Old-School Witch Read online

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  Before we left the school, my father performed a spell so that, even if any human members of the town entered the building, their eyes would gloss over anything remotely magical.

  I watched him in awe, peering into the shape of his magic, listening to the humming noise he made while he worked – it was far more tuneful than the crow-like squawks that came out of me when I was performing powerful magic.

  It didn’t take long, and as we were flying back over the walls of the school, Dylan took a phone call. I could see his face grow paler and paler as he listened to the person on the other end.

  When he hung up, he turned to me with a grave expression on his face. ‘That was Bert,’ he said. ‘I asked him to check into the flight that Norma’s sister was on. And we have two pieces of bad news. The first is that the flight was delayed – so Norma never would have made it back here at the time she said she did. And the second kind of makes the first part pointless. Ash … Norma’s sister wasn’t on that plane. She wasn’t on any plane from America to Ireland. In fact, she hasn’t been back here since she left the country in nineteen sixty-seven.’

  ‘Criminy.’ I sat back, folding my arms. ‘Nineteen sixty-seven, the same year as the class photo. That can’t be just a coincidence, can it? I guess we have to go speak to her again, then. Fuzz is not going to like the fact that we’re hassling his future mother-in-law.’

  Dylan laughed grimly. ‘Well, you can tell him sorry from me. But yeah, I am going to have to go speak to Norma again – and I’m going to have to do it without you. For one thing, this is a garda matter. For another, you have a cake tasting tonight.’

  7. The Tuna-Thieving Casanova

  Fuzz joined me as I hovered by the Vander Inn’s back door.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ he said.

  I picked him up and cuddled him. I was hungry, too, but knowing that there was a table filled with cake waiting for me to devour did not make opening the door any easier. Because while there might be cake, there might also be Ron.

  Ever since Pru joined Jared in London, I’d been avoiding the Vander Inn. I still considered it my home, and I’d kept up with the rent on my lovely top-floor room. But no amount of lovely rooms – and indeed, no amount of cake – could make up for the fact that I did not want to run into Ron Montague.

  Nollaig and her husband-to-be had been on again, off again, for centuries. The last time they’d actually been married was a couple of hundred years ago, but there had been many moments between then and now where they’d almost made it down the aisle.

  If there was an aisle. This would be my first vampire wedding, and I wished I were looking forward to it. But if Nollaig’s children were wary of the marriage, then I could hardly take that lightly. Pru loved her parents, as did Jared. And yet here we were, a few days away from the wedding, and they still hadn’t returned.

  I was even more eager than Greg for Pru’s return. Her parents fought (slightly) less when she was around. It had to be said though – when it came to Nollaig and Ron, the making up was even more off-putting than the fighting.

  As Fuzz’s stomach rumbled, I muttered, ‘All right, all right,’ and pushed open the door.

  The kitchen was just as I expected. There was a table piled high with cake samples. I could see a whole lot of cake that I really wanted to devour, but there were one or two slices that made my appetite wane. As I eyed one very red and oozing slice, I wondered: would it be really bad if I suddenly came down with a cake allergy?

  ‘Hi.’ I gave Nollaig a little wave and set Fuzz down onto the floor. ‘That’s em … that’s a bit more cake than I was expecting.’

  ‘I knew you’d come.’ She grinned at me. ‘And don’t worry – I’m saving the fruit and chocolate cakes for you to taste.’ She held up a slice of the cake I’d been wondering about. ‘There are one or two samples for the vampire guests, though. I figured Ron would be better to help me with that. He should be here in a second or two. Unless …’

  Unless what? Unless I told her that I preferred to keep a very wide distance between me and her creepy husband? Seeing as I could hear his footsteps approaching, I was willing to guess that she didn’t mean what I hoped.

  ‘Ah, that sounds like him now,’ she went on. ‘He’ll only be here a minute, though. Just to taste the blood cakes. Then he’ll be out from under your feet.’

  I cringed a little bit – clearly I’d not done a very good job when it came to hiding my dislike of her husband-to-be.

  ‘Oh, Ash!’ Ron appeared in the doorway that led from the hall into the kitchen. ‘You’re looking very well. I can see that our dashing detective’s been putting some colour in your cheeks.’

