Shiver Me Witches Read online

  The Lesson of the Creepy Porcelain Dolls would live on in my nightmares forever. I was able to make them walk and talk, which was extremely disturbing. Sure, I could save on my special effects’ budget if I ever decided to make horror movies, but other than that I was a little lost on what the real-world applications might be.

  Thankfully, there were no creepy dolls today. Instead, we were having the Lesson of the Creepy Halloween Decorations. We were working with items Brent had picked up in a human shop, making plastic skeletons and wart-nosed witches dance, cackle, and scare the bejaysus out of me. What fun. Brent had also brought a small toy hearse, and he made me turn it on and off even though the batteries had been removed.

  Finally, he tired of forcing me to creep myself out and said, ‘Okay. On to something that is definitely practical, and that you’ve been avoiding for weeks.’

  I furrowed my brow. ‘Wait a minute. You said we’d be moving on to something new and exciting.’

  ‘And it is new. Or at least doing it without holding someone else’s hand will be new to you, anyway.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘You’re talking about travelling, aren’t you?’

  He gave me a reassuring grin. ‘You’ll be fine, Aisling. You know you will. This is going to be the most fun lesson we’ve ever had.’

  ≈

  Since the first time I’d travelled via finger-click, I’d been dying to learn how to do it myself. Right up until Brent decided to teach me. Because now, it wasn’t just some fantasy. It was scary reality. Was I really ready to transport myself from one place to the other, or was I going to give myself some accidental surgery along the way? I mean, did anyone know how this whole magic thing really worked? What if I ended up inside out? With arms for legs or vice versa?

  And I had even more reason to worry than that. I’d been coping relatively well with using my witch magic over the past few weeks, but every time we’d attempted to do something that took more power, I wasn’t so sure that it was my witch magic I was using. I had a feeling that every now and then my sióga magic came out to play – and that when it did, accidents happened. Like the aforementioned incident in which I burned my fingers and my hair. Travelling spells required a lot of magic. There were some empowered witches (albeit very few) who had never mastered the skill. So if I hadn’t got enough power on my witch side, would my fae side step in to save the day? And by save the day, I obviously mean mess up the magic and do some long-lasting physical damage.

  ‘We’ll start simple,’ said Brent. ‘You’ll finger-click to places you’re familiar with, so you know you can do it safely. We can worry about coordinates and the inner map once you have the process down.’

  Good, I thought – because I had no idea what either of those things were.

  ‘So let’s try somewhere you know like the back of your hand,’ he continued. ‘But somewhere where you appearing and reappearing won’t cause a stir. Your bedroom perhaps, at the Vander Inn.’

  I nodded nervously. ‘Sounds good. Well, sounds terrifying, actually, but let’s give it a go. What do I do? Is there an incantation?’

  ‘No incantation. Hold the image of the place you want to travel to firmly in your mind,’ he said. ‘And follow it. Imagine you want to be there, and then imagine you are there. Focus your magic, focus your will, and before you know it, you’ll have travelled. I’ll go with you, but I won’t hold your hand. For most witches, it takes a long time before they can manage to travel with a passenger on board.’

  I took a deep breath, and focused. Despite my fear, I knew that I wanted this so much. Learning to travel via finger-click was going to make me feel like a real witch. It was also going to make life a little easier on days when I overslept. So I pictured my gorgeous bedroom, imagined myself there, and clicked my fingers.

  And then I did something I never imagined anyone in the world could do – I frightened a ghost.

  ‘Oh Miss Smith!’ Maude jumped as I appeared in my bedroom, then jumped again as Brent appeared beside me. ‘I did not expect you back so soon. I was just … dusting the telescope.’

  I grinned at her. ‘I’ve just finger-clicked my way here. Which makes me a witch who can finally do witchy things.’

  Brent gave me a confused stare. ‘I’m over here, Aisling. Why do you seem to be talking to the telescope?’ He moved closer, examining me with concern. ‘Your head seems to have made the transition quite well. Your eyes seem focused.’

  I laughed. ‘I was talking to the houseghost, Brent. I told you I can see her now, didn’t I?’

  ‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘You did.’ He looked at the telescope. ‘Maude, I believe. I’m Brent Pointer. Pleased to meet you.’

  Maude smiled and gave a little curtsy. ‘My pleaser, Sire. Can I get you a tankard of ale, mayhap? Perhaps a platter of meats?’

  ‘She wants to know if you’d like anything to eat or drink.’

  Brent shook his head. ‘No thank you, Miss. You carry on as you were. Aisling and I are going to attempt to travel once more.’

  I gave her a smile and a wave, then pictured the beach in my mind, and took myself back there. And once I arrived back on the sand, I sank down to my knees in relief. ‘I can travel, Brent,’ I said. ‘I can actually travel.’

  He smiled and extended a hand to help me up. ‘I never imagined otherwise.’

  10. Heathens and Harlots

  After my lesson, I decided to pop into Norman’s Shop to buy everyone some drinks and snacks before heading to work. Sure, it was a shameless bribe, but if I wanted to get any help from my friends on this, then I wasn’t sure what else to do except pretend that I was just as fun-loving as them. Fuzz sidled along beside me while I walked, but once we neared the shop, he headed for the small alleyway that led around the back.

  ‘You’re not going to try and get in to see those female felines again, are you?’ I questioned. I knew by now that the cats who lived here were coddled by their owner. They stayed inside mostly, with the cat flap being opened at certain times of the day, and closed at others. No doubt Fuzz knew the schedule to a T.

  ‘Just being a good neighbour,’ he said. ‘That’s all. I don’t question you about what you get up to with Detective Dreamy, now do I?’

  ‘Yes you do! Too many questions, in fact, and each one more inappropriate than the last.’

  He gave me a naughty grin and a wave, and rounded the corner. I left him to it, and walked in to the shop. Norman was stocking the fridges, while his mother, Norma, was holding court at the cash register. She was one of the many people who had said ‘It’s happening all over again,’ yesterday. If it hadn’t been for that, I might almost have been convinced that Evelyn Conroy’s murder was truly solved. Almost.

  The shop was normally busy, seeing as a lot of supernaturals lived in enclaves all around the town. I’d expected it to be even busier than usual today because of the tourists, but maybe the festivities of the night before had caused everyone to sleep late, because there was only one other customer in the store. Unfortunately, it was my least favourite person in Riddler’s Edge.

  ‘It’s a holiday for heathens,’ said Hilda, the town’s florist, banging her fist on the counter by the till. ‘Heathens and harlots, I tell you. I think we ought to ban it, that’s what I think.’

  Hmm. This was an interesting development. Interesting enough to make me wish I had a moustache to twirl. Could Hilda be unaffected by this strange orange magic, just like me? Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out. I was going to have to engage in a conversation with Hilda.

  ‘Oh good morning, Hilda,’ I said, trying my best to smile as I approached the counter. ‘So you think we ought to ban Halloween? You em … you don’t happen to think this is the most fun time of year, then? You don’t want to relax and enjoy yourself and perhaps cook up some rasher sandwiches on the beach?’

  She glowered at me. ‘Rasher sandwiches indeed! If only rasher sandwiches were all I had to worry about. This is people’s immortal souls I’m talking about. We’re i
n danger, every one of us.’

  ‘Really? You think there’s some evil presence lurking in Riddler’s Edge? Something that no one but you can see? Something that we desperately need to get to the bottom of before yet another tragic murder occurs?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Murder? What do I care about some floozy tourist being murdered? I care about this!’ She picked up some Halloween decorations that were displayed next to the counter – a large plastic skeleton, much like the one I’d made dance a short while ago, and a string of pumpkin-shaped lights. ‘Look at this. Death worship and … and …’

  ‘Pumpkin worship?’ I suggested. ‘Yes, I can see your problem with all of this, Hilda.’

  I just wished her problem was with the actual bad mojo, and not with some tacky but harmless decorations. But why was Hilda so worked up when everyone else was only interested in having fun? Unless … ah yes, it all made sense now. Ever since I’d known Hilda she’d been an intolerant and argumentative individual. And she’d certainly hated the thought of anyone even pretending to be a witch. It made perfect sense that she’d rail against Halloween. In fact, having a good old dig at everyone else’s fun probably was her idea of a good time.

