Witch Cursed in Westerham

by Dionne Lister

  The guy gave me a wave without turning. He met my gaze in the rear-view mirror. He looked to be mid-thirties and had a mane of dirty blond hair framing a handsome face and blue eyes. When he smiled, a fair few wrinkles decorated the corners of his eyes. “Pleased to meet you, Lily.”

  “Likewise.” I clicked my belt buckle in.

  “Agent Lyon is accompanying us because he still has fully functioning magic—he was on leave when things happened.” The distaste in her voice at “things” was palpable and appropriate. My room was starting to resemble a war zone—tidying the normal way was not high on my list of skills or things I liked to do. Will had warned me this morning that if I couldn’t keep my stuff in order, he’d move back to his place… alone. Despite that horrible prospect, I still hadn’t managed to put stuff away. Maybe I’d do it tonight….

  “Where are we going, and why?” Maybe someone would finally answer my questions. “Is there a BOS?”

  “Excuse me, Lily!” Ma’am’s head whiplashed around, her eyes wide. “We don’t speak like that, thank you.”

  Huh? My heart hammered. What had I done? Will smirked and jumped to my defence. “She said B not P.” Even Agent Lyon let out a low chuckle.

  Ma’am turned around calmly, as if nothing had happened. “Carry on, then.”

  “Um, a bubble of silence. Are we protected by one?” I would definitely have to mind my Bs and Qs next time. I laughed internally at my bad joke.

  “Yes, dear. Agent Lyon is a professional.”

  We drove out into a crisp, sunny day, Agent Lyon turning right onto the street, then accelerating to a speed that I was sure had to be over the limit. He must have had a no-notice spell on the BMW. “So, where are we going?”

  Ma’am answered, “The National Gallery.”

  Will looked at me, concern etched into his forehead. I knew what he was asking. “Yes. I’ll be fine.” He gave a quick nod. I wasn’t sure how much, if anything, they’d told Agent Lyon about my special talent, but seeing as how it was meant to be secret, and we didn’t know who to trust, I was hoping he had no idea. Who knew what excuse they’d given him for me being here. Although Ma’am may have said nothing in her usual “I’m the boss; I don’t have to explain myself” way.

  “And why? I don’t imagine you’ve decided you want to admire some artworks today.”

  “You would be correct, dear. The person who sent the threat about the bank heist has just sent another threat—they’re targeting artworks at the gallery.”

  I wrinkled my brow. “But that’s silly. Wouldn’t those pictures be so famous that they’d be impossible to sell?” How would you explain away a Canaletto everyone knew was supposed to be hanging in the National Gallery?

  Will shook his head. “You’d be surprised. Some rich, very private people wouldn’t care. In fact, they’d see it as a coup and take great pleasure in buying and hanging something the whole world was looking for. They have ultimate control over who sees the painting. I would think the sellers would be targeting rich crime moguls.”

  “And has the crime already happened?” Last time they’d given us a warning, and there was no reason we had to speed to get there after the fact.

  “No.” Will looked at his phone. “We have fifteen minutes.”

  “Um, I know I haven’t lived here very long, but isn’t it impossible for us to get to central London in that time?” Unless Agent Lyon had special powers to slow time, there was no way we’d make it.

  “I’ve sent three of our able-magicked agents there. They arrived the usual way. They’re holding down the fort till we arrive. They’ll hopefully be able to thwart any efforts to steal anything.”

  My eyes widened. “But what if it’s a ploy to disable the few uncursed agents you have?” How could they not think of this?

  “It might very well be, dear, but we’re ahead of them there. When this first happened, we didn’t want it happening again, so we’ve inoculated, for want of a better word, all our unaffected agents.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” At least they’d been able to do that much. Right now, the world was these witches’ oyster because so many agents were on the fritz. Imagine what would happen if all witchy criminals in the UK knew they had free rein.

