A Psychic with Catitude

by P. D. Workman

  “It is bad,” Letticia said baldly. “You were right to call for me.”

  “I know it’s infected, but I put stuff on it. Antibiotic cream. It’s actually looking better today.” Reg dabbed at it with the bandage, grimacing. “It opened again last night. I don’t understand why it won’t scab over and start to heal.”

  “How did you do this?”

  “How did I…? It was Hawthorne-Rose, a policeman. He was threatening me and Corvin, trying to get me to… give up the memories that Warren Blake had given me.” Reg shuddered, remembering him digging the knife into her palm.

  “Where is the blade?”

  “The police have it. Corvin said—” Reg choked on Corvin’s name, the memories of the previous night becoming too clear. “Corvin said he’d ask Detective Jessup about letting us see the knife. But I don’t know if she’ll allow it. It’s evidence.”

  “It’s evidence, alright,” Letticia agreed. “We will need to examine it to understand what happened and properly treat this wound. We need to know why it is responding like this. And we need to know as soon as possible, before more damage is done.”

  Reg looked at Sarah. “Do you know how to contact her?”

  “Certainly, dear.” Sarah patted her pockets. “I’ve left my phone in the house, can I use yours?”

  Reg pulled it out and slid it across the counter to Sarah.

  “In the meantime, we’ll do what we can for this,” Letticia said. “For a magical injury like this, the first line of defense is milfoil.”

  “Milfoil?” Reg had never heard of it. Certainly not something in her medicine cabinet.

  “Yarrow,” Letticia said, “Woundwort? Staunchweed?”

  Sarah and Reg both looked at the plant they had put in the vase the night before. Letticia followed their eyes.

  “Good. You are prepared.” She removed the plant from the vase and rinsed it under the tap, examining it closely. “You did well to keep the plant intact, including the root. Most people use just the flower, leaves, and stem, but the root is also very powerful. We have lots here to work with.”

  Starlight walked along the counter, purring, running his tail under Reg’s nose.

  “Nothing like rubbing my nose in it,” Reg said. But she patted him with her uninjured hand. “You’re a very smart cat, aren’t you? Much smarter than your owner.”

  He purred louder, rubbing his jowls and fangs on her hand. Reg laughed, her mood lightening.

  “I would say most cats are smarter than their owners,” Letticia said without turning back around. “But most still do not have the gifts that this one does. He is very aware of you. Very concerned with your injury.” She used her fingers to separate and scrub the stringy roots of the yarrow. “Most cats are not healers, other than their instinctive knowledge about wound cleanliness.”

  “He ran off,” Reg explained, “he was gone for two days, and he brought back that yarrow plant with him.”

  Letticia turned and looked at Starlight, who sat back on his haunches, stretching himself up tall, like a cat in ancient Egyptian art. He twitched his whiskers at her.

  “Did he indeed?” Letticia asked, but there was no doubt in her voice. “As I said, he’s a very wise cat.”

  Sarah put Reg’s phone back down on the counter as it started to ring in speakerphone mode. After a few rings, it was picked up.

  “Detective Jessup.”

  “Marta, it’s Sarah Bishop and Reg Rawlins,” Sarah announced. “We are calling to ask about the knife—”

  “Reg Rawlins,” Jessup’s voice was displeased. “I was going to call on you today.”

  “Uh… yes?” Reg wasn’t sure what to say about that. Her heart immediately started pumping faster and she wondered whether it was time to put Black Sands in her rear-view mirror. She did not like attention from the police.

  “From my inquiries, I am led to believe that you showed up at Calliopia’s school and talked to Ruan Rosdew yesterday.”

  “Um…”

  “I don’t know a lot of other women with red hair in cornrows in Black Sands, Ms. Rawlins.”

  Reg thought of all of the students pouring out the doors of the school as she hurried to get back to her car after Ruan’s disappearance. How many of them had seen and described her?

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “And what happened during that meeting?”

  “Not really anything… why?”