  Norma tutted and shook her head, placing her knitting on top of the chocolate display. Seeing as she was currently crafting a jumper with a large Jack O’Lantern on the front, her opinion on the matter was fairly clear.

  ‘Now Hilda,’ she said. ‘You start this same nonsense every year. Halloween is the busiest time for my shop – for the whole town in fact. If you’d just sell some nice Halloween-themed flower displays, I’m sure it would be just as profitable for you.’

  Hilda swerved, turning her glower from me and onto the shopkeeper. ‘Profits! You think I care about profits! I care about the fact that Halloween is an evil holiday, and it should be banned. Everyone enjoys themselves far too much at this time of year! If I had my way, each and every tourist coming to this town would meet the same fate as that floozy on Pirates’ Pier.’

  Norma narrowed her eyes. ‘Well then it’s a good thing you don’t have your way, isn’t it? I thought you said you came in for a jar of coffee, not to talk my ear off about your plans for a fun-free town.’

  Hilda went to say something in return, but Norma spoke across her. ‘The coffee is on the back shelf, Hilda.’

  The florist glowered a little more, then huffed her way to the back of the shop. While she was gone I picked up as many unhealthy cakes and snacks as I could manage to carry, and ordered some coffees and teas too. Norma’s son went to prepare the hot drinks, and I took the opportunity to chat with Norma. I wanted to bring up the comment she’d made at the pier the morning before, but I needed to ease towards it slowly.

  ‘So … yesterday at Pirates’ Pier. Terrible business, wasn’t it?’

  Norma gave me a pleasant smile and said, ‘It was. Terrible altogether.’

  ‘It really was. I get the impression, though, that something similar might have happened before.’

  Norma’s pleasant smile didn’t slip by as much as a millimetre. ‘Why would you say that?’

  I was just about to battle on through the oddity when Greg came trudging into the shop, wiping the sleep from his eyes. ‘You won’t believe it, Ash. There’s been another woman found dead at Pirates’ Pier. Sounds like we’re going have to do even more work.’

  Hilda, half way to the counter with her jar of coffee and a packet of biscuits, dropped her purchases to the ground. ‘I can’t believe it!’ she cried. ‘A second murder, just like when I was a girl. It’s happening all over again!’

  ≈

  I wish I could tell you that, after Hilda’s outburst, I finally got to the bottom of the It’s happening all over again mystery. But she did just what every other person had done after making the same exclamation. She acted as though she hadn’t got a clue what I was talking about.

  Of course, she had also said that if she had her way then every tourist in the town would be dead, so I added her to my mental list of suspects (a list that so far had no one else on it) and left the shop with Greg.

  He and I quickly dropped everyone else’s drinks and snacks off at the Daily Riddler office and made our way to the pier. Dylan was there, rubbing one of his officers on the back. It was Bert, the newest garda on his team, and the one who had phoned him yesterday morning to tell him about murder number one.

  There were very few people at the scene, and an ambulance was already driving away. As there was currently no body in sight, I had to assume that they’d done a half-arsed job. What the site lacked in public servants, however, it had gained in strange magic. The orange glitter was growing stronger than ever. I gazed at what I could see of the town from here, and noted that the glitter was more concentrated at the pier than anywhere else.

  As Greg and I drew closer to Dylan, I could hear what he was saying to his officer. ‘There, there, Bert,’ he murmured soothingly. ‘Anyone could have fallen asleep on stakeout duty. Don’t worry yourself about it.’

  I wasn’t surprised that Dylan was letting this go so easily – it was completely in line with his recent personality change. What I was surprised about, though, was that he’d actually bothered to put someone on stakeout duty.

  He gave Bert one last back rub and then came to greet us.

  ‘Oh hello, gorgeous,’ he said, kissing me on the cheek and pulling me closer to him. ‘And how did you sleep? Not as well as you would have if I was there, eh?’

