Old-School Witch Page 11

  ‘“Stoker House”?’ I read. ‘Seriously?’

  Dylan just gave me another grunt, and turned down into the long driveway. I peered out the windscreen at the mansion we were heading towards. It was the biggest of all the mansions on Forest Road. It looked like a castle, replete with battements and turrets – which was odd, seeing as I knew it had been built within the last decade. There were guards either side of the gates and the doorway, wearing armour and carrying lances.

  They waved us right through, and a butler with a stoop answered the creaking wooden door. He was incredibly tall, pale and skinny, with a bald head and pink-rimmed eyes.

  ‘Sir will see you now in the library,’ he said, indicating a large room to the right of the hallway.

  ‘Sir?’ I questioned.

  ‘Konstantin bought himself a Knighthood,’ Dylan whispered. ‘It came from the Knights of Darkness, mind you, not those chivalrous fellows who rescue fair maidens and hold meetings at round tables. The Knights of Darkness are … well, you’ll see what they’re like when you meet him.’

  When we entered the library, the curtains were closed. There was some light, lent by a small fire in the grate, and a couple of candles in sconces. A man was standing by the fire. He was short and round, with a head of extremely black hair. When he turned to face us, I almost screamed.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, opening his mouth to reveal his fangs. ‘I am very sorry to have frightened you Miss Smith. Real vampires tend to have that effect.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Yes, that must have been it,’ I said. Because it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was wearing a cloak, had a terrible dye-job, and looked like he was about to try out for the part of the Count on Sesame Street. All he needed was a chin beard and a monocle.

  ‘The only refreshment I have on offer is blood,’ he continued, in what sounded like an affected Transylvanian accent. He lifted up a goblet from the mantelpiece. ‘Do you still partake, Detective Quinn?’

  Dylan shook his head. ‘I took the cure.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I have heard of this cure. Why anyone with gifts such as ours would want to let them go so easily is beyond me. But …you were a dayturner, I believe. So perhaps your actions are forgivable.’

  Dylan let out a low growl. ‘I don’t need anyone’s forgiveness or permission. We’ve come to ask you some questions, Roger.’

  ‘Konstantin,’ he corrected.

  ‘Oh, excuse me,’ Dylan said in a not-at-all apologetic tone. ‘I forgot that you’re one of those who like to play at being a far older vampire than you are. Your wife has had a name-change too, hasn’t she? Where is Rita? I was hoping to speak to both of you.’

  He flicked an imaginary piece of fluff from the collar of his cloak. ‘My wife prefers to be called Viviana. And she sends her apologies, but she had a hair appointment that simply could not wait.’

  ‘A hair appointment?’ Dylan sounded incredulous. ‘Beautifying herself was more important than a helping us solve a double murder?’

  For the first time, the vampire looked wrong-footed. ‘Double murder? But … I thought that …’

  ‘You thought what?’ pressed Dylan.

  The vampire cleared his throat. ‘I hadn’t heard about a second death, that is all. In any case, I fail to see how either I or Viviana can be of assistance.’

  Dylan gave him a cold smile. ‘Konstantin, you had a stall at the car boot sale in Riddler’s Edge recently, is that correct?’

  He shrugged. ‘I believe I had a bit of a clear-out, yes. I didn’t need the money, you understand. I am rolling in money. I have so much cash that I could use it as toilet paper.’

  ‘What a lovely image,’ I said, pulling the yearbook photo from my purse. ‘Who do you recognise in the picture? Is this you, Konstantin?’

  He looked briefly at the picture and then said, ‘Yes, yes I believe it is. Of course, I wouldn’t stoop to posing in the daytime now. But back then, I lived as many born vampires did – at the whim of parents who had forgotten the old ways. The real ways. To send me to that school.’ He shuddered. ‘A school so beneath our kind? The thought of that place still haunts me to this day. Did you know we had to learn alongside weredogs and wizards and unempowered witches?’ He looked at Dylan. ‘There were even dayturners in our class, Dracula forbid.’

  ‘Sounds like a nice, inclusive school,’ I said. ‘And it’s good to meet someone who remembers so much about it.’

