Lucky Witches Page 7

  As I followed him outside, a sudden thought occurred. ‘You said there are outsiders who grant wishes. Do you mean like genies?’

  ‘They’d be the main wish granters,’ he replied. ‘But they stay away from witches the same way that the faeries and all of the other outsiders do. And even though Riddler’s Edge doesn’t have a whole lot of powerful witches living there, it’s right next to Riddler’s Cove, which has a lot of witches.’ He sighed. ‘So it’s doubtful that there’s a genie behind this. Honestly, I don’t know who could be running the casino.’

  ‘Well maybe we’ll find out when we come back tonight. Y’know – after we finally play War of the Enclaves with the Queen and before I go to help Pru in her fortune-telling tent. Because I can totally survive without sleep.’ I yawned as I spoke. ‘For now, how about we head to Riddler’s Cove?’

  9. Byrne and Byrne

  There were two supermarkets in Riddler’s Cove, and they were directly across the road from one another. One was named Budget Buys and was the most popular supermarket in the town. The other was named Byrne and Byrne and was a smaller, more expensive shop. (Yes, I had also hoped that the supermarkets here would have more magical names. But they don’t.)

  When I asked Beth which supermarket owner had won the wishing coin, she had been too busy asking Grantly for more champagne to answer, but now that we were looking at both shops, the winner of the coin was obvious.

  ‘I have never seen that many people in Byrne and Byrne,’ said Greg, flabbergasted. ‘There are even weredogs in there. Weredogs never shop in there – they hardly have any vegan food.’

  He was right. Since my introduction to the supernatural world, I’d been surprised by just how many vegan options were available everywhere. I soon learned the reason. Almost all weredogs were vegans. But the one and only time I’d ventured into Byrne and Byrne, their vegan section had contained some burned falafel and a packet of carrot sticks.

  I spied a friend of ours, the weredog who cleaned the Daily Riddler offices, by the bread shelf.

  ‘Edward,’ I said, walking over to him. ‘I didn’t know you shopped here. I thought you said you loved Budget Buys because of their huge tofu selection.’

  ‘I do, usually,’ he told us, his eyes bright. ‘But I just had an urge to shop here today, for some reason.’

  ‘They don’t have a lot of stuff you like, though.’ Greg pointed to the fridges on the other side of the aisle. ‘Look, not a carton of chocolate soymilk in sight.’

  Edward shrugged. ‘True. But I can go a week without chocolate soymilk. There’s some great quality stuff here.’ He picked up a loaf of bread. It was priced at seven large silver stars – about seven quid in human terms. ‘Look how expensive this bread is. It must taste amazing if it costs that much.’

  We could hear other people saying much the same as they rushed around filling trolleys and baskets. There were only two cash registers in the shop, and the young men operating them looked exhausted, while a short, thin woman with tight-cut brown hair was rubbing her hands together and saying, ‘I need you to check that shopping out quicker, boys. We don’t know how much longer this lucky spell will last.’

  ‘That’s the owner,’ Greg whispered. ‘Farrah Byrne. And before you ask, there isn’t another Byrne. It’s all hers. I reckon she thinks it sounds fancier to call the place Byrne and Byrne.’

  Even though she looked like the kind of woman I’d usually avoid, we approached the owner.

  ‘Hi there,’ I said. ‘We’re from the Daily Riddler. Do you have a quick few minutes for an interview?’

  Farrah smirked, her eyes turning into slits. ‘I never say no to free advertising. What do you people want to know? I could tell you about the exclusive cheese lines we have available. People love my exclusive cheese.’

  ‘I’m sure they do,’ I said. ‘I was more interested in your visit to the Crossroads, though. I heard you had a bit of luck there last night.’

  She looked me up and down, as though she was afraid I might try to steal some of that luck. ‘It was all fair and square. I won that wish. You can’t go saying I have to give it back.’

  ‘Yeah, we heard you won one of those wishing coins,’ Greg said. ‘Do you mind telling us what you wished for, Miss Byrne?’

  Farrah held her nose up. ‘I’d really rather we stuck to the subject of how exclusive my cheeses are.’