  I looked at Greg to see if he was just as shocked by Dylan’s public display of affection as I was. I shouldn’t have bothered – the only thing Greg was paying attention to was the game he was playing on his phone.

  ‘I slept fine,’ I said, returning my attention to Dylan. ‘Did I just hear correctly, though? Did the new garda fall asleep on a stakeout?’

  Dylan laughed out loud for a moment or two. ‘I know. How hilarious is that? The poor chap was so looking forward to it. Said he’d been dreaming of being on a stakeout his whole life long. I mean, I didn’t see the need for it myself, seeing as we’d already caught the murderer. But he thought it’d be fun, so I left him to it. And like I told Bert, anyone would have fallen asleep doing a job like that. I feel sleepy just thinking about it. I mean, it wasn’t as though there was going to be another murder or anything, was there?’

  ‘But … there was another murder,’ I pointed out. ‘Maybe we should test Bert. If he was as eager to be on a stakeout as you say, then I doubt he would have fallen asleep.’ I glanced into the nearby garda car. ‘And by the looks of things, he drank three cups of coffee and two bottles of cola. He would have been more likely to need a really long pee after all of that. Not to fall asleep. We should test his drink containers. See if anyone slipped him something.’

  As I was finishing, I noticed that Greg and Dylan were both making snoring noises. And as they pretended to snore, I finally felt myself snap. Pandering to them wasn’t working. I’d spent the whole day yesterday trying to convince them that doing their jobs would be fun. All I’d gotten for my efforts was one more murder victim.

  ‘Look, this is serious,’ I said pleadingly. ‘Whatever’s going on, I need you to snap out of it. I … I need you. Both of you. I can’t do this alone. So can you please just … dig deep inside. Find the part of yourselves that actually gives a toss. Tell me some details, Dylan. Was the murder victim found in the same position as Evelyn? Did anyone take photos so I can have a look? What was her name, her age? Was she a tourist or a local? Give me something I can work with. Anything.’

  They both stared at me for a moment, and then broke out into the most irritating sniggering laughter I have ever heard.

  ‘Any more jokes?’ said Dylan. ‘Look, I know you like playing Nancy Drew and everything, but you can calm your knickers there, Ash. I have this under control. In fact, I’ve already solved it – and before I’ve had my breakfast, too.’ He moved closer to me and whispered, ‘I did the whole compelling thing again. Got the jealous husband t
o admit to it straight away. Two cases in the bag in two days. Are you impressed?’

  He pulled open the door of his car, where a man was sitting in the driver’s seat, playing with the radio. He looked about forty or so, and he was wearing a purple pointy hat and a T-shirt that said, ‘Halloween? Hella Yeah!’

  ‘Tell her, Joe,’ said Dylan excitedly. ‘Tell her what you did to Cora, your wife.’

  Joe glanced up at me, and with a lopsided smile he said, ‘I em … I kind of killed her. Spur of the moment like, but it’s a fair cop.’

  I had to keep an open mind about this, didn’t I? I mean, it was possible that two tourists who came for the Halloween celebrations just happened to become afflicted with temporary madness, killing their wives and their friends, then owning up to it like they hadn’t a care in the world.

  It was possible. But it was highly unlikely.

  ‘Why did you do it, Joe?’ I asked. ‘And more importantly …’ I turned to Dylan. ‘ … why is he sitting in your seat?’

  Dylan and the supposed criminal exchanged a glance. ‘You go first,’ said Dylan.

  Joe shrugged and said, ‘Fine, whatever. Look, we were just having a nice stroll together, me and the wife. We came to the pier because we figured it’d be a laugh to look at the murder scene. But when we got here … I dunno. I just kept remembering all these annoying things Cora’s ever done. Like, we work in the same factory, and last week she was laughing way too much at our boss’s jokes. Or like … well, when I order a plate of chips she always nicks most of them. So when I saw all of that crime scene tape flapping about in the breeze, I just thought … why not strangle her with it and tie her to the mooring post?’

  ‘Why not indeed?’ I muttered. ‘And what about you, Dylan? Why do you think it’s a good idea to let a murderer sit in your car and play with your radio?’