  He looked at the fire. ‘I don’t. I remember that I hated it, and nothing more. Even now, I only recognise my own face, and that of my lovely wife, because I am so very used to them. Everyone else in that picture might as well be a stranger to me. Hate is a strong emotion, Miss Smith. Far stronger than love or other such nonsense. In fact, when my butler showed me the useless box of tat he’d found in the attic during the clear-out, it took me quite a few moments before I could recall the school at all. The memory of the hatred came before the memory of the place itself, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘Hm. And do you remember hating it enough to burn it down?’ asked Dylan.

  He took a long, noisy slurp from his goblet. ‘I don’t think I would have done a thing like that.’ He moved towards me and pointed to the picture. ‘That child before you was a paler version of the superior vampire I have become.’

  I raised a brow. ‘Funny, you look a lot paler now.’ To be fair, that was probably down to the face powder.

  He stepped away from me and, with a sneer, he said, ‘You know what I mean, Miss Smith. That child was weak. Frightened of his own shadow. If I thought he could have set the school aflame, believe me, I would have been proud. But no. Alas, I wouldn’t have been up to the job back then.’

  Dylan walked to the bookshelf, picking up books and setting them down. I could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t too enamoured with what he found. ‘So … do you remember much about what was in this box of – as you called it – useless tat?’

  The vampire shook his head. ‘Of course not. You didn’t think I manned the stall, did you? I sent my minion to do it for me.’ He walked to the open door. ‘Radu!’ he cried. ‘Radu, come here at once!’

  We heard the butler’s steps, soon followed by his voice saying, ‘Your chicken curry and cola is on the way, sir. I can tell Chef to hurry it up.’ As he entered the room, his eyes widened. ‘Oh. I thought you had left, Detective Quinn, Miss Smith. I think you might have misunderstood me, just now. I was … I was just saying that our chef is having chicken curry. Sir will be having his usual blood supper, naturally.’

  Konstantin’s fangs elongated. ‘Radu, can you tell these people about that car boot sale you went to. You remember – you sold a box of old tat to some historical buff. You told me he was a bit of a busybody. Hah! He’s a dead busybody now, isn’t he?’

  Dylan gave him a look that would have normally stopped traffic. But Konstantin was not a normal man. He just laughed away quietly to himself, while I turned to Radu and asked, ‘We’d like to know exactly what you sold him. Can you remember what was in the box, Radu? Other than the yearbook.’

  The butler tapped his pointed chin. ‘Hmm. Well, there were some stuffed animals – fine specimens, if I do say so myself. Some false teeth. The yearbook, of course.’

  Dylan and I exchanged a glance. He hadn’t mentioned a ring, which fell in line with Norma’s story. ‘Nothing else?’ I asked.

  ‘No, no, not that I can think of.’

  ‘And was there any reason why you included a yearbook?’ I went on. ‘A slightly burned yearbook, come to that?’

  The butler shrugged. ‘I knew it’d sell. I pick up antiques now and then for my master, so I know the sort of chaps who frequent car boot sales and secondhand stores. They like unusual things – and a yearbook from an abandoned school is an interesting snapshot of local history, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you remember about the school, Radu?’ Dylan questioned.

  He looked at Konstantin, who stood away from the fireplace, puffing up his
chest. ‘Radu knows nothing about it. Nothing at all. He came to me from abroad, didn’t you Radu?’

  The butler bowed. ‘As my master says, I know nothing about the school.’

  ‘From abroad?’ I asked. ‘Where abroad, exactly?’

  Konstantin waddled across the room and put a protective hand on his butler’s arm. ‘Unless we’re under arrest, we have no more to say. Are we under arrest, Detective Quinn?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Dylan with a snarl. ‘Thank you both for your time. Oh, and enjoy your chicken curry, Roger.’

  As we left the library, he shouted after us, ‘It’s Konstantin. Konstantin!’

  16. A Thorny Situation

  Greg’s results confirmed it: there was telekinetic activity all over Mark Moon’s tractor. Whoever repaired his slashed tyres and refuelled his tank had been a vampire – but it wasn’t Konstantin de Balfe.

  ‘How can you be sure?’ I asked. We were at the lighthouse, and Greg had his laptop open on Dylan’s kitchen counter while the three of us enjoyed a cup of coffee. ‘I mean, we didn’t take any photos of him today.’