  As we drove, Ma’am received a couple of phone calls. The second one came through as we sat in London traffic about one mile from our destination. “Good. Okay. We’ll be there soon. Stay vigilant, and good job.” She hung up and turned to Agent Lyon. “They’ve thwarted the theft. As soon as they sensed magic, they threw up a shield. It worked, but I don’t know how much energy they have left. If they throw another major attack our way, we could still be in for a negative outcome. Maybe you should travel there, and I’ll take over driving.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He put the car in park—we were stopped at lights, and even if they went green, we’d be at a crawl—and vanished. Ma’am awkwardly climbed over to the driver’s seat.

  “But aren’t we in more danger now we have no protection?” I didn’t want to state the obvious, but maybe it wasn’t so obvious to Ma’am, who thought she was invincible.

  “Yes, dear, and our BOS spell is gone too. So, less talk.”

  Right. Ma’am didn’t always answer, but when she did, it was direct. I couldn’t fault her for that. I’d rather know where I stood. “Okay.” I chewed my fingernail as we crawled to Trafalgar Square. What if they launched another attack? Would they try and kill the agents? I hoped they wouldn’t steal any art, but surely the agents’ lives were more important.

  “They are, dear, but if we fail at this, we’ll also be in the gallery’s bad books.” Damn mind-reading talent. “Yes, I know.” She smiled. I sighed dramatically. “It’s worth the risk.”

  I agree. Why talk when I didn’t have to?

  “Just so you know, if we’re in a crowded room, I may not be able to pick up on your thoughts, so talk to me.”

  Okay. I grinned. I liked being a smarty pants.

  It took another ten minutes to get to the gallery. Ma’am parked against the double yellow lines. I guessed she couldn’t care less if we got a ticket. The PIB could afford it, even with their supposedly dismal budget. As we got out of the car, Will came and stood next to me and said, “Stay close to me at all times.” I nodded. I hadn’t planned on being a hero today, and all I had to protect myself with was faulty magic—he at least had a gun.

  We hurried past the long line outside. Had the gallery workers given patrons some excuse to send them outside, or had the witches cast a spell? None of us were using a no-notice spell, so everyone stared at the three black-suit clad, official-looking people. I’d worn my suit to work today because I knew we were going out in the field. I just hadn’t expected it to be here and so early in the day.

  The staff ushered us through to the spectacular main foyer. If I hadn’t been here before, my mouth would have dropped open at the colourful, detailed ceilings and mosaic-tiled floors. As soon as we were inside, Agent Lyon met us. “Can I have a word?” he asked Ma’am.

  She gave a nod, and they moved up the stairs, away from everyone. Heads close together, they spoke. My neck sore with tension, I glanced around—we were worried about magic, but what if someone attacked us the normal way? It always paid to pay attention. In the high-ceilinged space, I felt like a mouse out in the open with hawks flying overhead. I edged closer to Will until our arms were almost touching. There was safety in numbers… at least that’s what I told myself.

  Ma’am and Agent Lyon finished their conversation. He walked further into the gallery, and Ma’am motioned for us to join her. We took the stairs two at a time. She spoke with a quiet voice. “The agents have pinpointed the paintings that were targeted—they would’ve had to choose them with magic one by one, maybe with a spell that would anchor them to the major spell that would’ve pulled them out of the gallery. There was also a significant amount of power thrown at the place, so unless they have a large pool of witches, they shouldn’t be able to repeat that today. I’ll b
e stationing agents here for the next couple of days, at least. I’ll show you both the paintings they tried to steal.” She winked at me, which I understood to mean she’d like me to take photos and see if we could find any other clues.

  Our footsteps clacked on the hard floor and echoed through the space. Self-conscious, I tried to walk more quietly, but it was a big ask. These were unforgiving floors. I needed those silent-as-a-ninja nurse shoes. You would think spies would use them too. Seemed there was a huge market for those things. Maybe I should go into business. Setting up an online store couldn’t be that hard.

  “Lily, what are you going on about?” Ma’am raised one eyebrow. “Is it really like that in your head the whole time?”

  My cheeks heated. I shrugged. "I find it entertaining. I guess you can't please everyone, and considering I’m in my own head, I shouldn’t have to try."

