Page 10 of A Skirl of Sorcery (The Cat Lady Chronicles #3)

Chapter

Nine

There were a lot of doctors, nurses and wellness practitioners in Coldstream because Preternaturals often required medical attention.

Magic didn’t always go hand in hand with good health; quite the opposite, in fact.

I could have found plenty of medics nearby to help Keres but I wanted the right sort of person. And he lived some distance away.

I’d come across Fergus a few months earlier when I’d dragged the semi-conscious body of a pompous witch called Quentin Hightower through the streets.

Fergus wasn’t exactly a doctor but he ran a tiny clinic and possessed exactly the sort of skill that I reckoned Keres needed.

If anyone could work out what was wrong with her – and help her – he could.

Fergus wasn’t a cat sith so he couldn’t transform into a cat and see the black weeds growing inside her body, but he did have the magical ability to sniff out ailments.

It would be worth travelling to the other side of the city to fetch him, although going from one end of Coldstream to the other would be more complicated during the full moon.

I waited patiently at the end of the road for the next purple-spark-laden tram to stop in front of me. The on-board guard inspected me briefly before allowing me to pass through the wolfsbane barrier.

Werewolves wouldn’t be allowed on public transport until Monday when the full moon had passed.

Although they were generally able to control their more violent urges when they were in public, there were exceptions to every rule.

It was twenty-two years since a werewolf had boarded a tram during the full moon and killed everyone on board, and painful memories like that took a long time to subside.

Besides, no transformed wolf needed to take the tram because their four legs would carry them much further and faster than any vehicle, even a magical one such as this.

I changed trams at Crackendon Square and underwent the same checks.

There was a group of seven werewolves, all furry, hovering in the far corner of the public square.

Even though Thane was a lone wolf who was usually ignored by his own kind, I checked the small posse to see if he was among them.

He wasn’t. By the time we pulled away, the werewolves were leaving, doubtless heading for the outskirts of the city where there was more space for them to expend their lupine energy.

I disembarked outside Bruggens, a well-appointed witchery store with marked-up prices, and walked the few hundred metres to the grubby clinic.

The Caring Touch Institution looked like the sort of place that would scam you out of every last penny you owned then kick you while you were down, but appearances were deceptive.

Anyone who crossed me always found that out very quickly.

I pushed open the front door, pleased to discover that the waiting room was devoid of patients.

To be fair, it was late in the evening so I was lucky that the clinic was open.

although the welcome desk – which wasn’t welcoming in the slightest – was as empty as it had been during my first visit.

Fergus clearly hadn’t paid any attention to my advice to hire a receptionist.

Rather than take a seat and wait, I marched to the inner door, opened it and drew breath to call out. I didn’t get the chance, though, because Fergus appeared with his arm hooked through that of an elderly witch. He was clearly escorting her to the exit.

‘Hi, Fergus,’ I called brightly.

Both he and the old witch ignored me. ‘Mind your step, Mrs Davidson,’ he murmured.

She responded with a breathy expression of gratitude, and I stepped back to let her get past. That didn’t stop the older woman from jabbing me with her bony elbow, which I was certain was no accident.

I smiled; I looked forward to the day when I was old enough to carry out minor assaults without comment from my victims.

‘Remember to take the pills with every meal.’

‘Yes, doctor.’

‘Just Fergus,’ he answered smoothly.

‘Yes, doctor.’

Fergus gave up and helped her outside. ‘Mind how you go.’

I didn’t hear what she said in return but whatever it was made Fergus appear less blearily beleaguered for a long moment. He closed the door after her.

Now he was all mine. ‘I need your help,’ I said loudly.

He glanced at me, nostrils flaring. There was no sign of recognition. ‘You’re fine,’ he said dismissively.

‘It’s not me who’s ill. It’s a friend of mine.’

He raised a thin eyebrow. ‘Another friend? Is this one another highly placed witch that you’ve kidnapped?’

So he did remember me. ‘A ban sith.’

I didn’t miss the flare of interest in his eyes though he masked it quickly. ‘Ban siths have their own clinic.’

That was news to me. I wondered if Keres had gone there when she’d lost her powers and, if she had, what they’d told her. ‘I think your particular medical skills will be more appropriate in this scenario,’ I said smoothly.

Fergus spun round slowly. ‘I don’t see any ban siths here.’

