Lucky Witches Page 10

  ‘What …? Why …?’ I couldn’t form the words. ‘We have to do something.’

  Greg blinked. ‘The best thing we can do is find Darrell Plimpton and try to end this. Ash … this was our world just a few months before you moved to Riddler’s Edge. The Plimpton coven ran the government, and the Peacemakers … well, they had free rein to beat up anyone they liked. That guy on the ground right now? He’s probably a wizard or a weredog, or maybe a dayturner. Unless you were one of the elite – witches, vampires and werewolves – then the legal system was not your friend. And those goons we’re looking at right now? I might not be able to see their faces, but common sense tells me they have to be the worst of the former force.’

  Pru nodded. ‘Greg’s right, unfortunately. When the Wayfarers took over they kept on the best of the Peacemakers, folding them into the new force. They fired or arrested the worst offenders, and there were a few who left of their own accord. Anyone who’s come back in the short time since this magical recount was done … they’re not the kind of people I’d like to be in a room with.’

  ‘Maybe you could compel them to leave that poor guy alone, though,’ I suggested, feeling desperate to help him. If they kept it up much longer, he’d be dead. He was doing his best, to his credit. By now it was clear he was a weredog, because his teeth and fur were coming out to play. But no matter how strong he became, he wasn’t a match for the electro-shocks emitting from the Peacemaker truncheons.

  Jared shook his head. ‘I wish we could, Ash. Believe me. But their uniforms deflect any tricks me or Pru have up our sleeves.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘Okay. So we leave the poor guy to die. I’m totally fine with that.’ Not. ‘But Greg, you’re a wizard. If the Peacemakers hate your kind so much, then will you be okay to come in there with me?’

  Greg looked down at the strawberry he was eating. ‘Sure,’ he said, his voice slightly high-pitched. ‘I mean, it has to be me. For one, I’m well known as the paper’s photographer. And for another thing, I’m going to need to utilise every single scanner and filter I have in my arsenal while we interview this guy. It would take me years to try and teach Jared or Pru to operate my equipment.’

  ‘Hey!’ Pru gave him a light tap on the arm. ‘At least pretend you don’t think I’m a thicko.’

  Greg’s cheeks flushed. ‘You know I don’t think that, you idiot.’ He turned his attention to me. ‘But we’re going to have to come out of cloak-mode before we go in. If we just climb out of an invisible van they’re going to panic. The Peacemakers, well … they were never the brightest wands in the box.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, my voice tight as I stared out the window. ‘I’ll do it in a sec. I just need to calm down first.’

  Jared put a hand to my arm. ‘Wait just a minute,’ he said, unrolling the window. ‘Compelling them isn’t the only thing I can do. I might just be able to help that guy.’

  I was about to ask what he meant when he transformed. He wasn’t a bat, though. Instead he was … well, he was …

  ‘He vaporized,’ said Greg. ‘What’s he up to?’

  I would have liked to answer, but seeing as it’s quite hard to follow the movements of a wispy film of nothing, I kept quiet. But within seconds it was clear what Jared was doing. The two Peacemakers who were throttling the passer-by were suddenly thrown back against the footpath. Before they could regroup, their punching bag disappeared.

  A few seconds later, I felt a whoosh of air, and Jared appeared beside me once again. ‘That took care of that,’ he said, wiping his hands. ‘That guy they were beating up and electro-shocking? Turns out I know him. Well, know of him. His name is Rover. He’s the unofficial leader of the weredogs so … I’d say I’ve made a very influential new friend. He offered me free drinks in his bar for life.’ Jared grinned. ‘I’ve never even got past the bouncer in the Water Bowl before, so I’ll definitely be taking him up on it. Anyway – did I miss anything while I was gone?’

  ‘While you were gone?’ I asked, shaking my head in wonderment. ‘Jared, you were gone like … thirty seconds. Where is that poor guy right now?’

  He leaned a little closer to me. ‘He’s in his bar, no doubt telling his patrons that I’m the hero of the hour. Are you as impressed by my awesomeness as Rover was?’