  “Well, I can’t very well block anything at the moment, but as soon as I can, I’ll guarantee you that I will.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Gee, thanks.”

  Ma’am stopped in front of a painting titled The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein. Two shifty-eyed, bearded young men stood facing the audience, a table filled with a plethora of things between them. She gave a slow, firm nod. I took the lens cap off my Nikon and called upon my talent as I pointed the camera at the picture. Show me who cast the spell to steal this artwork.

  A man appeared, facing the painting. His bulky coat hid his frame, but it was the same coat I’d seen on the man in the bedroom at the agent’s house. I wandered around so I could see his face. He wasn’t in the position to hide everything with a balaclava in such a public place, but his Fedora was pulled low, and his bushy moustache and beard covered his mouth and chin. Shoulder-length orange hair descended from underneath the hat. He likely wore a wig and fake facial hair. I snapped a few shots anyway—hopefully his nose was his real one, and we could at least ferret that information away. The next step would be to get hold of the security video so we could see which entrance he’d used and follow his movements throughout the gallery.

  I stepped back from the painting and took one more picture. I lowered the camera. “Will, can you stand in front of the painting? And stand up straight.” He did as I asked. I directed him to exactly where the other guy had stood. Then I took a couple of normal shots of Will for a height comparison. “Great. Thanks.” I turned to Ma’am. “So, where’s the next one?”

  “Right this way.”

  We spent the next thirty minutes on edge, waiting for another attack, but we managed to get the job done with no further incidents, at which point, Agent Lyon drove us back to headquarters.

  Second crisis averted. Thank goodness. From what I gathered, Ma’am was already on notice because of the bank job. Another unhappy organisation was not what the PIB needed, especially a government one. In fact, I’d say this had been a success—PIB agents had actually prevented a crime. But would we be so lucky next time?

  Agent Lyon returned out into the field, so it was only Ma’am, Will, and me in her office. She’d called James, who was on his way from another part of the building. While we waited for him, Ma’am and Will peered at my camera screen, studying the photos I’d taken. They couldn’t put them on Ma’am’s laptop, in case someone saw them and wondered how and why. Not that anyone knew who the subject of the photos was, but if it ever came out, we’d be leaving ourselves open to the discovery of my talent by the wider witch world. Any secrets we kept would work to our advantage.

  Will sat back, and Ma’am looked up from the camera. She handed it to me. “Well done, Lily. It’s not conclusive, but we have a small amount of new information, and at this stage, I’ll take wh—”

  Sizzling filled the office. Ma’am and I gave each other a quick look of surprise before the message wrote itself against her wall. I flicked my camera to video mode and filmed as glowing blue words formed.

  Well played, Agent DuPree. Well played. I suppose one can get lucky once. Maybe I made things too easy for you. Next time, I won’t underestimate your skill. But I don’t want this game to end too soon, so I suppose I’ll have to keep you in it a while longer. Toodle-oo.

  James walked in, halting as soon as he saw the words. But he didn’t get long to look, as they faded away. Ma’am slammed her hand on the table, and we all jumped. “Damn our incompetence! How in heavens is this magic getting past our new shields.” She turned an angry glare on my brother.

  He didn’t bat an eye. He’d always been calm under pressure, and so was Ma’am—usually—but today things must be getting to her. What the hell had been said in that meeting with her superiors? James sat down and placed his hands in his lap. “No one has breached our shields. If they had, our alarm would have sounded. I would posit that it’s coming from inside the building.”

  Not one to waste time with apologies, her poker face reasserted itself. “You’re probably right, Agent Bianchi. Right. Now we need to weed the person out. But how…?” That was going to be tricky. Where would they start? I mean, Ma’am could read minds, but it was obviously an able-bodied agent, or it wouldn’t have worked properly, so she couldn’t just pick up an errant thought from them, and I doubted questioning would get them to admit they were involved. Ma’am stood. “I’ll be back in five. In the meantime, I suggest you go through Lily’s photos.” Her stately pace as she left the room and shut the door belied the turmoil I imagined was wreaking havoc inside her mind. What a disaster.

  “I guess you need this.” I handed James my camera.