  ‘I’m sure your cheeses are wonderful,’ I said. They weren’t. Jared had splashed out on some shortly after I moved to Riddler’s Edge. One bite had been more than enough. ‘But I think our readers would really love to know how you became so successful so suddenly. Perhaps that’s what you wished for?’

  Her eyes glinted with anger. ‘Are you here to buy anything? Because as you can see, this place is incredibly busy, and I really don’t have time to deal with people who aren’t paying customers.’

  ‘I can see that you’re busy,’ I agreed. After all, I didn’t add, who else was going to work those poor cashiers to the bone? ‘So thank you for your time.’

  ‘Remember to write about my cheese!’ she called after us as we left.

  We were almost at the door when a harangued looking man walked in. Despite his current state, I recognised him as Dermot Flanagan, the (usually) smiling owner of Budget Buys.

  ‘You!’ He stalked towards Farrah and wagged his finger in her face. ‘I should have known you were behind this. All morning I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I thought to myself – maybe for once she’s got a sale on. Maybe she’s actually selling some food people want at prices they can afford.’ He picked up a packet of burned falafel. ‘But I should have known better. My cousin Ernie’s just phoned me. And guess what he told me about a certain supermarket owner in a certain casino last night.’

  Farrah cleared her throat. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dermot. Have you been eating a bit too much of your inferior cheese?’

  ‘My cheese is not inferior. It’s affordable. There’s a difference, Farrah. And you know exactly what I’m talking about! Ernie heard you making your wish. You wished that all of my customers would become your customers. You know how you could have achieved that, Farrah?’ He threw the falafel packet to the ground. It made far too loud a noise as it hit the floor. A little like the noise that something made of rocks might make, mayhap? ‘By having a decent bloody supermarket, that’s how!’ cried Dermot. ‘Well, I’m going to that casino tonight, and I’m going to win me some of those wishing coins. And when I do … oh, you just know what I’m going to be wishing for!’

  He turned on his heels and stormed back across the road.

  Although we didn’t yet have the details of all the other winners, a quick walk around Riddler’s Cove told us that there had been a lot more than the few Beth had mentioned. There were new mansions everywhere. And just like in Greg’s building, even the apartments were bigger. One place had a swimming pool on its balcony, for criminy’s sake! The last time I saw that same balcony, it had barely been big enough for a couple of potted plants, but now it managed to house an Olympic-size swimming pool?

  I was all for wishes being granted. I could think of one or two of my own. But the way in which these wishes were becoming reality seemed downright dangerous.

  The balcony with the swimming pool was now taking all of the light from the residence below – and it had broken the windows in the house across the street as it stretched. Unsurprisingly, the residences’ owners were having a flaming row on the street.

  I, of course, did what any curious reporter would do. I walked myself right into the middle of the row and said, ‘Excuse me, but did either of you happen to visit the Crossroads last night?’

  Seeing as the woman was holding a large, emerald-encrusted urn in her hands, it seemed a safe assumption. ‘No. Why would you think that?’

  ‘We just wondered if you knew who was running the place,’ I said. ‘Did you speak with anyone who worked there?’

  The man she was arguing with narrowed his eyes (
I guessed him to be the swimming pool owner, because he was wearing swimming trunks and carrying a Li-Lo, but I could have been wrong). ‘Why do you want to know? So you can go and poke your nose in and shut the place down I suppose. Well, we don’t know and we’re not telling you.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Greg. ‘I mean, it’s not as if their business seems to be causing trouble all over town or anything. But we would like to get a photo of one of the wishing coins, if you happen to have any left. I’m sure the readers of the Daily Riddler would love to see one.’

  The urn-toting woman placed it to the ground and clutched at her purse. ‘You think I don’t know what you are? You’re as much of a thief as my daughter is. She wants my emerald-encrusted urn, I know she does. Well, she’s not getting a single thing I won, and neither are you. Now, will the pair of you just get lost and leave us to it?’

  ‘Leave you to your flaming row? Sure, why not.’ I held my hands up and backed away. ‘But you know where we are – y’know, if you happen to need a newspaper to write about the aftermath of the bloodbath you’re about to enjoy.’

