by Ellen Jane
“I’m a changed man!” he insisted.
The second the police rounded the corner, he held up his hands and promised them ‘justice, swift and true’ if only they’d get him far away from the hellhound in the corner.
The officer, Matthew, who was well acquainted with all three hellhounds, stifled a grin as he cuffed the thief and led him down the stairs. After doing a sweep of the house and determining there was no one else in hiding, they let Heather know that the area was clear.
“We’ll take him down to the station and get a statement out of him,” Matthew’s partner, Sarah, explained while Matthew tried to bundle their loquacious thief into the back of the car. “We’ve taken down your basic statement from over the phone. Is there anything else you want to add?”
“Only that he said he didn’t take anything, but he was looking for one of my notebooks. Someone apparently asked him to steal it.”
Sarah frowned. “What’s in this notebook? Does it have your bank PIN?”
Heather shook her head. “It’s just a notebook. There’s nothing special about it.”
She didn’t want to mention the investigation until she’d had a chance to talk to Sinéad about what had happened tonight. She didn’t want the police to ban them from the case.
Sarah tapped her pen against her chin, thinking. “Could have been they thought you’d written passwords in it, or it could be something else. We’ll see what we can get out of him. Looks like he got in the back window, though, so you’re safe to lock up tonight. He didn’t even bust it up too badly. I noticed you have a cabinet by the window. You can probably just stick that in front of it, and then you’re perfectly safe.”
Heather nodded, thinking there was no chance she would stay anywhere near here tonight. They bid goodbye to the officers and watched from the window as the red and blue lights faded into the distance.
Bear whined from behind them. She wanted to go to bed, but her bed was currently upended over the back of the armchair, so it was a bit harder than anticipated.
“I don’t think you should stay here tonight,” Sinéad said, looking around at all the mess. “We’ve no idea who sent him, and they could send someone else.”
“Yeah,” Heather agreed. “I’ll—” She broke off. Who could she call on at this time of night? It was close to ten, and the only people she’d ever been comfortable enough to drop in on unexpectedly had moved away from Old Wetchhaven a year ago.
“Why don’t you come to the inn?” Sinéad suggested. “I’m sure they’ll put you up for the night. Or I can pay for you if they won’t and you’re short on money.”
Heather shook her head. “They close at ten—only guests in from that point. Even if they’d give me a room, they’ll have gone to bed.”
“Then stay with me,” Sinéad insisted. “We’ll sneak your three brave guard dogs inside, and I can sleep on the sofa.”
Heather glanced at her, oddly touched by the gesture. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she had many other options.
“If you’re sure,” she said. “But I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Sinéad raised one eyebrow in silent argument, but simply leaned back against the wall to wait for Heather to pack. It was strange, Heather thought, how much she had initially taken Sinéad for a spoiled, demanding aristocrat. The more she got to know her, the more she realised just how wrong that first impression had been.
It didn’t take long for Heather to get a bag together, and when she was certain she’d remembered everything she was likely to need, including a large bag of dog treats, she clipped leads onto the three dogs and announced she was ready to go.
They trudged back through the snow to the inn. The lights in the surrounding houses were mostly switched off, unless they were Christmas lights, and the air was so still it felt like no one else in the world could possibly be awake.
“Thanks for coming,” Heather said after a moment, the words tumbling out in a rush.
Sinéad looked over in surprise. “Of course I came,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, you barely know me,” Heather pointed out.
Rather than throw out a dismissive quip, Sinéad studied her. The intensity of her gaze made Heather shiver a little, though she wasn’t cold.
“You offer a stranger bail money because you’re certain they’re innocent, but you’re shocked to find even half of that courtesy extended to you in return?” Sinéad asked, but it sounded like less of a question the way she said it. It made Heather feel oddly exposed.
She shrugged and was thankful that their arrival at the inn prevented her from having to answer properly.
They shuffled quietly down the side of the building, pausing at the guest entrance while Sinéad fumbled for her key.
“Good thing I remembered it,” she said with a wry twist of her lips. “Or we both could have been stuck out in the cold.”
The guest entrance, which led to the back staircase via a narrow hallway, was cold and drafty. Heather shushed the three dogs, clicking her fingers so that they fell into heel behind her. Teddy was already curious about his new surroundings; given free reign, she was certain he would be bounding up to all the guests’ doors and scratching to be let in.
It wasn’t that the Shepherd’s Inn banned pets, exactly. They had hosted a number of small dogs over the years and even a cat or two. But those animals had all been very well behaved . . . and very quiet. Heather had once heard her small pack described as Cerberus with more legs; she wasn’t entirely sure Cerberus was welcome in the Shepherd’s Inn.
At the top of the stairs, Lucifer spotted a trailing piece of clothing poking out from under one of the doors—which Heather noted, with a slowed-down sense of impending doom, looked uncannily like his red squeaky toy at home—and with a soft wuff of excitement, he pounced. Heather managed to pull back on the lead just before he collided happily with the door, but that was clearly the cue for the others to give up their sedate obedience and assert their natural right to leadership, as the majestic cousin of an apex predator.
