 
# Deadhead

### Damned Girl Book 1

## Clare Kauter
Copyright © 2015 by Clare Kauter

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover created with help from Brusheezy.com.
_For Alexi, because he complained so much about the last one being "dedicated to your dead grandmother"._

### Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

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Also by Clare Kauter

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What now?

Losing Your Head

# Chapter 1

The lady in my kitchen was stuck up and stupid but I needed her money so I swallowed hard and put on my best Customer Service Fake Smile™.

"Was there anything in particular you'd like me to ask him?"

She was crying into the toilet paper I'd given her when she'd asked me for a tissue. Not that I didn't have any tissues to give her; there was just something satisfying about watching annoying clients cry into toilet paper. You do what you can to keep yourself amused in this business.

"I just want to know if he's... _happy_!" __ She began to sob with loud, shuddering breaths. I tried my best to look sympathetic, although I suspect my facial expression may have been one of disgust rather than compassion. I didn't understand crying loudly in front of people. It wasn't something I did very often. Usually only when I was in a public place and desperately wanted to get my own way. (It's amazing what people will do to get you to shut up.) But these tricks don't work on me.

"Of course," I said. "I'll make sure to ask. Just before we get started though, I'm afraid we have to discuss the subject of fees. It is much harder summoning the spirit of a deceased animal, as I'm sure you can appreciate – what with the language barrier and all – and hence for animal clairvoyance I charge double my standard rate."

"No price is too high for my Noodle."

Excellent.

Now, before you get on your moral high horse and yell at me about taking money from a grief-stricken woman, just hear me out: this was a lady who had disposable income to spend on communing with the spirit of her dead pet. She clearly knew nothing about the spirit realm whatsoever and hadn't bothered to do any research. She'd just assumed that I could talk to her dog. Now, let's think about this...

She wanted me to ask. Her dead dog. Questions.

I love animals, but even to me this was a bit far. Firstly, she wanted me to summon the spirit of her dog (and let's be fair, dogs don't come when they're called at the best of times, much less when they're dead). Spirits don't just hang around once they die. They pick the conservative party upstairs or wild times for eternity downstairs unless they've got some unfinished business to attend to. Most animals, especially pampered pet pooches, do not have 'unfinished business'. The only ghost animal I'd seen in the last week was a cockroach coming back for a crumb he hadn't finished. When he realised he couldn't eat it, he moved on. Animals don't tend to get hung up on the past. They go with the flow. And if, by some miracle, I did manage to summon a dog, I couldn't be sure it was _her_ dog, could I? Even if I was sure it was hers, how on earth was I meant to talk to it?

Nevertheless, there was a lot of money at stake here, so I shut my eyes and gave it a go. I took a deep breath and with all my energy, projected my voice into the astral realm.

"Here puppy! Come on, who's a good boy? Come to Nessa, that's a good boy. Noodles! Noooooodles!"

Suddenly I heard a bark at my left ankle. I opened my eyes and looked down. To my astonishment, there was a dog there. A ghost hound. I'd actually summoned a dead animal. I looked away from the dog when I heard huffing and chair scraping from across the table.

"I didn't come here to be made fun of! I hope you don't expect –"

"Is Noodles a poodle with a pink diamante-studded collar?"

She stopped in her tracks. "You – you actually –"

"Yes," I said. I was used to this reaction. People always thought I was having a go at them when I spoke to ghosts the way I spoke to normal people. (Or dogs.) They expected me to put on a sing-songy voice and talk in riddles, with perhaps the occasional head-twitch or possession. Reality was much tamer. Spirits were basically just the same as they used to be, but dead. If you tried to talk to a ghost like you see people do on TV, the ghost would think you were crazy.

Noodles had also noticed the lady moving and started growling loudly, teeth bared. Eventually he inched towards her.

"What's he saying?" she asked.

"Um... Difficult to know right now," I said.

Noodles advanced right up to her, no longer growling but doing the dog equivalent of shooting her dirty looks. He lifted his leg and began to wee on her shoe, still glaring at her face.

"How about now?"

Noodles ran back over to me, tail wagging. I leant down to pat him when suddenly he disappeared with a puff. His business in this world had concluded.

"He's much happier now he's seen you," I said, trying not to stare at the ghostly urine dripping from the lady's foot.

A breeze rustled the leaves of the fruit trees as the pinkish light of dusk settled over the cemetery across from my house. Some people found it odd that I lived across from a cemetery. I found it calming. If there was one place ghosts didn't like to hang out, it was here. You'd only get the occasional newbie passing through, and they tended not to bother me. They had bigger concerns. Like being dead. Besides, it was good for business. When you deal in death, living near a cemetery gives you some street cred.

It had always seemed like a bit of a sick joke to me that Watergrove Cemetery was dotted over with a variety of fruit trees. How cruel could you be? The first thing the dead guys would see as they floated up out of the grave would be these very alive trees bearing very edible fruits which they could never again touch. Most of the deadies who ended up at my house whined for several minutes about something to that effect, before moving on to whine about something else. Usually to do with being dead. They had very one-track minds, these ghosts. As though death had taken something away from them. I mean, sure, they couldn't touch anything, but they could be invisible and fly and walk through stuff. Surely it wasn't that bad.

I wandered out to the herb garden in front of my house and picked some coriander. I was having tacos for dinner, but the coriander also had the added benefit of keeping away any stray ghosts who thought about haunting me. Like most people, ghosts can't stand the smell of coriander. It's like garlic and vampires. Taco Tuesday was a good night to keep away all the supernaturals.

Well, almost all of them.

Halfway through mashing up the avocado for my Holy Moly Guacamole (to go with my Salsa-tional Tomato Salsa and Cream-azing Cashew Cream), I heard a weird noise behind me. A squishy noise, like play-dough footsteps. (I don't quite know what that means either. Just roll with it; it's poetic.)

I didn't bother turning around. I knew who it was already. It would be some representative from the Green Wattle Coven, coming to hassle me again to join them. They'd become convinced that I had magical powers ever since three of them turned up when I'd first moved in, promising to rid my house of rodents. Apparently around the cemetery there were big problems with pest animals. When they found out I'd already taken care of the mice and the cockroaches, they were in absolute awe.

"But how?" they'd asked. "Dost thou know the ways of Wicca?" (Yes, they actually spoke like this.)

"No, I just googled it. Peppermint oil repels rats and cockroaches hate garlic. Like tiny vampires. But without the fangs." I frowned. "Cockroaches don't have fangs, do they? Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

At this moment, they all turned to each other and whispered, wide-eyed, "She knows of the Sacred Herbs!"

"No, you don't understand. I didn't perform any rituals, I just used the herbs to keep them away and then blocked up the holes where they were getting in. I didn't use any magic."

"Thou hast brought no harm to the living creatures! Thou art at peace with the Mother Earth!" the oldest, crone-iest one said.

"Well, no, I'm a vegan so –"

"Veegan? I do not know that sect."

"Oh, it's not a branch of magic or anything, it just means –"

"She has no coven," one whispered.

"She is unclaimed," said another.

"Join us!" said the third. Then they all began singing "Join us" in unison. They wouldn't leave and I ended up chasing them out by brandishing a frypan. Various representatives had been turning up a couple of times a week ever since. It got to a point where they'd started breaking into my house and I'd find them in the bathtub or hiding in cupboards waiting for me. One of them let slip that wormwood would keep them out, and after much searching I managed to find a bush in a corner of the cemetery and hung a wreath of it on my front door. I wondered how they'd finally managed to get past it. The squelchy footsteps stopped and it suddenly occurred to me that witches don't really sound squelchy. Insane, yes. Squelchy, not so much.

So what was that noise behind me?

I turned around, confused.

And screamed.

Well, it was kind of a scream. You know when you're not expecting something, so you start to scream, only to realise that it's not actually that scary, and you stop committing to the scream so it sort of becomes a honk?

Yeah. That.

So anyway, I honked.

Sitting in the middle of my (quite dirty, now I was looking at it – when did I last sweep it? Wait, when did I ever sweep it? Did I even own a broom?) kitchen floor, was a squishy little play-dough-footed axolotl.

He squinted up at me. I crouched down to get a better look at him and realised he was wearing glasses. That was weird. What kind of animal has glasses? And wasn't the coriander bothering him? He was even treading on a piece of it I must have dropped.

"Are you lost, little guy?"

"Unfortunately not."

This time I screamed properly. I did that whole scramble-back-from-the-unexpectedly-scary-thing that you see in horror movies and prank videos where the person tries to run backwards while they're still on their bum. I slammed into the kitchen bench and banged my head. Even after that, the axolotl was still there, so I kept banging it like an old person with a piece of technology that wasn't working properly.

"You're mental," said the axolotl.

"You think I don't know that?" I screeched. "You're talking to me!"

"You talked to me first."

"But – but – wormwood – and the coriander!"

He gave me what seemed to be a look of deep concern. "That's not how you do sentences."

"Neither's that!"

"I was trying to speak to you in your own language," he said. Fair call.

I took a few deep breaths and tried again. "The coriander didn't scare you off?"

He shrugged – I think it was a shrug – and said, "I'm Mexican."

"Right." I was pretty sure it was a bad axolotl joke, though, because his accent sounded more like that of an Oxbridge graduate.

"So, you are Nessa, I presume?"

"Yes. Who on earth are you? And why are you here? And how can you talk? And where did you get your tiny glasses? And why do you know my name?"

"I'm your new familiar."

"I'm not a witch!"

"Hey, I didn't exactly ask for this either."

"What?" I frowned. "Do you mean someone sent you?"

"Well, kind of."

"Kind of?"

"I lost a bet."

"You lost a bet?"

"Yep."

"And I was the punishment?"

"Yep."

"And what did the winner get?"

"Nothing."

"How is that winning, then?"

"They didn't get stuck with you. I'm Henry, by the way. Since you didn't think to ask."

"Henry?" I couldn't take all this in. There was an axolotl talking to me and introducing himself – lecturing me on manners and grammar in amongst it – and he was here because he lost a bet?

"Yes, Henry," he said. "Now, I hope you're fixing me a taco."

I made Henry and myself a tempeh taco each and we sat out on the verandah overlooking the cemetery as we ate. Henry began to explain (between mouthfuls – if nothing else his table etiquette was second-to-none) what exactly he'd been sent to my house to do.

"I'm here to audit you."

"What?" I demanded. "What for?" I mean, sure, I wasn't exactly paying tax on my cash-in-hand psychic business, but was the Australian Taxation Office really in the habit of sending a talking fish-lizard to scare business owners into following the law? Come to think of it, that would probably be quite effective. They'd either shape right up or end up in a psychiatric ward.

"Unauthorised use of magic."

Oh, man. He had to be kidding.

"You have to be kidding! I've never used magic in my life!" Not strictly true, of course, but...

"I just saw you talk to a dead dog."

My jaw dropped. "You were hiding in my house the whole time? That's kind of creepy, dude," I said. He just shrugged in response. I crossed my arms. "Besides, that's not magic! I just talk to dead things."

"Are you hearing yourself?"

Yeah, OK, he had a point.

"So why are you here? To fine me? Arrest me? I can see why they chose you, what with your imposing physique and all." He narrowed his eyes at me. I narrowed mine back.

"I could take you in a fight."

"I'd like to see you try."

Henry sighed. "Fine." He leapt down off the chair onto the wooden porch, landing with a soft squelch, and clicked the fishy fingers of his right hand. Suddenly there was a huge bang and we were encompassed in a cloud of sparkly smoke, the international symbol for 'some magic is happening here'. The smoke began to clear and I realised I might have underestimated Henry's ability to drag me away. Before me now stood a huge silverback. As in, a massive gorilla.

"Ah," I said. "So what were you saying about this audit?"

He sat back down, causing a lot more strain on my second-hand wicker chair than he had a moment ago. I noticed that his tiny glasses had grown to accommodate his now much larger head. It was like magic. "Basically, it's my job to see how you conduct yourself and whether you're qualified for a licence. I'll be staying with you until I'm able to complete my observations."

"Right. And how long is that likely to take?"

"Well, really, it depends on the quest."

Oh, great. Of course there had to be a ridiculous step in the licensing process. "The what?"

"I haven't been given the instructions for your quest yet, but generally it's a way for me to see how you conduct yourself in a high pressure situation, and how well you're able to control your magical abilities."

" _What_ magical abilities? I talk to ghosts! What possible use is that for a quest? It's not like I can do actual witchcraft or shamanry or alchemy or see the future or something _useful_."

Henry looked at me over the top of his glasses. "That's not what I've heard."

What? How could he possibly know about... He couldn't! No one knew. (Well, OK, not exactly no one, but I doubted the devil was going to talk to this guy.) But then how did he know about me at all?

"Who's been telling you these entirely false stories about me?"

He shifted in his chair and looked like he might fall straight through it. "We had a tip off from that coven that meets nearby."

Of course. Who else? If they couldn't get me to join them, they were going to... What, exactly? Have me arrested? Get me sent on a quest? What was their agenda here?

"Right. So what happens now? Am I in trouble?"

"No, no," he assured me. "We're just waiting for someone to turn up with our orders for the quest. They'll usually try to pick something that plays to your strengths. Someone will be here soon to give us our directions, then we just go from there." He relaxed back in his seat. I wondered what this would look like to a passerby – a girl and a gorilla eating tacos by the cemetery. Not that there were too many passersby around here. Except, you know, for gho–

"YOU NEED TO FIND MY KILLER!"

I screamed. Again. This really wasn't my night. A ghost (a poltergeist, to be specific – I could tell from his slightly green aura) had just appeared less than a metre in front of me. Just – _pop_. Out of nowhere.

Henry yawned and stretched, completely unfazed. "I guess this is it," he said. "That was surprisingly fast. It usually takes them weeks to send out a quest."

The ghost looked at Henry and frowned as if trying to figure something out. Probably why the hell there was a talking gorilla sitting across from the cemetery eating tacos.

"Well, this is a special case," said the ghost. "They said you're to get started right away."

"They always say that," said Henry. He turned to me. "They've done a pretty good job here. I mean, this is going to involve a whole lot of talking to ghosts. You should have your licence in no time. What's your name, ghosty?"

"Ed," Ed said. "I, uh, I'm dead."

# Chapter 2

In addition to being incredibly rude, Ed's other features included an age of late teens to mid twenties, though it was hard to tell because I'm not good with ages between about twelve and forty. Or forty onwards. Or under twelve. I'm kind of bad with ages. He was, of course, glowing and perfect – ghosts almost always came back as a totally intact version of their living body, with all scars, cuts and bruises gone.

That was nice, really, because having to deal with autopsied ghosts falling apart in front of me sounded really unpleasant. Unless they'd died in a really violent way and had their spirit ripped apart (like Nearly-Headless Nick from Harry Potter), ghosts came back in peak physical condition, albeit the same age as they'd died. Well, peak physical condition apart from, you know, not actually existing as physical beings. This one had been a pretty boy in life. He'd even styled his ghost hair. Who was he trying to impress? Everyone here knew his corpse was rotting away in the ground somewhere.

"Thanks for that, Dead Ed," I said. "You need to learn some manners about just popping up out of nowhere and demanding favours. I'm not used to doing this shit for free."

"Oh, good, you're nice and heartless."

I ignored him. "Are you buried around here?"

"Why, are you going to deface my tombstone?"

"Actually I was planning to check for clues, but now that you've put the idea in my head –"

"So you are going to help?"

I sighed. "Well, I don't really have a choice, and believe it or not, I've already started to dislike you immensely so I'd quite like to get rid of you."

He was silent for a moment, then, "What sort of clues?"

"Flowers, I guess. When did you die?"

"About a week ago. What are flowers going to tell you?"

I frowned. "You were murdered, yet you were buried within a week?"

He sighed. "Since I'm not a magical and I wasn't murdered by magical means, the regular police investigated it. They couldn't see me, so I couldn't tell them what had happened. It was ruled a suicide before I had a chance to find a medium to get the message to them, and I was buried pretty soon after that."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Well, the person who stabbed or shot you or whatever is probably a safe bet for suspect number one."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I was poisoned, so I didn't actually see who did it, but thanks for the tip. What do the flowers matter?"

"I won't know what they can tell us until I see them." Of course, what I really meant by 'see them' was 'check out their aura'. But whatever. That was just a detail. And not really one I wanted to give away in front of the Audit Gorilla.

"Oh, right, that sounds really useful."

"And how many murders have _you_ solved?"

"Well, you aren't exactly doing a great job of this. Aren't you even going to ask me any questions about it? More details about how it happened? Who I think did it?"

"With a personality like yours, I think it's going to be hard to narrow down the list."

I made Henry help me clean up the dishes from dinner (with Ed whining constantly in the background about how we were rubbing it in his face that he couldn't eat anymore, and also about how disgusting the coriander smelled) and then we headed on down to the grave plot where our charming ghost's body lay.

It was still light – barely – so we didn't bother with a torch. Sure, some might think it's creepy spending your evening in a graveyard, but when you've got a ghost and a shape-shifter by your side it's not like things are going to get weirder.

The ground was fairly rocky and uneven. It was a relatively small cemetery built on the side of a hill leading down to a beach. If ever you want a good place to sunbathe on this beach, I recommend the grave of William Potts III (1865-1901): perfect size to properly stretch out, excellent view and you won't get sandy. Mind you, you can always find a good spot on Watergrove Beach – it doesn't get too many visitors. Go figure.

There was a slight sea breeze but it was late November so the temperature was still about thirty degrees Celsius. People always expect graveyards to be cold, but in reality the temperature inside a cemetery works much the same as the temperature outside of it – it's based on the weather, not, you know, the number of corpses on a plot of land. Rather than getting chills, I was getting sweaty from all the walking (and from the smell I guessed Henry was too) so when I spotted the soft dirt of the grave Ed was leading us towards, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally. Jeez, I practically died just walking here."

In hindsight, that might have seemed a little insensitive. Henry gave me a disapproving frown and Ed tried to hide his pout. We came to a stop at the grave and all at once realised the same thing.

We stood silent for a moment, but I couldn't contain myself.

"No flowers," I commented.

"Shut up," said Ed. Not his best comeback.

"Just bare dirt." No response from Ed, but I could feel Henry's disapproving gaze boring into the side of my head. I ignored it. "Not that I'm surprised, given that someone went to the trouble of murdering you and everyone else believed your life was so miserable that you'd done it yourself."

Again, no answer. It was boring insulting someone who didn't even have the self-respect to argue, so I turned my attention to the case. Yes, 'the case'. Sure, it sounded a bit lame, like I was trying to play detective, but it was better than calling it 'my quest'.

I knelt down on the ground and ran my hand over the loose dirt of the newly filled-in grave. I hadn't been entirely honest with Henry. Or, for that matter, the coven. I did have some other magical powers aside from ghost-com that I generally kept to myself. It was one thing for people to know I was a medium – it wasn't like I tried to hide it – but I didn't want them to discover certain other abilities I had. Certain less common abilities.

With my hand hovering over the dirt, I could feel a sort of warmth, a pull, underneath. There was something on the body that would help. Something that Ed's ghost couldn't tell us.

"I need to see his body," I said.

"Pervert."

I shot Ed a glare that may well have killed him if he were still alive. OK, so maybe it wouldn't have killed him. But it would have done something. Caused a twinge in his left pinky at least.

"There's something in the coffin, maybe in his pockets, something that could help. We're going to have to do a spot of illegal exhumation." I looked at Henry, about to ask if he had any ideas. He had his arms crossed and brow furrowed, watching exactly what I was doing.

"Right, so you can't do magic."

He didn't know the half of it, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

I rolled my eyes and tried to be casual. "Fine, I can do some. Just basic things. I'm hardly a master sorceress."

It wasn't that I didn't like Henry – I did. He was a cool guy as familiars go. A little over-sensitive when it came to my insulting Ed (like he hadn't started it), but a decent guy nonetheless. It was just that I didn't entirely trust him. I wasn't sure exactly what he was here to do and I didn't know why his employer was making me jump through hoops. I suspected some of my more unusual __ abilities might be of interest to Henry, or at least to the people who'd sent him, and that thought made me wary.

"Hmm," said Henry, not sounding like he was buying it at all.

A question suddenly occurred to me – one that I really should have asked a little earlier on in the evening.

"Henry?"

"Yes?"

"Who exactly is it you work for?"

Henry looked at me over his glasses, frowning. "You don't already know?"

"I didn't even know magical licensing was a thing until today. How am I meant to know who sent you?"

Both Henry and Ed were staring at me with looks of utter disbelief.

"Who sets out on a quest to get a licence they didn't know they needed from an unknown organisation without asking at least a few basic questions?" Ed asked.

"What?" I snapped. "They sent an axolotl. It seemed legit."

Not my best retort, to be fair.

"Right," said Ed.

"Well, I work for the Australian Department of Magic and Death."

The term that would best describe my facial expression at this point is, I believe, 'WTF'. I repeated it back to him just in case he didn't realise what he'd said and how ridiculous he'd sounded. "Magic?"

"Yes."

"... And _death._ "

"Yes."

"In what insane world are they two things that you'd lump together? That's like saying you're from the Department of Squirrels and Artichokes!"

"What?"

"Exactly!"

"Actually, it kind of makes sense to put death and magic together," said Ed.

"Shut up."

"He's right," said Henry. "Think about it. Where exactly do ghosts fit? Or zombies?"

"Well," I said, then stopped, because I realised he had a point. Damn it. "Fine." The fire had sort of gone out of my argument when I realised I was wrong. "I guess you think I come under the category of both death and magic, don't you?"

"Actually, at the moment you come under the category of _Other._ "

That did it. " _Other_?" I spat. "Like I'm some sort of weird specimen that defies classification? That's the kind of insult I would have expected from Ed, Henry, not from you! What have I done to deserve that, exactly?"

"No, it's not an insult," said Henry quickly, clearly just trying to shut me up. "It's just – well, I'm here to, you know, figure out what you are."

This was unbelievable. "Well, I'll make it very easy for you. I'm a human. I'm entirely normal, except that I can talk to ghosts. That's it."

"You can also sense energy coming from that grave there."

Argh, why did he have to be so damn perceptive? I decided that in this case offence was the best defence. I threw my hands in the air. "Oh, so I can sense some energy. You're right, you've got me, I'm just an alien wearing a human costume."

"What can you sense?" he asked, ignoring me.

I didn't really want to stop the argument about my status as 'other' there, but I also didn't want to spend all night in the graveyard. The sun had disappeared completely now and while the temperature was still pleasant, the mosquito attacks were not. There was also the risk that the mosquitoes were not the only blood suckers out tonight. "We'll continue the conversation about my classification later."

"I have no doubt."

I decided to ignore that. "I don't know what's in the grave. Something small. I'm not getting much energy off it."

"What type of energy?"

"It's all muddled. Like – I don't know, like there's something interfering with it."

"You can't even tell the type of energy?" Henry said, looking like he didn't really believe me. "That's not exactly impressive."

"As I'm fairly sure I've mentioned before, I'm hardly a master spell caster."

While I was keeping a relatively calm exterior, inwardly I was rather alarmed. There was a body six feet away and I couldn't tell the kind of energy that it was giving off. As Henry had hinted, that was pretty pathetic. Normally I could give a grave a magical CAT scan with no worries (I'd had my reasons for doing it before, don't judge me), but today I was getting nothing.

"Hmm," said Henry. "I guess we'll have to dig it up and see."

"Dig it – dig it up?" Ed stammered.

"Yes."

"But... I had an autopsy. It'll be all..."

"Hardly the first time I've seen a dead guy," I said. And I was rather curious to see this one. Why couldn't I sense the energy properly? The only explanation that made sense was that someone had used a clouding spell, but why? What could there possibly be in the coffin that warranted that much secrecy?

"You don't have to watch, Ed," said Henry.

"It just seems wrong to dig it up. It feels like – "

"No one cares about your feelings, Ed. We've got a job to do." I wanted to see what was in there that was so important someone had gone to the trouble of clouding it.

Ed let out a noise of disgust before turning and beginning to walk away, hands thrust in his pockets like a moody teenager. I wondered how old he was. Maybe he _was_ a moody teenager. Of course, technically I'd been a moody teenager less than a year ago, but I was always a cranky grandmother at heart.

I rolled my eyes at Ed's back and turned to Henry. I was about to ask him to transform into some sort of large animal that was very good at digging, but I was interrupted by a sudden surge of energy in the graveyard. The ground began to hum. It wasn't something you could see or hear – yet – but there was power moving around the grave. In fact, there was so much power that it was moving over the whole cemetery. My stomach dropped. This could not be good.

"Henry, do you feel that?"

"Yes," he said. We stared at each other in horror for a second, realising what was about to happen all around us.

Simultaneously, we yelled, "Run!"

And that we did.

# Chapter 3

The ground was pulsing with magic, the green tendrils snaking around our feet and plunging down into graves both old and new. The graves' occupants were being woken and some unknown force was telling them to come out and play. Hands were beginning to pop up from the ground on all sides, some with decaying flesh slopping off them as they moved, some already bare bones. The stench was awful. It was the kind of odour that someone with synaesthesia might describe as deafening. I knew my nose would be ringing for days afterwards.

If, you know, I didn't get bitten.

Which seemed unlikely now that one of them had grabbed my foot. I hadn't been paying attention to where I was treading and in my panic I had stepped right on top of an emerging hand.

Henry, who had transformed into a cheetah (which in my book also made him a _cheater_ in the race to get away from the zombies), had already cleared the cemetery. He'd managed to shift without a click, bang or smoke to draw attention to himself, so I guess when he'd shifted in front of me earlier he'd just added those elements for the theatrics. No one was going for Ed, who was nonetheless running for my house screaming in blind terror. Basically, no one was coming to my aid. I had been left for dead. And I was rather unimpressed.

"What kind of wimps are you?" I screamed at them, kicking at (and missing) the head of the zombie who'd grabbed me with my free foot. Luckily for me, only one arm and half its torso had emerged, but some others who had fully escaped their graves were heading my way.

"Fast wimps!" Ed yelled back. Touché.

The zombie who'd grabbed me was pretty ancient and brittle-looking. Not a scrap of flesh anywhere. I lined up my kick better this time and put all my force behind it. WHOMP. The head came clean off and knocked over another zombie headed my way. The hand around my foot went limp and I pulled myself free and ran, this time being a little more careful where I trod.

Sticking to the path, while ensuring I was safe from attacks from below, meant I had to take a slightly circuitous route back to my house. More and more zombies were emerging all around me and heading my way, but I couldn't cut through and head directly for my house because that involved walking over an older section of the cemetery where I knew for a fact there were a number of unmarked graves. Instead, I had to follow the path away from the cottage and towards the main entrance of the cemetery.

A zombie managed to pull itself free of a grave directly to my right, but seemed to have trouble holding up its own weight once it was standing. It teetered for a moment before it fell and plopped onto the path in front of me. I screamed, leaped over it and kept running.

I could hear groans all around me and to my horror (unintentional pun) they seemed to be getting closer. To be honest, I was starting to slow down a little. Running from zombies was not something I did often and I was getting puffed, what with all the screaming and evasive manoeuvres. I reached the turn in the path, circled around a huge gravestone with a statue of an angel on top, and stopped dead. (Not actually dead, I just stopped very quickly.)

I was face-to-face with a particularly ripe zombie. The corpse was right at the age where they smell the worst. He was covered in holes where his skin had decomposed and on his left cheek – wait, were those maggots? I started to gag, trying to keep my dinner down. The zombie just stood there and blinked at me. I could see other zombies closing in on me from all directions and I knew I needed to run, but I was too terrified and exhausted. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, but the smell of zombie flesh didn't exactly help. Then the zombie appeared to have a sort of face avalanche and part of his cheek fell off his head and onto my foot. That is not the sort of thing that I'd imagine many people would cope well with. I screamed and kicked my foot, sending the piece of face flying off into the darkness. Then I vomited.

The zombie let out a weird squeal and stepped away from me, looking about as disgusted as you can when you're missing half your face. Apparently I'd vomited onto his shoes, and he was not impressed.

"Now you know how it feels," I screeched at him. Suddenly I realised that he wasn't the only zombie backing away in disgust. _Really? You're composed of rotting flesh and you think_ I'm _disgusting?_

Then it clicked. The coriander. I'd eaten Mexican for dinner, and if ever there's a type of vomit that will keep away the undead, it's coriander flavour.

Luckily, I'd managed to get a bit on my shirt (yes, luckily), so I was able to ward off any other zombies as I stumbled my way down the path and out of the cemetery. I made it to my front door, kicking my cheek-shoe off outside before entering. I closed the door quietly and tried to contain my anger. Then I turned to the other two, who were cowering in my kitchen. Henry had turned into a tiny kitten, probably trying to look cute so that I wouldn't yell at him.

"What the _fu_ –"

"OK, I sense that you've got a lot of anger happening right now," said Ed.

"You left me! You _both_ left me!" My hands, hanging by my sides, clenched into fists. "I was out there because of you two and you left me to die! Henry, I kind of understand. Like, you could have turned into a dragon or something and saved us both with a) fire and b) flying away, but in the heat of the moment I see how you could have been too scared to think of that. But you!" I spat, glaring at Ed. "You're not even alive! They literally couldn't have done anything to you! You could have beaten them off for me! Or at least done something when I was grabbed! But no – you were too busy running away! From the undead! Because it's not like you _are one_ or anything, is it?"

"What?" said Ed. "I'm a ghost. How do you expect me to –"

I was having none of it. "You're a poltergeist, you idiot! Touching stuff is kind of your thing!"

"I am?" He looked confused.

"He is? How can you tell?" Henry asked, frowning. Testing me again, of course.

"The green aura. C'mon, that's pretty basic."

"You see auras?" said Henry.

"Yes, big deal."

"Well, actually," said Henry, "it kind of is." I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but Ed interrupted before I could.

"How did you get away?" he asked. "Also, not to be rude or anything, but you smell awful."

"That 'awful smell' just saved my life, something you were busy not doing."

"Ah," said Henry, nodding. "The coriander."

He looked so impressed with my resourcefulness that I didn't have the heart to tell him I hadn't actually vomited intentionally.

He continued, "We need to figure out what the deal is with these zombies." He was right. Where the hell had they come from? Why were they here?

"Maybe they want brains," said Ed, shooting for levity and missing.

Henry and I ignored him, both of us moving to the window to see what was happening outside. Henry jumped up, his front legs just catching the window frame while he struggled to pull his back half up. If only I'd had a camera, I would have made a mint on YouTube with that footage. Out the window we could see the green tendrils of energy curling around the perimeter of the cemetery, flaring up every time a zom got too close to the exit, blocking the path out. Weird. It was like they were trapped.

"They're just pacing the cemetery," Henry said.

"Yeah, it's like they're not allowed out of the exits. Do you think –"

"That they're there to keep us out? Yes."

"So it's got something to do with dead boy here? Great. Another reason to like him."

Ed sighed. "It's not like –"

"Shut up."

For once, he did.

The fact that they appeared to be confined to the cemetery was not the only weird thing. Even for zombies, they were moving really slowly. The one that caught my foot in the cemetery had only managed it because I trod on its emerging hand. Despite having a hold on me for at least twenty seconds, it never went in for a bite. And the other one, Cheeky – and, come to think of it, all the zoms that had surrounded me shortly before the vomit incident – had plenty of time to bite me, so why wasn't I now patrolling the cemetery with the rest of the undead?

"You didn't do this, did you?" Henry asked me.

I glared at him. Did he actually think I would raise a horde of zombies to attack myself? OK, so if he was watching and saw me escape two times, I could kind of see why he might think that. But these shambling corpses were slow and pathetic. Not my style at all.

"Me? Don't be ridiculous! If I'd done this –" Suddenly I realised what Henry was doing. He didn't actually think I was responsible for this. He was just trying to figure out if I knew how to raise the dead. He must have heard the rumours... I caught myself, and instead of saying, _If I'd done this I would have done it properly,_ I instead said, "If I'd done this, I'd be dead. Didn't you see the amount of energy that took? You'd need a whole coven to –"

The look of realisation crossed both mine and Henry's faces at the same time. "We'll speak to the Green Wattle Witches tomorrow," he said. "The zombies will die when the sun comes up, and we can look at the grave in the daytime, when we're safer."

"I can't believe this. I've barely been at this quest business an hour and I've nearly been killed by a horde of zombies." I looked at Ed. "Someone really hated you."

"Thanks," he said. "Such a comfort."

"You left me to die. Any chance of me ever saying anything nice to you is completely gone now."

"Oh, and I thought we were just starting to bond, what with you insisting on digging up my autopsy-mutilated corpse and everything."

He was such a baby. "I want you to find closure and move onto the next world even more than you do. Trust me." I turned to Henry. "If we go out the back door –"

"We're not going anywhere until the morning," said Henry with the kind of authority that made me almost listen to him.

"If we go now we might catch them at it! They'll all be too exhausted to try anything else and we'll be able to get some answers." I was already formulating a list of questions to ask. Number one, 'What the hell?'

"Have you forgotten that there are zombies out there? Or are you just insane?" Ed asked.

"They're staying within the cemetery. If we sneak out the back door they're not going to know we're there, and besides, it's not like they can move all that fast."

"They can move fast enough to catch you," Ed pointed out. Man, he was getting on my nerves.