  ‘But we’ve snapped him plenty of times in the past,’ Dylan explained. ‘With his open support for Vlad’s Boys, he’s been on our watch list for a long time. We have his aura on file.’

  Greg bit into a chocolate biscuit and, with a full mouth, he said, ‘But we already know he doesn’t like to do his own dirty work. He got his butler to go to the car boot sale with all his old rubbish. Maybe he got him to slash Mark’s tyres, too.’

  Dylan gritted his teeth, drained his coffee, and stood up. ‘That’s a strong possibility, and I fully intend to take a photo of Radu’s aura tomorrow. In the meantime, I want them to sweat. People do silly things when they’re panicking. Try and get rid of evidence and so on. Which is why I’ve asked the Wayfarers to set a watch on Stoker House tonight.’ He looked at me. ‘I happen to know that Pru is helping her mother arrange the flowers for the wedding, which means you’re free, Miss Smith. So how about you, me, and Greg go out for dinner? We could go to the Fruit of the Vein. See how Malachy is doing.’

  ‘It’s probably best that I avoid Malachy just now,’ I said. ‘I’ll only beg him to come back to work.’

  ‘I already have begged him,’ said Greg. ‘Well, I said it jokily, because I’m happy at how well his restaurant is doing, but I really miss him.’

  ‘We could head to the Fisherman’s Friend, though?’ I suggested. ‘I think there’s beef Wellington on the menu tonight.’

  Greg let out a squawk of laughter. ‘Pru just told me that Jared is taking Miss Eager there tonight for dinner,’ he said. ‘And he spent all day at the school with her, too.’

  Inwardly, I groaned. ‘Actually … maybe the three of us could meet up in a little while. I have something I have to do first.’ Something like telling Jared that the girl he was dating might just like his dad a whole lot more.

  ≈

  When I got to the Vander Inn, Pru was in the living room with her parents, gritting her teeth while they argued over what flowers would look best.

  ‘There are always blood roses at traditional ceremonies,’ Ron said.

  Nollaig let out an exasperated sigh. ‘But I don’t like blood roses. Not the way they do them at those weddings, anyway. They leave all the thorns on. I’ve already agreed to the traditional ceremony and the dress. But I do not want these thorny flowers all over the place. It’s just …’

  ‘A celebration of our kind?’ Ron said. ‘Because that’s what it is for me.’

  ‘We are not celebrating our kind, Ron. We are celebrating our love.’ While Nollaig threw a bunch of roses to the floor, Pru ran towards me.

  ‘Looks like fun,’ I said.

  ‘Oh really? Because you’re welcome to take over from me.’

  I looked down at the carpet. ‘Seems like more of a daughterly duty to me – preferably a daughter who doesn’t bleed easily, because those roses really do look very thorny. Anyway, speaking of thorny situations, I’m looking for Jared. Is he around?’

  ‘You just missed him. He went to pick up Miss Eager for dinner.’

  ‘Criminy!’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Pru.

  I glanced at her father. Both he and Nollaig had finally stopped arguing long enough to notice me. ‘Nothing,’ I lied. ‘You’d better get back to the happy couple.’

  ‘You already told me it was a thorny situation, you eejit, so I know you’re lying.’

  ‘Yeah, I am.’ There was no point in not admitting it – the woman was literally a mind-reader. ‘But it’s kind of sensitive. I’m not even sure if I should mention it to him, to be honest.’

  She glanced back at her parents. Nollaig was stomping all over the flowers, while Ron was trying to calm her down.

  ‘Come on,’ said Pru, grabbing me by the arm and steering me into the kitchen. ‘I could do with a break.’ She moved to the fridge and poured us both some wine. ‘Drink this and spit it out. I mean spit out the truth about Jared, obviously. Don’t spit out the wine. It cost me fifteen quid.’

  I sipped a little of the wine and, in a low voice, explained what I’d seen between Miss Eager and Ron.

  Pru whistled. ‘And Dad turned her down? Wow. When you started the story, I was expecting a much worse ending. But yeah. Yeah, Jared should know. He’s really into Catriona, and if it’s not him she wants, then better he finds out now than later.’ Her gaze drifted over my shoulder, and her eyes rounded. ‘Ash, why is the broom back?’