  Neither neighbour answered. In fact, I don’t think they heard a word I said. They were screaming at each other again, and now they had begun to throw things.

  ‘I have a feeling that the Crossroads is going to be busy tonight,’ muttered Greg as we dodged out of the path of the plant pot that Swim-Trunks’ Man threw at Emerald Urn.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, rushing back towards Greg’s Wizardly Wagon. ‘I think you might be right.’

  10. Level One Hundred and One

  I ate three slices of pizza before I could even look at Greg’s computers. He had two networked together, sitting side by side on his dining table at home.

  I was just about to start on slice number four when I heard high singing coming from next door.

  ‘My stars! That’s almost as bad as my singing,’ I said, covering my ears.

  ‘Not quite.’ Greg sniggered. ‘But yeah, it’s pretty dire. Beth texted me this afternoon and asked me if I wanted to go over there and enjoy the show. She’s hired some famous opera singer to give a private performance.’

  ‘Really?’ I said. ‘That must have cost her a pretty penny. I thought she didn’t wish for money. Just her rent and her butler and the massive apartment.’

  Greg grabbed another slice, pouring cheesy puffs on top and then turning it into a roll-up before he shoved it all in his mouth. ‘Who dows?’ he said through a mouthful of food. ‘E poply gotta loam.’

  Seeing the confusion on my face, Greg swallowed his food and said, ‘Sorry – I said who knows? She probably got a loan. Borrowed against her golden bidet or something. Anyway.’ He pushed his plate aside and turned on the computers. ‘Are we going to do this thing?’

  I took a gulp of red wine and nodded. ‘Ready if you are, my gorgeous geek.’

  ≈

  Greg really was a gorgeous geek, even when his face was covered in sauce and crumbs. If he made an effort with his appearance (and took his head out of his tech for more than five minutes) he’d probably have even more women after him than Roarke. I could understand what Pru saw in him – if she did see anything in him, of course. The brief conversation I’d had with her before coming over here centred mostly on the Crossroads.

  ‘Y’know Pru wants to come with us tonight,’ I said as I waited for the game to load on my computer. ‘I told you about that guy who tried to pay her to give people iffy fortune readings? The sort of readings that might just have led fortune-seekers towards the Crossroads?’

  Greg nodded. ‘I bet that’s where all Nollaig’s customers went last night, too. Half of them were at the fair, and I saw a few of them at fortune-teller tents. They would have heard about the Crossroads there. Oh – look. Level One Hundred and One is up and ready.’

  He didn’t need to tell me. I already knew, because the Queen was on my screen, banging her gong with a bluebell and grinning at me.

  ‘Welcome to Level One Hundred and One, Aisling and Greg. Are you ready to play?’

  We didn’t have mikes on, so I looked at Greg. ‘It’s enter for yes,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you the rest of the commands as we go along.’

  I hit the enter key, and waited.

  The Queen rang her gong again. ‘Level One Hundred and One, Challenge One – find Brian the Brave.’

  I looked at the screen, expecting some wonderful images to appear. I was forever amazed by the graphics in the game when Greg played it. But right now there was nothing amazing on the screen. Just the Queen, standing silently and smiling.

  I glanced at Greg. ‘Shouldn’t we be searching through some ancient fae castle or something round about now? Or maybe in a forest or by a babbling brook?’

  Greg frowned. ‘We should. I know who the character is though. He’s the prince. As in, the faery prince. I’ve played alongside him in battles before. He’s … well … he’s brave. And he’s called Brian. I'm going to ask for more details.’

  Greg typed in some commands. Nothing happened. ‘You type it in,’ he said. ‘Press the control key and Q at the same time. A dialogue screen should appear, and you can type in your question.’

  I did as he told me, and a small screen appeared. I began to type: Please give more details of this challenge.

  The cursor blinked in and out for a moment, and then a reply appeared: Find Brian the Brave. This is an off-screen challenge.

  I was about to ask oh, I don’t know, a hundred more questions, when the dialogue screen disappeared. The Queen banged her gong once more, and then she disappeared too.