"Only because I was literally on top of the grave as one rose! We'll be fine. Besides, they're not going to attack us while we're with the coven that raised them, and the hall where the witches meet isn't far. It's just on the other side of the forest." Henry and Ed both looked unconvinced. "I'll take my kit! We'll be fine!"

"Your kit?" said Ed.

"All the basic wards, you know. Coriander, garlic, wolfsbane, Egyptian talisman, rune stone, the works. And Henry, if you transform into a wolf then we'll be safe from everything anyway." Not many creatures would mess with a wolf at this time of the month.

"We can't do that. That's insane. Right Henry?" said Ed. Henry didn't answer. "Henry?"

"Maybe we can risk it," Henry said after a short pause. "If we don't move now the trail will go cold."

"OK," I said. "I'm going to have a shower and pick out a new pair of shoes, then we can get going."

I started to head up the stairs. My house was old and tiny, but rather than putting it all on one level the builders had inexplicably decided to balance a second floor (consisting of the bathroom and my bedroom) precariously atop the first. This was a house you could legitimately imagine the Big Bad Wolf huffing and puffing and blowing down. Genuinely afraid of the house collapsing in on itself (and me), before I'd even started moving my furniture in I'd cast strengthening bonds on every structural beam I found.

Most people would have knocked it down and rebuilt, but I didn't have that sort of money. Besides, this rickety old place fitted in with the cemetery across the way. I suspected living in a creaky little shack helped give me some street cred as a medium, too, although having said that it can't have given me too much seeing as I didn't have any appointments booked in for the next week. (That was good considering my quest, but not so good considering my lack of savings and my need to eat.)

"Why do you need a new pair of shoes?" Ed called out when I was halfway up the spiral staircase. I didn't want to relive the incident of the cheek sloughing off the zombie's face, so I pretended I didn't hear him.

# Chapter 4

_BOOM_.

Ten minutes later (or possibly forty-five – I always lose track of time in the shower), my normally dingy bathroom was completely lit up by the light from an explosion outside. I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel, heading for the window. Looking down over the cemetery, I noticed that the green tendrils were still swirling around and most of the zombies remained, save for those who had been caught in the blast. Flames flickered over the spot where I assumed the explosion had occurred – Ed's grave.

I threw on jeans and a T-shirt and ran downstairs where Henry was watching from the kitchen. He looked at me. "Was it –"

"Ed's grave," I said, nodding.

"Someone really didn't want us digging it up."

We watched the fire from the window. The flames licked over the grave in waves and showed no sign of dying down. Not your standard explosion, then. Another spell. That made three enchantments on Ed's grave. Perhaps the zombie and explosion booby traps were the reason for the clouding?

I knew I should tell Henry about the clouding spell, but I wasn't sure what he'd think about that. Even the fact that I knew clouding spells existed suggested that I knew a little more about magic than I'd led him to believe. Lost in my inner turmoil, I didn't notice Henry watching me.

"What?" he asked.

I sighed. I guess I didn't really have a choice. "Well, before, when I was – wait, where's Ed?"

Henry frowned. "I don't know. He was here earlier but I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you. You do know we're in the middle of a drought, right? You should probably –"

"So you didn't see where he went?"

"You don't think he might have..."

"I'd like to think he's got enough brains not to explode his own grave when we're in the middle of investigating his murder, but –"

"I don't imagine he did it intentionally."

No, taking into account the previous magical events of the evening, neither did I.

Suddenly Ed popped through the front door.

"Where have you been? Did you just –"

He cut me off. "I swear I just brushed the gravestone and – _boom_."

I placed my hands on my hips. "You went back into a graveyard filled with zombies? Why?" I demanded. "I thought you were terrified of them."

"Um, well..." He looked uncomfortable. Good. "Like you said, they can't hurt me. I just wanted a moment alone with..."

My jaw dropped. "You went back into a zombie-infested cemetery for some quiet time with your own corpse, but you wouldn't come back to help me earlier when I was nearly killed?"

He grimaced. "You're right, that does sound bad."

"And you exploded our evidence!"

"Not necessarily," he said. "How do you even know there was anything useful in there? You said yourself that the signals were mixed or whatever."

I glared at him. "Because someone had put a clouding spell on your grave, which kind of suggests there was something buried there that someone wanted to keep hidden."

Oops. Way to blurt it out, Nessa.

"So that's what you weren't telling me. You detected a clouding spell?" Henry said, studying me.

Ed frowned. "I thought they were undetectable?"

"What do you know about magic?" I asked.

"Not much," he admitted.

"Well, a good clouding spell is usually undetectable. I can't be sure, but I was getting weird signals from your grave. It should have been pretty standard, easy stuff, but nothing made sense. Clearly someone didn't want us looking. Now I'm sure there was something in your grave that could have helped us. Maybe something about the way you were killed." I thought for a moment. "Seeing your autopsy report might help." I wasn't medically trained, of course, but I was pretty accustomed to death. Maybe I'd be able to pick something up.

"And how do you propose we get our hands on that?" Ed asked, a tad snarkily.

"You're a poltergeist. Pull a polter- _heist_ and get it for us!" And yes, I was very proud of that pun. Ed just rolled his eyes. No sense of humour. "We should head off. It'd be nice if we could stop the coven before they pull any more crazy magic on us."

To be honest, by this point I wasn't entirely sure that this was their work. This was dark magic – not at all the coven's style. But then again, the zombies hadn't actually hurt me even when they'd had the opportunity. If the witches hadn't done it, I didn't know who else could have. Still, maybe they could point us in the right direction.

Ed insisted on wearing all of the wards himself. I couldn't tell if it was because he was a coward or he was just really excited to discover that he could touch things. While he was busy draping himself with pendants and wreaths, I decided to try and subtly glean some information from Henry to figure out how I was supposed to behave around him.

"So, are there any forms of magic that are totally illegal and that I definitely shouldn't do in front of you?" I asked. I was hoping that question would sound casual, but in truth, the only way I could have sounded more guilty is if I'd added, 'I'm asking for a friend.'

Henry gave me a look of horror. "Oh god, you _are_ a necromancer."

"What? No!" Cough, cough.

Ed stopped draping the rosary beads around his neck and started paying attention to our conversation. "You can make me alive again?" he squealed. Yes, squealed.

"No, I can't." To my credit, I only took a small amount of satisfaction in squashing his hopes and dreams. "Even if I _were_ a necromancer, all I'd be able to do would be to briefly reanimate your body. I could maybe get some basic information out of it if it wasn't too decomposed, but that's all. Unfortunately, however, as your body has been completely incinerated, it's unlikely that I could do anything. _If_ I were a necromancer."

"Which you're not." Henry did not sound convinced.

"Which I'm not."

Ed had an odd expression on his face. Sad, yet kind of relieved. I suppose being brought back to life after you were murdered would be kind of bittersweet.

Once Ed was totally covered in charms and Henry had transformed into a huge white wolf, we sneaked out the back door of my house and headed into the forest on the path to the coven's lair. The witches of Green Wattle met in an abandoned church, which was (like many of their members) old and creepy looking. It seemed like the kind of place that spiders and bats would flock to. I presumed they'd chosen that building over other cleaner spaces for the same reason I'd moved into my cemetery-side shack – because it was good for business.

To reach the church from my house, we had to travel through a forest. There was a narrow road that people sometimes drove down, but as I didn't have a car (and Henry wouldn't let me ride on his back), we proceeded on foot. The creatively-named Black Forest was like the Forbidden Forest from Harry Potter but with more eucalypts and undergrowth. Of course, technically it was bushland rather than a forest, but frankly 'the Black Bush' sounded a bit wrong.

I didn't often walk through here at night, especially not around the full moon. It was still a couple of nights away but I could already feel its effects. Sure, it was nice that the moon gave off a bit of extra light, but with all the magic that was swirling around that evening anyway I didn't particularly want the danger amplified by lunar energy.

Plus, there was the risk of werewolves. That was why I'd asked Henry to change – he looked pretty threatening like this, and I figured his scent would keep away any other wolves roaming the area. Unless it was breeding season or something. Eek. I decided it was best not to mention that to the others.

Our trio was sticking to the path so we wouldn't get lost, but of course that increased the risk of running into other magical folk. And let's be honest, anyone you might encounter in a forest in the middle of the night was probably not someone you wanted to get to know. Besides wolves, ghosts were rife in this forest, and I was not a big fan of ghosts unless I was being paid to contact them. The ones that hung out in here were especially vile – you could bet that when they were alive, they were the kind of people that would go to shops just to talk at (yes, talk _at_ , not _to_ ) the staff for hours on end. How those ghosts could possibly have enough unfinished business to come back and haunt this place when they'd clearly had so little business going on when they were alive was a mystery. Invariably, they came back as pink-aura spirits, too – they had the ability to manifest in such a way as to make themselves visible to anyone. (This was different from Ed's style of manifestation – unlike the pink-auras, he could touch things, but he could only be seen by magicals and mediums.) In here, they lurked by the side of the road so they could accost any unwary travellers and complain for hours about their boring death stories.

My main concern, however, was not so much with the ghosts and other creatures in the forest (we had wards for them), but with whoever was responsible for the spells at the graveyard. I hoped it was the witches so we could get it sorted out quickly, but as much as they annoyed me, zombies and bombs didn't really seem their style. They were still our best lead, though, and even if they weren't responsible they would probably know who else in the area was practising the occult. They'd certainly known about me.

This whole 'getting a licence' thing was starting to seem quite tricky.

"This quest business," I said, addressing Henry. "Is it always this full-on? Like when I think 'licence', I usually think 'mid-morning trip to a government office', not so much 'midnight trip to the coven'."

"I'll admit," said Henry, "this one is a bit trickier than those I've examined in the past. However, it is allowing you to showcase your... special __ skills."

Ah, so whatever theory The Department of Magic and Death had about me, it had caused them to give me a 'special' test. Henry was determined to figure out what types of magic I could perform. I was equally as determined not to show him.

"It would help if this were more like the system for driver's licences, you know," I said. "Like, with a handbook telling you what you need to know and do to pass the test." Along with what exactly was legal and what would land you in prison. Just out of interest.

"Can we talk about something else?" Ed asked. "Rather than, you know, your admin stuff?"

I would have rolled my eyes but I'd done it so much that evening that I was worried I'd get an injury, so I just imagined I had and moved on. "What do you suggest?"

"I don't know. Maybe I could tell you the circumstances surrounding my death __ or something. Like, if you actually want to get your licence for solving my murder."

Annoyingly, he was right. I really did need to ask him that stuff.

"Alright," I said with a sigh. "Why don't you bore us all to death with the tale of yours?"

"Funny," he said, eyes narrowed. "Well, I don't really remember what I ate or drank in the lead-up to it, but I went to bed one night and the next morning I was dead."

"Wow, you're right. That was helpful."

"I was at a party," he continued, ignoring me. I shuddered. Ew. Parties _._ He saw my shudder and continued, confused. "I was at a party at a friend's house –"

"You mean one of those friends who left flowers on your grave?" It was a bit cruel, I know, but there was something about this kid that I just really disliked.

He ignored me. "The whole night is a blur. I don't remember who was there or what I drank or how I got home, but the next morning I woke up dead. I guess it was my housemates who got me home. I think you should talk to them."

"OK, if we don't get anything from the witches, we'll talk to your housemates tomorrow. And whoever hosted the party. See who was there. Any of your friends into magic?" That would probably help narrow down the pool of suspects. If we got really lucky, maybe we'd find out someone belonged to the Green Wattle Coven.

"A couple," he said. "I don't –"

He stopped short. I frowned, confused for a moment, then I heard it too. A rustling coming from our right. Wait – the left. Oh, shit, I realised, stomach sinking. Both sides. An ambush. Henry began to let out a growl, trying to scare off whatever was coming. I reached into my pocket for my herbs – coriander had served me well earlier; maybe I'd be lucky again. Ed clutched the wards around his neck, whimpering slightly. Pathetic.

Two dark figures dropped from the trees on either side onto the track in front of us, cloaks billowing around them. Oh, man. I was not having a good night. Only a few creatures wear cloaks that billow, and fewer still can jump from a tree that athletically. If I attempted that, I'd get caught in my cloak and fall flat on my face, undermined by my own billow. These guys, however, did not have that problem.

A man and a woman stood before us, ignoring both Henry and Ed (who was nevertheless seconds from tears). I was, after all, the only one here with delicious human blood pumping through my veins. The man had short blond hair and the woman long dark hair, and both were beautiful, of course, if a little toothy. Another rustle to the side and a black cat appeared and strutted over, finally resting in front of them, hissing half-heartedly at Henry. We'd been stopped by the vampire version of Team Rocket from Pokémon and, as ridiculous as that seemed, unless I did some fast talking I was about to become just as dead as Ed.

At least I wouldn't have to worry about the zombies and witches and werewolves if I were dead, I supposed, but for some reason staying alive was still more appealing.

"And what brings you fine specimens out this evening?" I asked. Sucking up was one of the best ways to distract a vampire, and I was very much hoping they wouldn't notice my hand slowly feeling around in my pocket. Ed and Henry looked appalled and confused at my behaviour, as if they didn't know I was scheming.

Jessie (as I nicknamed the girl) started to circle around behind me, leaning in closer for a sniff as she passed. She'd be a nightmare on public transport, I thought, then I realised she was a bit of a nightmare in a forest in the middle of the night as well. With one vamp in front and one behind, our exits were blocked. Their reaction times were much faster than ours, and even if we somehow got away and Henry actually carried me to safety this time, chances were they'd catch up.

"Boredom," Jessie whispered from behind me, leaning in close again, probably taking another surreptitious sniff. I couldn't feel her breath on me – she didn't breathe – but nonetheless her whisper made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Thought we'd nip out for a snack," said James. He grinned, running his tongue over his teeth, like he was lubricating them pre-bite or something. "You're up late, my dear."

"Visiting some friends," I said, concentrating on not gulping. No need to draw attention to my neck. "Probably running late, actually." I kept my voice even and calm, trying to imply that our friends were somehow more powerful than the vampires. I thought that maybe we'd be left alone if Team Rocket thought someone else was coming for us.

"Oh, we won't _keep_ you," Jessie hissed from behind. Emphasis on 'keep'. James laughed softly. Ah, so they were just going to dump my body on the side of the road after their meal. Good.

"Is this the part where someone makes a joke about how you shouldn't play with your food?" I asked. My fingers brushed something in my pocket. Perfect. Now I just had to stall for long enough to –

"I suppose it is about that time, yes," said James. "Thanks for saving us the hassle of delivering such a clichéd line ourselves. I would have been almost embarrassed."

"I would have laughed anyway," I said. I'd hooked my fingers around the item I'd been looking for. Just had to keep them talking a little longer.

"Naw, it almost seems a pity to eat you," said Jessie. "So sweet."

"I like them sweet," said James.

"Well," I said, "that's creepy. And also it's a bit unfortunate, because I'm really not very sweet at all." As quick as I could, I flung the garlic clove out of my pocket and into my mouth. It was covered in fluff and pocket-residue but I bit down hard anyway. Although it set my mouth and nose alight immediately and I had a bit of trouble breathing, I kept chewing nonetheless.

Jessie and James recoiled at the scent. I breathed out through my mouth and James let out a wail, cupping his hand over his nose.

"You little bitch," Jessie hissed, suddenly in front of me but keeping her distance this time.

"And to think I liked you," said James, a look of distaste on his face.

"Watch your back, _sweetheart_ ," said Jessie, teeth clenched. "We won't be so friendly next time."

"This was you being friendly?" I spat around a mouthful of garlic. Man, it was burning my mouth.

"Yes," she said. "It was." She turned, cape whipping behind her. James turned also, engulfing their cat in his cloak.

"Goodbye," said James, turning back to stare directly into my eyes. "We'll be seeing you."

Oh. Good.

He faced forward and they each disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Black smoke? Oh no... As corny as disappearing in a cloud of smoke was, it was also hugely unsettling that they hadn't just run off. If they'd run, I'd know that they were just your average vampires. Disappearing, however? That was not in your regular vamp's repertoire. These were some of the strongest beings on earth, and I'd just made enemies with two that also had a sideline in the occult. Goody.

"Pretty sure they're practicing magic without a licence," Henry commented. Because of course, at times like this, that is the first thing you think of.

"Maybe you should report them," I said.

"I would, but I left my mobile at your place," he said. "It was down to three percent battery."

"We need to move," said Ed, still shaking, knuckles white from the grip he had on my Corea amulet. I suppressed a giggle. How had that gotten into my ward collection? That was a fertility talisman. "Can I suggest we move back home and begin again in the morning?"

"We're nearly there," I said. "We'll be safe once we're with the coven."

"Unless they're the ones who raised the zombies," said Henry.

"Especially with them being, you know, your main suspects and everything," said Ed. "Who thought going there was a good idea, exactly? I really think that questioning my housemates would be a better option."

I ignored him, a skill I seemed to be employing on a minute-by-minute basis, and began to walk in the direction of the coven's hall, albeit a little more quickly than before. "Let's go."

"Are you serious?" said Ed. "Do you have no concept of danger or terrible ideas?"

"Ed, shut up. They can't do anything to you." This time it was Henry telling Ed to be quiet and I felt momentarily vindicated. I stuck my tongue out at Ed. Then: "You too, Nessa. You're just fighting like annoying little children. We're walking in silence until we reach the coven and that's the end of it."

Ed stuck his tongue out at me. Henry was walking between us but in his wolf form couldn't see that we were pulling faces at each other over his head.

More light began to filter into the forest as we drew closer to the edge. There was, of course, the moonlight, but there also seemed to be another strange glow coming from in front of us, casting a sickly hue over everything it touched. As we emerged from the trees, the coven's church appeared before us and the source of the strange light became clear. Snaking all over the church were tendrils of magical energy. Pulsating green energy, just like the type we'd seen at the graveyard. The type that had raised the zombies.

# Chapter 5

"Well, I think we've got a lead," I said. "Shall we?" I was trying to seem casual, but my voice was about an octave higher than normal so I just sounded a bit scared. The doors were open and there was a white light coming from within the building, filtering out around the tendrils as they slithered across the doorway.

"How the hell are we going to get in there?" Ed asked.

"Well," I said, "you're probably going to walk through a wall."

"Oh, right." He frowned. "And you guys?"

I glanced at Henry.

"I'll just change into a bat. Should be able to navigate around the energy streams pretty quickly with the sonar."

I was guessing that by 'energy streams' he meant 'green squiggly wiggly magic tentacles'.

"So you're just going to wing it?" I didn't want to make a bat pun, but I caved.

Henry groaned.

"And you?" asked Ed.

"Guess I'll just run," I said.

As we approached the church, Henry transformed and Ed gave me the charms so he could transform into his non-corporeal form. They both got in with no fuss. I, however, stood out the front, trying to predict a good time to run. I hadn't made contact with any of the tendrils earlier in the cemetery and I wasn't sure what impact it would have if I hit one. I'd been struck by energy streams (as Henry called them) before, but only ever little ones. They'd sent me flying across the room nonetheless, and I still had a scar where one had made the lightest contact with my skin. Those coiling around the church were massive, and from what we'd seen in the graveyard, they were a very dark kind of magic. I really, really didn't want to find out what they'd do if they hit me.

I was torn. If I didn't go in, I'd probably fail my magic licence test. Not to mention that there were two very angry vampires out looking for me, and the garlic scent would only linger for so long. I wouldn't be safe until I was inside. On the other hand, if a tendril hit me I had no idea what would happen, but it was definitely going to hurt.

I heard a howl from the forest, not too far away, and groaned inwardly. Time to get inside. I stood before the doorway and put my hands out in front of me, rocking back and forth in time with the movement of the tendrils. Henry and Ed were watching me from inside, looking at me like I'd maybe lost the plot. Of course, they probably had never done any long-rope skipping in primary school. I, on the other hand, had gotten pretty good at the timing thing – run in, jump once, run out the other side. I didn't know any spells that would cut through tendrils this thick, so I was relying on my sport skills. The situation was not, to say the least, ideal.

Biting the bullet, I ran in. I ducked under one tendril – so far so good – and jumped another. I leapt high enough to miss the next tendril, but my fall was out of control. Everything was happening in slow motion. I was completely horizontal and another stream was coming directly at my face. I kicked out desperately, hoping with total futility to make contact with the floor. Instead, by some miracle, I hit the doorframe and propelled myself forwards into the church – landing, as terrible luck would have it, on Ed.

"Did this just turn into a romantic comedy?" asked Ed. I scrambled off him, about to make some witty reply (really, I swear I was) but then I noticed the scene around us. There were witches passed out everywhere – on the ground, draped over pews – with the energy being totally drained from them. If we didn't break the spell soon, it was going to kill them.

"We need to stop this," I said to Henry.

"Looks like we've solved the graveyard mystery," said Ed. But he was wrong. So very wrong.

"We haven't at all," I said.

"They did it. It's pretty clear."

"Someone else is using their power. Draining them," Henry explained.

"What?"

"There's no safety net. No one awake to call it off, no herbs or cones ready," I said. I noticed a table nearby with plates of sandwich triangles and cakes on it. There was also an urn and four full cups of tea. "They started making tea then didn't drink it. This took them totally by surprise. Someone is channelling through them. Henry, how can we wake them up?"

"I don't know. What have you got with you?"

I knelt down and emptied the contents of my pockets onto the ground. Ed crouched down to join me and Henry turned into a rhesus monkey so he could rifle through everything with his little monkey hands. I laid the talismans, charms and amulets out in front of us.

"What are we looking for?" Ed asked.

"Something to wake them up. And quickly. They're dying."

Ed started rifling through the pile as well. He picked up a huge pile of the charms and threw them aside. "They didn't exactly do anything in the forest," he said. "I'm sticking to the herbs. They actually seem to work." He continued to dig.

"Ed, stop it. You have no idea what you're doing."

"I'm trying to help!"

" _Trying to help_ is not the same as _helping_."

"You only brought wards, didn't you?" Henry asked. I looked at him, not saying anything. Of course I'd only brought wards. I hadn't thought we were going to end up healing the witches. If anything, I'd thought we'd end up running from them.

"You mean you don't have anything?" said Ed. To his credit, he didn't sound like he was accusing me. He just sounded sad and defeated. For once it felt like we were on the same side.

"No," I said. "I don't think so."

"We need to go," said Ed.

"What?" The hatred I had for him returned in an instant. "We can't just leave them!"

"Their energy is being drained. You said it yourself. What if whoever is doing this starts to drain ours?"

I didn't want to admit it, but he had a point.

"He has a point," admitted Henry. "If we can't help them, then we need to leave before we end up dead too."

I couldn't believe them. "Fine. Leave if you want. I'm going to keep looking for something to help them."

Ed touched my arm. "We need to go."

I shrugged his hand off. "I know that's what _you_ want to do. You've made it crystal-clear tonight that you're a complete coward, but –" I stopped.

Crystal.

My eyes widened and I half-stood, running to the pile of stuff Ed had thrown away in his maniacal searching. I knew I had them here somewhere. I always did. They were the first things I'd ever added to my kit, a gift from a very wise lady who'd insisted they'd come in handy one day. I'd forgotten about them because I'd never had cause to use them – until now. I found them both at the bottom of the pile, waiting together: my quartz and amethyst pendants. I threw Henry the quartz – the stronger healer of the two – and ran to the nearest witch, who seemed to have collapsed on her way to the tea table. She was ancient, an elder of the coven. I closed her bony, wrinkled and slightly arthritic hand around the stone.

Nothing happened.

# Chapter 6

What? I frowned. Sure, amethyst wasn't the strongest healer and this wasn't the largest piece or anything, but it still should have... Ah. Now that I thought about it, when had I last charged the pendants? Had I ever charged them? You were meant to leave them out in the light of the full moon each month to restore their energy. And I, well, hadn't. Shit.

I glanced around. Two metres away, filtering in through one of the high church windows, there was a small patch of moonlight. Rather unceremoniously, I grabbed the old lady by both legs and dragged her over to the illuminated area. I opened her hand with the crystal in it and allowed the moonlight to hit it. It began to glow and I heard a snap as the cord holding the lady to the spell was broken. She came to, looking a little dazed, and I snatched the gem out of her (still wrinkly but no longer arthritic, thanks to the healing power of the pendant) hand.

Henry had seen what I was doing and was charging his crystal in another patch of moonlight. We ran to the oldest members of the coven first, seeing as they were the most at risk of having their energy drained. Eventually we had woken everyone as Ed watched on dumbfounded. More moonlight flooded into the room as the spell was completely broken and the tendrils that had wrapped themselves around the church recoiled, withdrawing into the earth.

The last girl I woke was wearing a different robe from the others, one trimmed with silver. She looked to be about my age, maybe a little older, with flawless skin and long dark hair. She was also tiny – maybe five feet tall. On her tiptoes.

"Are you in charge?" I asked. Henry and Ed walked over to join me.

"Well, not normally, but I suppose right now I am," she said. Her voice was pleasant, almost like music, and somehow tasted sweet. I'd never heard anything like it. "I'm Daisy. Hecate usually runs the group, but she didn't show up tonight."

Didn't show up, hey? That sounded fishy. "And am I right in guessing this wasn't a scheduled conjuring?"

"Yes," said Daisy. "I'm sorry to be rude, and obviously I'm very grateful for your help, but why are you here?"

"We were on the other end of this spell," I said.

"Oh, dear. What – what happened?"

Daisy was the sanest member of this coven I'd ever met, and also the nicest. She was so cute and sweet that I was tempted to brush it off as nothing.

Henry cut in. "We were chased by a cemetery full of zombies."

"A whole cemetery? Well, no wonder we were so drained."

I frowned slightly. That was an odd thing to say. It sounded like she was more shocked by the numbers than by the actual raising-of-zombies idea.

"Did they hurt anyone?" she asked. "Or leave the cemetery?"

And to think I'd briefly trusted her. "No, neither of those things."

"They chased us, though," said Ed. "They nearly hurt Nessa. She was only safe because she vomited coriander all over herself."

Thanks for that, Ed. I hadn't mentioned to the others that there had been at least two instances when the zombies had the opportunity to kill me and instead did nothing.

"They could have hurt me, but they didn't," I said. I looked steadily at Daisy. "You've raised them before, haven't you?"

Of course she had. But she was smart. "Do any of you work for The Department?"

Ed and I both looked at Henry.

"Yes," he said.

"Then no, I have never knowingly raised any zombies, nor has any member of this coven. However, if we were to raise them, we would only do so for good purposes, and we would never allow them to attack anyone."

What exactly did she mean by 'good purposes'?

"What exactly do you mean by 'good purposes'?" Henry asked.

"You'll have to talk to Grand Witch Hecate," Daisy said.

"I'm not going to have you arrested," said Henry. "I'm just here to supervise a quest, and it's pretty clear you didn't intend to raise all those zombies. Having some answers would just make our job easier." I didn't believe him and I could see that Daisy didn't either. Don't trust the establishment, man. Necromancy was pretty illegal. Probably. I'd need a handbook or something to know for sure.

"Even so, you'll have to talk to Hecate. She can explain our policies much better than I can. I'm actually on my way to see her now if you want to join me." She smiled, but there was worry in her eyes. "I'm quite concerned about her, to be honest. I need to check if she's OK. It's not like her to skip a meeting, and after tonight's events..." She trailed off, looking away from us. She shook her head and turned back. "As I said, you're welcome to come with me."

There was something odd going on here. I doubted she was unable to explain the policies herself, but she seemed very keen to take us to Hecate. Of course, I realised. She was trying to recruit an entourage to help her travel there safely. A decent idea in theory, but judging by the kind of luck Henry, Ed and I were having that night, I probably would have picked someone else.

"No!" said Ed, surprising no one with his cowardice. Daisy didn't appear to hear him. Ah, so she couldn't see ghosts. Ed could manifest a physical form, but unlike the pink-auras in the forest, he was still invisible to most people. That was kind of the point of poltergeists, I guess – to be able to move objects while remaining totally unseen. If only I couldn't see him either. "We need to go home. Please can we just call it a night?"

"Sure, let's go see Hecate!" I said enthusiastically. Ed groaned.

A couple of witches helped me gather my things up off the floor, all the while Ed protesting (and Henry and me ignoring him). Henry obviously wanted to speak to this Hecate about whatever laws the coven had been breaking by raising the dead and such. I wanted to find out what the hell had happened that night to make a whole cemetery come alive, seemingly without the witches' intent to cast such a spell. And annoying Ed was a fun bonus.

Once we'd all gathered up our supplies, we set off, me with my charms and herbs and Daisy with her potions and spell book. Walking out the door was slightly nerve-racking after my last experience of crossing the church's threshold, but this time it was much less eventful. There was no need to make use of my limited athleticism now that the energy streams were gone. (And I certainly wasn't going to end up falling on top of Ed this time. Or ever again. Except maybe in my nightmares.)

Once outside, Henry suggested we cast a ward spell over the group, making ourselves imperceptible to predators. I suspected he was trying to subtly test my magical ability yet again.

"Excellent idea," said Daisy. "Tonight is a dark night. We need all the protection we can get. Let the three of us form a circle."

"Um, excuse me, can I get in on this protection thing? Can someone tell her I'm here?" Ed whined.

"Oh, shut up," I snapped at him. Daisy looked at me, shocked. She thought I was talking to her. "I'm sorry," I said. "We have a ghost with us. A very annoying one."

"Oh, how odd," she said, looking very confused. I supposed it would seem a bit odd that we would travel around with a ghost in our party. They weren't known for being great company. "Will your ghost friend be joining us?"

"Yes, he will, and he would very much like to get in on this ward business," said Ed.

I sighed. "Unfortunately he will."

The four of us formed a circle, Henry and I each holding one of Daisy's and one of Ed's hands. While I didn't particularly want to touch the creep who'd been perfectly willing to run off and let a bunch of people die (even though they were clearly being attacked by the same person who'd murdered him), Daisy found it disconcerting touching someone she couldn't see. This also had a slight advantage – since I wasn't holding Henry's hand, he wouldn't be able to tell how much magic (if any) was coming from me. I had a good feeling that Daisy wouldn't tell him either, even if the witches had dobbed me in to The Department for practising magic with no licence.

Daisy began to chant quietly and I shut my eyes, channelling my energy into forming the ward, an invisible dome that would encase the four of us and keep us hidden from anything looking on. Of course, if any averagely talented magician got too close they would be able to sense it, but it would keep us protected from most attacks. At the very least, the wolves would stay away.

Energy rocked through me and my eyes flew open, wide with surprise. White tendrils burst upwards from the earth, knitting together above our heads to form a shelter. I nearly let go in shock at how strong the energy from the spell was. The dome was growing with hardly any input from me whatsoever. I looked across at Henry who appeared to be equally as dumbfounded as me. Neither of us had expected the power from one witch to be so strong.

When the casting was over, I watched the pearlescent tendrils fade until they were transparent. White. I'd never seen a white spell before. Blue and green were the common colours – the ones usually cast by witches, wizards, shamans and the like. I'd seen red before, too, which was rarer. But white? I wondered what spell Daisy had used. Whatever the enchantment, we were safe in our bubble.

Despite our protection, Henry transformed back into the big pale wolf from earlier. Considering the night we were having, I supposed we couldn't really be too careful.

"Tell me about your quest, Nessa," said Daisy as we started off. "What exactly do you have to do?"

Henry and I explained everything to her, giving her a more detailed recap of the evening's events. Daisy was the sort of person that you instantly trusted, and to be honest I felt like we could use someone with her magical skills on our side. We tried to introduce her to Ed, which of course was a bit weird for her as she couldn't see or hear him, but she was incredibly polite anyway. "I'm so sorry that we can't have a proper conversation, Ed, but Hecate can speak to ghosts, so at least when we arrive there you'll have another person to talk to."

Ed did not look impressed. If anything, this news seemed to annoy him. "We should have just gone home. What possible use is this trip to us? She's just some old lady who's probably dropped dead alone in her empty house."

Wow, he was starting to sound like me.

"He's really looking forward to meeting her," I said.

"I hate you."

I wondered if Hecate was responsible for the cemetery debacle. Until we found out what the coven's 'zombie policy' was, it was hard to know who could have hijacked the witches' powers. I was certain that no one at the church had known what was coming, and it seemed unlikely that Hecate would have been involved given that it nearly killed off her whole coven. Not turning up that particular night didn't look good, though. How had the culprit done it? And how had the person responsible known for sure that the coven would meet that night?

"How often does the coven meet?" I asked.

"Every night at sundown," Daisy replied. Right, so that solved one mystery. The zombie trap would have worked any night of the week.

We were walking towards the nearby town of Gretchen, only a few kilometres from the church, where Hecate owned an occult bookstore with a flat upstairs. Ed's theory that she'd just dropped dead seemed unlikely to me, because even if she was ancient, the fact that she was still climbing stairs at her age meant she was probably indestructible. Naturally, as we were beginning to near the town, with the glow of the streetlights vaguely discernible in the distance, the one thing from which our ward could not protect us appeared: a thunderstorm. Lightning flashed and a rumble sounded in the distance.

"It'll probably be OK," Daisy said.

"Yeah, that sounded like it was a fair distance away."

In my opinion, Henry and Daisy were showing an unbelievable level of optimism for anyone who'd lived through the Actual And Literal Worst Night In History (working title). I couldn't decide if this was more of a horror movie or a farce. I said nothing.