  Before I could respond to her question, it had flown towards me and whacked me on the rear end. ‘Because my life gets stranger and stranger every day, that’s why.’ I looked at the broom. ‘If I arrange some lessons, will that keep you quiet for a while?’

  I thought that would be the end of that but, for some reason, the broom decided to open up a copy of the Daily Riddler. Yes, you read that right. Somehow, it managed to use its bristles to open the paper and turn the pages until it reached the advertisements at the back:

  Riddler’s Cove Flying Club – World-Renowned Flying Champion, Amelia Albright, is back again to teach beginners’ classes.

  Pru gasped as she read the rest of the advertisement. ‘There’s a lesson on right now, and another in ten minutes. It’s like the broom knew.’

  I stared at the broom. ‘You know, I almost miss the days when my mam was trapped inside you. At least then you were saving my life instead of whacking me on the behind.’ I took hold of it and sighed. ‘Well, come on then. Let’s go see about these lessons. Before you do something even weirder.’

  17. Mine I Tell You, Mine!

  I wasn’t a big fan of Riddler’s Cove Flying Club. Lately they’d been insisting that their doors were open to all supernaturals (because the Minister for Magical Law said she would permanently close their doors otherwise). But even though any kind of supernatural could technically become a member these days, there was the slight problem of their fee. Becoming a full member would cost me three months’ salary.

  For the less wealthy among us, the club offered day passes to those who booked lessons with their ‘world-class instructors’ like Amelia Albright. Even that fee was high, but it was worth it if it got the broom off my backside.

  As I walked towards the club house to pay, a willowy woman with strawberry blonde hair and a distinctly Albright look about her waved me down. Seeing as I’d just seen her photo next to the advertisement in the paper, I knew who she was.

  ‘Aisling!’ she beamed. ‘I’d know you anywhere. You have the Albright look.’

  I returned her smile. ‘I was just thinking the same about you.’

  ‘I’ve been hoping to get chatting to you ever since you moved here, but Adeline and Arthur told me you’re a little …’ She began to chew her lower lip, pausing.

  ‘Standoffish? Unfriendly? Yeah, I get that a lot. I’ve just got that sort of face. And personality.’

  She giggled. ‘Actually, they said you were lovely, but rather reluctant to spend too much time
with the coven. Which is understandable, considering the things your grandfather has done.’

  I didn’t fancy having a conversation about Arnold just now, so instead I held my broom up. ‘I’m here for a lesson.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Is that …?’

  I played with one of the bristles, but soon stopped when the broom hit me again. I knew what she was asking. She would have seen this broom many times over the years. As a member of the Albright coven, she would have been to meetings at Arnold’s house – never knowing that the broom on the wall trapped his daughter inside. ‘It’s a Training Broom 100,’ I said. ‘And yes, it’s Abby’s old broom. It em … it seems to want me to take some lessons.’

  She recovered her smile. ‘Oh, well it would do. Aengus Wayfair is a genius and every single one of his brooms is a testament to that genius. It might seem a little over-enthusiastic, this broom of yours – but trust me, this model will not let you down. I’m just finishing a class right now – another’s due to start in a few minutes.’ She shuddered. ‘It’ll be nice to have someone sober to teach.’

  I followed her eyes towards the training area, and gasped. Rita – or Viviana – was stepping down off a wizard broom and drinking from a bottle. ‘Is that vodka she’s drinking? And why is she in a flying class anyway? She’s a vamp. She can turn into a bat or vaporize any time she wants.’

  Amelia shrugged. ‘I teach a lot of vampires. They enjoy the novelty factor of flying on a wizard broom. But Viviana de Balfe …’ She shuddered again. ‘She just seems to enjoy getting wasted while she’s in the air. Look.’ She pointed. Viviana was leaving the training area and walking (staggering, actually) towards the club house. ‘She’s off to get herself yet another drink. I feel sorry for the bar staff, I really do. Anyway, do you want to get started?’

  I cast a guilty glance towards the broom. It would not be happy if I didn’t get around to taking these lessons soon, but I couldn’t miss the chance to talk to Rita slash Viviana.