Old-School Witch Read online

  ‘Catriona’s really letting her hair down, isn’t she?’ I remarked.

  ‘Literally,’ said Norma with a wry smile. ‘It’s about time, too. I think it helps that the handsome Mr Montague is finally over you.’

  I thought about taking a glug of the red wine I was pouring for Pru. Jared’s crush on me wouldn’t have been all that big a deal, seeing as he had a crush on every woman he met. A crush that generally ended once the thrill of the chase was gone. His feelings for me, though, had been heightened by my half-fae blood. I had sneaked the same remedy to Jared as I had to Mark, and I was happy to see Jared moving on.

  ‘Has she gotten in touch with her contacts yet?’ I asked. ‘When is everything going ahead up at the school?’

  Norma’s expression darkened. ‘Some of Catriona’s university friends will be here at the weekend, but she did manage to get a surveyor over there this afternoon to check how sound the building was. Hector managed to convince them to stick to clearing the grounds today, but the surveyor’s given them the go-ahead to search ground floor tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t sound happy about that.’

  She looked down at the bar. ‘Don’t I? Are the drinks ready yet, Miss Smith?’

  As I handed over the drinks, I couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Eager would be too hung over to do any more at the school tomorrow. I hoped so. That stone – and the absolute lack of magic in a school that should have left at least some magical traces behind – was bugging me. Actually, there was something else bugging me, too.

  ‘Your sister isn’t with you tonight?’ I asked Norma. ‘I was hoping to meet her.’ I leaned across the bar and lowered my voice. ‘If she’s even here. Norma, you can tell me why you lied about your alibi, you know – why you told the detective and me that you went to meet your sister at the airport. I can’t believe for a minute that you’d do anything to hurt Ben, so if you’re in trouble, or if you know something that might help, then tell me. Please. And I’ll do everything I can to help you.’

  Norma took a sip of her sherry, still avoiding my eyes. ‘I’ve told you all I can for now,’ she informed me. ‘And Marnie has gone to meet an old friend tonight. But she is visiting me, Aisling. And you’ll be seeing her tomorrow, no doubt. I think the two of you will get along very well, as a matter of fact. You have a lot in common.’ She grabbed the tray I’d laid the drinks upon, and rushed away from the bar.

  I was in the middle of a particularly exasperated sigh, when I noticed Ron Montague, hovering over by the alcove where the toilets were located. His eyes scanned the room and fell on Catriona Eager. Immediately, she looked his way, as if she’d felt his eyes on her. She gave him a slow, sexy smile, and then turned back to Jared.

  I looked over at Nollaig, and saw that she and her team were far too busy laughing together for her to have noticed.

  There was nothing suspicious about a guy hanging about by the toilets, was there? Maybe the gents’ toilet was full, and he was waiting for someone to leave. I looked up again, and he’d disappeared from my sight.

  Criminy, anyway! I just wished I didn’t think that Ron was doing something nefarious at every turn. But I did think that way. Especially after the way he and Catriona had looked at one another. But she was interested in Jared, wasn’t she? Or maybe she was just so drunk that she thought she was seeing double. Father and son certainly looked similar.

  A moment later, an incredibly drunken Catriona got up from the table and staggered to the ladies’ room. No, scratch that … she staggered past the toilets, and headed out through the side exit.

  I cursed beneath my breath. It wasn’t up to me to police Nollaig’s husband to be. Nollaig was a grown woman, who deserved to make her own choices. But I really felt like meddling right now.

  I glanced at my mam and dad. They had way too much going on for me to take a break. Someone had broken a glass and spilled cider everywhere, and it looked as though Hilda Spring might be about to start a drunken argument with a potted plant.

  ‘You look like you could do with a break,’ said Dylan, approaching the bar again. ‘And no, I’m not abandoning my team just so I can come over here and try to chat up the most beautiful tavern wench in Ireland. They’re already losing miserably, and there’s no way that even I can save the day. I blame Greg, personally. He keeps making Grace and Nollaig laugh at his walrus impression.’