Ten seconds later, down came the torrential rain. Almost instantly, Henry's fur was soaked through and slicked to his flesh. My hair had weird little frizzy bits curling around my face where it had fallen out of my ponytail. Daisy looked like an elegant nymph who was taking a shower under a waterfall. Ed looked exactly the same, but more miserable. We were so wet within a few moments that we didn't even bother hurrying towards the town. The dirt road turned to sludge under our feet and I was sinking down to my ankles. Great. Second pair of shoes ruined in one night.

All the fantasy novels lied – quests were overrated. And I didn't even have a sword or bow and arrows. Not that I'd be able to use them, but at least I'd look cool. Instead, I was like a drowned rat, with red mud not only on the outside but also the inside __ of my joggers, squelching around. (At least it was my joggers, though – it's not like I actually needed them, given that I hadn't exercised since... Well, earlier that evening when I was jumping through the church door, and before that when I was running from the zombies. But prior to that? Probably that skipping I did in primary school.)

We were making pretty slow progress, what with being held back by the suction of the mud, but eventually we made it to the outskirts of town where the roads were paved. Henry and I immediately found a puddle and began to rinse the mud off our feet while Ed watched on judgmentally.

"Really?" he said. "You're taking a bath in a puddle like a couple of trolls? For once I'm glad I'm invisible so I don't have to worry about being seen with you."

Daisy waited patiently to the side as I poured the slop out of my shoes and rinsed them in the water rushing down the gutter. Somehow she had managed to come out of the storm entirely untouched by the mud. It was like the earth and weather just... liked her. Maybe she really was __ a nymph. I'd heard that fae sometimes joined covens to expand their magical training, but I'd never actually met any kind of faery so I didn't know how accurate that rumour was.

Well, I'd never met one until, perhaps, now. That would explain the white energy, and how she was able to put up a ward so easily, and why she was second in command of the coven despite appearing to be so young. She could actually be hundreds of years old. Plus she was the right build – tiny.

It would also explain why the witches were still alive when we'd arrived at the church. In all honesty, human witches should have been dead from that sort of power drain long before we'd woken everybody up. The rest of the witches were still in a bit of a daze even after we'd healed them, whereas straight away Daisy had seemed downright, well, _spritely._ (Puns are hilarious, and if you disagree, you can leave.) The one part that didn't make sense to me was that she couldn't see Ed, but perhaps that wasn't part of a nymph's skill set.

Once I had finished washing my feet and Henry had cleaned his paws, we continued on to Hecate's store. When we reached the front door of _Witch's Brew Coffee and Book Shop,_ we were surprised to see the sign still flipped to 'OPEN' and the front door unlocked.

"Does it usually stay open this late?" I asked Daisy.

"Not unless it's full moon," she answered. I nodded. Late-night trading when it was full moon was pretty standard for the occult businesses. I normally hosted midnight séances at my house. (Not this month, of course, because I was having something of a client shortage.) Usually it was a one-night-only deal, though, and not something businesses did in the lead-up.

We entered with caution, although at this point I was wondering what more life could really throw at us.

As it turned out, life was out of ideas, so what we found behind the counter was Hecate, fast asleep. There was a moment of panic when we first saw her slumped over the coffee machine, all of us thinking that maybe she _had_ just dropped dead from old age, but then she let out a loud fart and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Then we began to regret breathing as we coughed and gagged at the stench. Daisy put her hand over her mouth and nose and gently shook Hecate awake. Hecate sat up with a start, looked around in confusion, blinked a couple of times and then wrinkled her nose.

"Devils, what's that smell?" she asked. Henry, Daisy and I all murmured that we didn't know and shrugged and shook our heads. Ed, however, was not so tactful.

"It's you, you old crone."

I was about to get up him when Hecate spoke again.

"Who are you two?"

Two. She was looking at Henry and me. She hadn't seen or heard Ed. I exchanged glances with Henry, who was clearly thinking the same thing as me – this was weird. Normally, I would have assumed that the old lady had lied about being able to see ghosts, but since Daisy, another magical being, couldn't see him either, I was starting to think there was something about Ed. Maybe it was because he was a poltergeist? Maybe The Department had clouded him as part of my quest? No, if either of those things were normal then Henry wouldn't look just as confused as me.

There was one other possibility that I could think of: whoever was responsible for Ed's death and for raising the zombies had tried to cloud his ghost. They might have worried he'd seek help, and so blocked persons of magical background from being able to see or communicate with him. That was the thing about clouding spells – you had to be very specific. The 'persons' bit would explain why Henry could see him. A shape-shifter wasn't exactly a person. I, on the other hand, despite the occasional foray into the realm of spell casting, did not have a background in magic. My background was in death. Or potentially, as Henry believed, in 'other'.

I tried to think. Had anyone else been able to see Ed? None of the witches had. The zombies had completely ignored him, but as he wasn't human that wouldn't be surprising even if they could see him. What about the vampires? Generally, vampires could see ghosts. I'd assumed they'd just been ignoring Ed due to his lack of arteries, but perhaps they hadn't seen him. They'd used magic to disappear at the end of our encounter, which wasn't something vampires could do unless they'd been able to use magic when they were alive. And that would mean that although they were now dead, their background would be in magic... Meaning that if I was right, they couldn't have seen Ed.

Well, proving my theory was one thing I could look forward to when the vampires found and horribly murdered me. I shuddered and tried to push the thought aside.

I realised someone was talking. I had been so deep in thought that I hadn't bothered answering Hecate's question. Daisy or Henry seemed to have introduced me and they were now debriefing Hecate on the night's events.

"A whole cemetery? Yeesh, I'm glad I slept through that meeting."

I let out a little snort of laughter.

Henry, not at all amused, asked Hecate, "Would you be able to explain to me what exactly your necromancy policies are?" For someone who'd seemed so casual earlier in the evening, he sure was acting uptight now. I suppose stress does that to a person.

"We sell the cones to normals," she explained, not looking at all concerned that Henry was a government official. Cones were a type of contained magic that looked much like an incense cone, except that instead of lighting them, you broke the tip off to activate them. Normals, people with no magical ability, could buy various types of cones for different things – they ranged from alleviating symptoms of the common cold to what Hecate was describing: necromancy. "There's a very strict procedure we follow in accordance with The Department's regulations. The cone is used to raise a deceased friend or family member, just to allow for a final goodbye. It helps with closure. Used in conjunction with counselling it can be very effective. "

How seeing the rotting corpse of your loved one reanimated as a zombie could possibly make you feel better about their death was not something I entirely understood.

"In what way is that possibly safe? Necromancy is illegal for a reason!" said Henry. Ah, so necromancy was illegal. Good to know.

"It's not illegal in this region if it's used for therapeutic purposes. They need to be prescribed by a shaman or another health professional, of course. And it's not at all dangerous – the cones have inbuilt safety features. The zombies can't attack people and they can't leave the confines of the cemetery where they were created." Which explained why the zombies hadn't bitten me or chased me back to my house once I was out of the graveyard. "And, normally, the cones can only be used to raise one zombie at a time."

"Normally?"

"I assume what happened tonight is that someone, rather irresponsibly I might add, used an amplification device to channel far more energy than the cone would usually use."

"And do you sell them, too?" Henry asked. Wow, someone was getting a bit snarky.

"Or clouding cones?" I asked. There appeared to have been a lot __ of clouding going on recently, and if the person or creature responsible had picked up their zombie spell from here, maybe they'd bought a couple of other things while they were in.

"Unlike necromancy, they _are_ illegal. Class one banned objects," she answered. "We've got some in evidence. Amplification devices in various forms that I've confiscated from séances and the like. We also seized about a hundred clouding cones from a lab in town a few weeks back. We were lucky to shut them down before they started selling."

"In evidence?" I asked. What exactly was going on here? Who was __ this lady?

"Yes, in evidence. I'm the Detective in Chief of Magical and Post-Mortal Affairs in this region."

Seriously? This ancient witch was in charge of the magic police?

She turned to me. "I'm afraid I was the one who dobbed you in for your quest. Didn't want to have to book you for practising without a licence."

Where had Daisy and Hecate been when the coven was trying to recruit me? If these bad-arses had shown up at my door I'd have joined in a heartbeat.

"I apologise, Dawn Witch," said Henry. "Had I realised who you were, I wouldn't have been so..."

"Much of an arsehole?" she suggested.

"Yeah," said Henry.

"This is a bookshop-slash-café," I said. "What's the Chief Detective Witch Thingo doing running a place like this? Shouldn't you be, like, at the station?"

"This is the station," Daisy explained. "The bookshop-slash-café brings in extra revenue and acts as a cover. We don't like to advertise who we are or where we're stationed, so this helps us to keep a low profile. Because it's the biggest occult store in the region, it also helps us to keep an eye on anyone who might be interested in dark magic. This is the first place they come looking."

"It's all registered as belonging to the coven, and anyone who's had dealings with the coven," – Hecate looked at me – "would not suspect them of being involved with the police force. However, based on the events of tonight, it seems like our location might have been compromised."

"Do you mind if we check your evidence room?" asked Henry.

"I think that might be a good idea," she said. "I have a horrible feeling I know what we're going to find."

Her horrible feeling was well placed. What we found?

Nothing.

All the confiscated cones and items were gone.

It didn't exactly come as a shock.

"Well," said Henry. "This explains a lot."

"I don't suppose you have security cameras?" I said.

We checked the footage in Hecate's office out the back of the main shop. There was a camera directly pointed at the cupboard where all the banned goods were normally kept.

"I did an inventory a fortnight ago," said Hecate. "Everything was here then. I suppose we'll just watch from then on."

"Riveting," said Ed.

Henry ignored him. I couldn't. "Do you want us to figure this out or not?"

"You're not talking to anyone who knew me when I was alive. All this is going to do is show us footage of someone stealing stuff that they probably sold to the person who _actually_ killed me."

"Watch the video. If you don't know who it is, we'll talk to all the people you think might have killed you tomorrow. This is a good lead for now, so shut up."

We weren't watching for long. The morning after the inventory everything looked normal, until suddenly the screen clouded over. Through the mist there was a vague outline of someone emptying the drawer into a backpack. This guy was impossible. Using a clouding cone on the security camera that filmed you stealing the clouding cone? I was almost impressed.

"Well, this was pointless," said Ed. Henry, Daisy and Hecate were hunched around the desk, discussing what authorities to alert or forms to fill out or something.

"No, it wasn't," I hissed. "Now we have the Dawn Witch Detective Chief Inspector and a faery helping us. This will probably be over by the morning and I'll get my licence and you can piss off to the afterlife."

"A faery? Seriously?" He looked disbelieving.

"I think so."

"She did look pretty hot in that rain," he conceded. Slimeball.

"Shut up."

"Jealous?" he asked with a grin.

"Do you want me to vomit on you? I know I've already spewed once this evening, but I'm not opposed to trying for a second."

He was about to respond but was cut off by Hecate. "Our communication lines with The Department are down due to this weather, so we're going to keep this to ourselves for the time being. I haven't heard anything about illegal items being sold on the street, and my whisperers are very good at finding these things out, so I think there's a good chance our thief is your murderer.

"The fewer people we tell, the better. We don't want to accidentally say something to the wrong person. Tomorrow we're going to look into Ed's contacts and see if we can find anything out covertly by sending Nessa and Daisy in undercover. In the meantime, I suggest you all sleep here. We don't know what might be lurking in the darkness this evening."

Hecate found us all blankets and pillows (even Ed, who didn't need to sleep) and we laid them out on her office floor. Together the five of us cast some heavy wards over the room, and afterwards I was so drained that I could have fallen asleep as soon as the lights went out. Ed, however, chose the moment just before I fell asleep to walk over and talk to me.

"Nessa?"

I groaned in response.

"Thanks for helping me out. Like, I know you're just doing it for the licence, but you know. Thanks."

I groaned again.

"Also, um... I wanted to say... At the coven? How you didn't just leave when you could have? That was cool." And with that, he walked back over to his bed on the opposite side of the room.

Wow, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep. Maybe his personality was only ninety-nine percent arsehole.

# Chapter 7

The next morning (barely – it was nearly midday) I was woken by people speaking in hushed voices. It took me a moment to remember where I was, but when I heard Henry's voice it all came flooding back.

"You think it might be the same people?"

"Yes," said a voice I recognised as Hecate's. "The bank job happened two days after the contraband was taken from here."

My brain was still foggy and I couldn't quite make sense of what they were saying, but I knew vaguely what they were talking about. The bank robbery had been all over the news, as you'd expect. With all the security on banks these days it was pretty much unheard of for anyone to be able to steal from them. The case had been especially big news because the cops had no idea who'd done it. There was video footage, but it wasn't clear enough to make an identification. The tellers couldn't remember what the robbers sounded like or said or even what weapons they used. None of the other people in the bank or on the street could remember it very clearly either. No one could remember the getaway car. The one piece of solid evidence had been DNA from a cut on one of the robbers' hands as they escaped through the broken glass at the front of the building. Police hadn't found a match.

Something told me to keep quiet. I was worried that this might be magic police/Department business I wasn't meant to know about and if I spoke up they would stop talking.

"We were thinking magical interference from the beginning," said Daisy. "Now that we know that we're missing clouding spells and a bunch of other dark items, it seems like there's a pretty good chance this is linked."

"So all the people at the bank were hit with an amplified clouding spell?" asked Henry.

"Yes," said Hecate. "As well as the cameras. It's lucky you brought Ed to us. We really had no other leads, and it seems pretty likely that his death's connected."

When I was sure I'd heard all the details, I pretended to wake up. "Morning," I said.

"Barely," they all said in unison. I ignored them.

Looking around, I saw no sign of Ed.

"Where's Ed?" I asked.

Henry (back in his gorilla form) shrugged. "He wasn't here when we woke up."

He didn't seem very concerned. I, however, was. "With all this going on he just wandered off? And you're fine with that?"

"He's a ghost," said Henry. "What could hurt him?"

"Well something's certainly trying! Or have you forgotten last night?"

"I'm sure he's fine."

Ten minutes later, Ed waltzed back in, appearing casually through the wall as if nothing had happened. "Where the hell have you been?" I demanded.

"Well, as riveting as it was to watch you sleep," he said, "I went out for a walk."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Ed, cowardly little Ed who ran away from the slightest hint of trouble, had gone out alone, wardless, 'for a walk'.

"What __ were you thinking _?_ "

"Nothing happened," he said. "Calm down. You're getting a bit clingy."

I would have exploded at that point if it weren't for Hecate's interruption.

"Excellent. Now that we're all here, we'd better get going. Ed, where's your house?"

Ed's address was, of course, in the next town over from Gretchen, a village called Goonoogal. It was going to take us forever to walk there, and my joggers were still wet and oozy from the night before. I was unimpressed to say the least. Just as I was about to suggest we get a taxi, Hecate saved the day. "Shall we take my carpet?"

"I thought witches usually rode brooms," said Ed.

"Sexist," I said, just loud enough so that only he could hear.

"No, I – argh, fine, I'll stop talking."

Success.

Hecate opened a cupboard behind her desk and out flew her carpet: a neon-pink nylon weave. I don't know what I'd been expecting – tassels like the carpet from _Aladdin_? Maybe some old-lady-style soft florals? – but it certainly wasn't the rug hovering before me. This carpet was totally pimped out with a Kojak light attached to the front. I guess she must have used it for high-speed chases during her time in the Skyway Patrol division.

We followed the carpet out the back door into a small, tidy courtyard. I could tell from the slight sheen of the sky looking up and out of the courtyard that there was a cloaking spell over us. Cloaking was different from clouding – it wasn't so much that people couldn't see us; it was more that the spell made them kind of oblivious. Sure, they could have looked, but they would inexplicably feel like looking away. Cloaking was more of a ward than a spell, and therefore was not illegal.

No one knew about this courtyard. No one cared about it. The cloak gave the police a perfect rear exit.

The four of us with corporeal forms squeezed onto the carpet. Henry turned into a rhesus monkey to create extra room, which might sound thoughtful of him if he hadn't been able to transform into any sort of bird and fly instead of just being lazy and taking up my legroom. Daisy and Hecate sat up the front and Ed floated alongside us. Like most ghosts, Ed was able to glide along at a pretty decent speed, but unless he had a reason to fly he walked like an ordinary person. Hard to get out of the habit, I guess.

We rose up slowly. I'd expected it to be much harder to balance on the carpet, but it felt a lot like sitting on a mattress. Nonetheless, I was gripping onto the edge of that fluoro pink nylon nightmare for dear life. This had seemed like such a great alternative before, when I didn't want to go hiking in my wet sneakers. Now, I was regretting agreeing to it. What was going to happen when we started shooting along without so much as a windscreen to protect us from being blown off?

As we rose up above the walls of the courtyard and through the cloak, part of the cloaking spell bubbled around us, sealing us off from the world and sealing the courtyard behind us. We rose up high – twice the height of the power poles, which when you're floating on a suspended mat with no safety features is pretty darn high – and then stopped rising. I gulped. We were about to start flying.

We took off and I inhaled sharply, ready to begin screaming. But I didn't start screaming, and I had to just exhale all that extra air instead. We were not going at quite the pace I'd imagined. We were taking it pretty steady. Like, five kilometres an hour kind of steady. Again, it might have been because I was spoiled from watching too much _Aladdin_ as a child, but I was expecting a little more speed. I could feel more wind resistance coming from a gentle breeze behind us than from the front, we were moving so slowly.

"Carpet," said Daisy, "I have as much respect for the skyroad rules as anyone, but today we're in something of a hurry, so could we please speed it up a little?"

The corner of the carpet on Hecate's side turned up slightly, as if to look at her. She nodded once at it. I felt the carpet begin to hum. I sucked in a quick breath.

This time, I did scream.

We were weaving and dodging all over the place to avoid birds and bats (yes, bats. In the middle of the day. Who'd have thought?) and even one crazy old lady from the coven on a broom. Somehow, Ed was managing to keep up with us seemingly with ease. Once I settled into the flow of the flying thing, I relaxed a little, still keeping a decent grip on the side. Henry, on the other hand, was looking a bit green. Probably wishing he'd decided to fly there himself.

The trip took us only a few minutes, but even so Henry leapt off the carpet before we'd fully descended, transforming into a cat on the way down to break his fall. I hoped no one was watching. Henry had jumped out of the cloaking bubble and so to the casual observer (oblivious to the presence of the carpet) it would have looked like a terrified cat was appearing out of mid-air.

Luckily there didn't seem to be anyone out on the street. If you could call it a street, that is. It was more like a creepy house on a hill about two hundred metres from the rest of the homes. Even from outside I could smell a hint of male share house: urine, dirty dishes and weed.

Hecate parked the carpet behind a tree in the vacant block next to the house so Daisy and I could get off without being seen.

"What's the plan?" I asked.

"Follow my lead," said Daisy, and took off.

Great. The plan was to take action. Right. The thing is, as much as I liked the thought of being impulsive and jumping into things, in reality I was something of a schemer. As in, I liked to have a plan before walking into a house potentially filled with murderers. I wasn't very good at controlling my magic when I felt threatened. Sometimes it just sort of... spurted out. Like when you put pressure on a jelly doughnut. Or you trod on a tomato. I was like a magic tomato. What? OK, yes, I've lost my train of thought. Whatever. Anyway, I hoped Daisy was as powerful as I'd heard faeries were, or else this could all go very badly.

Daisy approached the front door of the house without a trace of fear. She strutted right up to it like she lived there. She'd removed her robes and was wearing the dress she'd had on underneath (pink, knee-length, think sorority house) and her still-pristine ballet flats. I was in mud-stained jeans and soggy joggers with a dodgy old T-shirt that now that I was looking at it had a nice yellow stain down the front. What was that? Mustard? Curry? Mmm, curry. My stomach growled. How long had it been since I'd eaten? I could barely remember. It was a wonder I hadn't passed out. This was the longest I'd gone without food since... well, forever.

Ed had tagged along with us, and was looking decidedly nervous. I guess if you were seeing your potential murderers for the first time since you'd been killed, it might be kind of nerve-racking. Still, at least he knew them. I did not. Meeting strangers was not my thing, and over the past twenty-four hours I had most definitely fulfilled my quota for the month. As you might have noticed, 'making friends' was also not really my thing. Covert operations and charming information out of people? Not in my skill set.

Daisy knocked twice on the front door, turned to me and said, "This place is like, totally rad, am I right?"

OK. 'Over-enthusiastic college girl' was the background story she was using. I looked down at myself. I guessed I would be playing the role of 'hot chick's bookish friend'. I heard someone approaching the door and crossed my arms, trying to hide the (mango juice? Turmeric?) stain. I looked to my left and realised Ed was watching me.

"Honey, no one's going to miss that stain. Just own it."

It was possibly the most empowering thing anyone had ever said to me. I gave him a single nod and uncrossed my arms. We both turned to the door and gulped simultaneously. The knob was turning. Great. Time to meet our main suspects.

"Hi!" said Daisy brightly. "How are you going? I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. Regina and I just wanted to come and, you know, like, pay our respects and check that you guys are OK and like, you know – oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I just can't stop..." She had broken down in tears. Wow. This girl was good _._ Well, she was probably three hundred years old. She'd likely had her fair share of practice at being a spy. I realised that I was meant to comfort girls when they cried and awkwardly reached out to pat her arm. She turned and dived towards me, throwing her arms around me and forcing me into a hug. I suppressed a shudder. Urgh, bodily contact. See earlier comments re: hating people; not making friends.

"There, there," I said, patting her back mechanically. I didn't really know what 'there, there' meant, but that was something people said in these kind of situations, right?

"Relax!" Ed hissed. "You're scowling! Try to look compassionate."

I was glad Daisy couldn't see him. The fact that I needed to be coached in normal human interaction was not something I wanted people to know. I tried to be less tense and remodelled my face into the kind of thing you see in stock photos labelled 'grief'.

"That's much better. It's almost believable now. Just try to seem sensitive." I sent him a slightly panicked glance over Daisy's shoulder. Sensitive? How? "OK, look, Daisy's got this. Just keep quiet and think about something sad."

Sound advice.

Daisy broke away from the hug and wiped her eyes. "I'm so sorry. Is it OK if we, like, come in? Or do you guys need your space? I totally get it if you do. Do you want us to go? We'll go if you want."

The guy in the doorway was wearing a singlet, boxers, and a patchy two-day-old beard. I was pretty sure we'd woken him up when we'd knocked. There was a nice big stain on the front of his singlet that made me feel much more at ease. At least in some ways, me and this potential murderer were kindred spirits. If he did lash out, maybe he'd go for Daisy first and I could get away. Yes, I actually thought that. Yes, I have issues.

He stood there staring at us, looking totally bewildered, like he had no idea what we were talking about and couldn't fathom why there would be two people – and females, no less! – standing on his front doorstep, crying and offering condolences. Suddenly it seemed to register and the lights came on behind his eyes. "Oh, right, Ed. Yeah, so sad. Please, come in. I'd love to have someone to talk to. I'm Patty, by the way."

Would someone who seemed this indifferent to Ed really have killed him? I wasn't convinced. And that definitely wasn't just the shirt stain solidarity talking. Maybe it was the other housemate who was the murderer. To be honest, though, now that I was in the house, all the secondary smoke from the weed was making me feel very calm. Like, so calm I couldn't imagine that anyone living here could do anything violent. I'd have a hard time getting off the couch to collect a packet of chips from the kitchen.

We followed Patty through the house into the lounge room. Man, those lounges looked comfy. I snuggled into one of the armchairs and Ed sat on the ground next to me, looking a little deflated.

"I know he smokes a lot, but even for him, forgetting his dead housemate within a week?" he said. "Maybe he's just blocked the trauma out of his memory. Or maybe he did it and he's such a psychopath that he doesn't think it's a big deal. I think we should put him under surveillance anyway."

I didn't answer with words but I couldn't go without responding at all, so I sighed loudly and exasperatedly. Clearly this guy just wasn't that cut up. And really, who could blame him? Ed was an argumentative coward. And Patty just seemed so chill. What with his cool stained shirt and all.

Daisy and Patty, who'd been talking intently to each other on the couch turned to me looking shocked. I realised that to them, I'd basically just made an annoyed noise at them for talking to each other.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just can't deal with the waste of life. He was so young. It just makes me really angry."

Daisy nodded sympathetically. Patty nodded like he was trying to impress Daisy by being sympathetic.

"I totally understand," said Daisy. "It's just so hard to deal with. Anger is one of the stages of grief and it's totally legitimate to be feeling that way right now. I know how close you were with Ed."

It seemed to me that Daisy had this whole undercover thing under control. I didn't even know why I was here. Ed looked like he was feeling equally as superfluous.

"We should do something," he said. "Maybe search the house?"

That seemed like an OK idea, so I interrupted Daisy and Patty's conversation again. "I'm so sorry, but I think I'd like to spend some time in Ed's room. Just to help me come to grips with everything. You know. Maybe just to see where he spent his last days... If I could just see his bed..."

I wanted to see the bed he died in? Well, that was a nice creepy reason to go searching the house. Yes, may I please see his deathbed? Sniff his dirty clothes? Rifle through the contents of his bins?

Patty looked thoroughly creeped out. Daisy, however, had my back. "That's a really good idea. I think it will help you deal with things and get some closure. You do what you have to do, sweetie. Take as long as you need."

"Do you know where his room is?" Patty asked, still looking at me like maybe he didn't understand why Ed would have ever even spoken to me. Alright, mate, if that's how you want to play it. Screw the shirt stain sisterhood.

"Of course. I've been there plenty of times before." I stood and followed Ed to his room, walking with purpose and confidence like I knew where I was going. Over the course of my life, I'd found this to be an excellent tactic whenever you're walking around somewhere you shouldn't be (from your standard covert bedroom search to meeting celebrities backstage at a concert). If you sneak, you'll get caught. Walk like you know exactly where you are and that is exactly where you're meant to be, and no one will try to stop you. Just a free little life lesson there. You're welcome.

Ed's bedroom was not what I expected. It was clean. Super clean. The bed was made, the desk was organised, there were no dirty clothes on the floor... Even the bookshelf looked like it had been recently straightened.

"Is it always this neat?" I whispered, not wanting Patty to overhear me apparently talking to myself.

"No," he answered. "I think my murderer tidied it up to cover their tracks."

"That would mean you were poisoned here instead of at the party."

"Exactly. I told you it was my housemates. We need to keep an eye on them. Surveillance, follow them everywhere. You saw Patty. He doesn't care that I'm dead at all."

Join the club, pal.

I closed my eyes and reached out into the room, searching for energy surges. There was nothing from the bedside table or bed. The wardrobe and desk were dead. The bookshelf, however... I opened my eyes and walked over to it.

"What are you doing?" asked Ed, sounding oddly panicked.

"Looking for energy irregularities," I explained. "Any clues the murderer might have left behind. I'm getting some weird readings from your books, although it might just be something that you've attached a lot of sentimental value to."

I ran my fingers along the spine of each individual book. Some contemporary novels, a few mysteries, a couple of autobiographies from people I'd never heard of. A lot of classics with the spines still unbroken, meaning he was the kind of person who bought classics so his collection looked more impressive, but then never read them. To be fair, though, who isn't that type of person?

"I think that's what it would be – the sentimental value thing. I doubt there are any clues up there." He was sounding a little desperate, but I ignored him. _Anna Karenina_ – had anyone ever actually read that? "Really, I know what you're getting readings from and it's –"

_The Encyclopaedia of Australian Bird Life_? Really? I started to pull it off the shelf.

"Please don't open it!" Ed squealed. "It's got nothing to do with my death. Just put it back."

"What is it?" I asked, turning the book over in my hands. Although I couldn't see it, I could feel that there was magic seeping out of the book, snaking over my fingers. "I've never felt energy like this. Whatever this is, it must have great power. Why can't I open it?"

"It's just... it's... private."

My jaw dropped open in disgust as I realised what he was saying.

"This is your porn collection?" He just stood there looking embarrassed. "Who keeps physical copies of porn? Haven't you heard of the internet?" I shoved the book back onto the shelf. "You disgusting little cretin. The amount of magic coming out of that – you must place a huge amount of value on it. I have learned so much more about you today than I ever wanted to know."

"Well I told you not to look at it and you just kept going. That's hardly my fault."

"Sorry, I forgot that you were a total freak with a freaky little physical porn magazine collection that you _paid money for_ like it's the seventies and then hid inside your porn-disguising bird encyclopaedia _._ "

"Well I forgot that you were such a –"

"Shh," I said, cutting him off. "Someone just knocked on the front door." We walked over to the window and looked out. There was a police car parked in the driveway below. I started to panic and without thinking said, "They've come for me."

"What?" said Ed.

"Nothing, don't worry," I replied, realising that I hadn't broken into the house, and I was, in fact, here with police, so I probably wasn't about to be arrested. "I just freak out when I see police."

"Why?"

Ah, if only he knew.

"Unpaid parking tickets."

"You don't drive."

"I know. Rough, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Let's go and see what's happening downstairs. Maybe they've decided you were murdered after all."

Ed and I got back to the lounge room at the same time as Patty returned from answering the front door with two uniformed policemen. One of the officers noticed Daisy sitting on the chair.

"Detective, I didn't realise you'd already been called in," he said. Well, I guess our cover was blown.

"Detective?" Patty said, looking very confused and sad. More so than normal, that is. He must have thought Daisy was genuinely interested in him, the poor, deluded fool.

"I'm here about a number of magical crimes and a week-old murder. I have a feeling you're here for something different."

"Yes," said Officer 1.

"There was a murder last night. A young man by the name of Jonathan Hilt. He lived here," added Officer 2.

"Shit," said Patty, looking a little sick, although I couldn't decide if it was because he thought he was about to get caught for two murders or he thought he was about to be killed. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid that's all we can say for the moment. Are there any next of kin we should contact?"

Patty gave the police Jon's details and told them that he hadn't seen Jon since yesterday morning. Apparently he hadn't come home the night before and Patty didn't know where he'd gone. Great. How useful.

Daisy, Ed and I followed the police out, seeing as Patty didn't seem so friendly now that he knew we'd lied to him. Daisy wrote her phone number on an old envelope on the coffee table before we left and told Patty to call her 'only if you're going to confess or your life is in immediate danger'.

Once we were out the front door, Officer 2 turned to Daisy. "Detective, we were actually trying to reach you and the chief all morning. We had a bunch of weird reports about magical phenomena last night –"

"Even more than we usually get in the lead-up to the full moon," interjected Officer 1.

"Yes," said Daisy. "I suspect I've already heard about a few of those."

"This murder –" said Officer 2, before looking at me and pausing. "Is she a civilian?"

"She's my consultant. She can be trusted. Go on."

"This murder was of a magical nature. We very much need your assistance. And the chief's, if she's free."

There was a whooshing sound as Hecate rounded the corner of the house on her carpet, with Henry (still a cat) sitting next to her, digging his claws in and hanging on for dear life.

"Sounds interesting," said Hecate. "Shall we?"

# Chapter 8

We followed the police car to the opposite side of town, right to the outskirts. It was late afternoon now, and the trip took a little while since the cops were somewhat more respectful of the speed limit than we'd been earlier, but eventually we reached the crime scene.

Aside from its university, there was very little that drew anyone to Goonoogal. Our crime scene was in an industrial area, or as industrial as an area can be when it's part of a town in the middle of nowhere. There were wrecking yards, storage units and inexplicably large expanses of gravel with nothing on them. On one of those large empty plots of gravel, about two hundred metres back from the road, there were a bunch of cops milling around something on the ground. I suspected it was the body. (That kind of deductive reasoning skill must have been why I got lumped with this horrendously confusing Quest of Mystery – too clever for a regular quest.)

While Officers 1 and 2 parked their cars up near the road with the other police vehicles, we headed right on down to the action, still on our carpet. As we neared the group, the body on the ground became more visible. I could now see that the police were giving the body a wide berth as there were still some green tendrils snaking over it, pinning its wrists, ankles and neck to the ground. Green tendrils, hey? Normally this wouldn't mean too much. Loads of people cast green magic. It was hardly uncommon. But the fact that it happened last night – and to Ed's housemate, no less – suggested that this was the work of the same mystery Big Bad as we'd encountered.

It was getting to the point where I couldn't really tell if we should be looking for the person responsible or running the hell away from them.

"Tell me, Henry," I said, "is everyone's quest this much fun? Two murders? Police involved? A hostile takeover of a coven? Zombies? Vampires?"

He was silent for a moment. He sort of squinted and tilted his head like it was something he had to think about. "Well... the other quests I've supervised haven't been quite __ this eventful, no."

"I thought not." Sigh. We hopped off the carpet and walked closer to the body. The police moved right out of our way, looking quite relieved that this freaky magical murder was now someone else's problem. Thanks, guys.

"Alright, so Jon here was presumably killed by the same dude who attacked us last night and killed Eddie boy a week ago, right?" I said.

Everyone nodded. By everyone, of course, I mean Hecate, Daisy, and Henry, not Ed or the normal cops who were watching me kneel down beside the body and looking slightly apprehensive, like I was approaching a bomb that might go off and destroy us all. I looked closely at the restraints, careful not to touch them or the corpse. Given what had happened when Ed touched his grave last night, there was a chance that I _was_ , in fact, approaching a bomb.

"So why didn't these binders –" (the rope-like strands of energy holding him to the ground) "– break when we broke the coven's spell?"

