So Very Unfae Read online

  ‘Oh.’ She reluctantly passed the pendant Dylan’s way. ‘Well, I suppose that’d be a weight off my mind, anyway.’

  I could see how guilty Dylan felt about taking it back, but I couldn’t see what other choice he had. There was no doubt anymore that Eimear Martin was human. She had no idea what a Pendant of Privilege was, which meant that she had no idea her husband was a witch – an unempowered witch, but a witch nonetheless.

  The thought of being with someone for years, having children with them, a life with them, and yet knowing nothing about who they really were … it was as heartbreaking as it was chilling. But things would get even more chilling if a human had hold of a Pendant of Privilege. With it, she’d be able to see the supernatural world all around her. And if she thought the people who delivered messages to her husband were weird, then she’d find her first werewolf-sighting a whole lot weirder than that.

  And as for his lie about investigating Wholesome Holdings for fraud? Well, we might soon be investigating them for something, we just didn’t know what. This way, if she did happen to find out any more about them, she’d be more likely to pass that information on to Dylan.

  She tried to force back her tears, saying, ‘Tell them I don’t blame them. The people who sold him the mince pie, I mean. It was an easy mistake to make, getting the sesame oil mixed up with the sunflower.’

  I nodded softly. ‘They’ll be glad to hear that. I’m sure they feel just awful about the whole thing.’

  ≈

  When we arrived back at the lighthouse, Dylan was looking troubled – and I suspected it wasn’t only because I’d strewn his entire house with lights, baubles, and little toy snowmen and Santas. We’d stopped off at a department store after we left Mrs Martin’s house. I’d eaten my weight in candy canes, and we’d bought as many decorations as we could carry between us.

  ‘Wholesome Holdings,’ he said thoughtfully, as one of the battery-operated Santas began to dance on his kitchen counter. ‘I wasn’t lying to Mrs Martin, you know. I mean, they’re not being investigated for fraud as far as I know, but the name does sound familiar to me. Sort of like Stanley looked familiar to me.’

  Dylan was a lot of things, but forgetful wasn’t one of them. Now that I was no longer ignoring the possibility that Stanley could have been murdered, I couldn’t help but think there might have been some memory rejigging going on – especially seeing as Stanley had clearly known who Dylan was. Maybe I could talk to Pru about it, see if there was anything her skills could do to jog Dylan’s memory. I’d have to clear it with her first, though. She was an unusually powerful vampire, and she preferred to keep the scale of her power a secret.

  ‘We’ll figure it out,’ I assured him. ‘I mean, we’ll bumble around a lot, and have some interesting arguments and adventures along the way, but we will figure it out.’

  He let out a breath. ‘I’m glad you said that. This feels big, Ash. I can’t explain it, but it just … it feels important. So shall I cook us some dinner, then? And after that, maybe we can look into this Wholesome Holdings mystery a bit more.’

  ‘Well, that sounds ever so romantic,’ I lied. If I had to spend any more time with Dylan this evening, it would be far from romantic. If anything, it would be incredibly frustrating – and going by the food I’d seen in his fridge, it would also be a little too healthy for my current tastes. ‘But I have to go and track down this OAP for the you know what.’

  His eyes widened. ‘That’s right! Do you want me to come with you?’

  I shook my head. ‘The Great Gwendoline’s been arrested about half a dozen times for her shenanigans in the last month alone. You work pretty closely with the Wayfarers, so I doubt she’ll be open to giving me what I need if you’re there.’ I stood on my tiptoes, holding a piece of mistletoe above him, and kissed his cheek. ‘See you tomorrow for some sesame seed sleuthing?’

  ‘You’re on.’

  ‘Oh, and don’t forget – you still have to put those glowing reindeer we bought out in your front garden.’

  I looked back at him just before I clicked my fingers. I expected to see a slightly pained expression, or maybe some brow-beaten misery – those reindeer didn’t really fit in with his minimalist garden, after all – but instead I saw a handsome face, lit up by a gleeful smile. ‘Of course not, Miss Smith,’ he said. ‘Oh, and you know when you were busy telling the department store Santa what you wanted for Christmas?’