  I looked at their table. Greg had a couple of straws stuck in his mouth and was making a silly noise. Grace and Nollaig must have been pretty tipsy to find it so funny.

  ‘Do you want me to pull a few pints while you go and take a breather?’ Dylan continued.

  ‘You know how?’

  He grinned. ‘I worked in a tavern on Samhain Street when I was younger. And yes, that is the shadiest enclave in Ireland, so … don’t ask. Just go and have a break.’

  I really did want to ask about his time on Samhain Street, but I wanted to follow Ron and Catriona even more. The poor woman was too drunk to know what she was doing, and as for Ron … well, he was just about the slimiest man I’d ever met. The question was, was he slimy enough to try his luck with Catriona?

  ‘Okay,’ I said, giving Dylan a short but grateful kiss. ‘I’ll take a break if you’re offering. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  ≈

  A quick check confirmed that neither Catriona nor Ron were in the toilets, so I cautiously pushed open the side door and peered outside. I could hear voices, coming from just beyond the outer entrance to the cellar.

  I crept over that way and peered around the corner. There they were, Ron and Catriona. She had her body pushed up against his. His hands were pressed firmly by his sides, and he seemed as if he was trying to move away from her. This was not quite the scenario I’d been expecting, but it was still far from ideal. My first instinct was to go and break things up before Ron responded, and yet … I found myself hesitating, waiting to see how this would unfold. Not in a creepy way, you understand. The thought of Ron with any woman, even Nollaig, made my stomach heave in horror.

  But there was something about the scene in front of me that was setting my witchy senses alight. Catriona didn’t look like a wounded, drunken mouse. She looked like a woman who was very sure of herself – and very familiar with Ron, too.

  ‘You’re sooo handsome,’ she said. ‘In all this time, I’ve never forgotten how handsome you are.’

  ‘Come on now. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.’

  ‘I do, though. You know I do.’

  He pushed her away and held his hands up. ‘And you know that sort of life isn’t for me anymore. Nollaig wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘Stuff Nollaig!’ whined Catriona. ‘You should be with me.’ She giggled and ran her hands along her body. ‘I know you like what you see. The meek little school teacher. But you know better than that, don’t you Ron? You know good girls can be bad.’

  Oh dear. My cheeks were flaming. Was this how uncomfortable people felt when Dylan and I were behaving like weirdos? Reminder to self: do not flirt in front of others, ever again.

  ‘Enough!’ said Ron. ‘It’s over. It was over a long time ago, and I …’ He narrowed his eyes and turned his head. Quickly, I ran back inside.

  Criminy to Ron, anyway! I’d forgotten that, as a vampire, he could hear far better than most. And that wasn’t his only enhanced sense. His sense of smell was superior, too. I just hoped the smell of alcohol around the tavern would stop him from identifying my own lovely odour.

  I didn’t much care if he caught me, as long as it was while I was catching him doing something nefarious. But that wasn’t what I’d seen tonight. Ron Montague might come across as a sleazy flirt, but he had clearly just turned Miss Eager down. Maybe I had him wrong all along.

  11. Embrace the Weird

  I slept fitfully that night. I dreamt of Ron and Miss Eager, kissing wildly. I dreamt of Norma, knitting furiously and saying, ‘Meet my sister – you have the same taste in scarves, Miss Smith.’ I dreamt of Dylan, c
ooking bacon and eggs, barefoot in the lighthouse kitchen.

  But of all the dreams I had, there was one that scared me more than anything. I dreamt of the old school. It was in the same state as it had been when we visited, except a light was on in one of the tower rooms, and the tawny owl stared down at me, malevolence shining from its luminous yellow eyes …

  I sat up, sweating and breathing hard.

  ‘You look rough,’ said Fuzz, stretching and yawning. ‘Although I have to say, I feel as bad as you look. You were mumbling about Ron and Miss Eager in your sleep all night long.’

  ‘Criminy,’ I groaned. ‘Was it loud? Like … loud enough for anyone else to hear?’

