Mauve (A Very British Witch Book 3) Page 9

  Karl brushed past Tarquin and made two more strides towards the front door. It was locked. Bending down, he shouted through the letterbox. “Hello, Ronnie, you in? It’s Karl. I’ve got Tarquin with me.”

  No reply.

  He turned to face Tarquin. “No good, he’s not in. We’re going to have to break the door down. Or pick the lock.”

  “Do you know how?”

  “I used to do it often, but not for a while. Luckily I grabbed my old kit from the shop before we left, just in case. Stand back, I’ll give it my best shot.”

  Karl’s hand moved over each of his pockets, coming to rest in the deep side pocket of his jacket. He spent a second searching before pulling out a small, flat container, smiling triumphantly. “Knew this would come in handy.”

  He opened the case, selected his tools, and went to work on the puzzle. Five minutes of twisting, turning, trying the door handle, and frowning followed, before the lock clicked and the door swung open. Turning around to look at Tarquin with a smug grin, he held open the door and said, “Be my guest.”

  Tarquin moved his hands to his mouth and called out, using that nasal kind of voice that people use when shouting through clasped hands. “Hello?”

  No answer.

  Moving on towards the living room, Tarquin gestured for Karl to follow and whispered, “You have a look down here for any clues of where he might be. I’ll go upstairs.”

  “Okay, but regardless of whether you find anything or not, make sure you get some clothes. If we do end up finding him, I don’t want to be in the car with a naked guy. That would look more than a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

  Tarquin grinned. “Okay, deal.”

  Karl looked around the living room and kitchen while Tarquin searched the upstairs bedrooms and baths.

  “No luck eh?” Tarquin asked from the top of the stairs.

  “No. you?”

  “Not a thing, but I’ve had an idea.”

  “Well come on then, bring some clothes and tell me about it.”

  “Won’t be a minute. I just need to find a hairbrush.”

  “A hairbrush?”

  “Yes, a hairbrush.”

  “Why in God’s name do you want a hairbrush? You won’t find him hiding in there, you know.”

  “Karl—just stay put. I’ll be down in a minute, okay? Just trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Okay, but get on with it. We don’t have all the time in the world.”

  Karl shook his head. He stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other, tutting and mumbling under his breath while Tarquin ransacked the place upstairs.

  Roughly five minutes later, Tarquin appeared at the top of the stairs, hairbrush in one hand and a pile of clothes under his free arm.

  “So, what’s with the hairbrush?”

  “Scrying spell.”

  “Scrying spell, what in the—”

  “I’m going to use magic to find him. We’ve no choice.”

  “Are you sure it will work?”

  Tarquin nodded. “It will, believe me. I’ve done this a hundred times before.”

  “Well then, better get on with it.” Karl glanced at the time. “It’s not going to take long, is it? You’re not going to summon all the witches in the place to come hither are you?”

  “No, don’t worry. It won’t take but a minute.”

  “And what about the house? Is it going to light up and start shaking, or be whisked off into space?”

  “No, no one will have the slightest clue. And we have to go back to the shop anyway.”

  Karl marched along the passage and opened the front door. “Come on, let’s get on with it.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cliff Rogers’s Residence, Bicester

  Cliff sighed, shook his head and strode towards his car. He had other, pressing things to attend to and he really didn’t have time to go hunting for this rogue werewolf. Yet, if he’d been around the night before, this surely wouldn’t have happened.

  Making himself comfortable in the driver’s seat, he thought back to the events of the previous day. Those kids, taking their time crossing the road, the receptionist with an attitude, those people that refused to let him retake his place in the queue.

  These were the people that had put him in such a foul mood. If it wasn’t for them, he would have taken Karl’s call and headed straight back to the bookshop after he’d seen the orderly. It was their fault that he hadn’t been there to stop Ronnie escaping. And if he’d been there, then he wouldn’t be going searching for him now.

  He hadn’t a clue where he was going, but he knew he had to do something or else the search would linger on for days.

  He’d had some experiences with werewolves and knew that they could be creatures of habit. They liked to frequent the same area, do the same things, retrace the exact footsteps that they’d taken the last time they’d eaten.

  He hung his head, deep in contemplation. He didn’t know much about Ronnie, but he did know he liked a run. Maybe, some animal instinct had guided him to the same route.

  He pulled out of his driveway and hit the road. He did have a vague idea of Ronnie’s jogging route. They’d got talking once and Ronnie had gone on and on about it. Cliff had resisted the temptation to leave him to it, but his mind had started to wander. He cursed himself for having such a short attention span. Sometime soon, he would have to improve his listening skills, as there might come a time when his survival depended on it.

  Driving around, he looked out for street names, shops, road signs, roundabouts, anything that rang any bells at all, but nothing. A good half an hour later, he turned down a street lined with houses. Glancing up at the sign on the corner, he found, quite by chance, that he’d stumbled across Ronnie’s street.

  Continuing along the road, it all started coming back to him. From then on, as he neared the end of one road, the next came to mind.