Bear slipped her collar and bounded gleefully down the landing, and Teddy decided life was far improved when everyone was at the same height—namely, his. He jumped straight up onto Sinéad, pulling Heather and Lucifer along with him, and sent the lot of them tumbling to the ground. With a crash to rival their ungainly thief, they hit the carpet and wound up tangled in three sets of leads.
For a moment, time seemed to stop. Heather looked over at Sinéad, whose expensive coat had fallen off her shoulders to reveal the satin pyjamas underneath while her sleek black hair had caught and tangled together with Heather’s wild curls. She couldn’t help it; she laughed.
Sinéad’s eyes widened. “No!” she hissed. “No, no, no! Stop! Stop laughing!”
She struggled to her feet, tripped over Teddy, and fell back again. A light flicked on behind one of the closed doors at the end of the corridor, followed by the shuffling of slippered feet.
Sinéad swore under her breath, and together, the two of them scrambled up, propped against each other, and ran down the rest of the hall. Teddy, Bear, and Lucifer bounded after them, tongues lolling at the fun new game, and they managed to make it into Sinéad’s room just as a door creaked open in the hall.
They fell back against the closed door and listened, but after a moment or two, the person retreated, and the light in the hallway disappeared.
Sinéad’s eyes slid to Heather’s, and now that the horror and urgency of the situation was fading, they were shining with amusement. Heather leaned against the wall, still listening out for sound in the corridor, and waited for her heart rate to return to normal. Sinéad made a small noise behind her, and for a moment, it sounded like she was crying.
Then, Heather realised Sinéad was shaking with laughter, her hand covering her mouth to stifle the giggles while her eyes brimmed with tears. It was all Heather needed. She pushed away from the wall, ducked over to the sofa on the far side of the room, and buried her face in the cushion
s while she howled with laughter.
When the mood had finally subsided and she thought she could speak normally again, she looked up to find Sinéad sitting in the little armchair by the fire, her legs tucked neatly beneath her and her chin propped on her hands. She still had a lingering smile on her face, and it made her seem younger, closer to her actual age instead of the ageless businesswoman she always presented as. Heather’s stomach jolted, her attention caught by the way the lamplight made Sinéad’s hair shine and the small shadows it cast across her cheeks. She looked softer, more approachable.
“I almost felt like I was back in boarding school,” Sinéad said, looking down at the three dogs curled innocently on the rug. “It was just like sneaking back in after curfew. I’d forgotten that.”
“You went to boarding school?” Heather asked, tucking her own legs under herself and unconsciously mirroring Sinéad’s posture. “Didn’t you miss your parents?”
Sinéad shook her head. “I’ve lived in foster homes for as long as I can remember.”
The words were blunt, matter-of-fact. It made Heather wonder what emotion they might be concealing.
“You’re close to your parents, then?” Sinéad asked, tilting her head.
“I was,” Heather said, hearing the note of bitterness that had crept into her tone, even though she couldn’t really feel it. Most days, it was like a glass wall was propped up between her and her memories, blocking off the emotion. It was easier that way. “They died several years ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sinéad said, and although her tone was sincere, Heather could hear in it how unfathomable the concept was, just how much she couldn’t—and would never—understand that grief.
“It’s all right,” Heather said. “I’m getting used to it.”
The invisible glass wall grew another layer, and the unpleasant, creeping feeling was pushed back once more. She yawned, the weight of the events of the evening hitting her. Sinéad shook her head, like she was waking up from a dream, and rose elegantly to her feet.
“Do you think you’ll get to sleep all right?” Sinéad asked. “Or are you still too wound up? I have a little painting I carry with me for when there’s too much going on in my mind.” She crossed the room and picked up a tiny picture frame from the side of the bed.
“I have a potion,” Heather began, before trailing off as Sinéad brought the frame over to her.
It was a painting of the ocean, full of such rich colour that it looked almost as if she could reach out and touch the water. Instantly, her racing thoughts faded away, and she could almost hear the sound of the water lulling against the shore.
“Hang on,” she said, and her voice sounded sleepy even to her own ears.
She reached into her bag and found the little glass vial tucked in the side pocket. She dipped her finger into the liquid and then ran it along the edge of the frame while Sinéad looked on curiously.
“What does that—” Sinéad broke off, staring at the painting.
Heather bit her lip to hold back a smile as the soothing scent of lavender filled the air, and now they really could hear the waves lapping against the beach.
“That’s wonderful.” Sinéad gaped at the frame. “Just perfect. How did you get it to mimic the painting?”
“I didn’t,” Heather admitted with a laugh. “Though I probably could, if I tried. It was just luck. I have another one that makes thunderstorms, and another for gentle rain and birds. I normally dab them onto my pillow.”
Sinéad stared at her, and in the semi-dark of the room, her quiet awe seemed somehow momentous. “It’s strong magic,” she admitted, her voice soft, “mixing both sound and smell like that. I’m impressed.”
Heather felt her cheeks flush, and she was thankful for the low light. Then, Sinéad propped the frame on the coffee table, and the strange spell between them was broken.
“There are far too many duvets on this bed,” Sinéad insisted, walking back across the room to grab two and carrying them over to the sofa. “Plenty to share. Are you sure I can’t make you take the bed?”