  My mouth hung open and I glanced at Nollaig. Normally I’d have no problem putting someone like Ron in his place – and his place, as far as I was concerned, was firmly beneath the heel of my boot. But I could hardly squash him to a figurative pulp in front of Nollaig, could I? She had eyes and ears, so she already knew he was a creep. Surely she didn’t need me to state the obvious.

  ‘I told you, Ron,’ said Nollaig, with a warning note in her voice. ‘If you carry on flirting with every woman you see, there’s not going to be a wedding.’

  He gave her a dismissive wave. ‘Oh, I wasn’t flirting, was I Ash?’

  ‘I …’ I said, then quickly followed it up with an ‘um …’

  Fuzz jumped back up into my arms. What a wonderful little ball of fluff he was. He knew exactly when I needed him. ‘I’ve got to go and feed the cat,’ I said, rushing to the cupboard.

  ‘I got him some tinned salmon,’ said Ron.

  Nollaig gave her soon-to-be husband a perplexed stare. ‘Why would you do that? He hates tinned salmon.’

  She was right about that. Fuzz much preferred tuna, which was why I left a cupboard of the stuff here, and at Dylan’s, and at the Fisherman’s Friend. ‘Thanks for that, Ron,’ I said. ‘But Nollaig is right. There’s plenty of tuna here. I always keep it well stocked.’

  As I opened the cupboard, though, I found it filled with about twenty tins of salmon, and not a single tin of tuna. ‘What the …?’ I knew that the Vander Inn’s kitchen didn’t belong to me, but this particular cupboard had always been set aside for Fuzz’s food. Everyone was aware of that, even Ron.

  Ron cleared his throat. ‘I might have eaten all the tuna. You know how hungry I get when I have to survive on animal blood instead of the good stuff. It’s your fault, really, Nollaig. You wouldn’t let me go out and drink from the humans in the town. So I made myself a casserole. And some sandwiches. And then there was no tuna left in the shop to replace it so … I got the salmon instead. But I was sure you said the cat liked salmon.’

  ‘I never said that,’ Nollaig growled. ‘No one said that. But as usual, you’re blaming your selfishness on everyone but yourself.’ She held up a plate, and judging by the angle of her wrist, it looked like she might be getting ready to throw it Ron’s way.

  Ron clearly thought the same, because he backed away towards the door and said, ‘I’ll just pop out for a drink, I think. Let you sort this out among yourselves.’

  As he slipped out the door, Fuzz jumped to the ground. ‘I can smell a chicken roasting,’ he said. ‘I’d be happy to have some of that instead.’

  Nollaig patted his head, sniffling back tears. ‘You’re such a lovely little cat. I used to have a cat when I was human, did you know that? Before Ron turned me.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ I said awkwardly. ‘Do you em … do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘No!’ she cried. ‘It’ll just depress you. It depresses me. All these centuries I’ve lived without a cat, because cats hate vampires.’

  ‘Well, Fuzz likes you,’ I assured her. ‘It’s different for magical animals. He’s not like an average cat. You like Nollaig, don’t you Fuzz?’

  Salivating, he looked at the oven and said, ‘I’ll like her more when she slices me some of that chicken.’ Seeing my warning expression, he hopped up onto her la
p and purred.

  ‘Oh, Fuzz.’ She bent down and cuddled him closer. Her dark hair was the same shade as his fur. I was struck, as I often was, by how alike she and Pru were in looks. In matters of personality, though, they couldn’t have been more different. Pru would never have put up with a guy like her dad. Then again, maybe seeing her mother’s misery had been a good lesson.

  There were far better men out there, but for some unfathomable reason, Ron was the one Nollaig loved. I didn’t like it, but I liked her. So instead of giving her a lecture and telling her to dump his overly flirtatious, tuna-thieving behind, I kissed her forehead and said, ‘You just sit there, and I’ll get you a glass of wine while I finish off the dinner. And once we’ve stuffed our faces with your lovely roast chicken, we can stuff them all over again with cake.’

  As I placed her wine in front of her, she took my hand. ‘I know you don’t like him,’ she said. ‘And I can see why. He’s always thought of himself as a bit of a Casanova, even though they were nothing alike. Trust me – I knew Casanova. But Ron … he is a womaniser, and I’m not sure he’ll ever change. But you will hang around until the wedding, won’t you?’