  I gave him a wary nod. What had Dylan done? I wouldn’t have noticed anything he was up to at that particular moment – not while I was hanging out with the shop’s Santa. I’d told Santa I wanted the perfect Christmas with my family, some snow to fall, and possibly to meet Rudolph. Santa had told me that it was time to let an actual child have a turn. No, this wasn’t very Aisling-like behaviour, but I was sure I’d return to my sensible self after the holiday.

  ‘Well, I might have bought some inflatable snowmen, while you weren’t looking,’ Dylan continued. ‘But I guess you’ll just have to come back and see them another day.’

  8. The Great Gwendoline

  I walked around the market alone, mystified about the change that had come over Dylan. He was happy. He was looking forward to Christmas as much as I was. It was … well, it was wonderful. Not wonderful enough to let him come with me this evening, but wonderful nonetheless.

  I mentioned the Great Gwendoline had been arrested for a series of shenanigans? Well, she’d put a sticking spell on the entrance to Pru’s tent a few days earlier, making sure that anyone who tried to enter would be stuck at the threshold – probably in the hope that Pru would shut down and send some business her way.

  The spell had been easily reversed, and she’d received a night in jail, a hefty fine, and had been forced to apologise to Pru. She hadn’t learned her lesson, though, because the very next day she’d tried to convince some people that if they handed over their homes and savings to her, she would correctly predict the numbers in the Lady Luck Lottery – she was out on bail and awaiting trial for that one.

  But the truth was, I didn’t only care how she’d react to me bringing Dylan along. The real reason I hadn’t taken him was because I still had some presents to buy for him, and this could be the last chance I got to do so.

  The market in Riddler’s Cove was normally a busy affair, but this evening was even more so. Although, instead of rushing around doing last minute shopping, the witches I spotted all seemed rather relaxed. Most of them were strolling around with mulled wine, hot chocolate and mince pies. As I watched a man bite into a pie, I thought of poor Stanley Martin. What a disappointing way to die.

  I still had no idea what to get for Dylan, so I picked up some cologne and a scarf and – as an afterthought – a jar of instant coffee, just because I knew he couldn’t stand the stuff. Then I grabbed some bits and pieces for anyone else I hadn’t bought for yet. All the while I glanced over to the corner where Pru told me the tent would be. Hers was across from it, with a long line of customers waiting to be told their fortunes. But the Great Gwendoline’s tent had no one waiting outside.

  Finally, at eight, I saw her peep her head out, cast an envious glance towards Pru’s queue, then lower her price and switch her sign to Open. For a moment I stood still, a little dazzled by her tight-fitting silver robes and matching hair colour. Once my eyesight had fully recovered, I dashed over and walked inside.

  ‘Merry met, my dearie,’ she said. ‘Oh my, I can see sadness in your future. And happiness. And anger. And laughter. Come and cross my palm with a silver round, and I shall tell thee all.’

  Wow. Talk about unspecific. No wonder she didn’t get much business.

  ‘I’m not here to have my fortune told, Gwendoline,’ I said, my eyes drifting to the crystal ball on her table. The Queen had been quite specific in her instructions. The Lightning Ball was being used as a crystal ball by this woman. It couldn’t actually be used to see the future, but from what I knew of Gwendoline, I doubted very much that telling the truth was high on her list of priorities.

  According to the Queen, it had a silver strip around the bottom that said the model name and number. The ball on the table was not what I was looking for – the strip around the bottom was gold, and had a different model number written upon it – but maybe that was all the better. If she had it squirrelled away somewhere and wasn’t actually using it, maybe she’d be more likely to sell. ‘It’s just that I was after a present for a friend, and I heard you might have a Future Tell Three Thousand. They’re very rare, so I’d give you a good price if you were willing to part with it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘I don’t have that one anymore, I’m afraid. I sold it over a year ago to a travelling crystal ball buyer. He came into my tent when I was at a fair in County Cork, and I couldn’t afford to turn down his offer.’ She pointed to the table. ‘I could sell you that one, though,’ she said, a little desperately. ‘The Future Tell Four Thousand is much better than its predecessor. Or … I have some scrying bowls somewhere if you’d like. Much better than a crystal ball.’

  ‘It really was that ball I was after. Can you tell me how I could track down this buyer? His name? Anything at all?’

