Page 16 of A Skirl of Sorcery (The Cat Lady Chronicles #3)

Chapter

Fourteen

By dawn the next morning Keres’ condition hadn’t changed.

I should have been pleased that she hadn’t deteriorated but I’d hoped the concoction would achieve faster results.

I’d brewed it as soon as I’d reached home and made sure she drank every last drop.

After that, I’d crashed out for three hours; it wasn’t much of a sleep but it would see me through the day. I’d survived on far less in the past.

‘How long did that fool doctor reckon it would take before she started to improve?’ Dave demanded.

‘He didn’t say.’

My druid neighbour’s mouth flattened. Dave’s default expression was a scowl but it usually implied warmth and general bonhomie; now there was a despairing quality to his expression that indicated his unhappiness.

He delved into his back pocket and yanked out a bulging leather wallet. ‘I have savings,’ he declared gruffly.

I didn’t immediately understand what he was telling me. ‘Uh, okay.’

Dave waved the wallet in my face. ‘I’ll hire a private investigator – I know a few druids who do that sort of thing. I’ll hire one of them to find out what happened to Keres and find the bastard who ripped her powers from her.’

‘Don’t do that,’ I said softly.

He bristled with anger. ‘It’s my money.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘I owe ban sith community far more than money.’

‘Okay, Dave, but the thing is—’

‘That young woman doesn’t deserve to die like this!’

I reached out and gripped his hands as he drew in a shuddering breath. ‘Put your money away, Dave.’

‘I have to try and help her.’

‘I will search for whoever is responsible for this,’ I told him.

‘Kit,’ he whispered, ‘we need to find someone who knows what they’re doing.’

I didn’t look away. ‘I know what I’m doing – and I won’t flinch from what needs to be done.’

He grimaced. ‘You’re a good neighbour, but you’re just a cat lady.’ He said the words gently as if he didn’t want to offend me. Bless him; I’d always known Dave was a softie but I hadn’t fully appreciated how kind he could be.

I lifted my chin. ‘I can do this.’ Then I added, ‘I’m a true resident of Coldstream, Dave.’ In other words, I won’t tell you what I can do but I’m more capable than you know.

I continued. ‘Keres is under my roof and that makes her my responsibility. And you’d be surprised at some of my abilities.’ That was an understatement. ‘But I do need your help. Watch her while I’m gone, make sure she’s hydrated, give her food if she wants some. Can you do that?’

Dave sniffed. ‘You don’t have to ask.’ He continued to eye me. ‘Are you sure that you—?’

‘Yes.’

He licked his lips. ‘Okay, Kit. But please don’t let me down. Don’t let Keres down.’

He knew that I couldn’t promise anything, and he wasn’t going to force me into a lie. Instead he went off to the upstairs flat without another word. His footsteps were very, very heavy.

Leaving nothing to chance, I checked I had everything I would need: dagger, poison, several different potions and my most sensible footwear. My final port of call was the back room where Tiddles had been shut in since we’d returned last night.

She didn’t attack me when I opened the door, which I took as a positive, but if cat looks could kill I’d have been on the floor and writhing my way to a quick death. I pointed. ‘Comfy blankets and cushions. Fresh water bowl. Tasty treats. You’ve got everything you need.’

Tiddles hissed.

‘No, you don’t have your freedom but that’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have sneaked out last night.’

She extended her claws pointedly but I wasn’t going to be intimidated by a teenage cat even if she’d come straight from the demon netherworld.

I shrugged. ‘Either you stay grounded in here until I return, or you can come with me—' Tiddles skittered towards me in her rush to join me ‘—but,’ I added firmly, ‘you stay with me at all times and you do exactly what I tell you to.’

She purred loudly.

‘Exactly what I tell you,’ I reiterated.

I crouched down and held out my arms. Tiddles gave my fingers a lick then let me pick her up and put her on my shoulder.

I’d probably regret this but it would forestall my guilt at locking her up.

I stood up, adjusted my weight until she was comfortable and walked out of my front door.

A tall man was standing at the garden gate and I recognised him instantly as Slasher’s husband. Well, that was just peachy. I wasn’t in the mood for any prolonged confrontations and, frankly, Keres deserved far better. I strode towards him.

He didn’t smile. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I live down the street.’

I was prepared to offer him a grunt and nothing else, but She Without An Ear was perched on the wall beside him and she gave me a long look to remind me that I was supposed to be fostering good relations with my neighbours. Even the shitty ones. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘You have a beautiful family.’