“Not a chance,” Heather said, accepting the duvets and arranging them around herself. “I’m perfectly comfortable here.”
“If you’re sure,” Sinéad said, stifling a yawn and padding back over to the bed. “If you need toothbrushes or anything, there’s a complimentary set by the sink. I brought my own.”
“Stuff toothbrushes,” Heather murmured, unwilling to move, even to change into her pyjamas.
She thought she heard a faint ‘suit yourself’ from the bed, but she was already drifting off.
After a few moments, a slow weight descended on her legs, like a large dog trying and failing to be inconspicuous. She cracked one eye open and saw Bear settling around her feet. A shadow moved by the sofa, and then a larger weight descended around her middle.
She gave an oof of surprise and pushed Teddy off, but he whined and tried to climb on top of Bear instead.
“Oh, come on!” she complained, sitting up and shoving them both off her feet. “Get off!”
Lucifer took the opportunity to jump up and requisition the cushion she had been using as a pillow.
She gave a sigh full of deep resignation.
“They’ve had a rough ordeal,” Sinéad said sleepily. “Poor puppies. They just want to cuddle.”
“There’s no room to cuddle.”
“Give them the sofa and come and share the bed then,” Sinéad suggested. “It’s a king. I couldn’t kick you even if I tried.”
Heather’s stomach filled with that sweet feeling again, a slow flood of something familiar spreading through her chest, and before she could answer, her feet dipped beneath the weight of two Rottweilers insisting the sofa was to be shared. With a stifled shriek of frustration, she grabbed the comforters, pulled them off the sofa, and joined Sinéad in the bed.
When Heather woke, she thought for a moment she was still dreaming. She reached out with one hand, eyes still closed, and felt the warmth of fresh sheets recently vacated, remembering the comforting press of a body beside her own as she’d slept. The morning sun cast light across her eyes, and birds sang somewhere outside the window. She felt safe and snug in a way she hadn’t for a long time, and she didn’t want to move.
Then, she remembered where she was, and her eyes snapped open, her heart beating fast. She was the only one in the bed, but she could hear Sinéad’s voice speaking softly into her phone by the window.
“Yes, I can come down immediately.” There was a pause.
Heather sat up and watched her as she stared out the window, her fingers idly tapping against the sill.
“I don’t understand—” Sinéad made an irritated click with her tongue. “Yes, I know that, but I don’t understand why she can’t just track her own spell? She paused again. “What do you mean she’s getting confused? Is she a sorcerer or not?”
Her eyes met Heather’s, and she gave a reassuring smile, her face transforming from its look of fierce concern into something sweet and soft.
“Okay, fine. I’ll be down immediately.”
She hung up and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Her usual calm composure seemed replaced, for the moment, by an air of exhaustion, and Heather wondered, for the first time, just how much of a toll this case was taking on her.
“I’m needed down at the station,” Sinéad said, brushing away an imaginary speck of dust from her navy-blue pencil skirt. “They’ve tracked the compulsion spell back to a little shop outside of town. Looks like they’re trying to confirm what command the charm was given.” She rolled her eyes. “The shopkeeper is already at the station, ready to identify her spell and track what it was used for, but since it was stitched onto my spell, they need me to come down and help them isolate it so there’s no confusion. I swear, these commercial sorcerers are so shoddy.”
Heather frowned. “They still hadn’t realised that it was linked to the poison, not the stabbing?”
“I told you they were
useless. We’re at least three steps ahead of them.”
Heather pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. Her jumper was rumpled around her midriff, and when she ran her fingers across her face she could feel creases from the pillow on her cheek. Sinéad averted her eyes while Heather straightened her clothing up.
“At least there’s nothing to worry about. I thought you were being taken in for questioning again.”
“Yes, well,” Sinéad muttered, trailing off. “Fortunately, everything is fine.”
She didn’t need to add ‘for now’; Heather heard it all the same.
“Well,” Sinéad said, forcibly brightening. “Let’s sneak these puppies downstairs. Are you ready?”
Heather nodded and grabbed her things, and when everyone furry was suitably restrained, they made their way out the door and into the street. Carollers sang in the distance, their voices carrying sweetly on the breeze.
Despite everything, when Heather looked over at Sinéad, the crisp wind whipping their hair around their faces and the three dogs bounding around their feet, she felt content for the first time in years.
Chapter Six
As they entered the station, an irritated voice came from the other side of the foyer. It was an older voice, with the faintest hint of a quaver, but the tone was strong and insistent, and it was clear they had been arguing for some time.
“Do you honestly mean to tell me that, for three days, you have failed to make any decent headway or notable arrests?”
They hovered in the doorway, taking in the sight of the elderly woman leaning against the counter. She wore a scarf decorated with what Heather could only assume was every colour available to the human eye and tapped her bright red fingernails against the desk.
“He was stabbed in a crowded party, for Heaven’s sake,” the woman continued, glaring at Chief Cooper.
“Madam, if we could just take this into a private room, we can arrange some tea and discuss the matters quietly before—”
The woman scoffed. “I don’t want tea. There’s no time for tea. A man is dead, Inspector. My nephew is dead.”