I glanced at the three useful people standing nearby, hoping one of them would have an answer. They looked back at me, frowning, and then all began to scan the area around us. I stood and looked around also, hoping to spot whatever they were searching for. Nothing. I didn't have particularly good eyesight, but I couldn't see any crazy wizards chilling nearby, inexplicably maintaining a spell on an already dead man. That would have been too easy, to actually catch the person responsible. What were the others looking for? There was nothing out there, and even if there was, given what we knew about this psycho's track record, it would surely be clouded.

"I can't see anything," I said.

"Nor can I," said Hecate. She looked questioningly at the other two, who shook their heads. Officers 1 and 2 caught up to us. Number 1 spoke.

"Can we search the body yet? No one wanted to touch it before –"

"No!" said Daisy, cutting him off.

"It's a good thing no one did touch it. We don't know what enchantments are guarding it as of yet," said Henry.

"Thank you for your help, officers," said Hecate, addressing the group at large, "but my team can take it from here. For your own safety, I suggest you head back to your car until we've diffused the situation down here."

Several of the police nodded before walking back to their vehicles, trying to look calm but walking a little too fast to pull it off.

"Nessa," said Hecate, turning to me, "can you sense any energy hotspots nearby?"

A shudder raked down my spine at the thought of the last hotspot I'd encountered whilst in Ed's room. He was looking a little sheepish at the memory himself. I closed my eyes and reached out. Suddenly I was being pulled in all directions - there was a lot of energy here.

"It's everywhere," I said.

"Try to focus in. Where is the source?"

I tried to get my head straight. It felt like I was drunk; like my usual way of sensing energy was wobbly and slurred and couldn't walk straight. There was so much magic all around, a blue mist filling my head and seeping into every crevice of my mind. Unlike mist, however, this substance was so thick with energy it felt viscous, slowing me down and making it nearly impossible to identify the source.

I took a deep breath. _Nearly_ impossible. I knew I could do this. The mist was inebriating, but acting sober while drunk was one of my best party tricks, or at least it would be if I ever went to parties. Concentrating hard, I managed to pull the energy into focus, as if twisting the lens of a camera. The mist shifted, transforming into thick, distinct strands, and I could feel the hotspots in sharp definition. There were three. One directly ahead, one behind and one to the side.

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to recover from the exertion. Being exposed to that much energy was tiring. I stumbled back and fell on my arse. It hurt landing on the hard gravel, but at least I didn't fall onto the dead body at my feet, I thought. Else I'd be dead.

"Three," I said, not yet able to form a full sentence. They all understood. (Except Ed, who was of course standing off to the side looking totally bewildered. Classic Ed.)

"Triangle," they said in unison.

A triangle, in addition to being a simple geometric shape used to torture high school mathematics students (I don't care how long that side is. And even if I did, why do we have to go through this whole ridiculous process of using algebra to figure it out? You were able to measure the other two sides. Why not just use the same tool to measure the third? And don't get me started on measuring the angles), is also a tool used in magic. You always hear about satanic stars and circles and hexagons being used for casting, but the triangle is often a more practical choice. It's simple. Three points. Quick to set up. Not as fancy, sure, but effective. Our crazed killer had prepared one and lured Jon into the middle of it, binding him to the ground and then channelling a burst of energy to kill him. The triangle had locked in some residual energy, which is what I had been able to sense coming from the points, and it was keeping the binding spell alive, although it wasn't focused enough to kill the rest of us standing there.

"We need to get out," I said with realisation, scrambling to my feet. If the killer saw us here, this would be a golden opportunity to take out everyone who was a threat to him. We were sitting ducks. No one moved.

"Go!" I said and started running. We had been congregating directly in the centre of the triangle, so I ran for the space between the two anchors on the side I was already facing. I didn't need maths to figure out the shortest distance to an exit.

I could hear the others following me, and although we were only a hundred metres from the edge it felt like a hundred kilometres. (Because it was scary – not just because I'm terrifyingly unfit.) We reached the edge, gasping and doubled over but at least alive. I looked around to check everyone was there: Henry (who had done his usual trick of transforming into a cheetah so he could beat me), Daisy (who could have overtaken me rather easily, but kept pace, shouting what I assumed were words of encouragement although I hadn't been able to hear her over the sound of my own inner terror), Ed (terrified and shaking, as per usual), and Hecate (looking surprisingly unruffled for a post-sprint octogenarian), who was sitting on the...

Oh. The magic carpet. I guess that's what Daisy had been trying to tell me when she was running alongside me. I could have gotten out in half the time on that thing and then I wouldn't currently be blinking away stars and trying not to vomit. But hey, at least I was safe. The 'how' wasn't important.

"Where are the points?" Hecate asked. I stared back at her blankly. "The anchors? For the triangle? We need to find them."

More blank staring from me. Anchors. Triangle. Blind terror. Death and destruction. My thoughts were a little jumbled – I blamed the exercise. Twice in twenty-four hours I'd had to run. TWICE. That couldn't be natural.

"Nessa?" said Henry, looking concerned. His glasses were slightly askew, presumably from the running (yet ANOTHER danger of exercise). "Are you OK?"

They all seemed so calm – none of them knew how much danger we'd just been in. There was enough energy in that triangle to – well, to do a lot. Kill a billion bees, transform a tonne of lead into gold, summon Satan – it was a solid triangle. It must have had some decent anchors. Not just simple candles or crystals like your average conjuring – this shit was heavy duty.

Right, the anchors. Time to break it down. Break the triangle down, that is. Not 'break it down' as in 'start dancing'. This was not the time to bust a move. (To be honest, when it came to my dancing, it was never the time.) It was time to remove the anchors and break the walls holding in all that energy so that it could just dissipate nicely into the air without killing any bees or humans or anything.

As long as we stayed outside the triangle, we would be safe from all the trapped, manipulable energy that the killer had held here. I sent out my feelers again and moved towards one of the points, taking immense care not to stray back inside the boundary. The others followed me wordlessly, making sure to keep to my left, away from the triangle, so as not to stumble back in. I wondered whether the others could feel the energy and were just testing me, or whether for some reason this energy detection thing fell outside the expertise of witches, faeries and shifters. And if it did, why could I do it? I'd always thought it was kind of a basic thing. It doesn't seem like you'd need to be particularly skilful to say, 'Yarr, here be magicks,' but what did I know? My knowledge of magical lore wasn't what it should be, much like my knowledge of magical law. I could ask the others, but I didn't expect a straightforward answer. They were here to help me, sure, but they were also here to assess me, and hence I inherently distrusted them. If they suspected there was something special about my abilities and that's what they were testing out, they weren't going to tell me about it. Plus, they were keeping the whole bank robbery aspect a secret from me, which seemed kind of significant.

I was metres away from the point now – one metre, fifty centimetres – and I stopped short. The ground was bare. Nothing. No anchor. Just a lumpy patch of gravel. I was stumped. And so, apparently, was everyone else. It had to be here. I could feel it – we were right on top of it.

"Impressive," said Ed, sounding not at all impressed.

"Are you – are you sure this is it, sweetie?" asked Daisy.

Hecate and Henry were looking at each other. She was mumbling to him. "Maybe we overestimated her –"

"No," said Henry, firmly. "She detected a clouding spell last night. A _clouding spell_ – designed to make things go undetected – and she could sense it. If she says it's here, it's here."

Why thank you for that unexpected vote of confidence, Henry. I knelt on the ground and felt around with my hands. There was nothing there. I laid my hands flat on the earth. I could feel the energy of the object, but there wasn't an object. What sorcery was this? It was like the energy was coming from the ground.

Wait.

Face-palm.

I started to dig. The ground was soft from the rain, and also, I suspected, from being recently excavated. A few inches below the surface, I hit something hard. I brushed the dust off the top and looked down to see a glowing blue orb filled with the same swirling mist of energy I'd sensed within the triangle.

I looked up at the others, not even trying to hide my smugness. Henry smiled. Ed looked dumbfounded. Daisy and Hecate looked surprised but impressed.

"Well, well," said Hecate. She knelt down beside me and reached for the orb. "Time to break this party up." As her hand neared the orb, I thought about the bonds tying Jon to the ground. Breaking those ties wasn't going to be much use to him now that he was dead. Not like he was going anywhere. But...

"Wait!" I said, slapping her hand out of the way. Yes, I slapped an elderly woman, but now was not the time for guilt. "His spirit. It's still in there."

Henry frowned. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," I replied. "This guy was killed last night, right? The Grim Reaper won't have had time to pick up his soul yet. It'll still be bound to his body."

"That's not –"

"If the Reaper had already been here, the triangle would be broken, wouldn't it? Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get Jon's soul out." I gestured at the gravel expanse. "Since the triangle is intact, it's safe to assume that the ghost is still inside, trapped."

"So? You're not going to be able to get the soul out," said Ed. He frowned. "Are you?"

I ignored him. "We don't have the Reaper here to protect Jon's spirit. If we destroy the triangle like this, we might damage his soul."

"What do you suggest?" asked Henry. "We can hardly leave the triangle intact. It's too dangerous."

"So you're going to risk damaging the soul instead? He's a witness!" I coughed. "And also, like, destroying souls is bad."

"His soul won't be destroyed. He'll still be bound here by his body. The Reaper will be able to harvest him."

"But will we be able to talk to him?"

"Well, no, not until the Reaper severs his soul from the body and restores it."

"And how long will that take?"

Henry shuffled his paws. "I don't know. A few days. Weeks, perhaps."

I exhaled. "That's not good enough. We don't have time to wait for Death to help us out." I wanted this quest to be over. Now. "Look, the soul's in there, intact. If we leave the triangle up, I can talk to him."

"No," said Henry. "Absolutely not."

"He knows who's behind this," I said. "I have to speak with him."

Henry shook his head. "It's far too dangerous."

"You can't go in there," said Hecate. "This is a time bomb."

I glanced at Daisy. She looked sympathetic, but shook her head.

"You're insane," said Ed. "Destroy it."

"If I talk to Jon, this ends now. Today." I stepped back into the triangle. "If you touch that orb, you'll kill me."

"Get back out here," said Henry, looking very unimpressed. Quite a feat for a cheetah.

_What?_ I mouthed, gesturing to the orb as if the triangle was blocking out the noise. Henry wasn't buying it. I turned, ignoring the group beckoning and calling me back angrily. I walked out to Jon's body and sat beside it, watching the cords slither over him briefly before shutting my eyes and reaching out. Somewhere in this sludgy blue fog was Jon's ghost. I could feel him dancing at the edges of my consciousness, but he didn't seem to want to come closer. I felt for him, called for him aloud as well as with my mind, but he seemed oddly evasive. Something to do with the way he died, I thought. People who'd had traumatic deaths could be tricky to calm down.

I didn't know how long I'd been sitting there, trying to coax Jon out from the mist. What was happening to me? Yesterday I'd summoned a dog from the ether, and today I couldn't even find a human who was trapped in a triangle. As I searched, I was vaguely aware that it was getting darker – it was night now. Exhausted from all my attempts to speak to Jon, at first I didn't notice the colour creeping into the mist. I was snapped out of my tunnel vision by a sudden sharp shock of red flashing before my eyes, whipping and stinging my face. A warning. It disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. That was when I noticed a third colour – green mist wafting through the blue, seeping in at the edges. Something was headed this way. I opened my eyes and stood. The rest of the group was still sitting outside the triangle, now with a little campfire. No one looked injured – yet.

I ran towards the others. "On the carpet!" I yelled. They looked up at me in shock. "Something's coming!"

The smell of blood filled the air. I looked around wildly, but no one appeared to be injured. So where was that charming scent coming from?

With a puff, two figures appeared in front of me. I stopped running abruptly, my feet sliding on the gravel, but I managed to remain upright.

"Well, well," said one of the figures before me. "We meet again."

My stomach sank.

"Which one of you creatures is responsible for that delicious smell?"

Great. It was Jessie and James, the vampire duo. I looked at the ground and saw their cat stalking around. Ah, good. They'd brought Meowth.

"The human? The shifter? The witch? Or the faery?" James glanced at Ed, looking him up and down with a look of disdain. "Probably not the ghost."

I guess that answered the question about whether or not they could see Ed. But if they could see him, why couldn't Daisy and Hecate? That was a question for another time, however, because right now I was out of garlic, and these vampires weren't playing. We were dead. Were they the mist I'd seen rolling in? No, the mist was green; these guys cast in black smoke, not coloured. And the smell of blood – that was what had attracted the vampires to us. Whoever was after us had been responsible for baiting the vamps. They must have been watching us all this time. Did that mean they'd been watching us last night in the forest as well? Why not just kill us then? Why not kill us today while we were in the triangle? What was with this sick game? Did they want to see us mauled by vampires?

Again, a question for another time.

"What are we going to do with you?" asked Jessie.

My heart rate sped up and I started to feel sick. I didn't want to know the answer to that question.

Luckily, I didn't find out, because at that moment a red flash engulfed us.

# Chapter 9

The red energy that surrounded us was the same kind that had first jerked me out of my pursuit of Jon, warning me that the vampires were coming. This flash, however, didn't sting like the whip of energy had. One second we were in the gravel wasteland, about to be mauled by vampires, and the next we were standing in a long, black room illuminated only by the flames running down the length of its walls. Pleasantly warm flames, of course, not burning hot ones. Hell was nothing if not pleasant.

I say 'walls', but of course there weren't really any walls here – the room just sort of... faded out into blackness. We stood on the shiny obsidian floor as all the seats had already been taken by spirits waiting for admission. No one here I recognised.

I reached out to see if maybe Jon had been brought here with us, but there was no hint of his flighty, ethereal consciousness. This room was full of boring, adjusted ghosts. Except Ed, of course, who was not at all adjusted. He looked terrified, eyes darting around to the flames and the other ghosts sitting down reading old magazines and finally to the door at the other end of the long room.

The door to her office.

I didn't know why Ed was so scared. It was me she was angry with.

"Is this..." Henry began to ask, but trailed off, unable to form the words. Daisy and Hecate just stood there silently, eyes wide.

Wow, I'd thought these guys were tough supernatural law enforcement and yet here they were, having a little breakdown over a trip down under. Down under as in Hell, not Australia. Not that they were that different, really. Hell had a more effective system of government, though.

Speaking of which...

The door at the end of the corridor slammed open and out stalked Satan. She was wearing a black skirt-suit and red heels, and with the extra height probably hit about six feet tall. Her skin glowed, though I wasn't sure if that was from her personally-tailored-by-a-nutritionist diet or from the demonic force within. She looked impeccable, of course. She always did. Her legs, that suit... When I wasn't around Satan I was about ninety percent sure I was hetero. Right now, though? Not so much.

I dragged my eyes up to her face. She strode towards our party looking more than a little peeved. _Gulp,_ came the sound from the four people behind me (OK, the ghost, shifter, witch and fae behind me – from now on I'm just going to refer to them as 'people' though) as they simultaneously tried to suppress panic attacks. I didn't know what they were worried about. She wasn't going to hurt us. She wouldn't want to get blood on those shoes. Besides, like I already said, it was me __ she was angry with.

"Why must you always get yourself into trouble? You're no good to me dead, Nessa," she said. She was trying to hide her anger, but the flames running the length of the room flared up with her every word.

"I'm not much good to you alive, either," I said. It was true. What on earth could I do that Satan couldn't? In what possible category of life skills did I outweigh the devil?

"And on today of all days! I've just had to cut short a meeting with my marketing team. You could not possibly have picked a worse time to get attacked."

No point in mentioning that I hadn't actually chosen to be attacked at that particular moment. Or to be attacked at all. She was mid-rant. Logic would have been lost on her. Besides, there were more interesting things to discuss.

"Marketing team?" I questioned, a little concerned about what was happening. What exactly was she planning on selling? Face cream, to keep you looking thirty when you were really a few million years old? A new line of barbecues – the fire that will never go out? Medieval torture devices? Or maybe she'd finally gotten around to doing a campaign for PETA – she'd always liked animals.

"Yes, my marketing team! We were in the middle of coming up with the campaign slogan when you and your ridiculous little troupe decided to get mauled by those pathetic vamp conjurers." Ooh, wow. She'd dropped the 'c' bomb. She must have thought very little of those vampires. Calling someone a 'conjurer' is the magical equivalent of patting them on the head and saying how precious they look playing with their toys. I would never dare use that word.

Well, OK, maybe I would. But only if I was really cranky. Which is basically all the time. Argh, OK. Fine. I would use the word. No need to rub it in. Shut up, you conjurer. (Ha. Take that.)

"We –"

"How am I going to be ready in time for the photoshoot now? I'm going to have grey hair by then. You're sending my hair grey." She looked over at Ed, Henry, Daisy and Hecate. "Am I going grey?"

They stared back at her in terror.

"Of course you're not going gr–"

"Don't compliment me when I'm chastising you!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes internally. By which I mean I did not roll my eyes at all, but rather thought of doing it and then didn't because I was too scared of the consequences. (Yes, I'd known her a long time, but she was still Satan.)

"What are you marketing, exactly?"

"I just want people to know their options."

"Options?"

"For the afterlife," she said exasperatedly.

Ah. Of course.

"You're running an ad campaign to get more people to come to Hell?"

"We'll discuss that later," she said. She glanced at the others before asking, "What have you brought with you?"

She already knew, of course. She'd once told me she could smell what species people were, which I had chosen to interpret as metaphorical because the alternative was too creepy. Besides, I was fairly sure that she was telepathic or psychic or something. The devil always knew what was going down. That was the reason she'd been able to magic us away from those vampires. And how she got people in gardens to eat fruit they shouldn't. (Delicious, delicious fruit...)

There was a moment of silence before Henry spoke. "I'm –"

"A shifter, yes, working for The Department, or Association or Book Club or whatever it is they're calling themselves these days. A bunch of pathetic bureaucrats tracking down anyone with abilities and imposing their rules upon them. Licensing that which ought not be regulated." The flames around the room grew larger and began crackling loudly as her voice rose. Satan had problems with authority. "Forcing them to perform for you like _monkeys._ "

At that word, Henry transformed into a macaque and gazed down at himself in shock. From the look of utter disbelief on his little pink monkey face, it seemed that no one had ever forced him to shift before. Satan giggled at the sight of him (confused monkeys do look pretty funny), clapping her hands in delight, and the flames died down to a normal crackle. Suddenly her laughter stopped and she grew serious. "I've always wanted a pet."

Even though he was still in monkey form, I swear I saw Henry pale.

Then Satan cackled again. "Got you!" she said, although I thought that was rather an ambiguous statement to make in this particular context.

Finished with Henry, Satan turned to Hecate to continue her inquisition into my companions' intentions.

"Dawn Witch," said Satan. "I do not believe we've had the pleasure."

"N–no, I don't believe so," Hecate answered, looking far less confident than I'd have expected from her. The devil has an uncanny ability to make people stutter.

"Tell me, how is the necromancy going for you?"

Hecate paled. Another of Satan's skills. "I will stop it at once if it displeases you, Your Excellency."

Satan looked pleased at the title. I could tell exactly what she was thinking. _Why yes, I_ am _excellent. Thank you for noticing._ "Displeases me? Oh, not at all. There should be more dark magic in the world. At the moment there seems to be something of an imbalance. Too much light isn't good for anyone, is it? The night sky is so much prettier than the day."

Hecate nodded. "The darkness makes the stars shine brighter."

"I hate stars," said Satan. Hecate swallowed, looking worried for a moment, then the devil grinned. "It's just that darkness is so much more fun."

When Satan looked to Daisy she rested her hand on her chest, as if she needed to hold her heart in place from all the cuteness. Which, given how adorable Daisy was, was fair enough. Faery-nough, some would say. Anybody? No? OK, back to the story. Although I think you're being a bit unfaery.

"And a little faery, how sweet. How old are you? Five, six hundred? Just a baby. Still, you have much promise, from what I've seen. You're a nymph, correct?"

Daisy nodded. "Y–yes."

"I've always liked nymphs. They have a little streak of naughtiness that the other fae lack. A temper. Not like those boring elves. What is the point of living forever if all you ever do is be good?"

Now it was Ed's turn. He stood there, visibly shaking as Satan looked him up and down in disgust. "I don't like you," she said. "I don't like you at all."

"B–but –" Ed began.

"You're pathetic," she said, before turning to me. "Trust your first impression with this one, my dear. Do not allow yourself to be swayed. Trust none of them, for they're all telling you lies and half-truths. The witch, the faery and the monkey mean you no harm, but the ghost is leading you to danger."

Well, I could have told her that. If it weren't for Ed, none of my near-deaths in the last twenty-four hours would have happened.

She leaned in close. "He _prays_ ," she whispered. Ah, of course. Satan's number one sign that someone can't be trusted. Prayer _._

I was certainly convinced.

"We'd better go," I said. "Got a murderer to catch."

"You're close," she said.

"If you know who it is, then –"

"It's your Quest, my dear." Her voice dripped with something between sarcasm and condescension. It always did, but especially on that sentence. What was I meant to do? Not get a licence? Wasn't that illegal? Wouldn't I get fined? I had no money! I couldn't afford to take that risk. Didn't she realise that?

This is why a relationship would never work out between us. Well, that and the fact that she was the embodiment of all things evil. But mostly the other thing.

There was a whooshing sound and I whipped around to see a portal open behind me.

Out stepped Death, in his full regalia – the black cloak, the scythe, you know. He'd clearly just come from work. Contrary to popular folklore, the Grim Reaper was not a skeleton at all, but a decently buff guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties. With a flick of his arm, his uniform disappeared and he stood before us in jeans and an 'I <3 Kale' T-shirt. You and me both, buddy.

"Nessa," he said.

"Reapo, my man," I answered. He smiled a little.

"You know I hate that nickname."

"What else should I call you? Big D?" His smile grew wider and I felt myself blushing. "I meant 'D' as in 'Death', not..."

"Sure."

Well, right now he was being a total D.

"What are you doing? Just reporting in to your boss?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, but the smile didn't totally leave his lips. Satan wasn't really his boss, of course – he killed whomever he chose – but they did have a certain business relationship. Reaping souls for the underworld, etc. Calling the devil his boss was the quickest way to get to him.

"What are you doing? Getting saved from vampire attacks by your step-mum?"

"She's not –" I stopped myself in time. He was obviously just trying to stir me up. We'd been friends for nearly as long as I'd known Satan, and he teased me constantly. _Step-mum,_ though? Was the age difference that __ insurmountable?

I started the conversation over, introducing him to Henry, Daisy, Hecate, "And this is Ed. Oh, I, uh – I guess you guys have met." Awkward.

"We have," said Death, giving Ed a look that would have put him in serious danger if looks could kill. And if the Reaper hadn't already ripped Ed's soul from his body and all. I wondered why Death looked so unimpressed to see Ed again. Normally the Reaper was a pretty nice guy. Maybe Ed just annoyed everyone.

Before we move on, I guess I should explain to you how the whole 'Reaping of Souls' thing works. The basic idea is that when a human dies, their spirit is freed from their body, but is bound to the corpse like a dog on a leash until Death turns up, does the admin and sets them free. (Animals don't require this process, because they're a bit more easy-going and just tend to move on by themselves. Only human spirits seem to think there's something so great about being alive.)

Death could either kill people himself or turn up after the person had already died (depending on the situation) to free their soul. Sometimes he arrived instantaneously, sometimes it took up to a week. That was why there were often ghosts rising at the cemetery by my house. He would ferry them to the afterlife or, if they were bent up on hanging around the formerlife, he'd let their spirits roam free as ghosts. I didn't really know how the different types of ghosts (pink-auras, poltergeists, the fuzzy ones that looked like clouds) were formed. I'd have to ask Death some time.

"Reaper," said Satan from behind me. "So nice to see you again. I wasn't expecting you until later this evening."

"Well, I was bored," he answered. "Heard Nessa got her self into trouble and you had to bail her out. Again. Thought I'd drop in and say hi."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he knew. The Reaper knew everything. When he said he 'heard' I was in trouble, he of course meant that he'd sensed it with his crazy soul-reaping psychic skills. He just didn't say weird shit like that, because for an annoying, death-obsessed, zillion-years-old creature he was much more sensitive to what was a strange thing to bring up in conversation than most other old magical weirdos. Like, you know, Satan with her creepy 'I smell species' thing.

"Well, you must stay for dinner! I was just about to send my marketing team home anyway, seeing as Nessa here interrupted our creative flow. We can have a party! I'll let Giorgio know I have company. How many of us are there?" She pointed to each of us and counted. "Six. Excellent."

"Seven," Death said. "Including you."

"I'm a ghost," said Ed. "I can't eat." Look at this idiot, trying to tell Death how being dead worked.

Reaper rolled his eyes like he was already done with this shit. Ed seemed to just have that effect on people.

"You're in the afterlife now, Ghosty. Any soul can eat here."

"Oooh, I like that," said Satan. "When we open up the restaurant we can use that as the slogan."

"The restaurant?" Death queried.

"Hell's Kitchen," said Satan.

"Ah," said Death.

"Anyway, dinner for six," Satan continued.

"Seven," said Ed. "If I can eat here."

"Oh, you _can_ ," said Satan. "But you won't. You're not welcome to eat."

Wow. Ed was making some powerful enemies tonight.

"Fine," he snapped. "Should I just wait in the lounge? Or maybe you can send me back to the real world where I'll be killed by vampires."

"You're already dead," I said.

"Oh no," said Satan. "You'll sit at the table. But you won't be eating. You can just watch everyone else enjoying their meals and contemplate the life choices that have led you to this moment."

She really was not a fan of prayer.

Satan turned on her heel and called out to Giorgio.

Thirty minutes later (the ovens in Hell were apparently very efficient) the seven of us were seated at a table covered in a feast fit for the Queen of Darkness. Ed sat at the opposite end of the table from Satan, the only person with no place setting in front of him. Whenever she got the chance, Satan stared daggers at him. I'd forgotten how much I liked her. I really should drop in more often.

Tonight Satan appeared to be foregoing her usual macrobiotic diet in favour of an Italian feast. She must have really wanted to make Ed suffer. Laid out in front of us were roughly a billion different dishes – arrabbiata, napolitana, seitan meatballs (which I'm sure she ate just as much for the reason that the name sounded like 'Satan' as because she was vegetarian), bruschetta, artichoke crostini, ferinata with sun-dried tomato and olives, a white bean and kale dish (which I believe Giorgio described as 'Tuscan-inspired', which meant it probably wasn't all that authentic, but hey, he was Italian and it was delicious so whatever). Death looked pleased about the kale.

I'm pretty sure I saw Ed shed a tear as he watched the rest of us dig in.

When the tiramisu arrived (made with coconut cream, of course, as Satan did not consume dairy because, and I quote, "Drinking from animal tits is just weird – I like my breasts _human_ "), I thought Ed might actually explode.

Throughout dinner, Daisy, Henry and Hecate seemed to grow more comfortable with Satan, and the conversation stopped being quite so stilted. Part of this was due to Death's impressive conversational skill. He was a mingler; the kind of person who could talk to anyone and make them feel at ease. He had the sort of charm that would make the prospect of dying and having him ferry you to the afterlife not seem so unappealing.

Death was being so charming, in fact, that even I didn't realise until we were well over halfway through the main course that he was subtly questioning Daisy, Henry and Hecate about what they were up to.

"A robbery at the police station?" he was saying. "Oh, it must be related to that bank robbery. Clouding spells were used at both, right?"

"Yes," the three of them agreed heartily. Death had clearly woven them all under his spell.

"And what exactly was taken?"

"Money," said Daisy vaguely.

"And some things from the safe," Hecate added.

"What was in the safe?" asked the Reaper.

"Doomstone," they all said in unison, sounding kind of groggy. What exactly was going on here? Surely Death already knew all of these details. He knew everything. Why was he bothering asking them? I looked towards Ed. He appeared to have fallen asleep.

"Alright, you've helped her enough," Satan cut in. What did that mean? Helped who? Me? __ Helped me with what? If Death was trying to assist me with my quest somehow, then he had failed. Why hadn't he just told me who'd killed Ed so I wouldn't have to continue this ridiculous search? Surely he and Satan both knew. But right now, there were more pressing issues.

"What have you done to them?" I asked as I stared wide-eyed at Henry, Hecate and Daisy, my voice sounding significantly more high-pitched than normal. "Have you drugged them?"

Satan and Death laughed.

"Don't be silly, darling," said Satan.

"We're two of the oldest beings in existence. If we can't do a little truth spell then what on earth are we good for?" said Death.

"You're not on earth," I snapped. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself down. Yelling at them wouldn't help – I knew that from experience. They just thought it was funny when I got mad. I tried again. "How about you explain to me what exactly is going on here? Why don't you just tell me who killed Ed so I can stop with this quest? Then you might not have to bail me out of a vampire attack again, and I can stop pretending to be a law-abiding magical citizen with no powers other than talking to ghosts." It seemed like a reasonable deal to me.

Death opened his mouth, but before he could speak Satan cut him off.

"Finish your dinner, darling," she said. I thought I detected a flicker of annoyance in Death's eyes, but it was gone before I could be sure. Before I could start questioning them again, everyone else came to. The moment was gone.

My troupe was looking a little confused, unsure what had transpired over the last twenty minutes or so. Death started talking again, this time about benign matters such as magical policy and the latest gossip about celebrity supernaturals and how Hecate's crimson hair really brought out her eyes, and everyone got back to eating (or, in Ed's case, watching), and seemed to forget about their disorientation a moment before.

There were always risks when you sat down to dine with Death and the devil, I suppose. What were they up to? Why the hell was I involved?

And what exactly was this Doomstone?

# Chapter 10

After dinner, Death escorted us back to the realm of the living. He re-opened the portal in the waiting room and we all stepped through, coming out in the forest near my house.

"I didn't want to open it too close in case I tore the fabric of time and space a little wide and your whole cottage came tumbling down," he said. A genuine risk with my house.

I walked slowly and let the rest of the group get in front, Ed leading the charge out of the forest and back to my front door. The ground had dried out a little during the day, but it was still soft from the rain the night before. I could feel magical energy all around us and knew that all kinds of creatures were scuttling around in the undergrowth, from wolves to witches to dragon hatchlings. (OK, maybe the hatchlings were a stretch, but a girl could hope. I really wanted to see a dragon someday.)

I suspected that we wouldn't have to worry about those vampires anymore, seeing as Satan was probably having a word with them right at this moment, but everyone seemed keen to get out of the forest nonetheless. I was happy to let them go ahead – I wanted to ask Death some questions.

"What the hell is going on?" I hissed at him as soon as I was sure the others were out of earshot. "What is a Doomstone? Why won't you and Satan just tell me who killed Ed? I know that you know. This whole quest thing is ridiculous. What –"

Suddenly the ground dropped away and the trees around us faded. I gasped like an eighteenth century maiden who'd just seen someone's naked bottom. Where were we?

"Where did the world go?" I asked Death, a little dazed.

"We're in a void, outside time and space. I needed to take you somewhere Satan couldn't overhear us, but we have to be quick before she realises that you're missing."

"Whaaa...."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is what I have to tell you right now. I can't tell you what's going on."

"Oh, great. That's handy."

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up and listen. Don't trust anyone."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone."

I thought for a second. "You mean Satan, don't you? That's why you brought me here."

"I mean everybody. Everyone is lying to you. You need to find the Doomstone and finish this as fast as you can. No one is here to help you, no matter what they say."

"What about you?"

"I can't help you. I'm forbidden from telling you what's going on. You're on your own. And I mean that – don't trust them."

"I don't even know what the Doomstone is! How am I meant to find it?"

"You can do it. You _have_ to do it."

"But –"

The world came rushing back and Death kept walking as if nothing had happened. I knew I couldn't ask him any more questions in case Satan heard. I couldn't trust her? Or any of the others? Two of them were cops, one was a Department official and the other was the guy that got murdered! Who exactly could I trust? Was the Grim Reaper my only friend? That was really sad if it was true.

He walked me to my door and stopped on the verandah. The others were already inside. (I hadn't locked up since I had nothing worth stealing and most robbers were too creeped out by the graveside location to come to my house in the dead of the night.) The Reaper turned to me and nodded once. I nodded back, giving him a weak smile. I was pretty sure this guy was on my side. After all, what did he have to gain by lying to me? But then again, why would any of the others be lying either? None of this made sense.

The Doomstone must be the key. The others hadn't told me about the robbery even though they were sure it had something to do with Ed's death. It must be significant. And probably dangerous.

Everyone else was sitting around in the lounge room looking kind of shell-shocked when I walked in. I'd probably been the same the first time I met Satan. But then, I'd only been fourteen at the time. What were these adults doing freaking out? It hadn't been that traumatic an experience. We'd all made it out alive and she hadn't even tortured anyone.

Deciding I didn't really want to talk to them right now (partly because I didn't want to face their questions about my relationship with Satan, and partly because I didn't know what to think of them anymore and I needed time to mull it over), I excused myself and went straight to my room. I'd talk to them later, when I knew what we were up against and had some sort of plan. Or, more likely, when I still knew nothing and I had to ask them what the hell was going on.