  The computer’s monitor went completely black for a few seconds, until some pale blue writing appeared: Level One Hundred and One in progress. You have as long as it takes to complete this challenge. Good luck, Aisling Smith. You have chosen a worthy companion in Greg the Gallant. Gather as many more trusted allies and warriors as you need.’

  I looked at Greg in confusion. To be fair, I’d been confused from the moment we turned on the computers.

  ‘I guess I forgot to tell you,’ he said, his cheeks turning pink. ‘Greg the Gallant is my name in this game. So … I guess we have a bit of a puzzle to figure out.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I picked up the remaining pizza slice and began to nibble. ‘I guess we do.’

  11. Gather Your Allies

  ‘Maybe I should go with you,’ said Fuzz. ‘This Crossroads casino sounds a bit fishy to me.’

  I looked down at the cat. He was on the floor, playing with one of the hairclips I had dropped. Even though he looked sweet and silly at the moment, I was well aware that he was anything but.

  ‘It’s definitely fishy,’ I said. ‘The Wayfarers know about it, too. They’ve had dozens of call-outs to domestic disturbances in Riddler’s Edge and Riddler’s Cove today. Gretel’s going to try and get over there to check things out tonight.’

  Fuzz stopped chasing my hairclip, but only so he could chase a strand of hair which fell to the floor. ‘Y’know, the Crossroads is a bit of a soft spot,’ he said in a serious tone, as he ran after the hair. ‘And there are soft times for the soft places. Halloween, Bealtaine, the solstices and the equinoxes. And if you can tell me which one of those Midsummer is, you win a prize.’

  I studied his reflection in my mirror. He looked so happy with himself that I was tempted to play along. ‘You’re so cute when you’re being a know it all,’ I said. ‘But Greg already explained it to me. He told me that the Crossroads was once an entrance into sióga territory. He thinks it’s possible someone has been borrowing the magic there to their advantage. Oh – and I know what Midsummer is, too.’ I pressed an imaginary buzzer. ‘It’s a solstice, right? So what do I win?’

  Fuzz jumped up onto my dressing table. ‘You win the chance to scratch behind my ears.’ As I obliged, his purrs grew loud. ‘Ooooh that’s nice. Now do between my shoulder blades. And yes, Greg is right – the sióga abandoned that particular enclave a long time ago. They didn’t want anything more to do with witches back then,
and I’m pretty sure they won’t have changed their minds on that score. Someone is misappropriating sióga magic, Aisling. They either have to be very brave or very stupid.’ He paused and arched his back. ‘Oh, Mama! More please. I didn’t realise I was holding so much tension there.’

  I laughed at his antics, but kept on scratching him. ‘You know an awful lot about all of this. And you seem to be in agreement with Greg that these wishing coins aren’t the style of the sióga. How do you know so much?’

  ‘I know no more or no less than any other magical cat,’ he replied. No matter how humble his words, there was a certain haughty air about him. No doubt Fuzz prided himself on his knowledge. ‘But when it comes to the sióga specifically?’ He snuggled into my stomach. ‘You’ll need to do some research into this Brian the Brave. Anyone who knows anything about history has heard of him. The Queen’s youngest – and favourite – son. But what we know about the sióga ends with the war in the Year of the Worm. It might be a good idea to talk to someone who was around back then. And, let’s face it, in Riddler’s Edge you have your pick. There’s the people who own this very house. Then there’s Grace – I mean, we can’t be certain how old she is exactly, but I’m going to take a punt at very.’

  I laid down my brush. The cat was wise in the way of wisdom, I’d give him that. Brian the Brave wasn’t just some character in a game. Like the Queen, he was a character based on a real person. If the sióga used to have more contact with people in Riddler’s Edge, then I could well know someone who knew this Brian.

  But if I were to talk to anyone other than Grace in my search, then would that mean I had to admit what I was?

  I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was blonde with the barest hint of strawberry, but tonight I could see more of a reddish gold glint than ever. I thought of the photo Arnold Albright had shown me of his daughter – the woman he believed was my mother. Looking at my reflection tonight, I was in no doubt that he was right.