  I fixed a smile on my face. ‘Of course I will. I promised you, didn’t I? And I always keep a promise.’

  ≈

  Later that night, as I lay in bed with a pillow over my head (Ron had returned, and they were arguing once again) Fuzz looked at me with his yellow-green eyes and said, ‘Some promises were meant to be broken. Nollaig knows that, surely – seeing as Ron broke their marriage vows a hundred times over. She doesn’t really expect you to listen to them arguing right up until the wedding day, does she?’

  I sighed and snuggled him close. ‘We’re staying,’ I said, kissing his little head. ‘There’s a dress fitting tomorrow evening. I have to be here.’

  Fuzz let out a long, exaggerated sigh. ‘All right. And you know, if Ron turns up and tries it on with the dressmaker, at least you’ll have plenty of material on hand to strangle him with.’

  8 An Absolute Hoot

  By the time the next morning arrived, I had come to learn something – sometimes, the sounds of making up are even worse than the sounds of arguing. With a sore head and bleary eyes, I met Dylan and Greg outside the church hall.

  ‘You look exhausted, Miss Smith,’ said Dylan with a wink. ‘Couldn’t sleep without me?’

  ‘You wish, Detective Quinn. I would have slept perfectly fine, if it wasn’t for Nollaig and Ron and their antics. Fuzz, on the other hand, most definitely misses you.’

  ‘Well, you just tell that cat that he and his witch are welcome back any time they can’t hack it at the Vander Inn.’

  Greg gave us both warning stares. ‘Keep the talk human, will you? The members of the Historical Society will be here any second.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Dylan cracked an irritating grin. ‘Miss Smith and I should keep the talk human. I had a very human meal last night, as a matter of fact. I began with some nice minestrone soup, followed it up with a juicy steak, and then wrapped it all off with a serving of Mississippi mud pie.’

  I scowled at him. ‘If you actually did cook all of my favourite foods last night just so you could taunt me about what I was missing out on, then that’s pretty low. Even for you, Detective Quinn.’

  ‘Is it?’ He gave me an innocent shrug. ‘It wasn’t meant that way. I’ll be cooking again this evening, if you’re interested.’

  I could feel my scowl becoming a smirk. We’d been getting on far too well lately. All of this sniping back and forth was making me feel rather energised. ‘Well, you know, the thing is that you might make my favourite things, but even when Nollaig makes a meal I’d normally hate, it tastes like heaven. What can I say? Some people are natural cooks and some people … aren’t.’

  I was very much enjoying my boyfriend’s reaction, right up until Greg loudly cleared his throat and said, ‘I really didn’t think it would only take one night for you to go feral on one another again. But these are the things I have to deal with, I guess. Either way, can the two of you cool your crazy jets for a second and listen to me? Because there’s news, Ash. First off, I’ve identified more of the people in the school photo.’

  My eyes went all a-goggle, and thoughts of energising arguments left my mind.

  Greg pulled out a copy of the picture and pointed to two of the children. ‘This one here.’ He indicated a short, chubby boy. ‘This is Roger Balfe. These days he goes by the name Konstantin de Balfe.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ I wondered.

  A dark look crossed Dylan’s face. ‘I’ve met the man, so I can tell you exactly why he’d do that. It’s because he’s a snobbish creep who thinks it makes him sound like an older vampire than he actually is. He and the other vampires at the school were all born vampires, from fairly open-minded and humble vampire families. In the last few decades, Roger – or Konstantin – has proved anything but humble. He’s rolling in money, and I once heard a rumour that he voiced his support for Vlad’s Boys. And as for the girl standing beside him – R. Roche – well, it turns out that you know her.’

  I looked down at the mousey-haired girl standing to Roger Balfe’s left. ‘You sure?’

  There was a pained expression on Greg’s face as he said, ‘We’re sure. We all met her very recently, Ash. When she worked at the Daily Riddler.’