  “Thanks.”

  While Ma’am was out, I felt freer to ask questions. She had enough to contend with, and I didn’t want to add to her stress. “Are we any closer to finding a cure for the curse?”

  Will folded his arms. “Not that I know of. Beren’s working with Dr Finnegan. But because B can’t perform magic, he has to instruct the good doctor on what to do. It’s going very slowly, apparently. B’s excellent at what he does—not everyone can keep up with him.”

  “Mill’s dad is also what I’d class as excellent. He got rid of RP’s tracking, as you know.”

  Will smiled. “And we owe him for that. I was thinking a top-shelf bottle of booze.”

  “He doesn’t drink.” James didn’t bother looking up from the photos as he answered.

  “What do you think he’d like?” I asked.

  James shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe ask Mill.” He turned the camera off and handed it to me. “You know… maybe I should ask him to help Beren. But we won’t tell anyone, just so we don’t ruffle any feathers.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You’d go behind Ma’am’s back.” I thought I knew my brother, but maybe I didn’t.

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course not, dopey. As if I’d do anything behind her back.”

  The door opened, and Ma’am entered. “Do what behind whose back?” Trust her to return at just the right moment. I suppressed a smile.

  James relayed our conversation. Ma’am sat and drummed her fingers on the desk, likely thinking it through. When she met James’s gaze, her lips were quirked up in a cat who’d eaten the canary smile. Poor canary. I frowned. Ma’am shifted her eyes my way, then rolled them. Being on guard and controlling my thoughts all the time was not going well. I supposed I should just give up at this point. She shook her head and focussed on James again.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. He did well with the house spells, and he’s helped Lily. Can you set up a meeting with him tonight at your place?”

  “I’ll see. I know he was wiped out after Lily’s thing.”

  Ma’am waved her hand. “Whenever he’s ready is fine, but the sooner, the better, obviously. Now, I’d like to move onto other things. We’ll finish this conversation tonight.” Her meaningful eyebrow raise conveyed that we weren’t safe to talk about things here, which made sense if someone from inside the PIB was sabotaging us. Again. Man, the world was full of horrible people. Life would be so much easier if everyone was decent and nice. �
�Right, I have work to get through. Agent Bianchi, you can stay here. Will, you can help Imani with something she’s working on—she’s in her office. And, Lily, you can help Olivia with whatever she’s doing. We might postpone that investigative appointment you were going to attend. I’ll see you back here at six.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Will and I both answered. Will and I kissed goodbye out in the hall, and I made my way to Millicent’s office. Unfortunately, Liv wasn’t there, and her phone was on top of her closed laptop. I waited for five minutes, then decided to have a wander around, see if I could find her. Maybe she’d gone to get food.

  I ambled down to the cafeteria. It was half full, but none of the occupants was Liv. Had she merely gone to the bathroom? Knowing my luck, I’d just missed her, and she was already back in her office. I was about to turn and leave when my nostrils caught the tempting fragrance of coffee. Since I was already here, I might as well grab some, and maybe a chocolate muffin. I smiled. My brain had the best ideas sometimes. I ordered coffee, tea for Liv, and two chocolate muffins—no one could say I neglected my friends.

  Food and beverage in hand, I made my way back to Millicent and Liv’s office. As I passed Beren’s office, the door swung open, and someone stepped out in front of me. I almost managed to dodge, but it happened so quickly, we collided. My hands, which each held one coffee and a bag with a muffin, pushed back into my chest. To compensate, I jumped back, but a squirt of coffee still shot out of the small drinking hole and onto my white shirt. Damn.

  “Oh, heavens. I’m so sorry, Lily.” Dr Finnegan stood there, eyes wide, a hand on either side of his head, his hair poking out messily around his fingers. Dark bags puffed the skin beneath his eyes. Someone was working way too hard.

  “That’s okay. I’m sure it’ll wash clean, and not too much was spilled, so it’s fine.”

  He nodded. “Okay, okay. As long as you’re not burnt?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Okay, good.” He turned and hurried down the hallway. Whatever he was racing to must be urgent.