My compliment took him by surprise. ‘Uh, thank you.’

‘Your daughter Kate is very friendly. It’s wonderful that we can all get along – we’re fortunate to live in a community that’s so welcoming. It’s one of the many things I love about Danksville.’

His cheeks were turning red. ‘Well, yes, that’s good.’

‘I mean, look at you,’ I said, unlatching the gate. ‘You know what people in other parts of Coldstream say about druids, but here you’re welcomed with open arms.’

He frowned. ‘Huh? What do people say about druids?’

Obviously, I didn’t answer. ‘I’d love to stay and chat – in fact, I’d love to invite you in for some tea but I’m on my way out. I have several appointments to keep.’ I gazed off into the distance. ‘Perimenopausal symptoms have to be taken seriously when you’re a woman of my age.’

Mr Slasher blanched. There were likely several years to go before I experienced the dubious pleasure of the perimenopause, but sometimes people could be pleasingly predictable.

I went on. ‘The cramps are horrendous. And there’s so much blood…’

Mr Slasher was already backing away. ‘I can see you’re busy,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ll let you get on your own way.’

‘That’s very kind of you. If you’re looking for a chat,’ I told him, ‘Mrs Miller is home.’

As if on cue, the older woman who lived across from me – and who possessed enough Fae blood to entrap almost anyone – opened her front door. She was beaming. ‘Would you like to come in, dear?’ she asked him. ‘I’ve just made some scones. They’re still hot from the oven.’

I smiled, patted Tiddles and went on my way.

It was still early, so there was little point finding Thane until later. I knew enough about werewolves to wait until late morning to try to talk to him; in fact, I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak coherently until the following day.

Keres was also in no state to talk but I could still learn more about what had happened when her ban sith powers were stolen. If I visited the probable scene of the crime, I’d be bound to locate a few early risers who could be persuaded to chat.

Given that I’d avoided the ban sith community for decades, I’d only passed through Barton Road on my way to somewhere else.

I’d certainly never spent any time there, though in a way that wasn’t a bad thing because at least I’d never killed anyone in that neighbourhood.

But after hearing Louise’s story, I was wary that the ban siths would recognise what I used to be.

That wasn’t reason enough to avoid them though, not if I wanted to help Keres.

Anyone who didn’t know that Barton Road was home to the ban siths would certainly get an inkling as they strolled down it.

Death was celebrated, and it was visible in every nook and cranny.

Western sensibilities lean towards pretending that death doesn’t happen; I could understand why some would be discomfited by such obvious awareness of life’s one absolute truth, that death was coming for us all, sooner or later.

Funereal black was the colour choice for every front door, window sill and lamppost, and I suspected that if I peered into the houses I would see black wallpaper.

There were plenty of hanging baskets full of flowers, though there were no sunny daffodils or blushing roses on display; they all contained lilies.

I frowned and tapped Tiddles. ‘You see those flowers?’ She nibbled on my ear. ‘As far as you’re concerned, they are poisonous. Stay on my shoulder and stay away from them.’ She chirruped. ‘I mean it,’ I warned her.

We passed a shop selling gravestones and another displaying coffins.

On the other side of the street, there was an arresting window display of cremation urns.

There was even a store that proudly advertised death powder, a substance that supposedly sent someone to their death through skin-to-skin contact.

If you believed that, you’d believe anything because death powder didn’t work; if it did, it would hardly be openly for sale.

Its presence did, however, prove that the shop owners here had thought of everything.

If you’d come across a similar scene almost anywhere else in the world, it would have seemed cheesy, like a clichéd film set or a theme park, but instead of feeling like a gratuitous celebration of death Barton Road felt normal.

I couldn’t see any ban siths, though; their work was nocturnal and most of them would be fast asleep. Even so, I hoped to find someone who knew Keres.

‘Good morning.’ I turned my head to see not a ban sith but a robed deacon from the Church of the Masked God.

He was standing in the doorway of a small building with a plaque on it. Having a Masked God office here made sense because they benefited enormously from bequests and legacies; I had no doubt that the church leaders were fans of death.

I smiled. ‘Morning.’

‘You look a little lost. Is there something I can help you with?’ The man knew what he was doing; in matters of impending death – unless you were a doctor or an assassin – the gentler the approach and the softer the sell, the better.

I twitched anxiously. It was only partly an act. ‘Uh…’