  Fuzz shook his little head and nestled in my arms. ‘Not unless there’s another houseghost floating around since Maude left us. I–’

  He broke off and stared towards the French windows, and I could see why. There was a broom, tapping against the glass. Not just any broom, but the broom, the one my mother had inhabited for all those years.

  Confused, I jumped out of bed and opened up the doors. The broom flew straight at me, tapping me lightly on the behind. ‘What the …?’ I spun around, like a dog chasing its tail, trying to get a better look at the thing. There was no doubt that this was the broom – it even had the scorch marks from the night I’d freed my mother – but in that case, what was it doing here?

  Fuzz hopped up into my arms, looking terrified. ‘We would have heard if Arnold broke out of Witchfield and trapped your parents again, right?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, a little hollowly. Nevertheless, I tightened my hold on Fuzz, jammed the broom beneath my other arm, and clicked my fingers to take myself to the Fisherman’s Friend.

  When I heard my mother’s voice, singing in the kitchen, my heartbeat finally levelled out.

  I ran in to find her pulling a tray of fresh-baked bread from the oven. There was some bacon sizzling on the stovetop, too. The kitchen smelled amazing, and I began to salivate.

  ‘Ash?’ She gave me a worried look. ‘What’s wrong?’

  I pulled my eyes from the lovely food and held up the broom. ‘This is wrong. It appeared at the Vander Inn a minute ago. I thought …’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing. You must have thought I was trapped again.’ She took the broom from my hands, turning it over. ‘I wondered where it had gotten to.’

  The broom leapt from her hands and flew to me. ‘Well, well, well,’ my mother said with a grin. ‘Looks like she missed you.’

  ‘But … how? She’s not a she. I mean, she was a she when you were in her, but now she’s an it, surely.’

  The broom leapt from my hands and whacked me on the head.

  ‘Ow!’ I cried, ducking away and rubbing my head.

  My mother laughed. ‘I noticed it had gone when I got up this morning. It must be because of what me and your dad were talking about in bed.’

  ‘Hey!’ Fuzz held up a paw in protest. ‘This is a family friendly venue. But if you want me to overlook the vulgarity, then why not throw a little bit of that bacon you’re cooking my way.’

  With an amused smile my mother slid some bacon onto a plate and handed it down to Fuzz. ‘Here you go, Mister Obscenity Censor. Please don’t shut us down.’

  Between mouthfuls, he muttered, ‘As long as you keep me supplied with food, I’ll turn a blind eye.’

  While Fuzz enjoyed the spoils of his racketeering operation, I leaned against the counter, feeling flummoxed. ‘But … what do you mean this is because of what you were talking about in bed? What were you talking about? Because it – I mean, she – was only alive because you were in it – I mean, in her. Right?’

  My mother shrugged. ‘Yes and no. Once you came to Riddler’s Edge, I was able to control the broom to a degree. But even when I was a kid, before I was trapped in the broom, I used to bring it to life sometimes. You know I’m an inanimage, right? You have the same skills.’

  I nodded absentmindedly. Inanimagic meant that you could bring inanimate objects to life. Brent, an old friend of my mother’s, had taught me to use that power, but I’d only ever used it during times of need. I’d always felt a sense of slight reservation about the whole deal. Sure, the items weren’t really alive, but they acted like they were. Brought to life by me, and then turned off when I didn’t need them anymore.

  ‘Well, you already know that I used my power to make myself some friends when I was a kid. Cuddly toys, dolls. This broom. But the thing about inanimagic is that … it can sometimes leave a little bit of magic lingering behind it. And considering this broom was one of Aengus Wayfair’s first designs – a Training Broom 100 – I guess that all things combined, the broom could have become a little bit … reanimated. You’ve heard of Aengus, right?’

  I nodded. Of course I’d heard of Aengus Wayfair. He was a member of the famous Wayfair coven, and the best broom maker in the world.