I headed for my computer, deciding to try Google first, even though I knew it probably wasn't going to be that easy. Nothing on this quest was, and for some reason most magical lore hadn't yet been reliably digitised. You could only find the basic stuff online, and even then you had to be careful about your sources. There were a lot of normals who thought that they had some sort of affinity with the occult and put their dodgy information up as if it were accurate. Plus, it was tricky to sort out the fan fic from the legitimate empirical research on the function and performance of spells, herbs, gemstones or whatever else you were trying to look up.

The keyword 'Doomstone' brought up far more results than I could be bothered scrolling through. Unfortunately, all the top suggestions were for items in video games. Great. The normals had cluttered the internet with all their made-up magic to distract themselves from the boring reality of their lives. I was going to have to resort to the classic arcane research method: books. (Or, as they are usually called in the supernatural information gathering context, 'tomes'.)

I pulled reference book after reference book off my bookcase, hoping to find some mention of this legendary Doomstone. I tossed the books to the floor one by one, none of them containing the information I was looking for. It seemed odd that the stone was apparently such a big deal in the seedy magical underworld, and yet I'd never heard of it. I'd read a lot of occult books over the years in order to teach myself how to perform the various legal and not-so-legal spells that I required to get by. In the past, though, I'd always had Satan around to help me. Now it looked like I couldn't go to my usual teacher. Death couldn't tell me anything. All the officials were acting kind of shady. Who did that leave?

I groaned.

"What's up?" came a voice from behind me. I screamed and spun around, falling over backwards. Displaying remarkable speed and an uncharacteristic concern for my wellbeing, Ed crossed the room and caught me before I hit the ground. It wasn't like one of those weird romantic catches that always happen in rom-coms – we didn't look into each other's eyes and suddenly realise we were in love or anything. Ed fumbled a little and I ended up falling anyway, just not as hard as I had been before.

"Sorry," said Ed. "I didn't mean to scare you. Everyone was being weirdly quiet downstairs and we could hear all this weird thumping coming from your room so I came up to check you were OK. I did knock but I guess you didn't hear."

I sighed. At least he'd saved me the trip downstairs to fetch him.

"I need you to help me, Ed. I don't think we can trust the others."

"Why not? Because of what Satan said?"

I momentarily considered how much I should tell him. Satan had warned me about him, but that was probably because she didn't like religious people. I decided to tell him about the Doomstone. "Partly. Partly because I overheard them talking, and I know they're holding out on us."

Ed frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They think your death is connected to a bank robbery that happened a couple of weeks ago. I overheard them talking about it this morning when they thought I was asleep."

"What?" He frowned. "Why would they think that?"

"The robbers used the clouding spells that were stolen from the station."

"Oh," he said. He thought for a moment before asking, "Why wouldn't they just tell us that? What's the point in keeping information from either of us? Don't they want you to solve it?"

I shrugged. Who knew why everyone was lying and keeping things from me these days? Ed was the only one I slightly trusted, and that was purely because someone had murdered him. This shit was messed up. "Maybe they think you did it," I said, straight-faced.

He paled, which is a pretty neat trick for a ghost.

"What? Really? But I – I can't even go outside in the dark alone," he said. "As if I'd have the balls to rob a bank!"

I laughed. Just a single bark. It was true; he was far too much of a coward.

"It was a joke," I said. "Don't have a heart attack. Help me look through these books." I gestured to a couple I'd thrown onto the bed.

"What for? Do you think my killer is going to be in one of these?"

I rolled my eyes. I knew he'd been murdered and this quest was technically all about him, but why was he always so self-centred?

"We're looking for any reference to a Doomstone. It was taken in the bank robbery and I've got a feeling it's significant." I didn't tell him that Death had specifically told me to look into it. Just because I trusted Ed more than the others, it didn't mean I _actually_ trusted him.

In case it ever comes up, giving someone the advice 'trust no one; I can't explain why' really messes with them. If you're reading this, Reaper, take note.

"Oh, you've got a feeling? Great. I'm glad your intuition is kicking in again, because it's not like it's ever gotten us in trouble before."

"What are you talking about?"

"Zombies, vampires, green tendrils of death, witches, creepy magical triangle, vampires again, then dinner with Satan and Death?"

"OK, mate, firstly, not one of those was my fault. We weren't following my gut, we were following the trail of death and destruction you'd left behind you. Secondly, Satan _saved_ us, and Death is a good friend of mine," – I think – "so you watch your mouth!"

Ed took a deep breath (pointless, but a lot of ghosts forgot they didn't need to respire) and then sat on my bed, sighing.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "You're right. What are we looking for again? A Deathstone?"

"Doomstone," I corrected, deciding to behave like an adult rather than gloat and bask in that apology. That delicious, delicious apology. "I don't have any idea what it is, though. We're just going to have to look in all my books until we figure it out."

He started sorting through the books, putting all my crystal, talisman and amulet texts in one pile and the other books in another. He pushed the first pile towards me. "You try these. I'm no detective, but I think if it's actually a stone, it will probably be in there. I'll look through the others."

OK, sure, if he wanted to give me the easy pile then who was I to refuse?

Three hours later, I decided that the Doomstone didn't actually exist.

"This is ridiculous. I've checked every page of these stupid books. I've looked under every weird name that could potentially be another name for 'Doomstone' and there's nothing. Nothing at all. It's non-existent."

Ed had been just as successful with his pile.

"I'm inclined to agree," he said. "I couldn't find anything. I'll keep looking tonight while you sleep, but I doubt I'm going to have any luck." He sighed. "What's the plan for tomorrow?"

"Get the autopsy report."

"My autopsy report?"

"Yeah." Duh.

"Do I, uh, have to look at it?"

He looked a bit nervous. I guess it would be kind of stressful to see pictures of your mangled, murdered body lying out on a slab after being hacked up by a medical examiner. Not as stressful as when we tried to exhume him, but still. "No, you don't have to look at it."

"Right. Uh, and how exactly are we going to get our hands on this report? Do you still want me to break in?"

I shook my head. "It should be OK. I'm hoping Hecate can get it for us. She is a cop, and it's kind of her case since it's related to the bank robbery that she and Daisy are looking into. If they can't get it, though, then it'll be down to you."

He nodded, still looking slightly concerned at the possibility that he might actually have to do something. There was a pretty good chance Hecate would be able to get the report legally, but even if she couldn't I didn't know why Ed was so worried. He was dead. Almost no one could see him. I mean, not only was he a ghost, but he was also invisible to half the people who could normally see ghosts. And even if he did get caught, what were they going to do? It wasn't like they could lock him up. He had a one hundred percent effective Get Out Of Jail Free Card.

I didn't bother saying any of this, though, because by this stage I was aware that Ed's logical thinking capabilities were far outweighed by his cowardice.

Ed began gathering up the books. "It's late," he said. "You should sleep. I'll head down and let the others know what the plan is for tomorrow, then I'll keep looking through these. See you in the morning."

He left.

I sighed. Since when was Ed the only helpful, trustworthy person in my life? This was not a pleasing turn of events.

# Chapter 11

"Beds are nice," I mumbled sleepily, eyes still shut. It was the next morning, and I was euphoric about not waking up on a police station floor. There was a mattress! And non-lumpy pillows! And a real duvet instead of Hecate's scratchy blankets! Plus, I was wearing my pyjamas instead of jeans this time, and they were gloriously comfy. I could imagine cartoon birds tweeting around me, doing my hair like we were in a Disney movie. Even with my eyes closed I knew that there was sunlight streaming in through the window, because I could feel it warming my legs through the bedcovers. Life was good.

And then...

"Yeah," said a voice from beside me.

Well, there went my good mood.

I screamed, opening my eyes and scrambling backwards, right over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. I popped my head up and saw Ed across the room, sitting in the armchair by my bed, flicking through a new pile of books that he'd apparently taken from my shelf.

"What are you doing in here? Were you watching me sleep?" I demanded, my voice hitting a higher register than it had, in my memory, ever hit before.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said.

"You can't just hang out in someone's bedroom when they're asleep, Ed! That's so creepy!"

He rolled his eyes. "I was trying to find out more about this stupid stone, but it doesn't seem to be anywhere in any of your books." He walked around the bed and returned the tomes to the bookcase. "I've told the others what we're doing today, so we should all be ready to go after we have breakfast. Well, after the rest of you have breakfast."

He stood and walked out.

Not wanting to get caught somewhere in jeans and have to sleep in them again, I opted for comfort today in the form of light-weight track pants in an orange and grey check, which I know sounds disgusting (and, frankly, is), and an oversized grey T-shirt. No one was going to be looking my way when I had faery-queen Daisy, a six-foot-tall elderly witch with bright scarlet hair and a talking animal beside me. In this outfit, I was going to be as invisible as Ed.

When I reached the kitchen and everyone turned to look at me in horror, it occurred to me that maybe I wasn't going to be as invisible as I'd hoped. OK, the outfit was pretty bad.

"Let's go," I said. _Coffee,_ I thought. It was morning. I wasn't capable of more complex thoughts than that.

"How are we getting there?" asked Hecate.

"Your carpet?" I suggested.

Hecate shook her head. "We left it behind last night when Satan teleported us away from the triangle. I don't know where it is now. Poor little thing."

Huh. I didn't want to tell her that I was pretty sure I knew exactly where it was, because 'in the hands of two homicidal vampire magicians' was probably not what she wanted to hear right now.

"I guess we walk, then." The entire room groaned. "Come on, it'll be fun! Just like a real quest! Instead of the ridiculous farce it's been so far." Oops. Some of my anger had bubbled to the surface.

"I know this quest hasn't been quite what you imagined," said Henry. "But –"

"Shut up, Henry. Let's get to the morgue and get this over with. Everyone got their walking shoes on? Come on, hurry up! We need to head off now so I can catch the killer instead of the police doing their job. Then I can fix your station's security mess-up before you have to report it to The Department and let them know that there are police-created zombies popping up all around the countryside, not to mention roughly a billion clouding cones on the street."

And, in the meantime, I'd be solving the bank robbery.

I considered asking them about the Doomstone, but decided against it. I'd bring that up some other time when I figured out why they'd kept it from me (or when I needed to guilt trip them some more).

Everyone stood and wordlessly moved out the front door, except Ed, who followed the group beside me.

"That was great," he said, grinning. "I can't wait to see you guilt them into something by using the robbery thing."

It was like he'd read my mind.

I looked down at my jogger-clad feet trying to hide my smile, but I'm sure he saw it.

We'd had more rain overnight so the road was still muddy, making for fairly slow going. The weather had cleared up now and the sun was out, but it would be a while before the trail was completely dry. For such a sunny day, the woods seemed quiet. There were no recent animal tracks in the moist earth of the road and I couldn't hear any birds in the trees. I frowned, but didn't speak.

Silently, I felt around for any nearby magical energy, but there was nothing. This was beyond weird. As it drew closer to the full moon, the Black Forest generally filled with all kinds of magicals and strange creatures. Even during the other parts of the lunar cycle, this place tended to be abuzz with energy. If I remembered correctly, the full moon fell tonight. There should have been magic everywhere. We should have run into at least the odd witch, maybe a couple of pink-aura ghosts ready to bore us to tears with tales of their mundane lives-after-death, and about ten fake mediums, palm-readers or tarot card interpreters.

Instead, there was nothing. Not even a flicker of energy.

It was eerily silent.

Usually walking along the forest trail was like walking through a fair at this time of month. People and beasts alike flocked to the woods on the day of the full moon. They would be here to set up circles for ceremonies, forage for herbs and barks, brew potions somewhere it wouldn't stink up their kitchens, claim spots to hang out tonight and charge their crystals, and just generally be with nature. (A lot of light magic was drawn from nature. I didn't know the specifics – physics wasn't really my area – but it had something to do with energy transfer. Nature helped recharge magicals, so a forest like this was the perfect place for midnight moonlight rituals.)

We'd made it deep into the forest before I detected a hint of energy coming from outside of my own entourage. I stopped. Ed continued walking for a few steps before realising I was no longer beside him. He turned to look at me, opening his mouth to ask me what was up. I put a finger to my lips in a 'shh' motion and then traced it across my neck. We were in danger. A lot __ of danger.

I saw Henry, in wolf form, stop up ahead and sniff the air, and knew that I was correct – he'd detected it too. My breathing quickened.

Ed nodded once at me and flew silently to Daisy and Hecate, grabbing their arms to stop them and turning them to face me. They both spun quietly to look at me, frozen on the spot.

_What is it?_ Daisy mouthed.

I quietly crept towards them, as did Henry, until the five of us were in a tight group.

"Grabbers," I whispered. Daisy's eyes widened.

I could feel the grabbers' energy moving through the forest, diffusing like a drop of blood in a bathtub. It was a rusty orange magic, dull and pervasive – not a sharp red like Satan's, or the slimy green tendrils of the person who'd killed Ed. This was a different beast. They were sending out their energy like mist through the forest, searching for any magical beings. Like, you know, a shifter, faery, witch, ghost or... well, whatever I was. An 'other'. We needed to run, but if the grabbers heard us move then they'd chase us, and that would not be good news for us. At all.

If Satan knew what was going on, we'd have been teleported out already, so I was guessing she only kept tabs on me at night. It made sense. Generally, there were far fewer magical predators out during the day.

Except for the grabbers.

Ed was shrugging, trying to ask silently what a grabber was. He wouldn't know, of course. He hadn't grown up magical. Hecate didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation either. She'd probably been raised human. (Witches were often born into non-magical families – unlike shifters or fae, 'witch' was something you became, rather than the way you were born. That was why Daisy could be a witch and a faery, and Hecate could be a human witch.)

The two that were raised as humans didn't know what was coming. Henry, Daisy and I, though?

We were all visibly shaking.

"We need to go," whispered Henry.

The grabbers' energy paused. Like a hunting dog sniffing out its quarry, the magic whipped in our direction at the sound of Henry's whisper.

It started shooting directly towards us.

Fast.

"Run!" I screamed.

We took off at once, feet pounding against the earth. The muddy parts of the track slowed us, grabbing our feet tight like the road was in league with the grabbers. My heart pounded in my chest as I yanked my legs free, thighs burning, panic rising. We weren't moving nearly as fast as we needed to be.

As we ran, Daisy cast spells around us, trying to throw some sort of ward up as protection. I would have helped, but I was not good at multitasking. Not to mention that the running was draining all my energy. I wasn't going to be able to get away if I tried casting as well. I probably wasn't going to be able to get away anyway, but I didn't want to lower my chances even more.

Leaving the muddy path behind, I ran into the woods, heading in the exact opposite direction of the source of the grabber magic. I could hear that the others had decided to follow me. Out of all of us, I seemed to have the most attuned ability to sense energy. I assumed that was why everyone was sticking with me and not splitting up. They couldn't run away if they didn't know where 'away' was.

Henry, though, was in his wolf-form, and could smell the grabbers with his doggy nose. He should have been getting out of here, and yet he was keeping pace with us, which I felt was both kind-hearted and incredibly stupid of him. He was a shifter – they went for thousands on the black market.

I glanced back, making sure we hadn't lost anyone. I saw that Ed had lifted Hecate by the waist and was carrying her over the uneven terrain. Even in my blind panic I was impressed by his uncharacteristically charitable behaviour. Helping an old lady run for her life. What a charmer. He was clearly ignorant to the danger headed our way. He probably thought they couldn't hurt him.

Daisy was throwing beams of white light out left, right and centre. She had a kind of manic determination in her eyes as she cast spell after spell trying to keep the grabbers' cloud at bay. I knew why. Faeries were sold for more than shifters. The exotic pet trade wasn't worth as much as the faery slave trade. There were a lot of horror stories about what had happened to nymphs taken by the grabbers – stories too gruesome to repeat.

The grabbers were gaining on us. Soon we would be ensnared by their energy and there would be no hope of escape. I groaned. This was really not my week. We broke into a clearing and I stopped, turning to face the direction the grabbers were coming from.

"What are you doing?" barked Henry.

"Run!" yelled Daisy.

"They're too close," I said. "Stand and fight."

The voice that erupted from my mouth at that moment sounded much more authoritative than it ought to have, given that I was yelling at a government official and two police officers. It was like someone else's voice had come out of my mouth.

Apparently the rest of the group thought I had sufficient authority to order them around as well, because they quickly formed a circle around me, all crouching slightly, ready to cast. Even Ed joined in.

I moved to become part of the circle too, assuming we were about to do some kick-ass coven-style magic, but Hecate ordered me back to my place.

"You fight from there," she said, sending me back into the middle. I wondered briefly if this had something to do with the fact that I wasn't licensed, then I realised that Ed was forming part of the circle. Surely he wasn't licensed either. Why had I been singled out?

They joined hands and I saw a flash as the sides of Daisy's ward finally connected, covering us all in a protective dome. Just in time, as it turned out. The grabber energy bashed against the dome seconds after it was completed, erupting in flames as it hit the right side, then the left. Suddenly it was attacking us from all sides. The others were clutching each other's hands, concentrating on keeping that ward up. Why would they not let me help? This was ridiculous! I could see the ward weakening, burning away...

And falling.

They released hands, gasping, and out of the smoky fog surrounding us emerged three grabbers. They were dressed in leather and furs, teeth rotting, bloodstains down their fronts. Walking stereotypes. As far away as I was, I could still smell the stench of their sweat in the air.

One had a knife drawn, dripping crimson liquid from his last victim.

"Come on, little ones," said the front grabber, who I took to be the ringleader due to his abundance of teeth. I could see three from here – a veritable movie-star smile for these guys. "That's enough fighting, now. We don't wanna hurt ya."

"Yes, I gathered that from the bloodied knife of your colleague there," I answered.

"What, that? That was just a rabbit we killed for our lunch. Nothing for you to worry –"

He was thrown backwards as Daisy hit him with a stunning spell. I guessed she was a vegetarian too.

As the ringleader lay on the ground, stunned, the other two moved towards us.

"You made a mistake there, you little elf bitch!" said the one with the bloody knife. Hecate threw a stun spell at him, too, but it glanced off his shoulder, barely knocking him back.

Grabber three turned to Hecate. "Too slow, grandma. Or is it grandpa?"

A rock bounced off his skull and I looked to Ed, who was frantically picking up objects from the forest floor to throw at our assailants. I'll admit, I was a little impressed. Henry leapt at the front one, teeth bared, but was blasted backwards by some sort of spell that left his nose bleeding.

The ringleader was back up, this time holding a whip. Not just a regular whip, although that would have been terrifying enough. This one had a beam of grabber energy as its tail. He cracked it – an intimidation tactic. Yes, we outnumbered the grabbers, but that didn't worry them. Grabbers were notoriously powerful.

That's the thing about dark magic – it just works better than light magic. An inherent flaw. (Or an advantage, depending what side you were on.) Sure, I could cast a ward or a stunning spell, but they didn't really do any _damage_. Dark spells hurt people – they could even kill them. People willing to resort to that kind of action weren't going to be deterred by a group of creatures of the light drawing their energy from nature. Dark magic came from something a little stronger than a bond with the trees.

I needed to fight back. I was the only one doing nothing, and the grabbers had noticed.

"What's the matter, princess?" one mocked as he threw a stunning spell at Ed, who managed to turn into his less corporeal self just in time for the spell to pass right through him. So the grabbers could see Ed. Interesting. "Why don't you show us what you're made of?"

"Come on, precious." This time it was the ringleader. He stalked towards me, my heart rate jacking up as he grew closer and closer. The rest of the group was engaged in fighting the other two grabbers, so he stepped right into the circle. "I know you've got some fancy tricks you're just itching to show us."

He must have sensed my energy and been curious to find out what 'other' meant. My upper lip curled and I balled my hands into fists. His face was too close to mine. I could smell his breath, an odour of decaying flesh probably both from what he'd been eating and from his own rotting mouth. Grabbers weren't big on dental hygiene. Or any hygiene, really.

He was too close.

If he didn't back off soon, it would...

... it would happen...

... again...

His hand landed on my shoulder.

Oh, shit.

# Chapter 12

A purple tendril shot out of my palm, forcing my fist open, and I brought my hand up between us, straightening my arm and thrusting the energy at the grabber. It sent him flying through the air and threw him against a tree – hard. Pinning him there with my magic, I pressed harder. I felt something crack, though I wasn't sure if it was the grabber or the tree. Whichever it was, the grabber had lost consciousness. Whether it was a temporary or permanent thing I didn't know, and I didn't care.

I let him drop to the forest floor and turned to the other two, who had stopped trying to attack the rest of my group and focused their attention on me. In fact, everyone was watching me. I didn't care. I was not totally in control of my actions right at that moment. Shooting energy from each hand, I took the remaining grabbers by their throats, winding my tendrils around their necks and lifting them off the ground. They both grabbed the purple nooses, panic in their eyes, and tried to pry them away, but I didn't let go. They struggled, their feet kicking, desperately trying to get free.

Then, finally, they stopped moving.

I dropped them instantly. The energy disappeared and I was me again, feeling numb, looking around at the three bodies on the ground.

Daisy ran towards the closest – the one who'd held the bloodied knife, which now sat a few feet from the body. Apparently he'd dropped it when he'd been trying to escape my clutches.

Daisy was only a few feet from the body when Death appeared in front of her.

I swallowed. If he was here...

"I'll take it from here," said Death, stopping Daisy in her tracks.

"But –" said Daisy. But what? 'I have to write up a police report'?

"Stand down, officer. I've got this." He looked dead (heh) into Daisy's eyes and she took a step back. Whether he was controlling her or she was just intimidated, I wasn't sure.

Death turned and crouched down to inspect the corpse behind him. He didn't bother feeling for a pulse. (Not that he'd really have to, what with being the Reaper and all. Knowing when people were dead was kind of his thing.) Before he said anything, I knew what the diagnosis was. And so did everyone else.

"Looks like I came here unnecessarily," Death said, standing. I frowned, confused, and then it clicked. He was lying for me. "They're all unconscious, but still alive. I guess someone had better get them to a prison. They're grabbers, right?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

"We can take them," Hecate said. "There's a prison not far from here."

Death turned to her. "They've already overpowered you once and attacked a civilian. I think it's best if I take them, wouldn't you agree?"

Hecate blushed and then nodded, embarrassed. I hoped she didn't feel too bad. I was pretty sure she hadn't had a lot of contact with grabbers, so she might not know just how well she'd done. Not many people got away. She'd put up a good fight.

"They're all... still alive?" said Henry.

"Yes," said Death with such authority that no one dared question him again. "I'll take them. I have something of an advantage over them."

I bit my lip. Apparently he wasn't the only one.

"Right," said Ed. "I guess we'd better keep going, then. Come on guys. Let's go. Everyone OK? No one injured?"

Not for the first time today, I was glad Ed was around.

The others turned and began walking back in the direction of the path. I made my way towards Death.

"So what's my body count up to now?" I asked him.

"Still in single digits, hot stuff," he said. "You've got nothing on me."

I smiled wryly at his joke, but I couldn't sustain the happy façade. A lump formed in my throat and I could feel tears prickling my eyes.

He placed his hand on my shoulder. "They were grabbers, and they attacked you."

"I know," I said. "Just like last time."

"Five deaths is hardly something to get melancholy about. Especially five grabbers. Imagine how many people you saved."

"What do you mean?" I snapped, shrugging his hand off. "It's not like I'm some sort of crusader. I just lost my temper and crushed three people to death."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but you crushed the right people. Don't lose any sleep over it."

I narrowed my eyes. "You see, when you say a thing like that it makes me very aware that you're not human."

He raised his eyebrows. "And you are?"

What?

I frowned. "I –"

"Ness!" Ed called out from the edge of the clearing. "We found a way out of the forest. You coming?"

That boy had a terrible sense of timing.

"Go," said Death. "I'll get rid of the bodies. And the souls. No one needs to know about this. Not that anyone would arrest you for it, but it'll save paperwork."

Somehow, I suspected that the Reaper was not being entirely honest about that last bit.

It was clear that Death had decided he was not going to tell me anything more, so I jogged over to meet Ed, leaving the Reaper behind to dispose of the evidence of my triple homicide.

Good thing I'd been discreet about it and hadn't done it in front of two cops and my quest supervisor or anything.

I swallowed, thinking about what had happened. The purple energy that seemed to have taken over me was not something I had ever encountered in a reference book, and I had only used it once before. I frowned. Not in a reference book... Could it have something to do with the Doomstone? I shook my head at myself. No. That didn't make any sense. Why would the two things be related? Just because I couldn't find any information about either of them, that didn't mean they had anything to do with each other. And how could they be connected? After all, it wasn't like I'd robbed the bank. They were just two strange, entirely unrelated events.

"The others are acting really weird," Ed whispered to me as we walked through the forest. "Like they don't remember what just happened."

So Reaper had done his hypno-thing to them again. I guess that was good. Why he'd bothered lying about the grabbers still being alive in the first place if he was just going to erase their memories later, I did not know. But he probably had his reasons.

"OK," I said, not sure what else to say. It struck me as strange that he hadn't erased Ed's memory as well.

"Don't worry," said Ed, sensing my unease. "I'm not going to say anything to them. If you can use that crazy purple magic to help me out, I'm hardly going to try to stop you."

"Ed," I said, "why did you guys form a circle around me before?"

"I don't know," said Ed. "I just joined in because the others did it, and I figured the grabbies weren't going to be able to hurt me, given that I'm already dead and all."

I didn't bother to correct him. He probably wasn't going to run into more grabbers any time soon, and I didn't want to freak him out by detailing just what they were capable of.

"Why did the others not let me help with the circle?" I asked, sighing. "I could have made the ward about a billion times stronger." And then maybe I wouldn't have had to kill anyone.

Ed snorted. "I reckon you could've. I don't know – I figured it was because you were a civilian or something. Protocol, you know." He shrugged. "Whatever. If you'd helped them put up a proper ward, I wouldn't have seen you kill those guys with your purple tentacle magic."

I turned to him sharply. He knew that I'd killed them?

"I'm not an idiot," he said. "I'm not going to report you. As far as I'm concerned, they deserved it." He paused for a moment, thinking. "What were they going to do to you? The grabbies?"

"Grabbers," I corrected. "They... they kidnap magicals. Usually kids, but not always. If they can corner adults in a place like this, they'll do it. Sell us."

" _Sell_ you?"

"Yeah. Shifters and were-animals become exotic pets for sick rich people. Faeries and witches tend to become slaves, casting spells for their owners, helping make them more money or whatever. You know." I shrugged. "I think fae are usually worth more than witches though, because generally their powers are stronger and they live longer."

"And what about people like you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Even the grabbers didn't know what I was."

His translucent brow wrinkled. "Have you been attacked before?"

I nodded. "A few times."

He looked at me expectantly, and when it became clear I wasn't planning to continue that story, he spoke again. "I'm not going to tell anyone." He laughed quietly. "I don't have the balls to be on the wrong side of you."

I contemplated the wisdom of telling him more, and then figured that he'd already seen me kill three people. What more could he really find out about me? I sighed. "That's how I met Satan. I got adopted by a couple of grabbers."

"Adopted?"

I nodded. "Yes. I grew up in an orphanage. All very bleak, I know. I didn't tell anyone there about my abilities, but the grabbers sensed me and adopted me. The matron was happy to get rid of me, I think. I was already thirteen. No one adopts teenagers," I explained. "I could tell they had some kind of magic about them, and I figured that was why they'd chosen me." I laughed bitterly. "I was right, I guess. But they didn't want to keep me. They were going to sell me. They kept talking about 'the king' and how I was going to make them so much money."

"They spoke about that in front of you?" he asked. "Didn't they think you might, like, run away when you heard that?"

"Yeah, well, they chained me up the second we got home. Left me in the bathroom cuffed to the S-bend." My upper lip curled. "They used to use the toilet in front of me."

He grimaced. "That's sick."

"Yep. Anyway, one day the guy – there were two grabbers, a man and a woman – the guy came into the bathroom reeking of alcohol. I didn't think they could smell any worse than they normally did, but with that extra layer of moonshine? Yeesh." I shuddered at the memory. "I think he was coming in to spew – they'd been drinking all day. They did that a lot." Gritting my teeth, I tried to keep my voice even. "He staggered towards the toilet and kicked me out of his way like I was a dirty towel someone had left on the floor. And, well... I cracked."

I took a deep breath, feeling myself growing angry as I recounted the story. Ed placed his hand on my arm and I exhaled before continuing, surprised that his ghostly touch actually made me feel a little better.

"I felt this fury welling up inside me and then suddenly I'd broken my cuffs." I shrugged. "Just – snap. Completely in half. There was this weird purple energy in the room, and I realised it was coming from me and I shot it at the man. But it – it wasn't like today." I swallowed. "It didn't grab him. It went through him. Not like normal magic – it didn't just pass through. It was like it was solid. It looked like I'd shot him. There was blood everywhere, and there was this huge hole in his chest. Like his heart had exploded."

Ed's mouth was slightly ajar by this point, but I didn't stop. Now that I'd started the story, it just kept tumbling out of my mouth. I couldn't have shut up if I tried.

"The woman, she must have heard the noise – that's when she came in and saw him. She tried to stun me, but I blocked her spell without even trying. Then I shot back at her and knocked her to the ground. I grabbed her with the – the tentacles, as you call them – I grabbed her and slammed her head into the corner of the bathtub over and over. Her skull caved in and her brain fluid and big chunks were slopping out and –"

Ed was looking a little pale. He was staring at me, his jaw practically touching the floor. Perhaps I was going into too much detail.

"Uh, anyway, she died too. So I dragged the bodies outside and got a shovel from the garden shed and started trying to dig up the back yard. It was night, and we were in the middle of nowhere anyway, so I figured no one was going to see me. Suddenly there was this voice... 'I wouldn't do that if I were you.' And obviously I had a massive panic attack that I'd been caught."

"I can imagine."

I nodded. "That's when Satan appeared, introduced herself and offered to help me. I thought she was going to take my soul or something, but she just laughed when I said that. She suggested that I reanimate them and have them sign all their money over to me, and then make them fall off a cliff somewhere far away so no one would think I'd killed them. It seemed like a good plan, really, so she started to teach me a little, well, dark magic. Reaper showed up and took their souls off to somewhere they wouldn't be able to tell anyone what had happened. That's what he's doing now, too."

"Nice of him," said Ed, sounding a little strangled.

"Yeah," I said. "Anyway, Satan kept looking after me, teaching me, until I was old enough to not need it. That's when I started my ghost-contacting business."

"And... how's that going for you?" asked Ed, obviously struggling for conversational points. I guess that story was a lot to process.

"Well, I've taken the past couple of days off and no one seems to have noticed, so..."

He nodded. "Ah. Right."

"I'm mostly self-sufficient, though, so it's not a big deal. I've got a vegetable garden, and I use magic to power things instead of electricity."

"Right, yeah."

Apparently admitting to two violent murders kills the conversation. Just FYI, if you have trouble in social situations, keep that in mind. No murders.

At that moment, we came out of the forest and found the rest of the group talking excitedly about how they'd just scared the grabbers away.

"I guess there's safety in numbers," Henry said.

"Absolutely," said Daisy. "We were lucky, though. We're more experienced magicians than many, and Henry, your wolf attack was very impressive. I don't think they expected that."

Henry noticed us approaching. "Ah, you two took your time. Let's not dawdle. We've warded them off for now, but they could be back."

I doubted it.

"Right, of course," I said.

"I'm sorry if that scared you," said Hecate. "You don't need to worry, though. You've got us here to look after you."

"Of course," I said. "I'm safe in your hands."

"Ed's rock throwing was very impressive, too," said Daisy, looking meaningfully at an empty patch of land to the opposite side of me from Ed. "I bet those guys thought those stones were coming out of nowhere. That's probably part of the reason they ran away."

Well done, Death. No one here was going to be reporting me. Their memories were well and truly clouded.

We set out again on our way to the morgue, Ed looking a little morose. Whether that was because of where we were going or where we had just been, I wasn't sure. Perhaps a combination. Or maybe my detailed description of my first couple of murders had left him feeling a little queasy.

I tried to cheer him up.

"I saw you helping Hecate through the forest before," I said. "I was impressed. Wouldn't have imagined you'd help anybody but yourself in a situation like that."

He smiled a little. "She's an old lady. I wouldn't just leave her behind. I'm not a total arsehole."

"Apparently not." I, on the other hand, had completely forgotten about her and had one hundred percent just been trying to save myself.

Best not to dwell on these things.

Up ahead, the others were still high on the euphoria of having beaten the grabbers. Next time I saw Death, I was going to ask him to hit me with some of what he'd given to them.

After we'd been walking in silence for a while, I noticed the scent of smoke in the air.

"Do you smell that?" I asked Ed.

He sniffed, frowning. "Yeah."

We turned back to face the trees and saw a huge plume of smoke rising from the part of the forest where we'd just been. Huh. So that was what Death was doing with the bodies. Now that the grabbers were gone, there would probably be some Wiccans dancing around that bonfire and chanting tonight, with no idea what was smouldering away in the coals.

We continued walking and eventually found ourselves back in town. When we reached _Witch's Brew_ (the café/occult bookshop/police station Hecate ran), we decided to stop for a coffee before heading to the morgue.

None of us were in a hurry to leave the café. We sat at an outside table enjoying the morning sun. I lingered over my soy latte, wondering what the hell everyone was lying to me about and why I had been born with a terrifying inner purple magical maniac.

Ed was sitting next to me staring down at his hands, lost in thought. Probably wondering who had murdered him and why he'd had to partner up with me and my crazy purple magic.