  I felt an unbidden smile begin to form. I wanted to feel nothing but relief for this Rover guy, but I was slightly in awe of what Jared had done. Telling him that would just increase his ego, though, and he really didn’t need a bigger one. ‘You did okay,’ I said. ‘But let’s get back to making a plan. I think we’re going to have to set the van down somewhere else and walk. Because if we uncloak now they’re just going to tie us to your rescue attempt.’

  Jared let out a theatrical sigh. ‘One day, Aisling. One day I’ll perform an act of heroism so great that you’ll fall madly in lust with me. Of course I’ll probably be living with a supermodel by then.’

  I rolled my eyes, suppressed my laughter, and took off once again.

  16. The Minister for Magical Mayhem

  I’d only taken brief visits to Warren Lane before, and now that I was seeing the enclave in its entirety, I realised that it was much more of a warren than it was a lane. There was a main thoroughfare, but there were also countless little lanes and alleys, all of them very much within the protection of the enclave. It was like an entire city within a city. But exploring it would have to wait for another time.

  I wanted to drive the van this time around, but I was forced to fly instead, because … well, let’s just say that there was a whole lot of mayhem going on. The arguments we’d seen in Riddler’s Edge and Riddler’s Cove had been nothing compared to this. There were burning brooms, smashed windows, and some all-out physical fights.

  George the demon had told me the chaos was intended to erupt in Riddler’s Edge and Riddler’s Cove, but maybe once it started, it was impossible to control.

  One thing that was lacking amongst all the madness was the presence of Peacemakers. Apparently, protecting the Minister was more of a priority than trying to calm the chaos down. Then again, if the Minister was the one behind all of this, he’d hardly be too concerned.

  ‘Everyone seems to think that other people want whatever stupid flashy thing their wish has given them,’ said Pru in disbelief. She pointed to a pair of werewolves across the road. They were halfway between their wolf and human forms. Each one was jealously guarding a Ferrari and growling at the other. ‘Their cars are identical. Why would one of them want the other’s car?’

  ‘Because that’s how the chaos coins work,’ I said with a sigh, somehow managing to guide the Wizardly Wagon out of the way of a flying cannonball. ‘And now someone’s wished for a cannon. Wonderful.’ I parked in front of a closed café called the Hungry Hippy, and Greg and I got out.

  As Greg leant on my arm, he turned back to Pru. ‘Be careful. Go into cloak-mode if it looks like there might be trouble. The van can take pretty much anything anyone throws its way.’

  I gently nudged him. ‘Well then why did I work so hard to swerve out of the way of that cannonball? I’ll just let it hit us next time, shall I?’

  Jared leaned out the window. ‘Phone us if anything goes wrong. And if you’re not back in half an hour, we’re going in.’

  Pru nodded vehemently. ‘And when we do, we’ll have our teeth out.’

  ≈

  I held my press card out. ‘We’re from the Daily Riddler,’ I said. ‘We think our readers would love to hear from the new Minister.’

  One of them pointed at Greg and said something I couldn’t make out.

  ‘Sorry, officer.’ I cupped a hand to my ear. ‘I didn’t quite get that.’

  The Peacemaker pulled up the visor of their helmet. There was a guy of about twenty underneath, with a bushy brown beard. ‘Why have you got a wizard with you? The Minister’s not going to want to talk to a wizard. And why is he limping?’

  ‘Greg is my photographer,’ I said. ‘And he’s limping because an ice cream
van ran over his foot.’ Words I never thought I would utter. ‘Look, our paper is the most popular supernatural paper in Ireland, and Greg’s photography is second to none. Trust me – the Minister will want to see us.’

  He scratched his beard and prodded his truncheon at Greg’s very expensive equipment. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But what’s with the camera?’

  Greg clenched his jaw. ‘I have a camera because I’m a photographer. It’s a pretty standard thing for a photographer to have.’

  The Peacemaker squared his shoulders. ‘Are you being sarcastic with me?’ He turned to the officer next to him. ‘Hey, Majella, I think that this wizard just made fun of me.’

  As Majella began to draw nearer, I stood in front of Greg. ‘Listen, I completely get why you’d be wary of letting a wizard in. Frankly, I wasn’t too happy to have to work with one myself. I mean let’s face it – now that we’re in this whole new world that the Minister’s wishes have created, I’d rather just forget that wizards ever had equal rights.’