  He glanced through the driver’s window, first for Ronnie, then for signs that he might have been this way recently. His eyes darted from the driver’s window to the passenger’s, scrutinizing both pavements in turn, but still nothing. When he’d reached the route’s end for the third time, he switched on the Sat Nav system to bring up a map of the surrounding streets, see if it would lead to any ideas.

  Ronnie’s regular jogging path had failed to deliver, but there were a few side roads. The car started and proceeded to crawl along the street. It wasn’t long before Cliff noticed a side road that turned off the street at an angle of about five past.

  The side road had a row of three houses, with expensive-looking cars. The houses looked out at a vast field, beyond which, only just visible, stood a farmhouse. He could see sheep dotted around and in the distance; one or two cows too. However, there was no sign of Ronnie, no sign at all.

  Eventually, he sighed, shook his head and turned the car around. The return journey was even slower than before, eyes glancing around, examining the pavements thoroughly for any suspicious looking footprints or, better still, tufts of fur.

  After driving along Ronnie’s street for one final time, he passed the lights, turned on to the main road and accelerated. He’d done his bit and his conscience was clear. Now at least, no one could accuse him of not helping and he could get on with the things that actually mattered. When, or indeed if, he next set eyes on Ronnie, he was going to give him what for. He’d better have a damn good excuse and, even more importantly, he’d better never do his disappearing act ever again.

  +++

  Malaprop’s Bookstore, Bicester, England

  Hands glued to the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road ahead, Karl looked like he was chewing a wasp. “You sure this is gonna work?”

  Tarquin tapped the hairbrush on Karl’s thigh.

  Karl swatted at it and then wiped down his leg. “Be careful what you do with that thing would you?”

  Tarquin held the brush up to the light, inspecting the intricately woven web of red hairs. “There’s no reason why
this shouldn’t work, Karl. There’s more than enough hairs here.”

  Karl’s lips twisted in mild disgust thinking of Ronnie’s hairs and dead skin cells being put on his trousers.

  The car slowed and the indicator clicked. “Come on, get out of the way will you, we haven’t got all day,“ Karl complained to the car in front. “And something else, there’d better be somewhere to park, because—”

  “Oh, stop your moaning will you?” Tarquin chastised. “We’re going to go in, perform the spell and find out once and for all what’s going on.”

  Once they’d pulled up in the tiny car park around the back of his bookstore, Tarquin opened the door, jumped out and turned to look at Karl, who was struggling with his seat belt. “Come on, this way.”

  It didn’t take them long to descend the long staircase to arrive in the basement where they’d locked Ronnie up. Tarquin stepped back from the dirty gray window, looked over his shoulder, and told Karl to close the door behind him.

  They each moved forward until they met in the center of the room. Tarquin raised the brush over his head, waved it around in a circular motion, then started chanting.

  The room shook and flashed a multitude of colors. The basement windows glowed bright red and the brush resembled some luminous wand. In the center of the room, less than two feet away from where they stood, a dark circle appeared, which gave birth to a column of blue light. Karl looked into the light, waiting for something to happen. He was just about to snigger at Tarquin and tell him it was a waste of time, when a face, a bit like a hologram, appeared in the light.

  As the blue light faded, the face grew increasingly prominent until they recognized it as Ronnie.

  Karl leaned forward, eyes as wide as they could go. “What the, where—”

  “Shh, keep your eyes on the light.”

  Karl’s mesmerized expression turned to one of intrigue. Brows furrowed, they both stood looking into the light, trying to work out where he was.

  Karl was the first to speak. “Looks like some kind of glass enclosure.”

  Tarquin nodded.

  “Any idea where it might be?”

  “No, but wherever it is, he’s in trouble.”

  Without budging his focus from the light, Karl gave a smug grin. “Looks like some kind of military base.”

  “Shh.” Tarquin thrust his arm across Karl’s midriff. “Someone’s coming.”

  Footsteps clapped along the row of similar looking enclosures until a man, dressed in military attire, appeared.

  The man came to a halt outside Ronnie’s cage and grinned. “The time has come, my friend. Oh, if only you knew what we are going to do to you.”

  Tarquin stepped back, waved a hand and the blue light faded. Seconds later, the normal lights came back on and everything was back to normal, as if the events of the previous five minutes had never happened.

  Tarquin, was both excited and concerned. “So, what do you make of that then?”

  “Looks like some kind of military base,” Karl repeated.

  Tarquin nodded. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “That Ronnie’s got himself in a whole load of trouble.”

  “Not just that. It means we can rule out the possibility that he’s just disoriented and lost as a result of his sickness. No, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s been taken.”

  Karl nodded, his expression decidedly somber. “Certainly, looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  “Mmm. So, what are we going to do about it?”

  Karl took out his phone. “Time to call in the cavalry.” He punched in a number, raised the phone to his ear and waited. “Come on, damn you, answer.” Karl sighed and shook his head. “I tell you what, if you need something done around here, do it yourself. And never call on Cliff. He’s a complete waste of— Cliff! I need a favor.”

  Cliff groaned. “Oh, what now?”

  “I need you to go and find Scarlett at the shop.”

  “Scarlett? Why?”

  “I need you to bring her here, we’re at the bookstore.”

  “Why you asking me?”