  “I think we’d better meet.”

  “We were hoping to be able to see the knife that Hawthorne-Rose had,” Sarah interjected.

  There was silence for a few seconds as Jessup pondered this. “Why?” she asked finally.

  Reg was relieved that Jessup hadn’t immediately said no.

  “Reg was injured with that knife and it apparently had magical properties,” Sarah said. “Letticia needs to examine it to treat the wound properly.”

  “I’ll bring it with me,” Jessup agreed. There was no warmth in her voice. “Where are you now? At home?”

  “At the cottage,” Sarah agreed.

  “I’ll be there shortly.”

  Jessup disconnected. Sarah looked at Reg, raising her eyebrows.

  “Well… it’s good that she’s coming right over…”

  Reg looked at the door. There was no point in running, but she couldn’t deny the impulse she felt to make herself scarce. They needed Jessup and the knife, if Reg were to believe what Letticia and the others said. Her injury wasn’t just infected and it wasn’t going to heal on its own. If she left without the proper examination of the knife and whatever incantation was required over the wound, who knew what would happen. She didn’t want to end up losing her hand. Or worse.

  ⋆ Chapter Seventeen ⋆

  L

  etticia was busy with the yarrow, methodically shredding and chopping it into fine bits. Reg watched her, wondering whether she was going to have to drink a tea made of the concoction or whether it would be made into a poultice that went directly on the wound. She hoped that Letticia knew what she was doing and it would not end up like the case Erin had told her about, where foxglove had been used instead of something called boneknit in a poultice, resulting in the death of the patient. Reg suddenly wished that she lived closer to Erin and her witch friend Adele, who seemed to be very knowledgeable about herbs. Reg had to rely on the words of Sarah and Corvin that Letticia was a competent healer. She obviously couldn’t trust anything that came out of Corvin’s mouth. She wasn’t sure Sarah’s judgment was much more reliable.

  “Here she is,” Sarah announced, watching out the front window.

  Reg decided she was safe to move away from the examination table to answer the door and let Detective Jessup in.

  For a small woman, she looked remarkably menacing. She didn’t bluster and threaten, just stood there in the doorway until Reg motioned her in, feeling like she’d been called before the school principal. She’d had female principals, and they were always worse than the men. A man might be swayed by doe eyes and weeping, but not a woman.

  Jessup looked around the cottage. She went to the kitchen island and laid down an evidence bag containing a dagger.

  “You can look at it, but it stays sealed in the bag,” she informed Letticia. “It’s evidence, and if it is out of my sight or removed from the bag, it will be compromised and we won’t be able to use it in the court case.”

  Letticia nodded. She left the mass of green bits on the cutting board and studied the knife through the plastic. Reg couldn’t see it clearly from across the room, but its mere presence made her hand throb. She flashed back to the incident and once again she was pinned to the wall by Hawthorne-Rose, the knife cutting into her. She’d been terrified, unable to give him what he’d wanted no matter how he hurt her. But the torture had worked on Corvin. He had, luckily, come to her rescue.

  Reg closed her eyes, trying to wipe away the memories.

  “Sit down,” Jessup snapped, gesturing to one of the chairs. Reg did sit, but chose the other chai
r to assert her independence. Jessup hovered over her, forcing Reg to look up at her.

  “Where is Ruan Rosdew?” Jessup demanded.

  “Where? How would I know?” Reg shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “Don’t get smart with me. You were the last one to see him. So what happened? Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know. He ran away from me… I didn’t see where he went. I looked for him, but then the kids were getting out for lunch, and there were too many people for me to keep looking for him. So I just… went back home.”

  “He ran away.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where? Why?”

  “I told you, I don’t know where he went. He ducked down behind a fence, a sort of a stone wall, and I followed him. But when I got there, he was gone. There was no sign of him. I don’t know, I guess he ran into the forest, but I didn’t see which way he went and I certainly have no idea where he would have been going.”

  “He just disappeared.”