  I did my best not to wince at my words. Greg wasn’t stupid. He knew I was just saying what I needed to say. ‘But right now, this idiot is the only photographer I’ve got. So if the Minister wants to see his photo plastered all over tomorrow’s edition – which, I think we both know, he does – then me and Greg are a two for one deal.’

  He scratched his beard again, and stepped aside. ‘He’s in one of the VIP bars. Tell the Peacemaker on the door that Boris said it’s okay to go in.’ He gave me a creepy smile. ‘I’m Boris, by the way. I’m sure you’ll want to remember that. Seeing as me and you seem to share some pretty similar kinds of views about wizards.’ He opened his mouth and spat in Greg’s direction.

  I forced myself to smile. ‘Oh, Boris, I don’t think I’m ever going to forget you.’

  ≈

  As the distraction spell cleared, the real Swanks appeared in front of us, and a doorman let us in.

  ‘Were you here all the time?’ I asked him.

  ‘But of course, ma’am. And might I say you did an admirable job with the Peacemakers.’ He twirled his fingers in the air, and a handkerchief appeared. ‘For your shoe, sir,’ he said as he passed the hanky to Greg.

  Greg furiously wiped his shoe. ‘He spat on me. Boris spat on me!’

  The doorman gave us a bright smile. ‘Be thankful that’s all he did, sir. Your vampire friend might not have been able to swoop in so quickly this time.’

  I blinked at the doorman, then looked around the lobby. There was a packed bar on one side and a busy restaurant on the other. Ahead of us there was a gleaming reception desk, and some elevators and a staircase.

  ‘We’re looking for the VIP bar,’ I said. ‘Or one of them, anyway. How many do you have?’

  He gave me the barest shrug. ‘We like to make our guests feel important. Do you know which VIP bar in particular you’re looking for?’

  ‘Whichever one that the new Minister is in,’ I replied. ‘We’re here to interview him for the Daily Riddler.’

  The doorman tipped his hat. ‘An admirable paper. I do love the puzzles. If you’d be so good as to follow me, I’ll take you to the Minister’s crisis meeting.’

  He set off at a fast pace, leading us to a door I hadn’t noticed, due to the fact that it was situated behind a potted plant. Beyond the door there was a marble-floored hallway, lined with yet more doors.

  ‘Crisis meeting?’ I questioned as I struggled to keep up. Greg was holding firmly to my arm, doing his best to limp along with me.

  The doorman glanced back at me. ‘We’re supposed to offer complete discretion at Swanks. But in this case, you’ll hardly be able to overlook the obvious. You should be hearing it round about … now.’ He paused outside a thick wooden door. One lone Peacemaker stood there. We could hear the sounds of shouting, glasses breaking, and then some … crying?

  ‘We were assured by the Materialization company that built Swanks that our VIP bars would have the strongest of soundproof doors,’ said the doorman. ‘Apparently, we were had.’ He looked pointedly at the Peacemaker. ‘Boris said these people were to be admitted without delay.’

  The Peacemaker pushed at the door and stood aside. As we stared into the room, I could see the barman ducking behind the bar, while a bottle of wine was thrown his way.

  ‘Good luck,’ said the doorman, and walked away.

  ≈

  As we edged our way inside (well, Greg limped and I edged) we could see that the barman wasn’t the only person ducking. There were six or seven more people, all hiding behind furniture or using spells to deflect the items that Darrell Plimpton was hurling their way.

  ‘Which one of you smarmy, creepy goatsuckers suggested this in the first place?!’ he bellowed. ‘Come on! I can’t tell one of you from the other. You all look like the same old suit-wearing suck-ups to me. Which one of you was it?!’

  A mousey-haired woman poked her head up from behind a table. ‘Minister Plimpton, it was a committee decision. We all decided, you included.’

  ‘Committee!’ he screeched. ‘Committee! I remember distinctly that I asked if it would be a good idea to go through with my plan, and one of you numbskulls said yes. Who was it? Come out, goatsucker, or I’ll set the Peacemakers on every single political advisor in the room!’

  No one came out, and I couldn’t say I blamed them. But if Greg and I just stood aside and watched, then the only thing we’d be writing about in tomorrow’s paper was the massacre of political advisors that was about to take place in this bar. True enough, the world could probably do with less political advisors, but I wasn’t sure if I’d choose mass murder as the method of their demise.

