his strength for his dead-of-night prowling sessions. Most residents of Glessie got their Coven Isles gossip from the Fingernail Moon; an ancient, local pub that had heard more than its fair share of stories and myths over the years. Not, Midnight. No, he got his intel from the likes of nightgaunts, neethies, and mudglumpers, to name only a few. Strange creatures of the night that nobody had ever heard of; much less seen. But, Midnight insisted that a fair few of these bands of beasties were some of his best friends.
“Well, now you know I’m alright,” I said, my eyes sweeping over her shoulder for any sign of our shop’s spiritual gossip. As expected, he couldn’t be found. He was probably taking his last nap before his jaunt into his strange night-world.
“Yeah, but…where’s Shade?” Millie asked, spotting Fraidy.
“I’m always amazed at how you can tell them apart,” I said, walking to the front of the shop. I could see that Millie — probably due to her fretting — had given the store a very thorough clean. The glass shelves glinted darts of silver light, joining the refractions of rainbow glow coming from the impressive shop chandelier overhead. The faintest aroma of white vinegar and peppermint filled the air. Millie loved this special cleaning spray almost as much as she loved the grapefruit and baking soda cauldron-scrub.
“Oh, and being able to understand what they’re saying as you can, isn’t impressive?” Millie shot back with a teasing smile.
It was a pretty neat trick. To the Unawakened, any of my cats talking would just come across as a loud series of meows, purrs, and caterwauling. But, Millie had a talent for reading auras, and as far as we could surmise, this was somehow linked to her being able to understand The Infiniti’s language. Or, rather, their incessant chattering. It was a shame that Grandma, despite her best efforts, never could train her as a witch. Millie genuinely had no interest in hocus-pocus. She preferred her sane and steady life as an Unawakened. Still, the girl had gifts, to be sure. Not to mention the loyalty and discretion of a sentinel, or a faithful gate-keeper.
I sighed and put a hand on Millie’s shoulder. “You know how much I appreciate everything you do, Millie.”
Millie smiled a little. “So, what happened at the Spires?”
I filled her in on Nebula Dreddock’s untimely demise, leaving out some of the grislier details, the Scrye spell that Shade had encouraged me to use and David’s presence (I’ll explain that last detail in due course, promise). When I was done, Millie sighed a little and said, “Good thing the bitch paid in advance for the whole month, then.”
Murder, Magic, and Moggies Page 2