The others were still gloating loudly about their victory over the grabbers, making sure everyone else in the café heard. There were several other coven members here who I recognised from the ordeal at the abandoned church the other night, along with one or two that I knew because they had shown up at my house trying to recruit me. I wondered how many of them were magical law enforcement. Was the whole 'coven' thing just a cover? Why didn't I know any of this stuff? As an outlaw, this kind of information would have been very helpful. I wanted to know who was going to arrest me.

Or, you know, try.

I shuddered at the thought of what might happen to them.

Henry cleared his throat. "Shall we get going?"

I nodded and swigged the last of my latte. Sighing, Ed pushed himself up from the table. The witches stood, straightened their clothes and took off briskly, ready for some more crime fighting. Wolf-Henry walked beside them, looking like an average-sized dog next to Hecate's six foot frame, although Daisy was small enough that she could have climbed on and ridden him. Ed and I wandered along behind them.

"I don't know if I can do this," Ed said quietly.

"It'll be OK," I reassured him. "I'm pretty certain they'll hand it over to Hecate without you having to break in."

"I meant, you know..." He swallowed. "Looking at the pictures."

"Oh, yeah." I bit my lip. "Well, I'm certainly not going to force you to look at them."

He smiled. "Thanks, but I think morbid curiosity might get the better of me."

I nodded. I think I'd want to see my autopsy photos too.

We were weird.

The morgue was attached to the regular police station. Hecate spoke briefly to the man at the front desk and we were let through, then she led us down a maze of corridors until eventually we arrived at a door that said 'Morgue'.

"Wait out here," she said, and went in to fetch the file. She returned a short while later, manila folder in hand.

"Anything interesting?" I asked as she flipped through it.

"You could say that," she said, handing it to me.

I frowned and flicked it open, Ed watching over my shoulder. There were three sheets of paper in total. Toxicology screen, autopsy results, conclusions. It looked so poorly done that the doctor might as well have written it up in crayon. There were no pictures.

At that moment, a man came out through the morgue door. Hecate snagged him by his coat. "Excuse me, where are the photos?"

Very casually, as if it were no big deal, he said, "Oh, the camera's battery was flat so we didn't take any pictures."

"What do you mean you didn't take any pictures?" I asked.

"It was poisoning. The pictures weren't going to help anyone. There was nothing on the body that's not on the report."

Somehow I doubted it.

I grabbed the doctor by the arm and pulled him closer to me, accidentally pulling him through Ed. I mouthed an apology to Ed and looked back at the coroner. Holding both of his arms, I stared into his eyes, sensing the way energy was interacting with him. I felt that same strange, fuzzy feeling I'd felt at Ed's grave.

A clouding spell. Naturally.

I let go of his arms and sent him on his way.

"He was clouded," I announced to the group. "There was something on the body. Now that the grave has been blown up, the corpse is incinerated, so this is a total dead end."

Ed looked a little relieved. No chance of him having to see his own corpse. Also no chance of us finding whatever clues his killer left behind, though.

"What now?" Ed said, echoing my thoughts.

I shrugged. I was at a loss. If Henry, Daisy or Hecate wanted to tell me the truth, now would be the time to do it. We didn't really have any other avenues to explore.

They were silent.

Now what?

I needed to talk to Death. He seemed to be the only person on my side except for Ed, but Ed didn't know any more than I did and we were fast running out of leads. One housemate knew nothing and the other was dead. Ed had been killed after a party but he hadn't actually known anyone there. He hadn't seen anything odd in the days leading up to his death. There was no autopsy report. There was no body. There was just dead Ed, and whoever had killed him was still chasing us.

"Could we go back to the triangle thing today?" Ed asked. "You could try to talk to Jon's spirit again."

I shook my head. "He's probably gone by now, and even if Death hasn't picked up his soul yet, I tried for hours yesterday and couldn't get him to talk. I think he's too traumatised by his death for me to get any information out of him."

Ed nodded. "Well, what then?"

I could question the others about the Doomstone. Ask why exactly they were messing around with my life like this. Make them line up and each explain why they were lying to me.

I thought better of that, however. I didn't want to show my hand too soon. What if their reason for keeping the facts from me wasn't as benign as I'd been assuming? Hell, these people could be anyone. A couple of days ago, I hadn't even known The Department existed, or that I needed a licence, or where the magical police station was. They could have just tricked me into doing their evil bidding. I wouldn't know.

I really should have been more discerning before starting out on this quest.

"Maybe we should head back to the station. There might be something in the occult books there that could help," I said, directing my suggestion mainly to Ed. I could tell from his face that he understood.

"I don't know," he said, choosing his words carefully so as to not alert Henry to the real meaning of this conversation. "We know what kind of magic is being used against us, right? Cones and amplification artefacts? So there's probably not going to be much in the books that can help us."

Obviously, I'd wanted to look up the Doomstone, but Ed was right. It would make the others suspect that I knew something more than I was letting on if I started searching through the occult books at the store. We knew what magic was being used. We just didn't know who was using it or why. The Doomstone was the key, but the officials in the group clearly didn't want me knowing about it.

Henry repeated what Ed had said to Daisy and Hecate. I sighed.

"I guess you're right," I said reluctantly. "But what else are we meant to do now? We're at a dead end."

"In this case, yes," said Hecate. "But in the case of the missing magic carpet, I think I know how we can make some progress. Nessa, you're very good at sensing energy, yes? That's your main magical skill as far as I can see."

"Yeah, I guess," I said. Well, that and murder.

"OK, well, if I give you a piece of the carpet's tassel, do you think you could focus in on its energy and lead us to the carpet's location?"

Oh, great. So now I was a magical sniffer dog. Today just kept getting better and better.

"I guess," I said. "But won't that lead us to..."

"The vampires' lair? Yes, I'm hoping it will."

"It's daytime," Daisy said. "If we're ever going to be able to get the carpet back, it'll be now."

"They'll be weakest during the day," Henry agreed.

They were giddy on their delusion of having beaten the grabbers this morning.

"That's a terrible idea," I said.

"No way," Ed said. Of course, only me and Henry could hear him, and it was three against two, anyway. I groaned, knowing that Ed and I had lost the argument. We were headed into the lair.

# Chapter 13

"You could always just lie and say that you can't pick up a trail," Ed suggested in a whisper. We were back at the shop, in a disused corner of the herb and books area, which unlike the café section didn't appear to get much traffic. We were setting up a séance to find the lost carpet. I was in charge of candle placement, which was more of an aesthetic thing than a necessity for this kind of search operation, but I was hoping the scent of Autumn Memories – pumpkin spice, flannel and maple syrup, according to this particular candle's label – would help me relax. I normally didn't do séances unless I was being paid – and paid well.

Then there was the fact that all of our leads in the real __ case had dried up, and until I finished the quest I wasn't allowed to do unsupervised magic, which was really going to put a stopper in the cash flow of a clairvoyant.

"The trouble is, Ed, these are the people in charge of giving me my licence. They have too much power for me to screw them around." I punctuated the sentence by banging Autumn Memories down on the windowsill.

"Right, better to let them get killed by vampires."

I shrugged. "It's their choice. If they want to get exsanguinated for the purpose of reclaiming a blanket, it's not really my business."

"They think they're all badarse magical ninjas or something since their memories got messed up," he said. Lowering his voice, he added, "When really, it's just you who's the badass one."

"You're unbelievable."

"What?" he said, looking wounded.

"I kill three people in front of you, and now you decide you like me."

"No, you kill three people in front of me and I decide I should probably stay on your good side."

I rolled my eyes and took the plastic wrapper off Ocean Mist (notes of sea-foam, salt and failed dreams).

Hecate was wandering around pulling various herbs from cabinets above the bookshelves. They were cancelling herbs, in case the séance got out of control. Which was liable to happen when you were contacting a carpet, I was sure.

Daisy and Henry were selecting appropriate talismans and crystals to fortify the circle and amplify my energy-seeking capabilities. Henry was even whistling, which normally would have been funny coming from a monkey, but right now was just annoying.

Who were these idiots? The vampires had already attacked us – some of us twice – and yet we were going to prance right on into their cubby while they were sleeping to take back Hecate's cheap magic rug. If I ever met whoever was in charge of The Department, I was going to have a stern word with them about their recruitment process. Perhaps suggest a psychological testing component.

The circle complete, and ringed with many a scented soy candle, we sat around on the floor, each of us on our own lumpy cushion requisitioned from Hecate's chaise lounge. I clicked my fingers and lit all the soy candles at once. It was a simple energy transfer, but it was something I'd always done in my paid séances because it seemed to give people the sense that I knew what I was doing.

In reality, my idea of what I was doing was sketchy at best. Most of my séances were just for show, and to allow me to charge people more money for contacting ghosts, when in reality I usually just had to call their names. Satan had taught me the basic fraudulent séance, but hadn't really gone into details beyond 'make them pay up front, light the candles with your energy, and if the ghost doesn't show up tell them it can be a long process and they should come back next week and keep trying.'

The actual process of channelling energy from a group wasn't new to me – I'd done circle magic before. The thing was, I'd only ever held séances with non-magical folk (because the other magicals just contacted their dead directly). Non-magicals weren't great at channelling their energy. They just didn't quite get it. So I'd really only ever done a séance where I provided all the power. In this circle, I'd be able to draw magic from everyone. That was kind of the problem. I didn't know how much energy I could control – and after the incident in the woods, I didn't know how much energy I could be trusted with.

I sat at the head of the circle. I know that may sound like a strange statement, but I was wearing the strongest artefact – a large ruby talisman charged with seeking energy – and hence was in control, meaning I would become the conduit for the energy. Hecate sat to my right, wearing a generic crystal amulet to give me aid without drawing power away from me. To my left sat Ed, who was next to Henry, who was next to Daisy. They all wore the same crystal pendants as Hecate.

My fire magic had drawn an approving whistle from Ed, who, it seemed, was easily impressed. (Kill three guys in a forest? Nice. Light some fire? Wicked _._ ) Henry simply raised his monkey eyebrows at me. I kept forgetting that I'd told him I wasn't magical.

"It's a simple energy transfer," I said defensively.

Henry just stared at me, expressionless.

Hecate placed the thread sample from the carpet in the centre of the circle gingerly, as if it were some ancient piece of china that might shatter at the lightest touch.

"You got the cancelling herbs ready?" I asked her. She nodded. "Right. Let's go."

Everyone joined hands and began channelling energy towards me. Within a few seconds, I was already giddy on power. This was sort of like before, in the woods, when the purple maniac magic had taken me over. I felt incredibly strong, but this time I was in control. The magic flowing into me was lighter, calmer – and I was getting drunk on it.

I knew I needed to start channelling it into the search, hone in on the piece of carpet, before it got too much and I passed out. But I also didn't want to do that. I let it go on, just for a second more... OK, a few seconds...

And...

Suddenly I was underwater. What? What was happening? Everything was whooshing around me. It was like I was hearing voices under the sea. I knew it was the sea, because I could smell Ocean Mist. Oh, wait, that was a candle, right? Where was I?

The séance! The magic! I wasn't underwater, I was...

Holy shit.

I was in the ether.

This was not what I had been expecting. The point of this séance was to magnify my energy sensing capabilities so that I'd be able to feel the energy of the carpet, not to become part of the energy. That was not how I normally operated. I usually just reached out for the ether with my mind. I'd never left my body like this before.

Concentrate. Concentrate on the voices. What are they saying? Do any of them have anything to tell you about the magic carpet?

_Gladesta Caves..._

Oh. Thank you, strange disembodied voice in the ether. Of course that's where the vampires are. In the creepy old bat caves just outside town. Good. Now we can go there and get ourselves killed. Uh, wait – how do I get out of this ether? Not that it's uncomfortable or anything, it's just –

_Doomstone..._

Wait, what? Can you say that again? I would very much like to hear anything you have to tell me about the Doomstone, if you'd please –

_Hidden... Only one left... But two..._

Sorry, ether, could you be a little clearer? I didn't quite catch that.

_Stay safe, King._

Oh, I think you're mistaking me for someone –

_Trust only Death, for he has but one motive._

Is that like a general statement? Or a Nessa-specific one? Because that's all very philosophical, but could you please tell me why exactly I can't trust anyone? It's very hard to know what to do when you can't trust anybody. I mean, even Satan –

_Stay safe, King._

No, I'm pretty sure you're mixed up. You see –

I didn't get to finish that thought however, because at that moment I looked up and saw the ether filling with green energy. The green energy that was chasing us everywhere. How was it here? How had it penetrated our circle? And, most importantly, how did I get out? The ether around me was turning black, like it was dying as the green got closer.

My heart pounded, but I wasn't in my body to feel it. I was here, in the dark space, and I was drowning. The green was getting closer, and the darkness was strangling me.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. My vision started to blur. I was...

_Long live the King._

# Chapter 14

"Is she dead?"

Good question. The voice sounded slightly muted, like I was hearing it through a door. Somehow I'd ended up lying flat on my back on the floor. I could still feel the cushion I'd been sitting on, so I must have just passed out and fallen backwards. I was lucky I hadn't landed on a candle and caught fire. Or maybe I had. I couldn't really feel most of my body.

"Of course she's not dead, Ed."

Well, that was comforting. Sort of.

"But you just said you couldn't find a pulse! Give her CPR or something! I don't think my ghost lungs have actual air in them! Wait, do I even have lungs anymore? Or am I just hollow? Oh God, I'm an empty shell in an Ed suit..."

"Even if she were dead, you would still be able to talk to her, Ed. You're a ghost. Besides, I'm not sure she'd like to wake up with a monkey's mouth on her face."

"Hearing one half of this conversation is not something I'll ever get used to." I think that was Daisy. The voices were getting clearer over time, but my own mind wasn't. Thinking was like wading through syrup. Did that even make sense? Who knew? "We still haven't figured out why we're clouded against seeing Ed. Maybe that's a lead we could look into."

"Not now. Carpet recon first. Murder investigation later," said Hecate.

"It's nice to see that you're so concerned about Nessa lying unconscious on the floor not breathing after your stupid séance. 'I don't care if she's dead – my blanky is missing.' You're ridiculous!" said Ed. "Henry, get one of them to do the CPR if you won't. They might as well do something."

My brain felt soggy, like a biscuit dipped too long in tea, just about to disintegrate. I didn't dare open my eyes for fear of the blinding headache that was about to hit. Less experienced magicals sometimes got hangovers from the over-exertion when they took on spells too difficult for them. I'd never had one before – probably thanks to my purple inner demon – but I suspected that entering the ether might just have done it. I hadn't actually heard of anyone living through an ether-dive before.

Ed was still talking. "You know as well as I do that if she's dead, I won't necessarily be able to speak to her. If Death shows up to harvest her soul, she might head straight to the afterlife. Maybe she won't want to hang around. Did you ever think of that? No, you didn't, because –"

"Shh," I whispered. "My brain... it's a biscuit. Dunky..."

There was a moment of silence before Ed whispered, "OK, so she's alive, but she might have some brain damage. Is there a spell for that?"

I didn't argue. My brain was feeling very __ damaged.

"Nessa? What happened?" Henry asked gently. I thought I heard some relief in his voice.

"Nessa! Oh, thank goodness you're OK!" That was Daisy. I chose to interpret her earlier nonchalant attitude towards my possible death as a coping mechanism. She leant down and hugged me, which startled me slightly as my eyes were still shut and I hadn't expected physical contact. As she hugged me, her hair fell down to cover my face and hers. At first I was slightly annoyed by this, but then I realised she had done it deliberately to hide that she was whispering in my ear.

"Swimming in the ether is a very dangerous game, Nessa, even for you. You were lucky to come out alive. Don't tell the others."

"Long live the King," I mumbled very quietly and somewhat incoherently, slowly opening my eyes and blinking at the pain caused even by the dim glow of the candles in the darkened shop.

At my words, Daisy caught my eye and nodded slightly before standing and moving away. Well, good. Somebody knew what the hell that meant. Of course, I couldn't discuss it with her while the others were around. It was another one of those 'trust no one' situations. Good thing I hadn't heard that from Satan and Death as well as Daisy, or it might have been confusing.

That explained Daisy's lack of concern about my welfare. She knew what had happened, and she'd somehow known I was OK. What was it she'd said? _Swimming in the ether is a very dangerous game, Nessa, even for you._ What did she mean, 'even for you'? Was she just pretending to have forgotten about the incident in the woods? If so, then at least I had a cop on my side. Although what exactly that side was, I didn't know. I hoped it was the right side. (Sure, I had Satan backing me up, but that didn't make me evil, right?)

Before I had time to dwell on that thought, Hecate had creaked down into a squat beside me (managing to be surprisingly elegant given that she was in a dress, six feet tall, and roughly a hundred and fifty years old). She came in for a hug, too. And, of course, a secretive whisper in the ear.

"I'm sorry. I'm glad you're OK. I didn't mean to put my carpet before you. If I'd known –" Her voice began to shake.

"It's OK," I said. "I didn't realise how weak I was either."

Maybe they'd let me quit the quest and give me a licence out of pity for being so pathetic. Really, who passes out at a séance?

She pulled back and creaked up into a standing position. Seriously, I could hear her knees straining under her weight (which couldn't be much, considering how rail thin she was). Was there some kind of oil for old people?

Henry patted my head with his monkey paw, and Ed just nodded at me. Playing it cool.

"Well," said Henry. "Uh... What shall we do now?"

"Head to Gladesta Caves," I said. Everyone looked at me in shock. "I located the carpet just before I, uh... took my impromptu nap."

"Are you sure you're up to that?" Henry asked, obviously concerned that my brain had been fried during that little episode. "How about you just wait here while we –"

"Nope, absolutely not," said Daisy.

Everyone turned to look at her in shock.

"Nessa, you're feeling OK, aren't you?"

Like hell I was.

"Yep," I said. "Fighting fit."

"Nessa..." said Ed.

"I'm fine, Ed."

Now I just had to stand up with conviction. Come on, legs. We can do this. Brain, don't panic. This doesn't have to hurt. I took a deep breath and stood, managing to do it with minimal stumbling. Daisy surreptitiously steadied me while I tried to shake off the dizziness and nausea. I wasn't sure the other three bought it. Why was I going along with this again?

"There will be safety in numbers," Daisy explained to the group at large, reading my mind. Wait, could faeries actually read minds? Maybe. Oh dear. I hoped not. "Every little bit of magic helps."

"Yeah, well, I guess we take Henry everywhere," Ed quipped. I giggled. Henry did not. The others looked at me in concern. Of course, they hadn't heard Ed's joke.

"Ed just – never mind."

"She'll get in our way," said Henry.

"Well, OK, Judas. It's not like you got me into this in the first place."

"Hecate reported you," he blurted.

"She already knew that," said Hecate. "Besides, it's Ed's fault for getting murdered by a crazy person."

"OK, that was a bit harsh," said Ed.

Maybe Daisy was the one I should trust after all.

"I won't slow you down," I said. Sure, I was a little under the weather, but knowing me I would probably accidentally stake every vampire in the caves with my special murder magic anyway. It occurred to me that it would be very nice if someone could tell me what the hell I was, because I was becoming more and more convinced that the answer wasn't 'human'. "I might just have a quick heal before we go."

Hecate and Henry looked a little concerned at first – I think they thought I might try to cast another spell. Yeah, good one guys. Like I was going to cast a spell to try and heal my drained energy reserves.

"I'll help prepare a tincture," said Daisy, and the others looked relieved.

"Tincture is a funny word," I commented with a giggle, and everyone went back to being concerned.

Daisy went behind the counter to fetch a dustpan and brush. There were herbs scattered all over the floor – the herbs Hecate had burned to cancel the séance after I'd passed out. Some were still smouldering.

Hecate brought out a tiny cauldron hanging from a stand and, when Daisy was done sweeping, sat it in the middle of our broken circle. She hung the cauldron over the Autumn Memories candle. Henry and Ed offered to help, but Hecate waved them away. This wasn't their area. As far as I could tell, their areas were, respectively, bureaucracy and getting murdered.

Daisy filled the pot with water before standing and pretending to search through drawers near me. Hecate began whistling away in the background. Apparently she was enjoying all this witchy stuff.

"What herbs?" Daisy whispered. The others didn't hear her over Hecate's off-key melody.

"Um," I said insightfully. What herbs? Healing herbs. What did that include? And which of those herbs tasted good? I wasn't up to drinking something that tasted of arse. "Mint. Just mint."

"I'm not making you a cup of tea," she hissed.

"Ginger?"

"Be serious! We need to get your strength back before we head into that den. It was a close call in the forest. You're lucky we managed to protect you." So she definitely didn't remember what had happened. How did she know I'd managed to go into the ether if she didn't even know about my purple demon? What did she know that I didn't? "That trick with the séance cut it far too close. We need you to be at your peak. Now what herbs?"

A witch faery asking me for potion advice? I was flattered.

"OK, then," I answered. "A for amaranth, for healing and invisibility. That sounds handy. Maybe make us a wreath of it as well. Angelica? It's good for healing and protection – wait, no, it's used in exorcisms. As much as I'd like to get rid of Ed I don't think it's a good idea..."

Daisy pulled out the amaranth leaves and said, "What else?"

"Astralagus increases Chi – exactly what I need." I was going to have to hurry up if I was to get through the whole alphabet without the rest of the group getting suspicious. I didn't know why Daisy was deferring to my knowledge, but I suspected it was not something we wanted the others to find out about. "Um, chrysanthemum for my headache. Garlic, obviously. Vervain, too – that'll repel the vampires. You know what, make enough tea for everyone to have some. We could all use the boost."

"What about Ed?" she asked, retrieving the rest of the herbs

"I'll just pour his on him. He's not going to feel it. Oh, and put in some coriander for good measure."

Daisy looked at me with a frown. "I can't touch coriander."

"Oh, right." Obviously, Nessa. She was a magical. Most magicals couldn't stand coriander.

"You can touch it?"

"Of course! I love it – it's delicious." She stared at me in disbelief. "Hey, Henry likes it too!"

"Henry likes what?" Henry asked from across the room.

"Coriander."

"Oh, yes, I love it," he said. "Actually, I'm looking forward to next Taco Tuesday."

I smiled. Henry couldn't be evil, surely. No one who liked my cooking was evil. Except, you know, Satan.

Daisy just shook her head at us and began adding the herbs to the now-bubbling cauldron. She also added some more water and announced, "Everyone is going to drink this. We need to keep our strength up."

"Except you, Ed. You didn't have any strength to start with," I said. It was mean, but I didn't want anyone to know that Ed and I had formed an alliance. Had to keep up appearances, you know. I didn't want the others getting suspicious that maybe I knew about the robbery. I also didn't want Daisy getting jealous that I had another secret ally. "Oh, Daisy, what have you put in that? It reeks!"

"Never you mind," she said, and continued stirring. The surface of the liquid bubbled, looking murky, green and leafy. Steam danced up from the cauldron in pale tendrils, and I suspected Daisy was charging it with her energy.

Daisy let the tisane brew for a few more minutes before ladling out five mugs of it. I picked up a cup.

"She's poured too many," said Ed. "I can't drink it."

"Are you solid right now, Ed?" I asked. Weird question, but I was counting on the element of surprise.

"Yeah, why?"

I threw my drink on him. He screamed and jumped backwards. The murky liquid had covered Ed's front from his face down. It had been a good shot.

"Sorry," I said, making no effort to sound sincere. "Had to get you to take it somehow."

He shook his head in disgust.

I placed the empty mug on the floor and picked up another. Taking care not to breathe in through my nose, I raised the cup to my lips, blew on it to cool, and then downed it like a shot. It burned my mouth and throat, but I didn't dare stop in case I vomited it all back up again. It tasted like a very bitter curry, which frankly wasn't what I wanted from my tea.

The second I swallowed, I felt it begin to work its magic. The tea's warmth radiated outwards as its energy began moving through my veins and arteries to every corner of my body. My brain seemed to solidify (no more soggy biscuit head for me) and the fog lifted. I could think clearly now. My hangover was gone. I could sense all obstacles in my way. Not only did I feel better – I felt invincible. Like an unidentified species of magical with full stores of energy and slightly psychopathic tendencies should.

"Alright, kiddies," I said, ignoring the fact that I was definitely one of the two youngest people in the room. "Let's go murder some vampires."

"Um, we're just retrieving the carpet while they're asleep, Nessa. It's very unlikely we'll actually have to engage," said Henry.

"You'll just be waiting outside, anyway," said Hecate.

I nodded. "Right," I said. "Sure I will."

# Chapter 15

Gladesta was closer to Gretchen than you might expect a system of vampire-infested caves to be, but I guess the vamps liked the convenience of popping into town to pick up a quick meal whenever they felt like it. My house was in a different direction so I didn't often pass by here, but I had visited a few times before. Satan had brought me here to teach me herbalism, since it was something of a local hotspot for magical activity, and occasionally I returned with her to replenish my stocks.

The caves were under constant torment from various underworld magical groups who wanted to set up shop there permanently. Never had I visited unchaperoned by the devil for fear of being attacked by the local residents. In the years I'd been coming here (there were a few ingredients I was unable to forage for elsewhere), the caves had been home, variously, to a werewolf pack, a wizard specialising in the dark arts, a colony of gorks (goblin-ork hybrid creatures with a taste for raw flesh – preferably human and still moving), and now the vampire conjurers. In addition to these, an energy-charged site like Gladesta was a beacon to grabbers.

A voice in the back of my head whispered that perhaps one little magic carpet wasn't worth it.

Despite my certainty that Satan had spoken to Jessie and James (the vampires) – sternly – about why they should keep their hands off me, I was not sure they would hesitate to attack us if we wandered right into their lair. I wasn't sure Satan would blame them. Well, if she refused to help me out with this quest, I wasn't going to bother to try and keep out of trouble. What was the worst that could happen? I might be killed. Would they make me complete this quest if I died? Maybe not.

This mission was looking better and better.

We stopped a distance from the caves to put up some wards just in case the vamps heard us coming. We'd also grabbed a number of protective amulets and herbs before leaving, and we each wore some sort of defensive talisman. I hoped that in addition to the tea, it would be enough to ward them off without having to fight. But I doubted it.

Wards in place – along with some masking spells so that the vampires would have a harder time detecting us in the first place – we continued our walk to the caves. When we got to the main entrance, I realised that it might take us quite a while to find this rug. I'd never been this close to the entryway before, but now I could see that there were roughly a million tunnels leading down underground and off in various directions. This place was a labyrinth.

I glanced across and made eye contact with Ed. He pulled a face that encapsulated perfectly how I felt.

"I know you guys are all big and bad after what you did earlier in the forest and all," said Ed, "but Henry, should we maybe quit while we're ahead?"

Henry didn't answer.

"Nessa, you and Ed stick to the back," said Hecate. "Daisy, Henry and I are trained in this sort of thing. We don't want you getting in the way."

I made eye contact with Ed again. This time he smirked.

We walked in through the entrance and stopped at the first tunnel, unsure whether to go straight or turn off. Without telling the others what I was doing – in case they feared a repeat of the bookstore experience – I sent out a net of energy to sense where the vampires were, and to see if I could detect the carpet. It didn't take long.

It wasn't good news.

"Left," I whispered. Everyone turned to me in disbelief. "It's fine – I'm better now. Plus we're much closer. Seeking from this distance won't drain me. This will save us time."

They grudgingly agreed.

"OK, so one other thing," I said quietly as we started down the left corridor.

Something about my tone must have set off alarm bells with the rest of them. They all turned to face me.

"What?" said Henry, looking unimpressed.

"Um, well," I answered, choosing my words carefully, "the carpet? It's, uh – it's in the same room as the vamps."

Henry sighed. Hecate shrugged, turned and kept walking down the corridor. OK, so we were definitely doing this. Goody.

The caves grew blacker and blacker the further we got in. The only light was coming from Ed's faint ghostly glow, so we sent him out in front like a deader version of Rudolph. Oddly, although Daisy and Hecate couldn't see Ed himself, in this almost no-light situation they could see the glow emanating from him. Our hope was that the vampires would be asleep and the light wouldn't alert them to our presence. Of course, knowing our luck, that was going to be the exact opposite of what happened.

Despite the fact that we were using my energy-seeking capabilities to navigate our way through the caves, everyone insisted that I go at the back and just call out directions, which was a lot more noisy and confusing (and hence more dangerous) than if they'd just let me lead. You drain all your energy by accidentally entering the ether _one time_ and suddenly no one trusts you to do anything.

Because of this arrangement, I was stuck up the back with no one to talk to. Being so far back, I was also in the poorest lighting, so I was constantly tripping and stumbling on rocks. It probably would have been amusing if we weren't on our way into a vampire cave on a pointless and foolhardy blanky recon mission that we'd essentially undertaken just to kill an afternoon. Or, you know, kill ourselves. (Droll, I know.)

To complicate matters even more, not all of the vampires were in the same room. We had to navigate our way past other vamp bedrooms on our way to Team Rocket's (or, should I say, Team Magic Carpet's) quarters. As much as I tried to choose a course that took us around those rooms, some were unavoidable. These caves were like a rabbit warren of sleepy vamps. Slowly but surely, we inched our way past the entrance to one such room, where three bloodsuckers slept, dead to the world. (And also regular dead.) My heart was in my throat – a body part I was acutely aware of at this particular moment.

When we arrived at the tunnel that led directly to the chamber our target was in, we hung back as I reached out to try and get a more accurate location on the blanket. Detecting its energy was simple enough, but I was having a hard time pinpointing where exactly it was in the room. Well, it wasn't so much that; it was just that I couldn't seem to separate the energy of the rug – which was a fluffy, pink energy like the object itself – from the darker, wispy energy of the vampire. Then I realised. The reason I couldn't separate the energies was because they were occupying the same space. Of course.

"Oh," I breathed.

"What?"

The vampires were using the magic carpet as a blanky.

What were we going to do? We couldn't just sneak in and grab it. Not even Ed was safe in the presence of vampire magicians. If they had any sort of basic necromancy skills they could have him doing their bidding in a second. They'd drink Daisy up immediately – nymphs were, I'd heard, particularly delicious, though not as much as some other fae. (Ice elves were a vamp favourite – 'a faery slushie' was how I'd heard it described.) She was in a lot of danger, even with our potion running through her veins. Hecate was human, and so would last longer than Daisy, but was still considered highly consumable.

If you're wondering how I knew so much about the feeding habits and preferences of vampires, just know that I hung out in some dodgy bars as a teen. Satan had an interesting idea of what constituted an 'education'. To be fair, though, this knowledge was much more handy than quadratic equations. What even was a quadrat? Why would I need to equate it? Does anyone _actually_ know?

See, parents send their kids to school to learn these useless skills when they should be taking them to dodgy pubs filled with the scourge of magical society. Satan should write some sort of manual on how to raise well-adjusted kids. Well, mostly well-adjusted. I was doing OK, wasn't I? Yeah, alright, I'd killed three people today, but on average I was doing less than one murder a year. Rounding down, that's a totally acceptable level. So shush.

Where was I? Oh right, vampire-infested cave. Who they were going to eat first etc. Right, well, they wouldn't want to have a go at Henry in his current state – vampires preferred humanoid victims. However, a lot of magicians had the 'force shift' trick in their arsenal. If Henry had a human form, which as far as I knew all shifters did, he was in trouble, too.

As for me? Well, they'd tried it a couple of times before. With the way my elevated heart rate was pumping blood through my many arteries, I could only imagine they'd be willing to try it again.

"They're using the carpet as a blanket," I whispered.

"OK," said Henry. "This might call for a rethink of strategy." Daisy nodded in agreement. Thank goodness for Henry's practical, sensible side.

"Strategy?" said Hecate. "Don't be ridiculous. We walk in and take it. We took on the grabbers. We can handle a couple of puny vamps."

Unfortunately, Henry and Daisy appeared to have been swayed by this argument. Daisy turned to me.

"Where is it?"

"To the left of the room as you walk in," I answered.

Ed flew over to me. "You have to stop them," he hissed. "If they go in there, we'll all die."

"How?" I hissed back, refraining from pointing out that Ed was already dead. "They're the police! They're actually doing their jobs. Except Henry, that is." I frowned. "I don't really know what he's doing."

"So, I don't know, distract them!"

"How?"

"I don't know! Henry's the weakest link – start with him."

I chewed my lip, thinking. Henry was some sort of bureaucrat, right? He did a lot of fieldwork, but at heart he was a pen pusher. So what could I say that would...

"Warrant!" I squealed.

"Brilliant," said Ed, grinning.

"Of course," said Henry, looking both relieved and deflated.

"What?" said Hecate, which was a confusing and worrying question to hear from a police chief.

"Ah," said Daisy. "Right. Of course. We, uh, we really should run this past The Department."

"Yes," I said. "We need to get out of here before we're seen."

"But my carpet..." said Hecate, looking so devastated that I almost felt bad for pointing out the illegality of our actions and saving everyone's lives.

"No," said Daisy. "I know we need to get that carpet back, but Nessa's right – we should do it properly. We'll come back later with a full team and a warrant."

"Oh, will you just?" said a snide voice that I realised with a sinking feeling did not belong to any of the people in our group.

"You're unbelievable," said another voice. "You come into our home, clomping down the corridors, stumbling over every little pebble –"

"The lighting isn't great in here," I said. I don't know why I felt the need to respond.