  Reg shrugged. “Not poof in a cloud of smoke, but he might just as well have done. Either way, there was no sign of him.”

  “What did you say to him? Did you accuse him? Why was he running away?”

  Reg shifted uncomfortably. She made a noise to call Starlight to her, stalling for time, trying to sort out in her mind what she was going to say.

  “I did… ask him if he knew Calliopia and what had happened to her.”

  “Why would you do that? You’re not a cop. I told you your involvement was over.”

  “I just thought I’d help. I couldn’t bear to sit back and do nothing when she is in such danger. I had to do something. So I found out where they went to school and went to look for him. I didn’t know I was going to talk to him, not for sure. I just wanted to see him, maybe to follow him… I thought he might lead me back to Callie.”

  “And you didn’t think that maybe the police already had that under control? Don’t you think I know the suspects better than you?”

  “But you’re a police detective. I know kids; he wouldn’t talk to you. But he could talk to me. If it was just a regular person asking him questions, he might be more likely to have something to say.”

  “And did he?”

  “No.” Reg patted Starlight when he brushed by her chair. “He said he didn’t know anything about it.”

  “That’s no big surprise.”

  “But he did know something. I’m sure of that.”

  Jessup stared into Reg’s eyes. “And how do you know that? Telepathy?”

  “He blocked me from his mind. He was very adept at that. Why block me unless he had something to hide?”

  “Because it’s an invasion of privacy. Because no one wants someone else poking around in their head. Did you see anything? Not that I could use it if you did.”

  “No. He knew something. He denied it, and he didn’t have any tells, but I knew he was lying to me. And then he said it wasn’t any of my business, that it was his family business. How could it be his family business if he didn’t know anything about it?”

  “How do you know he was lying if he didn’t have any tells and you couldn’t read his mind?”

  “Because… he didn’t try to pretend that he cared or try to establish an alibi. He acted like it was nothing that had anything to do with him. Like a psychopath, no appropriate emotion.”

  “What do you know about psychopathy?”

  “Let’s just say… I know.”

  “He said Calliopia disappearing was a family matter?”

  “Yes… he used a name I didn’t know, I guess maybe his wider clan…”

  “It’s a fairy blade,” Letticia said.

  Reg looked at her, pulled out of her conversation with Jessup, trying to understand this non sequitur.

  “What?”

  Letticia held the dagger up, still in its sealed plastic bag. “A fairy blade,” she repeated.

  Reg thought of the fairy cakes at the party. What did Letticia mean? That the blade was small? Delicate? Did it have fairies carved into the handle? Reg hadn’t had a very good look at it. She’d been too busy trying not to scream in pain. It was sharp, that was all she’d noticed about it.

  “How did Hawthorne-Rose get a fairy blade?” Jessup wondered. “They are very careful about letting them out of their possession.”

  “Who is?” Reg asked.

  The eyes of all three women turned to her simultaneously. Reg squirmed in her seat.

  “Fairies,” Jessup said, as if Reg were being completely dense. “Fairies don’t give up their blades. They don’t sell them or give them away.”

  “Fairies.”

  There was silence in the cottage. Reg shook her head.

  “There are no fairies. There’s no such thing. They’re make believe.”

  “Reg…” Sarah said tentatively, as if she thought Reg might have hit her head or lost her mind.

  Reg looked from one woman to the other, seeing the same expression on all of their faces. Letticia still holding the knife up. Sarah with her mouth open. Jessup’s brows drawn down and a scowl across her face. It was Jessup who spoke.

  “Calliopia is a fairy.”

  “No.”

  “Of course she is.”

  Reg thought of Calliopia’s parents, tall and thin, with their blue-white skin. The house full of living plants rather than treasures. The unfamiliar language Calliopia sang or chanted in. Even just the names. Calliopia. Papillon. Those weren’t normal names.

  “They’re fairies?”

  The women nodded.

  “And those people at the party… her kin. They were fairies too?”

  Sarah nodded.