  A calculating look entered her kohl-lined eyes. ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ she replied. ‘It was such a lot of money he gave me, you see. I really don’t want to mess a buyer like that about. I wouldn’t dare risk losing any future business he might throw my way. You know – seeing as I’m so very, very poor and needy.’

  Clearly this was her way of playing hardball. I was about to offer to pay her to tell me, when her head suddenly snapped back, and she stared at the ceiling of the tent, the whites of her eyes vivid and frightening. ‘I am having a vision. Everything you think about yourself will be challenged. You will wonder if the ones you love genuinely love you in return. You will feel alone, unloved, and unattractive.’

  Her head snapped back into place, and she looked a little dazed. ‘I … I feel very strange. Very strange, altogether. Excuse me.’ She shuffled towards the table and sat down. ‘What were we talking about again?’

  I followed her to the table and took a seat. ‘You were about to tell me who bought your crystal ball, only you got interrupted by a vision.’

  ‘Did I? Was it good? Was it worth a couple of silver rounds?’

  I sighed and pulled some coins from my purse, sliding them her way. ‘Sure. It was great. Not at all miserable. So who bought the ball?’

  She stared down at the money, clearly hoping for more. I’d been a big spender at the market, and until I went to the bank I only had one more silver round. I handed it to her, watching a crafty smile light up her face.

  ‘Well now, what do you know? It’s the magic of silver, you see. I’ve just remembered that he wasn’t a good man to do business with, after all. So I can happily tell you who he was. The crystal ball buyer told me his name was Henry Kramer. But he went by more than one name, so he did, because I saw him on the telly a while back. He was that witch hunter pop star fella. Dean Danger. No idea what he would have wanted with my crystal ball, but it was him all right, in disguise. Wearing a kaftan and sandals so he was. The look didn’t suit him, I’ll tell you that much.’

  I could feel my hopes begin to deflate. Sure, there might be a way I could still get my hands on the Lightning Ball, but it was just about the most unpleasant way I could think of. ‘Thanks, Gwendoline,’ I said half-heartedly, and walked out of the tent. I glanced at my watch, and then made a quick call.

  9. Hamming it Up

  I’d never really thought much about what a prison might look like at Christmas. In truth, Witchfield looked almost exactly like it did every other day of the year, except for some limp tinsel hanging here and there. Walter, my favourite guard, was waiting to check me in.

  ‘Happy Holidays, Miss Smith,’ he said while he waved his scanner and checked me for magical devices. ‘You a Christmas or a Solstice person?’ He winced. ‘Shouldn’t have asked that, maybe? Is it too personal a question?’

  ‘What? No, of course not. I don’t know what I am, to be honest, Walt. I grew up in the human world, so I’ve only ever celebrated Christmas before. What about you?’

  He gave me a sweet smile. ‘I’ll be at my mam’s for Solstice. She loves the Masked Ball in Riddler’s Cove, so we’ll be having dinner together and then heading to that – after the bonfire, of course. And my boyfriend is a weredog, so I’ll be spending Christmas with his family. They really go all out. He’s taken on a part time job so he can pay for all his new decorations. I’m a bit worried I won’t be able to get in the front door, to be honest. Last year I collided with an inflatable Santa on the front lawn. They had to burst the thing to get me out.’

  He finished waving his scanner about and said, ‘You got lucky. We have extra visiting hours this time of year, so he’s waiting for you. He seemed ridiculously happy to have anyone visit him, to be honest.’ He nodded towards the door. ‘You know the way.’

  ≈

  I did know the way, because I’d spent far too many afternoons and evenings here, interviewing criminals for the paper. But until now, I’d gone out of my way to avoid a face-to-face with Dean Danger, also known as Henry Kramer. I might have joked about it with Greg, but the truth was that the witch hunter made my blood run cold.

  Last time I’d seen him, he was trying to force Dylan and me to murder each other, controlling our actions with dark objects. We’d been the lucky ones, though. It turned out he was the least astute hunter in quite some time. If he had managed to kill us, we would have been the first actual supernaturals he’d murdered. He’d murdered Heather Flynn and Rachel Loughnane (both human, no matter how many cauldrons and cats they owned) and he’d probably mistakenly killed many other humans over his years as a hunter.