Jessie moved towards me so quickly that I didn't see her coming, but suddenly she was inches from my face. Terrified by her sudden proximity I began to scream, but then I felt self-conscious (there were six other people here – this was no time to be acting out). I aborted the scream halfway through and instead honked at her. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ed look at me with an expression that might have been disgust. I needed to sort out that honking problem.

"You're the little girl from the woods, and from last night. The one Satan likes so much. Unfortunately for you, she's not around," she said. "I can smell garlic on you again, but I'm afraid that this time it's not quite strong enough to keep me away."

With that, she grabbed my shoulder, pushed my head roughly to the side, and bit me.

They never really adequately express in those sexy vampire novels how much being bitten hurts. Maybe when it's with your (slightly paedophilic) vampire boyfriend it's different, I don't know. Perhaps he bites you lovingly, like a hickey with follow-through. Jessie did not bite like that. Jessie bit like she was... well, drinking me to death. Her teeth were thick, and not nearly as sharp as I'd thought they'd be, which meant she really had to chomp down. I cried out again. This time, however, it was not a honk. This time it was a full-on scream.

It occurred to me that I didn't even know her real name. That seems like something you should know – the name of the person who kills you. Or, in fact, the name of anyone who's consuming your bodily fluids. What if you caught something from them? This consumption of raw blood thing seemed really insanitary.

"Can vampires catch hepatitis?" I asked, before wondering whether those few strangled words would be my last.

At my question, Jessie pulled back and looked at me in horror. I saw James standing not far behind her, staring lustfully at my neck. Ah, but to see that look on the face of someone who didn't want to kill me.

"What?" she asked.

Before I could answer, however, Jessie's eyes began to widen and she released my shoulder and head. (Yeah, she'd had a solid grip on my head that whole time – maybe that explained why I'd asked the hepatitis question.) She stared down at her hands, which had begun to shake dramatically, like she'd just been sipping on a quadruple shot latte. Was it the vervain?

James stopped staring at my throat and moved so quickly it was like he'd teleported, closing the space between him and Jessie.

"Honey?" he said, still providing no clue as to what her name was. "Are you OK?"

In response, she collapsed into his arms, eyes rolling back. She began to heave as purple foam spewed from her mouth, coughing and choking as it oozed out. James looked on in horror.

Purple? What the hell? I didn't have purple blood! I had red blood! She should be vomiting red, not purple. Unless...

James gingerly laid her on the ground and turned to me, standing. His fangs were bared. "What have you done to her?"

"I dunno, hey," I answered, channelling my inner bogan. It was true – I didn't.

He grabbed my shoulder and drew me towards him, staring into my eyes. "What have you done?"

Oh dear. I could feel it... feel it welling up again. Twice in one day? Oh my goodness. This was not good. I took in a deep breath and said very evenly, "Let go of me."

My voice didn't sound like it normally did. It was lower, deeper, more authoritative. At least James seemed to think so. He let go of me immediately, as though my flesh was burning him, and stepped back. Well, I say 'stepped'. Really, he kind of leapt. Flew, some might say. Right into the side of the cave, hitting it with a dull thud. Judging by his facial expression, I'd say he wasn't expecting to hit that wall. Or, in fact, to move at all.

I decided to test my strength. "Fetch me the carpet," I ordered.

James stood, looking utterly bewildered, and walked into the bedroom, emerging a few moments later with Hecate's carpet. He handed it to her and she cooed, like a mother being handed her child.

"Everyone on the rug," I said. The group obliged. Hecate was too absorbed in her excitement to notice what was happening. Daisy and Ed both knew something about my magic, so I wasn't concerned about them. Henry, however, was frowning, and I don't think it was just about getting on the carpet.

The foaming-at-the-mouth thing could, of course, be blamed on the potion, as no one else had been bitten, and therefore we couldn't prove that it _wasn't_ the potion. The purple colour was weird, but I hoped he wouldn't dwell on it. My ability to order James around was trickier to explain. I knew that Henry already suspected me of some necro skills (that's -mancy, not -philia – mind out of the gutter. Or mortuary, whatever). I had just proven I had some abilities. The trouble was figuring out exactly what I'd exposed.

Basic control of a corpse wasn't too hard – raising zombies was about the easiest. They were like vacant shells. Very easy to channel your energy into them and control their behaviour. Ghosts were slightly harder, but still reasonably simple. They didn't have physical bodies, of course, so all of your energy was poured into controlling their spirit.

Vampires, though... And magical vamps at that...

They had the body _and_ the spirit to overcome, in addition to the natural protection they got from their abilities. (Magicals were much harder to control through magic than normals. We had a kind of immunity.) So explaining this one away to Henry could be a little tricky.

But by the time we'd ridden the magic carpet out of the maze of caves and into the fading afternoon sunlight, all appeared to be forgotten. In fact, listening to the conversation between Hecate, Henry and Daisy, I was having déjà vu.

"The way we busted those vamps was, if I say so myself, pretty fucking awesome," said Hecate. She seemed to be getting a little high on power.

"I still think we should have gone back for a warrant," said Henry, chewing his lip.

"Probable cause," said Daisy. "If it's good enough for the TV cops, it's good enough for me. Besides, I don't think they're going to report us."

"Not after that beating we gave them," said Hecate. "That'll teach 'em to steal from us. First the grabbers, now these vamps. We're taking down all the magical scumbags today."

We? I turned to Ed, who shrugged and shook his head at me. I guess he was thinking the same thing – the others didn't remember what I'd done. I was off the hook. Death must have clouded any use of my powers from their memories so that I wouldn't get in trouble. It helps to have friends in high places. Or low places, I guess. Like the underworld.

# Chapter 16

The trip home didn't take long on the carpet. In fact, it was so efficient that I briefly considered getting one for myself, but if the standard licensing procedure for magical transportation was anything like the licensing for use of magic, I was definitely going to skip it. One impossible quest was more than enough. I really didn't want to spend more time around government officials/law enforcement than I had to, for obvious reasons.

Maybe I could get Death to teach me how to create portals instead. That would save a lot of time, and would make carrying home my groceries much easier than the usual trek through the forest. Although I'd probably lose some of the impressive tone in my biceps that I'd built up since moving out of town.

The mood had sobered by the time we reached my little cottage as everyone realised that none of the 'awesome' things that 'we' had done today had any bearing on the case (or cases) we were meant to be solving. Most of the group didn't even know that I knew about part of the case. It was getting a little tricky to keep track of who knew what.

We decided to fix some afternoon tea since we had nothing better to do. Henry baked choc-chip cookies for us all as a special reward for being alive while Ed made up a pot of French Earl Grey tea. Daisy and Hecate sat on my couch typing up statements on their phones of their entirely false recollections of the day's events.

I sat in an armchair facing everyone, and went around the room trying to remember what they each knew. First, Hecate. She knew, as far as I could tell, some vague rumours about my abilities, which is what had caused her to report me to The Department for my quest. She knew about the bank robbery, but thought I didn't know. She had seen me use my powers twice, but for some reason couldn't remember. And she couldn't see Ed.

Daisy seemed to know more than just vague rumours about me. She had asked me for advice on the potion back in the book shop, and appeared to know what the message I'd gotten from the ether about the King had meant. She didn't know about my purple magic – or at least, she didn't know about it from the two times I'd used it today. She definitely knew something about me, though. More than I did, it would seem. But she couldn't see Ed either.

Henry suspected me of something. I'd known it from the first night, when he'd balked at trying to classify me. He'd known even then that I was holding out on him, trying to hide my powers. Luckily he couldn't remember the forest or the caves, otherwise he'd probably have me arrested. Is that why he was really here? Could it be that this wasn't just a standard licence quest, but some sort of undercover operation? Is that why there were two cops here too? Was that what Death and Satan had meant about not trusting any of them? No, that was stupid. Then why would Daisy be helping me? She was clearly trying not to alert the others to my trip into the ether back in the shop. I was pretty sure it wasn't an act. But I couldn't be certain.

I didn't know about Daisy, and it was more than possible that Henry had it in for me. Maybe Hecate did too. And, according to the Reaper, I couldn't even trust Satan.

That left Ed and Death.

Ed knew everything. I wondered why Death hadn't clouded his memory along with the others. Maybe it wasn't possible to cloud ghosts. Or maybe he realised Ed didn't want to cause me any harm. Or, more likely, Death knew that Ed wasn't really a threat to me.

Ed knew about the Doomstone, but didn't know what it was. Was it time I played that card and asked the others?

Not yet, I decided. Wait until after cookies and tea. Snack first. Interrogate later. I didn't want to run the risk of having the offer of baked goods revoked.

While we ate our afternoon tea, we began discussing potential next moves. Now that the euphoria of beating the vampires and grabbers had worn off, it was painfully clear that none of us knew what to do. The autopsy and police reports had been useless. Ed's friends had been useless. Ed had too many enemies to even name, let alone track down.

Why hello, Square One. Fancy seeing you again.

"I think we should revisit Patty," said Ed, surprising everyone. Well, surprising me and Henry, and then the others when we passed his thoughts on.

"He didn't know anything when we first talked to him," said Daisy. "What possible use would another interview with him be?" Her skin was probably still crawling from his pickup attempts.

"The only things he's been killing off are his own brain cells," I said. Only Henry laughed. Oh good. I was making dad jokes now. I nearly blamed it on my earlier blood loss, but then realised that most of the others had forgotten about that. Man, I really did need to take notes on this stuff.

"I didn't mean interview him. I think we should follow him." Henry and I stared at him for a moment, before glancing sideways at each other.

"Why would we follow him?" Henry asked.

"Follow him?" Hecate repeated. "Sure, that doesn't sound like a complete waste of time."

"He doesn't know anything," Daisy added.

"Good idea," I said.

"What?" said everyone in unison. Even Ed. Clearly he still wasn't used to me agreeing with him.

"It makes sense," I explained. "Patty's two housemates have been killed. Maybe he did it. Maybe he's next. Either way, he must know something. We should at least check in to see if he's still alive."

"The more I think about it, the weirder he was acting in the lead up to my death," said Ed. "I think we should hang back and observe him. We don't want to freak him out by going back there now that he knows you're with the cops."

I nodded. "That makes sense."

"What makes sense?" asked Daisy. This whole 'no-one-can-see-Ed' thing was getting a little old.

"Ed thinks Patty knows something, but reckons we should hang back and watch him so that we don't spook him since he knows you're a cop."

Daisy and Hecate nodded slowly.

"That sounds fair."

"After that, I might try to contact Jon's ghost agai–"

"No!" Ed cut me off.

"What?"

"You can't," he said. "It – it could be dangerous. Remember what happened during the séance? You don't want to overextend yourself."

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Hecate, speaking at the same time as Ed. "Not after your little turn during the séance."

"Oh, I passed out one time!"

"Still..."

"Fine," I said. "I won't try to contact him."

So what else could I do? If I could track down Death again – and somehow get him alone – I could quiz him more about the Doomstone and maybe see if he knew who killed Ed, or for that matter Jon, and ask who I wasn't meant to trust and check why he hadn't erased Ed's memories of my power when he had erased everyone else's and –

"How is your neck?" Ed whispered. The main conversation had moved on while I was lost in my thoughts, so no one else was paying attention to us.

"Uh, fine," I said. Earlier, when we had escaped from Gladesta and realised that the others didn't remember what had happened, Ed had quietly instructed me to cover my neck with my hair before the others noticed the bite and started asking questions. Sometimes he came in handy. "It doesn't sting anymore. Wait, should I clean it with some antiseptic or something?"

"I don't think you can catch vampirism like that. I'm pretty sure they have to drain you and –"

"I know that. I just don't want it to get infected. There's vampire spit in that wound, and there's no telling where she'd stuck her fangs earlier. Plus, she didn't answer my question about hepatitis. What if I can catch blood borne diseases through her?"

"Like how you get malaria through mosquitoes?"

"Exactly!"

"I don't think it's going around."

"Probably because everyone else died from the blood loss before they could catch infections."

"True," he said. "But I'd be more concerned about whatever your blood gave to her. She was not looking well when we left."

Ah.

"Right, yeah," I answered. Add 'weird purple foaming poison blood' to the list of things to ask Death about. "I'm still going to read up on it."

What? I didn't want to catch something.

I headed for my room and went straight for my bookshelf. I didn't bother googling it first. Vampires were far too extensively written about in online fiction to find any sort of useful or accurate information. Also I didn't want to have 'are vampires carriers of malaria and/or hepatitis' in my search history. Part of it was because that looked like a really paranoid thing to be looking up. The other part was in case Henry decided to look on my computer – he was suspicious enough of me without finding that. If he noticed the bite on my throat then he'd know something was up.

I traced my fingertips over the double puncture wound on my neck. It throbbed dully at my touch. The bite had scabbed over, but I could feel trails of dried blood where it had dribbled down my neck. Forgetting the books for a moment, I walked over to the mirror and pulled my hair aside. Streaks of red ran the length of my neck, staining my shirt's collar the colour of rust. Yep, OK. Good. Still bleeding the right colour.

So what was that episode in the cave about?

I decided to distract myself from thinking about what I'd done to the vampire lady by looking up what she'd done to me. Specifically what diseases I could have caught. Urgh, what if I got neck warts or something? I needed to sort this out ASAP. Returning to my bookshelf, I reached for my _Encyclopaedia Occulta_ and found –

Nothing.

It was gone.

I searched around my room for anywhere I might have accidentally left it. I looked through the pile of books Ed had placed on the chair next to my bed. Nothing.

I wandered back downstairs. Well, I say 'wandered' – I really strode purposefully, in a kind of panicked way.

"Ed, where is my encyclopaedia?"

"What?"

He turned to face me, apparently having been deep in conversation with Henry. Henry was also looking at me, open-mouthed. Even Daisy and Hecate had stopped what they were doing and turned to me. I guess I must have asked a bit louder than I'd intended. And in kind of a high-pitched voice.

"My _Encyclopaedia Occulta_! What did you do with it?"

"Why do you need it?" asked Henry, frowning. "And why would he have it?"

"Because we were looking up the –" I stopped, but it was too late. I'd have to tell them now. I swallowed. Oops. "Doomstone."

This was not good. Better they knew about that than my vampire bite, though, right? In case it brought back memories... Like the three to four people I'd killed today.

"How do you know about the –" Hecate began.

"You overheard us discussing the robbery, didn't you?" said Henry.

"Yes," I said.

"And you told Ed?"

"Yeah," I answered. Henry rolled his eyes at me. "What? It's his murder – don't you think he deserves to know?"

"Since when have you two become such great buddies?"

"Since the rest of you decided to keep one of the key pieces of evidence from us! It's _my_ quest. It's _Ed's_ _murder_. We had to form some sort of alliance since the rest of you had banded together to stop us from solving the case."

"We weren't sure that it was relevant," said Hecate, lamely.

"She's lying," said Ed.

"Thanks, Ed. I kind of picked up on that for myself."

"On what?" said Hecate.

"The fact that you're lying," said Henry. Hecate huffed.

"The reason we didn't tell you is because we were trying to get everything cleaned up quietly before The Department got involved," Daisy explained. "This situation's a nightmare."

"Maybe you shouldn't have lost all the contraband in your evidence safe then."

"Nessa, you don't understand," said Daisy. "If they find out, we're not just going to lose our jobs. We might be arrested."

"For which part? The necromancy? Fancy that being illegal. No more re-animating corpses? Man, they'll be banning heroin next."

"I'm afraid there's more than just that," said Henry. Hecate dropped her head into her hands and Daisy put an arm around her. "They didn't report the Doomstone stolen in the official report."

"Why?"

"Um, mass panic for a start."

Really? Mass panic over a rock?

"The Department doesn't know about the stolen contraband either."

"Are you serious? You haven't told them anything?"

"No," said Henry.

"What the hell are you thinking?"

"I trust the Dawn Witch's judgement."

"As do I," Daisy added. "We just need to get this all sorted out before it gets out of hand."

" _Before_? I think you missed that train!"

"So The Department doesn't know anything that's happened over the past few weeks?" Ed asked.

"No," Henry answered.

"Well then," I said, "I guess you'd better tell me more about this Doomstone, seeing as Ed's lost my encyclopaedia."

"I put it back on your shelf before we left," he said.

"Whatever. Henry, inform me."

"Well, the thing is..." he trailed off.

"Tell me or I'll get you all fired."

"How?" he scoffed. "You didn't even know that The Department existed until a few days ago."

"I have friends in low places. You'll all recall dining with Satan and Death."

"Fine." He sighed. "The thing about the Doomstone is that explaining what it does is kind of hard."

"We don't really know for sure what it can do," added Daisy helpfully.

"Oh, great. So someone stole a generic talisman and you've all decided to go John le Carre on me?"

(He wrote spy novels, right? Deception, etc? Oh well – if he didn't, no one called me out on it.)

"It's not a talisman," Hecate explained. "It's a crystal. Sort of. But it's strong – it doesn't need to be charged before use. It contains a lot of power."

"The reason it was put in a bank out here was so that it would be away from prying eyes. Out in the middle of nowhere. That's why we were appointed here – to keep an eye on it. They specifically wanted the Dawn Witch guarding it, and I was hired because of my fae lineage."

"That's all well and good, but now you've lost it and since it's apparently quite an integral part of my quest, I would like to know what it does."

"We don't know," Henry insisted.

"Oh, great," I said.

"There are theories," said Daisy. "Lots of theories. It's been kept out of the hands of the public precisely because we don't know much about it."

"Have the past couple of days been a preview? Because if so, I kind of understand what the fuss is about."

"That's the worrying thing," said Henry. "All the things that have happened over the past couple of days seem to have happened with the contraband stuff from the police station. We don't think the thief has unlocked the power of the Doomstone yet."

My brow furrowed. "So they can't unlock it? Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not really," said Henry with a sigh. "I'm sure they'll unlock it eventually. It's just that now we've had an insight into what sort of person they are."

"And that insight is not comforting," I finished. "Right, OK. You still could have explained this earlier."

Henry shrugged. "We wanted you to have deniability if it all went pear-shaped."

"I can take care of myself," I said. "But I appreciate the thought. Now, to more pressing issues: where is my book?"

"I don't know," said Ed.

"Satan gave that to me. If you've lost it –"

"I put it back on your shelf!"

"What are you saying? Someone broke in and stole it?"

I hadn't meant it as a genuine question, but the way everyone looked at me when I said it made me worried.

"It didn't contain any information on the Doomstone, did it?" asked Henry.

"No. Ed read it last night."

"Ed?"

"No, I checked it cover-to-cover."

"It didn't mention the Night Crystal, did it? Black Ruby? Calina Obsidian?"

"Um, I don't know. It might have..."

"Fuck," said Hecate.

"Fuck," Henry agreed, surprising everyone. First he was lying to The Department and now he was swearing. I didn't even know him anymore.

"You think someone broke in and stole my encyclopaedia while we were out so they could find out how to work the Doomstone?" They all just looked back at me wordlessly. "You don't think they might have done their research before they stole it?"

"Maybe they thought it would be easier to work than it is."

"Why come here?" I asked. "How would they even know I have the book? Why not break into your shop?"

"Maybe they did," said Hecate. "I don't think I'd notice a few books going missing. There are kind of a lot of them."

I wasn't buying that theory, and was about to say as much, when a phone began to ring. Not just any phone. My __ phone.

Oh my goodness – was it happening? Was I finally getting another client? I was running a little low on my illicit earnings, and I could certainly do with some more, even if I wasn't technically fully qualified yet. Whatever. What were they going to do – arrest me? I doubted it. I certainly wasn't above blackmail if it meant I could continue practising magic.

I fished my phone out of my pocket and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi Detective. It's Patty."

"Wha..." Oh, great. Daisy had given Patty _my_ number. Well ha ha. Wait, how did she even know my number? Damn, she was good. "Uh, yes. What can I do for you, Patty? Since I'm a police officer." I shot Daisy a pointed glare. She shrugged back, unconcerned. If anything she looked a little amused. What a time for her to develop a sense of humour.

"I need to talk to you. Can you come over?"

"Right now?"

"Yes."

I narrowed my eyes. "Is this a ploy to get in my pants?"

"I wish."

"What, then?"

"I..." He swallowed. "I know something about that bank robbery."

# Chapter 17

I straightened. "You what?"

"And I think – I think I know about the other stuff as well," he whispered. "But I'm not safe. You have to come and get me before it's too late. Please."

"We're on our way," I said, hanging up.

"What's up?" Ed asked.

"That was Patty. He said he knew something about the robbery and the 'other stuff' – I guess the murders? – but he needs us to go and get him right now. Apparently he's in danger."

"Let's go," said Ed, and flew faster than I'd ever seen him fly before, right through the kitchen door. We followed quickly on the carpet, but Ed had a good head start and left us far behind. We on the carpet kept a decent distance off the ground (enough to travel over the forest rather than through it) to minimise the chances of being waylaid by angry vamps or grabbers or zombies or whoever else I'd pissed off in the past couple of days.

We made good time, but even so I was in a hurry to get inside. There had been something in Patty's voice that had me panicked. I jumped off the carpet before it had come to a complete stop and ran to the front door. My stomach dropped when I saw it. It was ajar, with splintered wood around the lock.

Someone had kicked it in.

I pushed the door further open and ran inside, calling out Patty's name. Sure, I probably could have exercised a little more caution, but after the number of people I'd killed just on that day I was not so concerned about my personal safety. If someone wanted to hurt me, they could try at their own risk.

There was no sign of any intruder. There was, however, a huge pool of blood in the hallway, Patty's body lying in the middle of it. I ran to him and knelt at his side, the thick red substance soaking into my tracksuit pants. He was lying face down so I tried to roll him over. That was when I noticed some organs sliding out of the gash in his stomach. Was that an intestine? Oh Satan.

I let go of the body in shock and his head hit the floorboards with an unceremonious thud. Breathing deeply, trying to keep the nausea at bay, I felt around on his neck for a pulse. Unsurprisingly, I didn't find one. It had been a long shot.

A crash and a whooshing noise from upstairs startled me and I let Patty go, thunking him on the floor a second time.

"Sorry," I whispered, then turned my attention back to the roaring sound filtering down the stairs, growing louder by the second. I was suddenly aware that the room was looking a little hazy, and everything was feeling kind of warm.

Then a ball of fire barrelled down the staircase towards me.

Great. Where was the purple magic now?

Suddenly I was flying through the air backwards, out through the front door and onto the grass in the empty lot adjacent to the building, which was now ablaze. It was not the purple magic that had saved me, however.

It was Ed.

It took me a couple of seconds to catch my breath, but once I'd calmed down a little I spoke. "You need to stop displaying this uncharacteristic bravery."

"I know. I'll ruin my cowardly reputation."

"The Sorting Hat might get confused and put you in Gryffindor by mistake."

"Oh, I don't think so," he said. "I'm a Slytherin through and through."

"Nessa!" Daisy ran over and hugged me. "I tried to follow you in but Ed stopped me because he'd noticed the fire upstairs when he'd been looking for intruders and –"

"Daisy, it's OK. I'm fine," I said. "Oh, you probably shouldn't have hugged me just then. Now you're covered in blood too."

"We thought you were dead for sure," said Hecate. "I didn't try to follow you in, because I'm old and you were running too fast for me."

Fair enough.

"What were you thinking?" Henry demanded, pulling me into a quick, awkward hug. "If Ed hadn't been here –"

"But he was, and I'm fine. Anyway, we need to talk about what's happened here. Someone stabbed Pat to death before setting the place on fire." I tapped my chin. "They must have known that he was going to tell us something."

"That doesn't really help us, Nessa. It could still be anyone," said Daisy.

"I'm going to contact him," I said.

"You've got to stop trying this shit," said Ed. "The first time you tried to contact someone, you sat in a live triangle and we nearly got eaten by vampires, then you nearly died looking for a blanket. Even when you contacted Patty by phone he ended up dead."

"Oh, OK, that was a bit harsh," said Henry.

But I was already sitting on the ground, getting into my zone. I closed my eyes and cast out my mind-net, searching for any disembodied spirits floating in the area. I snaked through the still-burning house, sending feelers out in every direction, trying to find the spirit. It had left the body, but it couldn't have gone far. Death wasn't here yet. It was still bound to its corporeal form by a rope of energy, kind of like an umbilical cord.

I felt a twitch in my brain, a tingle. He was here. I moved closer with my mind.

"Patty?"

"What?"

"Who did this to you?"

"Oh, uh-uh, no. You were meant to save me. Now that you've gone and got me murdered, I'm not saying anything."

"What? That's ridiculous."

"Not getting involved. If you knew what I do, you'd understand. A little bit of advice from me, too: you know what's good for you, you stay away from this. Alright?"

"No, that's not alright! I don't have a choice! This guy's a murderer! Don't you care?"

"I don't care to get involved, I can tell you that much. Trust me, with the shit this fucker has in his arsenal, you don't want to be getting involved either. Tell Officer Hottie to get out of there too."

"She's six hundred years old."

"Oooh, she's a cougar? Tight."

"She could kill you with a glance."

"Already dead."

"She hates you."

"Harsh."

"Tell me who killed you! Tell me about the robbery! Tell me something!"

"Don't think I will."

"Why not? You're dead now. No one could possibly get to you. What do you care?"

"Oh, precious. This guy wants to get to me, a little thing like being dead isn't going to stop him."

"Tell me something! Just a hint!"

"Laters."

"What? No! Come back here!"

I could feel him floating away. Our connection was getting weaker. I tried chasing him, but to no avail. He was gone. I opened my eyes.

He'd been reaped away from me. Death had collected him – while I was interviewing him. __ As if Death didn't have anything better to do with his time. Usually he was not so prompt at dealing with souls. Sometimes it took him a week. Did that mean that even Death wasn't on my side? What the hell? He didn't even stop to say hi!

I stood. Ed was the only one still with me. I looked around at the fire trucks and police cars. Henry was now a dog, sitting dutifully by Hecate and Daisy as they spoke to the uniformed officers, presumably explaining what had happened.

"What did he say?" Ed asked.

"Nothing," I mumbled. Ed reached out and patted my shoulder. I turned towards him and fell into a hug. He was good about it considering I was covered in his friend's blood and intestine. Could ghosts' clothes get stained?

The fire was louder than I would have expected – roaring and crackling and crashing all over the house, not to mention the shouts from all the firemen and chatter from people congregating on the footpath. Then there was a clap of thunder and it began raining. Not just sprinkling, either. This was borderline torrential.

A raindrop hit me in the eye and the stress of the day kind of hit me at the same time and, well, I started to cry. Not pretty movie-star tears, either. Like, properly sobbing. Open-mouth, loud, shoulder-shaking breaths, mucus and all. Ed took it in his stride and managed to somehow not be incredibly awkward as I embraced him, snot dribbling down my face, wailing about how unfair my life was.

"Sorry," I managed to squeeze out between sobs.

"All good, Ness," he answered. "It's been kind of a big day."

"So – many – corpses!" I wailed.

" _So_ many," he agreed. "They all deserved it, though, so don't get too bent up over it."

"Patty didn't deserve it!"

"No, well... I guess not," he said, unconvincingly.

I glared at him.

"What?"

I kept glaring at him.

"Oh, like he was so concerned about _my_ death."

"His blood is literally still wet on my skin."

"That doesn't make him a good person."

"He was going to help us solve the robbery! He could have told us who killed you!"

"Which means he must have had something to do with it. Don't go feeling too sorry for him."

That shut me up. I hadn't thought of it like that. Did that mean that Ed's other housemate, Jon, had been involved too? Why kill Ed? Had he seen something? Heard something? He didn't seem to think so. At least, not that he'd told me about.

"Sorry," I said finally. Having finished crying, I wiped the various fluids off my face with my sleeve. "It sucks that your friend would do that to you."

"Nah, it's OK. I've got new friends now."

"Who?"

He grinned at me. "OK, maybe 'friends' was a bit far. How about 'people who wouldn't have me killed'?"

I pretended to think about it. "Hmm... I don't know. I mean, I _probably_ wouldn't kill you..."

He laughed. "Well, that's good to know."

"Ed," I said, growing serious. "Why would they want you dead? Are you sure you didn't overhear something, or see –"

He cut me off mid-question with a kiss. Oh, OK. So this was happening. His lips were on mine. That was fine. I could deal with this. There were only slight butterflies in my stomach. I probably wasn't nauseous enough to vomit on him. As long as I didn't catch a whiff of the blood and guts that my clothing was splattered with.

Ed's lips were a weird temperature – not warm like a human, or cold like a vampire. Kind of... room temperature. I didn't have much of a chance to dwell on that thought, though, because a moment after our lips touched, a red flash of energy flared between us, making a cracking sound like a whip. My lips began to sting like they'd been hit with a very small bolt of lightning.

We both pulled away, startled. "What the hell was that?" Ed asked, rubbing his lips with his hands.

"I don't know," I said.

"Is this part of your weird inner demon magic thing?"

"No!"

"How do you know?" he asked. "Is it because I'm a ghost or something? Does this happen when you kiss other people?"

"Um..."

"Oh my god, was that your first kiss?"

"I've kissed loads of people!"

Wow. Well done Nessa. Not overly defensive at all.

"There's no shame in –"

I was very glad when Daisy, who was walking towards us from the police car, cut him off by shouting, "Nessa! Who is that ghost with you?"

Say what?

"You can see me?" Ed shouted back. He turned to me. "What the hell did you do?"

"I don't know," I said dazedly. That wasn't strictly true, of course; I knew that I'd broken the clouding spell. But I didn't know how, and that kind of scared me. And Ed's freaking out didn't help.

"Is that – is that you, Ed?" Daisy asked. "How..."

"I don't know," he said. "There was a flash, and..."

"Well, it's – it's nice to meet you," Daisy said, sticking out her hand. They shook and turned to me.

I shrugged at them.

Henry and Hecate walked over and joined us, Hecate looking Ed up and down. "Taller than I thought," she said. "Considering how much of a wuss you are."

"Oh, thanks," he said.

"It's true," she said.

"Oh, right. You can hear me now. Uh – " He looked at me in a panic. "Right. This is going to take some getting used to."

"What happened?" Henry asked.

"No idea," I said.

Simultaneously, Ed answered, "Don't know."

"There was a flash –"

" – and a whipping sound –"

" – and suddenly my lips were really sore and – "

"Your lips?" Henry's little doggie eyebrows were sky high.

I coughed. "Anyway, we don't know what happened."

"I might be able to help with that," said a deep voice from behind me. I turned to see Death standing there in his full regalia – scythe, cape and all.

"Oh, hi. Thanks for stealing my witness," I said bitterly.

"Satan wants to talk to you."

"And?"

"And I offered to give you a lift."

"Oh, did you?"

"I did. Let's go."

"And why should I?"

"Have I ever given you any reason to distrust me?"

"Apart from five minutes ago when you stole Patty's ghost from me right when he was about to tell me who the murderer was and solve all of our cases?"

"He was not about to tell you and you know it."

I rolled my eyes in response, because I knew he was right but still wanted to be difficult. "Fine. Let's go."

Death rolled his eyes right back at me before turning and creating a portal by cutting a circle in the air with his scythe.

"Well, that's just showing off," I said. He grinned at me. I turned to the others. "You guys have fun getting to know each other. Sorry, Daisy and Hecate. The honeymoon is over. Now you have to actually listen to what this guy says."

"Hey!" said Ed, mock offended.

I smiled at him before following Death through the portal.

# Chapter 18

Death's portal opened up in Hell's waiting room.

"I'll wait out here," he said.

"You're sending me in alone?"

He nodded.

"Coward."

"Good luck."

I squared my shoulders, straightened up and walked the short distance from the portal to Satan's office door trying to look confident and calm. Internally this felt like a walk to the gallows. I knew I was in trouble. I wasn't sure which of the billion stupid things I'd done over the past couple of days she was angry about, but I knew that Death's decision to wait outside meant that something was about to go down.

I pushed open the door and strode in. The second the door shut behind me, Satan began to speak.

"I warn you to stay away from that filthy little creep and what do you do? Blatantly ignore me."

Oh, OK. So this was about the kiss.

"I was looking for information."

"What, inside his mouth?"

"He kissed me."

"Yes, because you decided to disregard my warning completely and befriend him. Hug him. Cry on him."

"So?"

"So blaming him for that kiss is nearly as stupid as if you, say, walked into a vampire's cave and blamed them for you getting bitten."

"OK, firstly that's not the same thing at all, and you and I really need to have a talk about victim blaming. Secondly, that's an issue for another time."

"You're right. I'll revisit your horrendous stupidity later. For now, let's focus on the main issue. You told him __ everything."

She was furious. Her hair was smoking. There was _literal_ _smoke_ coming off her head. Oh demons.

"Well, who was I meant to tell?"

"No one!" She threw her hands in the air. "I explicitly told you to trust no one!"

"Well, sorry, but I do trust him. It's not like he murdered himself."

She threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes.

"They're all lying to you. I told you. They're _all_ lying to you. Faery girl, ghost boy, witch wench, monkey dog. All of them." Wait, they were still lying to me? There was something other than the bank robbery? "You're far too trusting. So naïve that I had to intervene."

"Intervene? What do you mean...?" Of course. The red flash. It had been Satan's energy that zapped me and Ed when we'd kissed. "Why can people see him now? What did you do?"

"You were taking too long to figure it out. I'm helping you. I did hope you were mature enough to handle this matter yourself, but apparently you're not."