  ‘Well, he only made a few of this model,’ my mother went on. ‘He was incredibly young when he made this broom. A bit of a wunderkind, so he was. Every broom company wanted to buy the design from him, but he turned them all down and kept going with his education. Which meant that the three prototypes were worth a fortune. They didn’t look all that great, but they were amazing. They were designed to teach reluctant or fearful kids how to fly, and to offer them some … shall we say encouragement when they didn’t want to. I was one of those kids who needed encouragement. I’d rather have read a book than gone on a flying lesson, so my dad spent a fortune on this thing – I mean, on this lovely lady.’ My mother quickly sidestepped, avoiding a rear-whacking of her own. ‘I think that she might have gotten it into her head that it’s time to start giving you a little bit of encouragement.’

  Fuzz grinned up at me with a bacon-filled mouth and said, ‘Ha ha! You’re going to have to go flying!’

  I studiously ignored the little traitor, looking at my mother instead. ‘Okay, so … you’re saying that the broom has leftover magic from when you were a kid and some magic put there by Aengus Wayfair, and it’s suddenly decided it’s going to take me on a flying lesson? Have I got that right? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a kid learning to fly. So what were you and Dad talking about that made this weird – lovely – broom come and annoy me this morning?’

  My mother smiled softly. ‘We were talking about how you were stubbornly insisting that you had no problems with flying, even though your dad tried to assure you that it was a sióga trait to prefer other means of flying over brooms. I said that I’d never been a big fan of flying either, and I told him the story of this broom. I did notice the broom hovering close to us at one point but … hey, this is a pretty powerful household. You’ve got to expect oddities now and again.’

  ‘But this is more than an oddity. This is a magical broom that’s, let’s face it, a bit of a bully.’

  My mother chuckled. ‘Like I said, this is a powerful household. So the only thing to do is embrace the weirdness that comes along with that kind of power. And if you do decide to take up flying, you couldn’t find a better broom. Also … I might not have flown very often as a kid, but when I did, being in the air always helped to clear my head. It might help you, too. To figure out the mystery of Ben’s death, I mean.’ She pressed a bacon sandwich into my hands. ‘Now, sit down and eat this while I make you a cup of tea.’

  She didn’t need to tell me twice. As I sat down and bit into my sandwich, I thought over just how much of a mess I had to solve. Well, first I thought about how much I was going to gloat to Dylan that my mother had made me a bacon sandwich this morning – a sandwich that was a hundred times better than any he could ever make. After that, though, I worried about the case. I’d been doing a pretty poor job of investigating so far. Even following Ron Montague had done nothing but prove that he wasn’t as much of a creep as I’d believed.

  As I thought about Ron, I was reminded of something I’d always meant to ask my mother.

  ‘Mam,’ I began, ‘when you were in the bro
om, you didn’t seem all that fond of Jared. I mean, you pretty much whooshed him out of my room on more than one occasion.’

  Her face looked somewhat guarded. ‘Yes, well, it was kind of obvious what his intentions were. And I knew that it might be your fae side making him feel that way. I was trying to protect you.’

  I shook my head, waving my bacon sandwich in the air. ‘No. I’m not buying it. If that were the case, why weren’t you all protective when Dylan was around? He was a vampire then, too. He could have been attracted to me for all the wrong reasons.’

  She concentrated hard on slicing more bread. ‘Okay,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ll level with you – but don’t spread this around, because it’s just a feeling I have.’ She took a deep breath and turned to face me. ‘I never knew Jared all that well. He’s an incredibly old vampire as you know, so when I was growing up, he was already an adult. He lived in London most of the time, so our paths rarely crossed. When I followed you back to the Vander Inn and I was inside the broom, it was the first real contact I’d had with Jared. I’m afraid I took a bit of an unfair dislike to him.’

  ‘But why?’

  She took another deep breath. ‘Because I might not have known Jared, but I did know his dad. And I never liked him. And Jared … he looks so much like Ron. That’s why I was wary of him. I was wrong to be, because he turned out to be an amazing friend to you. I suppose I really ought to apologise to him. I whacked him pretty hard on the rear end once or twice.’

  I’d finished my sandwich, so I took a slug of my tea, turning over what she said. ‘Jared heals quickly. And he’s definitely a good guy. Actually … I’m not sure his dad’s as bad as I thought, either.’ I quickly related what I’d seen last night.