  ‘No. You’re not saying …’

  ‘I am saying,’ said Greg. ‘Rita Roche is one of the students from Riddler’s Edge School for the Gifted. She’s changed her hair, her nose, her … well, her everything. So it’s no wonder we didn’t recognise her. She usually calls herself Viviana these days. And she’s married to Konstantin or Roger or whatever you want to call him, so she definitely didn’t need to be working at the paper.’

  ‘Hmm.’ I tapped my chin, thinking. ‘So maybe her story about having a crush on Roarke was a ruse. She could have been spying on us. I mean, I know I’m doing a bit of conclusion-jumping but … it does seem a bit odd, doesn’t it?’

  ‘More than a bit,’ Dylan agreed, as Greg stuffed the photo back into his bag. ‘There’s one more student left to track down. Jack Burns, the tall guy on Roger’s other side. There’s no death record for him, just like Roger Balfe and your ex-receptionist. Jack was also born a vampire, rather than turned. I spoke to his mother last night. It took her a while to remember that her son had once been at Riddler’s Edge School for the Gifted, so the memory spell or whatever it is seems to be holding strong. She said Jack doesn’t stay in touch with the family – they were always a bit too low-brow for him, apparently. He shared his friend Roger’s views in many regards – he was never happy to have to go to school alongside inferior supernaturals, according to his mother.’

  A chill swept over me. Inferior supernaturals? Even if Dylan hadn’t just told me about Roger Balfe’s fondness for Vlad’s Boys, I’d be seriously concerned about all three people Greg had identified in the photo. If the school had gone up in flames, and they were the only survivors, could they have been the ones to start the fire?

  ‘I’ll be questioning Viviana and Konstantin as soon as I can, to see what they recall about the fire at the school,’ Dylan went on. ‘Maybe Ben Goodfellow figured out they were behind it? That’s as good a motive for murder as any, isn’t it? And I certainly like it better than my theories about Norma and this invisible sister of hers.’

  ‘Oh?’ I eyed him with interest. ‘What do you mean “invisible”?’

  Dylan let out a weary sigh. ‘I went to question Norma last night, as you know. Her son said she wasn’t there. And neither was this mysterious sister of hers. Finally she turned up at the station this morning. The sister was still nowhere to be found, and Norma had absolutely no excuse as to why she lied about where she was when Ben was killed. She said she was innocent, and that I’d just have to believe her, no matter what the flight records said.’

  ‘So have you arrested her?’

  He looked with interest at the coffee in hi
s hands. Coffee that smelled delicious, and had clearly been purchased at Norman’s Shop. ‘I told her that she’s a person of interest, and that she can’t leave the town.’

  ‘Mm hm.’ I grabbed his coffee and took a long drink. ‘And, just as a matter of interest, when are your coffee beans being delivered to the shop? The ones you can’t live without. The ones you put in that unfathomable machine of yours.’

  He met my eyes. ‘Fine. I want my coffee beans. But do you really want me to arrest Norma for Ben’s murder?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted with a sigh, handing him back his drink. ‘I don’t. But if the incredibly suspicious vampires didn’t do it, and Norma did …’

  ‘If she did it, then she’ll be in prison faster than I can say Espresso.’

  ‘Well, if she does wind up in jail, she’ll probably start a knitting club while she’s there,’ said Greg. His eyes widened, and he almost choked on the muffin he was eating, as Norma cleared her throat and tapped his shoulder.

  None of us had seen her arrive, given that we’d huddled inside the door of the hall to get out of the drizzle. I hoped that Greg’s last words were all she’d heard.

  ‘Good morning, Gregory,’ she said, handing him a jumper. It was yellow, with a picture of the Wizardly Wagon knitted in just the right shade of purple. ‘I would start a knitting club in prison, you’re absolutely right – and it’d be the best rehabilitation those criminals ever had, believe you me. But hopefully it won’t come to that, Gregory. You and Miss Smith will sort this whole mess soon. I know you will. Before Detective Quinn manages to bumble it some more.’

  I suppressed a laugh. Dylan must really want his coffee if he was letting her get away with that. Norma smiled at me and pulled my sweater and cardigan from her basket. Both were actually quite nice. The sweater was black with some subtle tulips here and there, and the cardigan was much the same. ‘Thank you, Norma,’ I told her. ‘This’ll keep me warm, that’s for sure.’