  ‘We’re here from the Daily Riddler, Minister Plimpton!’ I cried out from the cover of a potted fern. ‘We’d like to interview you about your meteoric rise to power!’

  All of a sudden, the throwing stopped. Heads poked up all over the room.

  ‘As your senior press advisor, I strongly suggest we have a meeting before agreeing to an interview,’ said a red-haired man.

  The Minister pulled at his collar. ‘And as the boss of every supernatural in Ireland, I suggest you wind your neck in, before I wind it off.’ He approached the fern. ‘The Daily Riddler, you say? Is Roarke with you? I love his crosswords. Can never complete the ruddy things, mind you.’

  I stepped cautiously out, and Greg limped behind me. ‘I’m afraid not. Roarke has had an unfortunate accident. A lot of people have, in fact. Ever since the Crossroads opened its doors.’

  The Minister’s eyes bulged. ‘Is Roarke all right? Does this mean there’ll be no Spot the Difference puzzle tomorrow?’

  ‘Roarke is fine,’ said Greg. ‘He was electrocuted, but he’ll be okay. Do you mind if I take your picture? For the paper, obviously.’

  The Minister raked a hand through his hair. ‘Well, I’ll need Glenda to see to me first. Glenda!’

  An attractive woman with curly blonde hair and deep green eyes crawled out from under a chair. I was sure I’d seen her on television before – albeit on the adverts – but her hair had been a different colour at the time.

  ‘This is the Glenda,’ said Darrell Plimpton. ‘Of Glenda’s Glamorous Salon. She couldn’t wait to be my Glamour Artist, could you, Glenda?’

  Glenda glared at him. ‘Actually, I’m only here because you told me you’d have your Peacemaker thugs burn down all of my salons if I didn’t comply.’ She gave us a sarcastic smile. ‘The Minister told me he’d need me to make him look younger, thinner and more attractive. As I’m sure you can see, it’s going to be a full-time job.’

  She pulled out a wand and pointed it at his hair. In under a second, his unruly greasy locks were tamed. He seemed to be getting thinner by the second, too. But handsomer? Maybe even Glenda couldn’t achieve that.

  ‘You look perfect,’ said Greg, beginning to snap his pictures, quickly changing his filters. I could see his scanner blinking away in his pocket. I wasn’t the expert that Greg was, but it looked like it was picking u
p little other than normal magical activity. ‘Maybe you and Ash could start the interview?’

  ‘What do you want to know?’ asked Darrell, taking a seat at a nearby table and crossing his legs. ‘If it’s the current little em … fracas … that’s going on outside, then there’s no need to worry. I mean, it’s true that I’ve only managed to lure two hundred Peacemakers while thousands of Wayfarers languish in jail, but I’m certain that I’ll be able to … convince … more people to work for me. Most of the ones outside the hotel came from Witchfield, though. Former prisoners, so to speak. I’m sure they’ll be quite the eager beavers when it comes to convincing more to join their ranks.’

  I glanced at Greg, and saw that he looked just as puzzled as me. A man with a genie shouldn’t be having trouble hiring minions.

  ‘And the thousands of witches who have said they’ll kill me if I don’t let the old Minister out of prison this instant, well …’ He pulled at his collar. ‘That’s just a hiccup. They’ll soon see that I’m a much better man for the job. I mean, a lot of people must have voted for me back in February, mustn’t they? The recount proved that.’

  I chewed on the end of my pen. ‘So … you believe that the recount was real? You don’t think it was because of anything that you wished?’

  His face flushed, and his eyes began to water. At the back of his throat there was a high-pitched noise that held all the crazy. ‘Wine!’ he cried out. ‘I want another bottle of wine!’

  As the barman hurried over, the Minister turned back to me. He seemed far calmer than he had just moments before, but I had the feeling that his moods – and his sanity – were balanced on a very thin blade. ‘Would you like some, Miss Smith? It is Miss Smith, isn’t it? I’ve read quite a few of your articles. You’re a little bit on the soft side for my tastes, I must say. I mean, who cares whether the dayturner virus is getting the funding it needs? They’re dayturners. They’re lucky we let them live at all. Kill them all, that’s what I say. No more funding problems then, eh?’