  “Look, Cliff. I couldn’t give a monkey’s arse what has gone or is going on between the two of you. Just find her and get her over here, now.”

  Cliff sounded more disgruntled than ever. “Well, okay then.”

  “Thank you.”

  Karl put the phone back in his pocket and shook his head. “Vampires,” he muttered, ironically.

  Tarquin had his phone to his ear.

  “Who’re you ringing?”

  Tarquin raised an index finger and told him to shush. Five minutes later, he put the phone back in his pocket and smiled.

  Karl was still watching him. “You gonna tell me who that was?”

  “Yes, just someone that knows a thing or two about casting spells. I could do with some help.”

  +++

  Bicester Vintner’s, Bicester, England

  After a slow start, the wine shop had gotten busy in the afternoon. There had been a constant flow of customers ever since Scarlett had returned from lunch, and she’d managed to charm a good few of them into buying more than they’d intended. Karl was bound to be pleased with her efforts. And if takings turned out to be up, he might start leaving her on her own more often. At the very least, he would stay off her case for a while.

  Standing at the counter, watching a woman in her fifties leave the shop with a crate of wine bottles, she decided it was time to take a well-earned break. Besides, she might find something of interest around the back. Karl had his finger in lots of pies, so there could well be something there that might shed some more light on what was going on.

  The door swung open and a tall, dark man stepped in. Damn you, Scarlett thought, grinning politely in the direction of the door. The customer smiled, nodded and proceeded towards the counter.

  “Cliff!”

  Scarlett momentarily lowered her eyes from the invisible wall of awkwardness that stood between them.

  A cough. “Good afternoon, Scarlett.”

  If she’d learned one thing in her life, it was that the only way to overcome an awkward atmosphere was to get things out in the open. “Look, Cliff. What happened between us, it’s in the past now.”

  Cliff nodded. “It’s not about that.”

  “Well, I’m happy with Tim. I know it’s only early days and he can be a bit weird at times, but—”

  “Scarlett, shut up for one minute, will you?”

  The shock was written all over her face. Ever since their date that wasn’t, Cliff had been around. He had this way of looking at her that made her feel confident. It was a big compliment in a way and she’d never minded, despite the fact that she was happy with Tim.

  His blank, expressionless eyes looked straight through her like she didn’t exist. Given her situation, Scarlett knew this should be a good thing, but she just couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit rejected. There was little alternative but to put on her most business-like face and pretend she was meeting a supplier for the first time.

  “Sorry. Well, what is it then?”

  “I—we need your help.”

  “Did you find Ronnie?”

  “Well, yes and no.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, we just need your help with something extremely important, that’s all I can say.”

  “I don’t know Cliff. Karl’s not gonna be happy if I go traipsing off, leaving the store unattended.”

  “He won’t mind, not this time.”

  “How do you know he won’t?”

  “Because it was his idea to come and fetch you.”

  “Oh, well that’s a different matter then.”

  Cliff nodded. “Look, I can’t tell you much more for now. But Karl told me to tell you to close the shop early and get yourself over to Malaprop’s.”

  “What, right away?”

  “Yes, now.” He took out his phone and glanced at the time. “Look, I have things to do, places to g
o. I can’t stand around here chatting all day. So, can I leave it with you?”

  Scarlett nodded. “Yes, I’ll start packing up and have a walk round.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  The door closed and Cliff strode past the shop window. She glanced around. The shelves needed tidying, the petty cash needed counting. A bitter coffee smell drifted upwind from the white mug in front of her. She’d been helping herself to coffee all day and if Karl came back to find the kitchen in a state with dirty cups everywhere, tomorrow morning would be hell. There was a lot to do. No way she was going to make it there very quickly, what had she been thinking of?

  She whisked up the mug and took it with her into the kitchen. Hands immersed in the soapy water, her mind drifted. Cliff had been weird. He hadn’t been as cold as that for a long time. Ever since that day when he’d stood her up.

  Stepping back into the shop, she opened the till and began putting the coins in plastic bags. Ten minutes later, she put on her coat, gave the shelves one final tidy, and shut up shop. It was only a short walk to Tarquin’s, no more than ten minutes. Just enough time to go over things in her mind and see if she could figure out what was going on. Being the only uninformed person would put her at a disadvantage, but if she could piece together the clues, the element of surprise would work in her favor. Leaving the shop and walking past the neighboring window, she got to work.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Malaprop’s Bookstore, Bicester, England

  Scarlett loved books and enjoyed going around to Malaprop’s, though the given circumstances were not at all ideal. There were hardly ever any customers in the store but today there were none. Tarquin must have put a shield around the store to keep people from coming in today, she mused, recalling a spell in her aunt’s grimoire that did just that. It was a good thing since Malaprop’s had rare and hard to find books that one could not find just anywhere, and people generally spent a good hour browsing the shop unless they knew exactly what they had come in to find.

  She took a look behind the till to confirm that the store was indeed closed and then proceeded to walk along the center aisle, past the archaic books, some of which were full of dust. All of them had yellow pages, and the air was full of an old book smell that reminded her of her grandparents’ place when she was a kid.