  They had touched her. Reg couldn’t help the little tickle of excitement at the thought that fairies had touched her, spoken to her, and helped her.

  “I thought that fairies were… tiny. Little people. With wings.”

  “Fairy tales,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Just like the stories of witches riding broomsticks and forever walking around in ceremonial hats. Do I have green skin and warts? A cat who also wears a pointed hat? Did you see a big black cauldron bubbling in my kitchen?”

  Reg blinked at her. Just like Reg didn’t need a crystal ball or a head scarf to read fortunes, or a circle of people sitting in the dark holding hands to contact the dead. It seemed that the paranormal world was far more ordinary than she would ever have thought.

  “There are really fairies.”

  “Yes.”

  Reg massaged her temples, thinking it through. “I’m not freaking out,” she said aloud.

  “No, you’re doing just fine,” Sarah agreed.

  “You’re telling me that fairies really exist, and I’ve met them, and I’m not freaking out.”

  “Maybe just a little,” Jessup said dryly.

  Letticia started working on the yarrow again, crushing it and releasing a smell that made Reg think of spaghetti. Starlight sniffed at the air, then started to wash his paws and coat.

  “Why did Ruan run away from you?” Jessup asked. “What did you say to him?”

  “Did his parents report him missing? Didn’t he go home?”

  “We have not been able to get in contact with his family. He did not go back to school after lunch and no one at the school has seen him since. Maybe he went home and is being protected by his parents. We don’t really know.”

  “They won’t let you in or talk to you on the phone?”

  “Their homes tend to be… difficult to find. And they don’t use technology.”

  “Right. Fairies worship nature and don’t use electricity… do you think this is all part of their feud? When I told Ruan that Callie liked him, he didn’t seem to think that was possible. And he didn’t like her. So maybe we were wrong about it being a Romeo and Juliet thing…”

  “I would much prefer an illicit romance.”

  Reg could understand why. It was much happier to picture Callie and Ruan trying to prove their love and reconcile their families than what Re
g had sensed from the start. A young girl trapped in a cold, dark room, with nothing but whispering shadows and cockroaches.

  “That was when he ran away?” Jessup pressed. “When you asked him if he was in love with her?”

  “Uh… no.”

  “Then tell me what you said.”

  Reg reluctantly described being mesmerized by the boy, managing to escape his gaze, and then being caught again.

  “Ruan grabbed me. And then… he yelled something and let me go, like I’d hurt him. He spun around in a circle, and then he ran off, and ducked behind that wall… and was gone. Just like that.”

  Jessup scratched her head, considering this. “You weren’t carrying anything…? Iron… bells… bread…?”

  Reg shook her head. “There wasn’t anything. Just… it was my injured hand. It was bandaged. There might still have been… antibiotic cream or something on it…”

  Letticia’s hand hovered over Hawthorne-Rose’s blade, her eyes closed and her head thrown back, the same as when she had searched Reg’s hand for invisible signs of magical injury.

  “It’s fairy blood.”

  ⋆ Chapter Eighteen ⋆

  E

  veryone turned and looked at Letticia.

  “Fairy blood would have had that effect on Ruan,” Jessup agreed. “But where would it have come from?”

  Letticia tapped the knife. “From here,” she said irritably. “The blade is contaminated with fairy blood.”

  “But I didn’t have the knife,” Reg pointed out. “The police had it.”

  “It was already contaminated with blood when Hawthorne-Rose cut you,” Letticia enunciated slowly. “Transferring minute amounts of that blood into your wound. That’s why the wound isn’t healing properly.”

  “And that’s why when Ruan touched your hand, it affected him,” Jessup filled in.

  “Because… fairies can’t touch fairy blood? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Jessup shook her head. “Ruan is not a fairy.”

  “Oh. Well then… what is he?”

  Reg wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. But this time, she wasn’t going to be taken off guard. Obviously, he was some other sort of magical folk. He was burned by the fairy blood, he had practically vanished into thin air, and his people had homes that were difficult to find and they used no electricity.