  Despite all of that, I wasn’t sure whether to shudder at the sight of him, or to feel some sympathy. His eyes had lost their confident glitter. His dyed black hair had reverted to grey, and (now that he no longer went through a dozen bottles of fake tan a week) he was rather pallid looking.

  He did have some sort of garland crown on his forehead though, so maybe he was feeling the Christmas spirit.

  Okay, I take that back. As I drew closer, I realised it wasn’t a jolly decoration. It was a crown of holly and ivy all right, but there was a sprig of mistletoe at the front. Where this man was concerned, mistletoe could never be jolly.

  The decision had been made: I shuddered.

  ‘Hello Henry,’ I said, sitting down.

  ‘Aisling, Aisling, Aisling … won’t you call me Dean Danger? From what I recall, you were rather a fan of the pop star I used to be.’

  Did I say shudder? I meant vomit.

  ‘Dean, then,’ I said, pasting a smile on my face. ‘Doesn’t really matter to me what I call murderous criminals. What’s with the mistletoe?’

  He wiggled his eyebrows in what I assume was supposed to be a flirtatious manner. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised that was the first thing you noticed,’ he said. ‘You know, I could always add you to my regular visitors’ list.’

  I gritted my teeth. Regular visitors’ list? From what Walt had told me, I was the only visitor this guy had – well, the only one who wasn’t a lawyer or a Wayfarer, anyway.

  I glanced around at the other prisoners. They were all wearing jaunty headgear – some had Santa hats, or elf hats. Some had tinsel, or pretty woodland crowns twinkling with Solas spells. ‘Why are you the only one with the mistletoe?’

  ‘The rest of them shoved me out of the way, that’s why. This was all that was left when I got to the box. See what that Alice Berry is wearing?’

  I looked to where he was nodding. A beautiful blonde woman with lovely green eyes was indeed wearing the nicest of all the holiday headgear. Hers was a crown of glitter, with a halo on top. But that wasn’t the most interesting thing about the woman. The most interesting thing was the person she was talking to.

  Her visitor was yet another stunning woman. A woman who just happened to be Dylan’s ex-girlfriend. I knew that Alice Berry was in here for murder, and that Darina was standing in as head of the coven now that yet another leader had been thrown into prison. Those Berrys weren’t remotely sweet, from what I’d seen so far.

  The two of them glanced my way, and then looked at each other and cackled. Well, they giggled if I’m honest, but cackled sounds more appropriate, seeing as they were a right pair of villainous witches.

  I resisted the urge to touch my Impervium locket. I didn’t want Darina to know that she gave me the willies. There was something so cold and calculating about her. A green glow surrounded her body, and I could see a very faint hint of the same surrounding Alice, too. I made a mental note to inform the Wayfarers. A green glow meant dark magic. It would be no surprise to them that Alice was still covered in the residue of the stuff, even if she was disempowered. But Darina? Her glow was strong. Someone should keep an eye on her.

  ‘I don’t really care about that woman’s fabulous halo,’ I said to Dean Danger. ‘All the halos in the world can’t disguise the fact that she’s an evil witch. I’m here to ask you about something you bought from a fortune teller called the Great Gwendoline, about a year ago, at a fair in County Cork.’

  He stuck out his lower lip and tapped it with his forefinger, as though he were carefully considering what I’d said. ‘Maybe I can tell you that. I don’t know. Maybe I need to know what’s in it for me before I see if I can jog my memory.’

  I sighed. I’d been expecting this. He and the Great Gwendoline sure did have a lot in common. ‘Yeah, I thought you might say something like that. You know I’m just a journalist, right? Not a lawyer. Not a Wayfarer. I can’t offer you any deals. But.’ I took in a deep breath. ‘I have been looking into your background. I know you have a daughter in the human world. A sister, too. As I’m sure the Wayfarers have told you, anyone who might miss you has been dealt with using a spell. They’ll believe you’re away on tour, and they won’t think any more about it. And while that must be helpful in staving off their curiosity, it’s not going to make it any easier for you, is it? So how about I check up on your family and make sure they’re doing okay? I could come back and tell you how they are. Maybe you’d even like a photo of your daughter for your cell?’