Ha. Ha. I held my patience. ‘She’s too sick to travel. She’s resting at my place.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Danksville.’

He pulled a face. ‘That’s almost an hour away.’

Hardly. ‘Forty minutes,’ I said. ‘Tops.’

‘I don’t make house calls. Anyway, it’s late. I’m clocking off for the night.’

‘I can make it worth your while.’

Fergus gave me a long look. ‘I’m not so desperate for money that I’ll travel to the worst suburb in Coldstream during the full moon.’ He inclined his head. ‘Good day to you.’ He trudged off behind the desk towards the rooms beyond.

‘Something is inside her,’ I called after him.

‘Something dark that’s eating away at her.

I don’t know what it is, but it feels evil.

’ He stopped moving. It was almost imperceptible but there was a definite stiffening to his shoulders.

I doubled down. ‘I think it’ll kill her if we don’t find a way to get rid of it. ’

There was another long silence then Fergus gave a heavy sigh. ‘Very well. Give me a few minutes to get my bag and some supplies.’

I allowed myself a small smile of triumph. ‘No problem.’

The tram ride to Crackendon Square passed without incident.

I tried to engage Fergus in small talk by mentioning the full moon and the price of witched saffron powder but he ignored me.

He gripped his black-leather medical bag tightly in one hand and stared out of the window as the tram wended its way through the streets.

When we boarded the second tram, things were different.

Fergus submitted to the wolfsbane check then clumped towards its centre while I dropped two tokens at the front to pay for us both.

Instead of gazing out of the window again, he sniffed the air and his eyes widened in alarm.

He swung his head from side to side to examine the other passengers then fixed on a teenage dryad sitting quietly in the far corner.

Her head was bowed, her long hair draped across her shoulders, and she was giving off more stay-away vibes than the most anxious of feral cats.

Fergus didn’t appear to care that she wanted to be left alone.

He strode towards her, pushing past a troll and an exhausted looking druid, until he was standing over the teenager, breathing heavily.

I watched with interest. On the first occasion we’d met I’d worked out that although Fergus might not be a trained doctor, he possessed the magical ability to sniff out health problems – literally sniff them out, judging by the way his nose was hovering over the dryad’s head.

After several seconds twitching his nostrils, he crouched beside her and began to speak.

He kept his voice low so that even though I strained to listen, I couldn’t hear what he was saying above the trundle of the tram.

At first the dryad didn’t move her head or look at him but he didn’t appear bothered by her lack of interest; he continued talking to her until she finally reached out, grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight.

When she lifted her head, I caught a glimpse of tear-filled eyes – but she was smiling.

Fergus waited until she released her hold on him, nodded, patted her shoulder and stood up. He joined me by the tram window. ‘Problem?’ I asked.

He smiled serenely. ‘No. No problem.’

I glanced at the dryad. She was no longer staring at her lap. Although I could still see the glint of unshed tears in her wide violet eyes, she looked at peace with herself.

‘You’re a good man, Fergus.’

He snorted in response.

I couldn’t know what had bothered the young dryad or what Fergus had said to reassure her, but his actions made me think of my own insignificant issues. ‘Is reading minds one of your skills?’ I asked quietly.

He snorted again. ‘Nobody can read minds but anyone can read facial expressions and concealed cues. Some people can see auras or recognise emotions, and there are a few like me who can sense illness. But nobody can actually read another living being’s mind.’

‘Are you sure?’ I pressed.

His derisive expression melted away as he glanced at me. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can never be completely sure. But I’m mostly sure.’

I thought about Trilby. It might have been a coincidence that the enigmatic black-market seller had voiced the same words that had passed through my head only moments before. I’d known Trilby for some time; if they could read my mind, I was certain it was a new development.

‘There are many skilled con artists living in Coldstream,’ Fergus said. ‘You don’t strike me as someone who is easily fooled, but nobody is immune. Sometimes it’s the more educated and experienced people who are susceptible to scammers.’

I was well aware that self-confidence and the belief that you weren’t a typical fraud victim could make you fall into a con-artist’s trap, but I didn’t believe that Trilby was a scammer. Not for a second. All the same, my new wariness of them wouldn’t dissipate any time soon.

‘I’m careful,’ I said aloud.

Fergus nodded. ‘You should be.’

I looked again at the dryad and then at Fergus. At least I was certain of one thing: he was definitely the right person to help Keres.