I didn't know which matter exactly she was referring to.

"How? What did you do?"

"I broke a clouding spell. Just the one, although there are about a billion layers I could have cracked through. Now, maybe, everything will become more transparent. Except Ed himself, of course. He's considerably more opaque." She giggled. "Get it? Because they can see him now."

Now Satan was cracking dad jokes.

"Why was he clouded in the first place?"

"Surely you can figure that one out for yourself."

This was infuriating.

"I thought you were going to help me!"

She sighed. "Yes, but I'm not handing it to you on a platter."

"Please! I can't do it without you." I pouted and made my bottom lip shake a little.

"I know you're manipulating me, but I'm always so proud when you're deceitful. Fine. One clue. I just broke the spell that made Ed invisible to anyone who met him when he was alive."

"What?" But Daisy... And Hecate... "You mean that Ed met the police before he died?"

"Still think he's so trustworthy?"

Good question. Of course, they could have just met in passing. That would explain why Daisy and Hecate hadn't recognised him. Still, it was all a little bit suspect.

"I need more clues."

"Oh, come on, darling! You're better than this. I trained you for so long to do exactly this sort of thing. It's really not that tricky to figure out."

"Help me talk it through! Just a little."

"Fine."

"Um... Well, where do I start?"

She let out a heavy sigh. "A list of anomalies. Anything that doesn't sit right."

Oh dear. "That might take a while."

"Fine. Let's start with something simple. Why was the building set on fire?"

That was an easy one. "To destroy the evidence."

"Yes, of course. But what evidence? The boy was already dead. You'd seen his body. Why bother burning down the house?"

"To kill me?"

"But you're not dead, are you?"

I frowned. "Well, no, but it was close."

"Oh, Nessa, I swear you aren't that stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you really think that if a person capable of that kind of magic wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been killed that first night in the graveyard?"

"You know about that?"

"I know everything."

I was beginning to believe that more and more.

"Well, why didn't you try to help? What about the grabbers? And the vampires? Did you just decide you wanted me to take my chances?"

"I wanted to see how you coped."

I crossed my arms and glared at her. "I hope that was entertaining for you."

"I don't know why you're getting so emotional. You're still alive, aren't you?" She waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Anyway, the point is this: if someone with that kind of darkness in them wanted you dead, that fire would have consumed you in a second. In fact, you would have been dead days ago, long before you got to the house. The fire wasn't to kill you, and it wasn't to destroy Patty's body."

"So... there was something else in that house?"

"Exactly."

"But what?"

"Oh, I'm not going to tell you everything. You have to do some of this quest yourself."

"If you know everything –"

"I do."

" – then you know that I've spent the last few days doing everything I possibly could to find the killer."

"I know that you've been doing everything you possibly could _wrong_."

Harsh.

"What?"

"Catch the thief, catch the killer."

"What exactly is that meant to mean?"

She pressed her fingers to her temples and began massaging. "And I thought you had potential."

"What?"

"Look at the robbery case. I'm sure your police friends have information about it. Everything will start coming together when you start _trying_."

"I have been trying!"

She raised her eyebrows. "I really hope that's not true, darling, otherwise you're not who I thought you were at all and I made a massive mistake taking you in."

This was getting downright offensive.

"I thought you liked me for my winning personality, not my skills."

"Darling, I only bothered with you because you brutally murdered two people with your magic when you were barely a teenager and I was impressed. If that imaginative side of you is gone, then I don't really care for what's left."

"I killed three people earlier today! Maybe even four!" I cried, worried momentarily that Satan might become disinterested in me. Then I realised I was bragging about murder to impress her and decided to shut up.

She grinned. "That's my girl. Now leave and figure this out before people begin to wonder about your intelligence."

Just like that, I was dismissed. I walked back out into the reception hall and joined Death by the portal.

"Home?" he asked.

"Yes, please," I answered.

We stepped through and ended up in the forest near my house once again. He walked me home to prevent me from being accosted by any magical weirdos. It was full moon, after all. When we stopped outside the cottage, there were no lights on inside, so I was guessing Henry and Ed (my honorary roomies) were still at the house fire. Good. I needed a little time to myself.

"Thanks," I said. "And thanks for earlier today, too. Cleaning up the grabbers."

"No worries," he said. "Anything for my favourite little murderer."

"Ha ha."

"No, really. You're becoming one of my best customers."

"That's not funny."

"Yeah, I know. Gallows humour."

I hit him on the arm. "Stop it!"

"Fine."

He was still grinning.

"Oh, and thank you for the clouding mind-mojo thing you did, too. Although I was going to ask, why didn't you delete Ed's memory? Is it because he's a ghost or something? Or just because he's pathetic and you didn't think he was a threat? I was inclined to agree, but after that little chat with Satan I just don't know anymore. Apparently he knew Daisy and –"

"Nessa, stop," he said. "What are you talking about?"

I frowned. "You clouded their memories. Hecate, Henry and Daisy," I said slowly.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"What? But that doesn't make any sense! They can't remember what happened in the forest, and they couldn't remember after the vampire bit me in the cave, either, because I accidentally used my magic then as well. At least, I think I did. So I just thought you must have clouded their memories so they wouldn't know about my demonic purple energy."

"Nessa, I had nothing to do with that. I didn't tamper with anyone's memory."

I felt my stomach drop. What did that mean, then? Who had done it? Why? There was one idea that was forming in my head, but I didn't want to give it any credence. It made no sense. Unless....

Nope. I couldn't think about 'unless'. I needed to start working with the facts.

"Well, thanks for bringing me home. Oh, and while I think of it, do you know what the Doomstone does?"

He half-smiled. "Of course I do."

"And would you fancy telling me?"

"Not on your life."

I groaned. "Death puns are not funny when they come from you."

"Are you kidding? They're _only_ funny when they come from me."

And with that, he strode back off into the night, cloak billowing behind him.

# Chapter 19

First things first: list of the weird shit that had happened that was probably significant. I figured it was a good idea to start this without anyone else around, since after that chat with Satan, I was back to trusting no one. I found a pen and the back of an envelope and began listing the weird things that made no sense, trying to draw everything together. A few very messy envelopes later, I'd come up with nothing.

Well, that's not strictly true. I'd organised the clues into things that seemed related, but there didn't seem to be any sort of pattern as far as I could tell.

Firstly, there was a clouding spell at Ed's grave, which prevented me from sensing anything about the body. Zombies appeared to ward us off, and then the corpse exploded. Later we found out that the autopsy report was incomplete because the forensic guy had been bewitched. All of this meant that there was something on Ed's corpse that would incriminate the murderer and they'd worked very hard to hide it.

Secondly, Daisy and Hecate couldn't see Ed at first. Now they could, which (according to Satan) meant they'd met him before, but none of them appeared to recognise each other. Were they lying? Had they only met in passing? Either way, I wasn't willing to trust any of them.

Then there was the fact that only Ed could remember my crazy magic. Death hadn't erased anyone's memories. Someone had clouded my companions. Who? And why hadn't they clouded Ed?

And, of course, we had the bank robbery, my missing encyclopaedia, the murders of Ed's housemates, the house being set alight – all potentially significant to my quest, but why?

I heard a noise outside and shoved all the scraps of paper in my tracksuit pockets. No one else needed to see my working. I didn't trust any of them as far as I could throw them. And that's quite harsh coming from someone with as little upper body strength as me.

Henry, Daisy and Hecate all crossed the threshold looking a little beat down. Ed followed shortly after.

"Good to see you made it home OK," said Henry. "We assumed Death would bring you back in one piece."

"Yeah, he's good like that. Unless, you know, he decides he wants your soul and rips it from your body without your consent," I answered. Henry frowned at me slightly, concerned. Fair call, really. That had been a little bleak.

"Do you mind if we crash here tonight, Nessa? I'm beat, and I don't think I can handle the trip back into Gretchen," said Hecate.

"Of course," I said. "Actually, I wanted to asked you about the bank robbery if I could."

Hecate and Daisy exchanged glances.

"Of course," Hecate answered finally. "What did you want to know?"

"I know the cameras were clouded and the clerks were confused, but there was some DNA evidence, wasn't there?"

_Catch the thief, catch the killer._

"Yes, actually," said Daisy. "One of the guys cut his hand while he was running away, but we couldn't find a match."

I nodded. I knew that much already. "Did you test it against Jon or Patty?"

"No," said Hecate. "We didn't know they were involved until today."

"Right, of course." I thought for a moment. "How many robbers were there in the bank?"

"Two," they said in unison.

OK. Jon and Patty were in the bank, doing the job for some third party. They'd thought Ed had figured it out and the third party killed him, before killing the other two when they started to crack.

It was a good theory, but it wasn't the whole story. There were way too many things that didn't sit right.

Like... um, everything.

Why I could apparently 'trust no one', for one thing. Why Ed could remember what I'd done today when the others couldn't. What Daisy knew about me that I didn't. Who had actually done it. What the Doomstone was.

"I'm going to bed," I said. When in doubt, sleep.

I left the lounge room and walked upstairs, managing to skilfully avoid making eye contact with Ed. That was something I didn't want to get into now. 'Sure, we kissed an hour ago, but currently I don't trust you enough to discuss the details of your own murder with you.'

After a very thorough shower (no more blood and guts on me, no siree), I jumped into bed. Three hours later, I was still lying there, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was not coming as easily as I'd have liked. Thoughts of the case and my murders and my friends' potential betrayal churned round and round in my head, keeping me from closing my eyes even for a second.

That lack of sleep combined with slowly going insane from uncertainty is my defence for why I found myself climbing out my bedroom window and shimmying down the drainpipe in the dead of night. I'd decided to borrow Hecate's magic carpet (which she'd left on the front verandah) and head back to Ed's house. The reason I'd climbed out the window was because I didn't want to go through the house in case someone saw me. They were all liars, and even potential murderers. I didn't have time to be stabbed in the back. This was going to be a covert, single-operative mission.

Satan's advice hadn't helped much so far, but I was hoping that if I found the evidence in the remains of the house that she'd insisted was there, everything would start tying together. I had a lot of facts, but it seemed like I was missing a big piece of the puzzle. Like the piece that told me who the murderer was.

I picked up the rolled carpet and carried it out of my yard past the cemetery, crouching down and sneaking along until I knew I was no longer in sight of the house. When I was safely out of view, I stood and flicked the carpet out. It unfurled and I climbed on. And it stayed still.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. "Let's go!"

It responded by dropping to the ground.

"Ouch!" I cried, before continuing in a quieter voice. "Please, I have to get back to that house. I need to solve this case!"

Nothing.

Really? I was going to have to plead with a rug?

"Carpet, please."

Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe Hecate had cast a spell on it so that only she could use it and I was essentially just trying to reason with an inanimate object. Please, let that not be the case.

"Come on, you know I'm on your side here. I saved you from those vamps, remember?" I wondered if it did remember. What if it had been clouded too? What if it wasn't a sentient being at all? This had the potential to be very embarrassing.

Suddenly I felt a hum of energy moving through the carpet. It remembered! I continued. "I have to find out who killed Ed so I can figure out who robbed the bank and the police station and get Hecate out of trouble by getting the Doomstone back before whoever it is harnesses its power and takes over the world or whatever they want to do."

The energy humming through the carpet seemed to intensify, but it wasn't sure enough to lift more than a couple of inches off the ground. I needed to convince it further.

"You know what I can do. The others don't remember that I have any powers, but you know that I'm strong. I need to at least try to do this by myself or the others won't let me get involved and they'll get hurt. Please, carpet, trust me."

The carpet seemed to think for a moment, tilting slightly to one side, as if it were tilting its head in contemplation. After a moment, a ripple ran the length of the carpet – a shrug. It rose a few feet off the ground. I grabbed the front and lay flat to make myself as aerodynamic as possible. The rug shot forward and took me back to the house in record time.

I alighted in the backyard of Ed's home. The fire trucks and police had left, but the building had been cordoned off with yellow tape out the front. The back door was amazingly unscathed, which surprised me after the earlier inferno. I turned the knob and pushed the door, but nothing happened. It was locked.

"Oh, carpet, don't tell me we came all this way to be stopped by a locked door."

Perhaps I was projecting, but I could have sworn that the carpet gave me a look of disgust.

"You're right," I said. "I can do this."

Breaking and entering was, surprisingly, not one of the necessary life skills Satan had taught me over the years. How hard could it be, though, right? A key turning in a lock was just a transfer of energy. I could do that.

Shutting my eyes, I traced the keyhole with my forefinger. The energy pulsed out of me and snaked around in the hole in an entirely unerotic way (you pervert). The magic continued to move about, filling the space (don't go there). Eventually, every nook and cranny in that tiny keyhole was filled. And –

Nothing happened.

I turned to the carpet and shrugged helplessly.

It rolled over in mid-air.

"Oh! Right!"

I turned my finger slightly, and with it the energy in the keyhole turned, tumbling the lock.

"Nice one, carpet!"

It gave me a high five with one of its front corners.

I turned the doorknob and stepped inside, the carpet following behind me. I was in an unidentifiable room – the walls had been charred beyond recognition. It smelled of smoke and something acrid and strangely sweet. Burnt plastic? I held a hand over my face and mouth to try and block out the smoky air. Dirty water dripped from the ceiling, which was still wet from the firefighters' efforts to extinguish the blaze.

I walked forward into what I knew from my trip here yesterday was the lounge room. I tried not to look through the doorway at the charred mass lying on the floor of the hall. Although I'd spoken to Patty's spirit, the image of his corpse bleeding out on the floor would probably be my lasting memory of him.

_Focus_ , I told myself. _There must be something here you can use._

Satan had sent me here. She must have thought that there was something left behind after the fire, something that would give me a clue as to who was responsible for all of this. But what? I shut my eyes and began fishing around with my mind.

It was hard to locate any hotspots of energy in this burnt out husk of a cottage. There were magical flare-ups everywhere, presumably the aftermath of the fireball that had been sent through the house to destroy whatever it was I was looking for. I needed to find it quickly. As long as I was in this house, I was not safe. Although, if I'd learned anything over the last few days, it was that as long as I _existed_ I was not safe.

Focussing in on the source of energy I presumed I was meant to be locating was not proving to be easy. I began to wonder if this was even what Satan had intended I do when I came here. If there was evidence with some significance to the case, surely this was how I was meant to find it? I didn't really have any skills apart from sensing energy. (Well, other than killing people. But that wasn't really something I could use here, or, in fact, wished to use ever again.)

I doubled my efforts, racing around the house with my mind, seeking out the evidence as if by sonar – sending out energy and feeling how it interacted with the world around me. I was like a dolphin, except on land. And not as cute. And I didn't eat fish. Plus I was looking for evidence in a murder trial, which as far as I knew dolphins didn't do. Where was I?

Oh, right. I was sending out a net of energy, hoping something would come back. Something different from the regular energy radiation left over from the fire. And it did.

Eyes still closed, I followed the stream of energy through the house to its source until I was metres away. I opened my eyes.

Ed's bookshelf.

"Shit!" I said aloud. The carpet looked taken aback. "Sorry. It's just that I thought there was a clue in here, but I was lured in by Ed's porn collection."

The carpet looked disgusted.

"I know, right? Who keeps physical copies of porn anymore?"

I sighed and turned to walk out the door, but I was stopped by a red energy barrier that zapped me when I walked into it. I cried out in pain and began to panic – momentarily. Then I realised what was happening.

"Satan, you don't need to hurt me every time you want to tell me something!" I yelled towards the ceiling.

"I'll stop zapping you when you stop being stupid!" her voice boomed back.

"Wha–" I began. But then it clicked. Finally. I stopped. Turned.

And slowly walked back towards the bookshelf.

My hand reached towards the source of the energy – the _Encyclopaedia of Australian Birdlife_ – and I pulled it off the shelf. I took a slow breath in through my nose, and exhaled through my mouth. I took another slow breath, trying to calm myself. A feeling of dread had settled in my gut. Never before had I so strongly wished I were holding pornography.

The dust jacket came off easily. Underneath, I could see the real title of the book. It was, indeed, an encyclopaedia.

_The Encyclopaedia Occulta._

The same book that had gone missing from my room.

# Chapter 20

I flipped the book open to check inside the cover, expecting to see the familiar heart-warming (yet terrifying) inscription from Satan: _For my precious Nessa, the only human I like alive._ What I actually saw, however, was something completely different.

_Witch's Brew – Caffeine-dish reads_

So this wasn't my book at all – just another copy of the same tome... bought from the very bookshop/café/magical police station that Hecate and Daisy ran. That explained how Ed had met them, then. It didn't explain what this was doing in his possession. I didn't know if I wanted to hear that explanation.

This part of Ed's room was oddly unscathed, but there was still murky water all over the floor, making my slippers blackened and moist. (Why hadn't I changed before leaving the house?) I decided to move outside onto the back lawn, where I sat on the dewy grass with the carpet hovering next to me and opened the book across my lap. The light from the moon was bright enough to read with no further illumination.

It fell open to a page with a picture of a large black gem with purple imperfections inside it. The Doomstone.

My eyes widened. Ed had known about the Doomstone. He'd known that I was about to find the book in his room, and thrown me off the scent with the porn lie. I blinked, confused, trying to understand what was going on. How did this make any sense? Had he also hidden my copy of this book so I wouldn't find out more information about the stone?

I kept reading.

There seemed to be nothing of note in the passage. Nothing that made any sense to me, at least. It was a rock of untold power. No one knew much about it. Blah blah. There was nothing in this book that was even remotely useful. Why had he bothered hiding it? Why had he stolen my copy? What was the use of –

Then I noticed how warm the book had grown in my hands. No, not just warm. Hot. So hot I could barely keep hold of it – but something told me I had to.

The book began to hum and the fault lines on the picture of the gem glowed. The cloud inside the stone slowly started swirling, growing more intense as I watched. In the distance I heard thunder, though whether it was coming from the book or the outside world I couldn't tell. The book was giving off an impossible amount of energy. Purple tendrils curled across the page, rising into the air and extending, growing like a beanstalk along the length of the yard, before delving into the ground in a sandy patch near a large tree.

Just like that, the book returned to normal temperature. (Tome-perature? No, you're right. Save the puns for another time.) I cast the book aside and ran to the place where the energy had hit the earth. I examined the patch of sand. It had been recently disturbed and was still pretty loose. I began to dig, grit lodging itself under my nails. I barely even noticed, too focused on the task before me. Eventually my fingers closed around something smooth and hard. I pulled it out and stood, turning the object over in my hands.

The Doomstone.

"Finally, Ness, you've found it," said a voice from behind me. "I was beginning to think you'd never get there."

I turned.

I was face to face with Ed. He reached out for the Doomstone and I was too confused to stop him gently removing it from my hand. I gaped at him for a moment before speaking.

"All this time?" I said when I regained my voice. "You've just been following me hoping that I'd lead you to the Doomstone?"

Ed thought for a moment. "Well, yes, but it's not what you think."

I raised my eyebrows. "It is, though, isn't it?"

A grin spread across his face. "I'm almost one hundred percent sure that it's not. As much as I like you, Ness, you're a bit slow," he replied. "That worked out well for me, of course. I must admit, to give you your due, it did all get rather convoluted. There are probably people who would have taken longer to figure it out. Children, particularly dense trolls, you know."

"I hate you."

"Oh, of course you do." The only way he could have been more patronising is if he'd patted me on the head. "Now, do you want to know what happened? How much thought and care I put into it? How committed I was to my cause?"

He was still smiling.

"So committed you killed yourself."

He raised his eyebrows and continued, impressed. "Yes, that was kind of an integral part. As was getting you onside."

"So you lied."

"Yes, Ness. People do that. I hadn't expected you to be so easy to con, though. You're adorably naïve."

I crossed my arms and frowned back at him wordlessly.

He sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry for lying to you. I did what I had to do. I didn't mean to upset you."

"A necessary evil, I guess?"

"Yes," he said seriously. "You were."

Some apologies just make things worse.

"What exactly is your game plan here?"

He thought for a moment. "Not entirely sure yet."

I didn't believe that for a second.

"Don't want to share it with me?"

He shrugged. "Well, I was an only child. I never really learned how to share."

"Looks like I dodged a bullet with you, then." Had I actually ever thought that kissing a dead guy was a good idea? Next thing I'd be making out with Vampire James. He was probably single now that I'd killed his girlfriend with my demon blood.

"Come on, what fun would it be if I just told you everything?" Ed asked.

I rolled my eyes. He wanted to play games.

"Fine. I've figured out bits of it for myself."

His eyes widened sarcastically. (Sarcastic facial expressions are my least favourite kind of facial expressions.) "Go on."

"You did it."

He laughed and said condescendingly, "Well done."

"You stole the clouding cones and amplifiers and all the rest from the evidence locker at the police station. I don't know how you knew it was all there. Just met some magicals somewhere I guess. Slimed your way into their circle of trust somehow." That was his classic MO. I thought for a moment. "You probably stole the encyclopaedia at the same time as you took all the evidence from the shop."

"Actually, I paid for the encyclopaedia. I had to do my research before I put my plan into action. Daisy served me, as it happens. That's why I clouded her." He caught the look I was giving him. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to interrupt."

"OK, so you stole the stuff from the station. You used the clouding spell on the way out to hide yourself from the camera. Did Hecate see you that time? Is that why you clouded her?"

"Very good," he said. "It seemed like a better idea than incapacitating her in a more permanent fashion."

Yeesh.

"Why didn't you wait until you were a ghost to do that bit? Surely it would have been easier to break in once you were invisible to most people and could walk through walls."

"I wanted to make sure I had all the things I needed before I went to the trouble of killing myself. That's quite a drastic step, I'm sure you'll agree."

Fair enough.

I continued. "You and your housemates did the bank robbery – two of you went in, the other probably drove the car. You used the clouding spells to cover your tracks, but you cut yourself while you were there. They didn't have your DNA on file, but you were worried that if someone noticed the cut on your corpse they might figure it out and it would ruin your master plan. That's why you went to so much trouble to cover up your body later. Zombies, a bomb, clouding the people who did your autopsy – very thorough."

"Thank you."

"But what I don't understand is why the hell you came to me. Were you trying to get caught?"

"No," he said, looking down at the ground. He set his jaw before continuing through clenched teeth. "Things didn't go quite to plan. Jon and Patty decided to hide the Doomstone from me. Not very well, in hindsight, but I couldn't find it. I'd heard on the grapevine that you had some... talents. I decided I could use them."

"What did you hear? From whom?"

"Don't get side-tracked, now. We're talking about me."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't press him for details. I doubted he'd tell me anyway.

"So you asked me to solve your murder, hoping I'd somehow lead you to the Doomstone along the way?"

"Yes."

"Seems a little sloppy."

"I know, I know; it wasn't ideal. I had to improvise when things went awry. But hey, it all worked out in the end. I did try to find it myself, but Jon proved surprisingly..." – he paused – "... uncooperative."

I shuddered a little, remembering how elusive Jon's spirit had been. What had Ed done to Jon to make him so terrified even in the afterlife?

"That explains what the ether said to me." Well, it explained part of it. " _Only one left, but two_. Only Patty was left alive, but your spirit remained on earth, so there were two of you. Until you killed him as well."

He shrugged. "I did what I had to do."

I couldn't believe how cold he sounded. It was like he was an entirely different person from the Ed I knew. Well, I guess I hadn't really known him at all.

A question occurred to me. "Why did you steal the Encyclopaedia from me?"

"I'm sorry about that," he said, sounding far more apologetic than he did about all the people he'd killed. "I promise I'll return it. I just didn't want you to read it too soon."

"But you wanted me to find the stone." I folded my arms. "Why try to stop me?"

"I wasn't trying to stop you from finding the stone. I was making sure you didn't read about it too early on and figure it out."

I frowned. "Figure what out? There was next to zero information in that book."

He looked at me in disbelief. "Really? It led you right here."

"Yes, but that wasn't the book. That was the energy."

He rolled his eyes at me, like he couldn't believe how stupid I was. "Your energy was channelled by the book."

"That makes no sense."

"You were concentrating so hard on the Doomstone that your energy manifested and led you here."

Right, well that cleared that up. "What, and you knew that would happen?"

He shrugged. "I didn't know what would happen. I just knew that I didn't want whatever it was to happen too early."

"How could you possibly have known that the book would lead me here?"

He frowned at me. Again. "You of all people must have sensed that this book has some powerful energy about it. You felt it that day in my room. That's probably why you noticed your copy was missing so quickly."

Yes, it definitely wasn't because I was going to use it to look up vampire malaria.

"You're dead to me," I said, before realising what a poor turn of phrase it had been.

"I'm dead to everyone, precious. I'm a ghost. I am dead."

I rolled my eyes. He had _not_ just called me 'precious'. How had I ever stopped hating this creep?

"I've just figured it out. You're Hans!" I said.

"What?" he asked. He looked mildly confused, but not so much that he actually wanted to find out what I meant. I explained anyway.

"From _Frozen_! You just Hans-ed me!"

"I've never seen it and I have no idea who or what that is."

Of course he hadn't seen it. He clearly hated all things good in the world.

"Oh, OK. Well, I don't want to spoil it for you, but you're definitely Hans. Although, that doesn't really make sense, because that would make me Anna and I feel like I'm more of an Elsa at heart. But really, if I had to choose any Disney princess I'd want to be Tiana. She's the least appreciated of the princesses – she worked so hard for everything and now you can't even find any merchandise with her on it, or when you do the white princesses are in the foreground and she's just at the back staring in through a window. Not cool, Disney." I frowned. "Wait, I've gone off track. Where was I?"

"I can honestly say that I have no idea."

I thought back to earlier when Ed had dragged me out of the burning building. I'd accused him of being a Gryffindor. He'd denied it. Of course he had, that sly dog. It must have been one of those rare moments when he told the truth. I shook my head in disbelief. "You really _are_ a Slytherin."

"Can you stop with all the references to children's fiction?"

"Fine," I said. "You can just be the generic terrible villain that everyone hates."

"Oh, let's not start slinging around labels."

"You killed two people! You nearly killed me!"

"Firstly, I saw you kill four people today alone, and you admitted to me you've murdered at least another two."

My jaw dropped and I glared at him with indignation. "They were all in self defence! And we don't even know that the vampire died. And does it really count as killing someone if they're already dead?"

OK, maybe I was clutching at straws.

Ed shook his head. "I don't have time to go into the philosophy of life and death with you, Ness, so fine. Let's assume you didn't kill the vampire. Your body count is still at five, which is more than twice mine."

"You've killed three people," I corrected. "You killed yourself as well."

"Yes, but I had my consent, so that hardly counts. Besides, the numbers don't matter. You and I have both killed to survive."

"You killed yourself to survive?"

He grinned. "Yes."

"And Patty and Jon? Did they really pose any threat to you?"

His eyes flashed. "They stole from me." OK, apparently someone had a little anger management issue where his housemates were concerned. "I gave them all the money in that bank. All I wanted was the stone. And they hid it from me. I needed it and they wouldn't hand it over."

"So you tortured Jon to find out where it was."

"Yes."

"And Patty?"

He shrugged. "I killed him to stop him talking to you."

"But you knew I could just contact his spirit."

"Which is why I had a word to him first and explained his situation," he said. "How I could easily find him again, and how if he spoke to you, the next time we met it wouldn't be as pleasant as dying."

Pleasant? Gutting him alive was this guy's idea of _pleasant_?

My upper lip curled as I looked at him. "You're a bit messed up."

"And you're not?"

I decided to ignore that question. Whether it was because it didn't deserve a response or I was worried that he might be right, even I didn't know. "Why me?"

It was more of a rhetorical whine than a question, but Ed answered anyway.

"Oh, Nessa. It had to be you."

"Nice try, but it's a bit late to charm me." I thought back to what he'd said before about how he'd heard about my 'talents' and decided to come to me. Something about that didn't sit right. "You couldn't have known The Department would assign me to your case for my quest. You were sent to me purely by chance."

"Oh, Ness," he said, shaking his head. "I have a bit of bad news for you on that front, I'm afraid."

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. "I made it up."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"I was never your quest. I'd heard about you – and about your ability to find things. I came to you hoping that you could recover the Doomstone for me." He held up the crystal. "And you did! I just had to... mislead you a little."

I groaned. Loudly.

"Of course. I should have known this wasn't my real quest. It was a mess from the beginning," I said. "What do you mean you heard about me? Heard about me where?"

"There are plenty of rumours flying around about you."

Boy, did I know it. I couldn't see what they had to do with Ed, though. "What are you talking about?"

"Everyone wants to know what you are. That's the only reason Daisy and Hecate agreed to help you. And it's why Henry wanted nothing to do with you. When Satan says that everyone is keeping something from you, that's what she means."

My brow furrowed. "But Henry already told me that, the first day in the graveyard. You were there. He said he was having trouble classifying me or something. That's no secret."

"The secret isn't that people want to know what you are," he replied. "It's that they think they already know, and they're trying to figure out if they're right."

I was getting sick of his elaborate unveiling. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"From what I've seen, they could be right, but the thing is, Ness, I can't tell you."

I threw my hands in the air. "Of course you can't. Nothing can ever be that easy, can it? It's not like you owe me at least an explanation after everything you've put me through, is it?"

He smiled. Argh, if those teeth were real I'd happily knock them right out of his head. "I can't tell you because you have to prove it first."

"Oh, I have to prove what I might be before I even find out what that is?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Great," I said with an eye roll. "Well, thanks for clearing that up."

"I would tell you in a second my dear, but the prophecy forbids it, I'm afraid."

I groaned again.

"Of course there's a fucking prophecy. What else does it say? 'Neither can live while the other is a raging ghostly jerk'?"

He laughed.

"Do you think that messing with me is smart?" I asked. "Do you honestly think I don't pose a threat to you?"

"Nessa, I think that together, you and I pose a threat to the world."

"Together?" I raised my eyebrows. "You can't be serious."

"I think we should join forces."

I narrowed my eyes. "Is this the part where you try to force me to marry you? Because you might not have seen _Frozen_ , but I can think of a thousand other movies you probably have seen where the creepy guy who tries to force a girl to marry him ends up dead or worse. Since you're already dead, you're going to fall into the 'worse' category."

"Oh, Nessa, I wouldn't be so foolish." He smiled. "Of course I'm not going to try to force you to do anything. Even with the Doomstone in my possession, you're far more powerful than I am. In time you'll come to see that you and I belong on the same side, but for now I must bid you adieu. I believe the cavalry is on its way, and I have no wish to spill any more blood today."

Well, that was something, I guess.

"Why are you speaking like that all of a sudden? Do you have a villain's handbook you're using to choose your phrasing or something?"

He rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Nessa."

"How are you going to get away? You said yourself that I'm more powerful than you. I'll stop you!"

He shook his head at me. "You know as well as I do that you can't control your power yet, and besides, my escape will be very swift." He turned his head towards the heavens. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

I heard voices and crashing behind me as Hecate, Daisy and Henry burst out of the house and into the yard, just in time to see Ed disappear into thin air, still clutching the Doomstone.

"Really, God?" I yelled up at the empty night sky. "You're _that_ desperate for followers?"

The stars just twinkled back at me.

# Chapter 21

Four days later I was still wearing the same set of pyjamas, which were stained with not only the ash from the burned house, but now also everything I'd eaten in the time I'd been wearing them. I'd passed the days since Ed's betrayal and subsequent disappearance by moping about the house in various ways.

You know, making a mopey cup of tea. Sulkily watching Pokémon re-runs. (I had to stop that fairly quickly, because every time Team Rocket came on I had an attack of guilt about the fact that I might have accidentally killed Jessie in Gladesta earlier that week.) Moodily lying in bed for roughly eighteen hours each day thinking about the psychopathic murderer I'd accidentally made out with a few days ago.

The same psychopathic murderer who had clouded two police officers' and one government official's memories to prevent me from being charged for murder and/or discovered for whatever I was. The crazed killer who had killed less people than me. The moron who, it turned out, was not at all cowardly – he had run into a burning building to save my life, and helped the others try to defend me in the forest.

The forest... where he had helped an elderly woman get away from the grabbers when the rest of us had just run for our lives. What did that mean? What did any of it mean?

He was evil. He was definitely the bad guy. He'd killed two people in cold blood! I'd only ever killed in self-defence. That made me better than him.

Didn't it?

I'd never killed anyone intentionally. And yet Ed was right – I was building up quite the body count. Was it worse that I'd only ever killed people accidentally? Would it be better if it were premeditated? Were Ed and I both villains?

The difference between us was not clear-cut enough for me to be comfortable. Perhaps we were the same sort of beast, and I just wasn't as self-aware.

Needless to say, when there was a knock upon my door, between the pyjamas and moping and existential crisis, I was not entirely sure that I was ready to face the world. Nonetheless, I squared my shoulders and opened the door.

On the other side there was a gorilla holding a Tupperware container that appeared to be filled with cupcakes. This aspect of the outside world, at least, was one I could face.

"Hi, Henry," I said. "Come in."

"Thanks," he said, and followed me back inside, putting the cupcakes on the kitchen counter. Wasting no time, I took one out and got stuck in. Mmm, hummingbird. (Meaning pineapple and banana, not an actual bird, you freak.)

"Delicious," I mumbled, mouth full of half-chewed muffin. Henry managed to barely conceal his disgust.

"I've got some bad news for you, Nessa," he said, cutting straight to the chase. "I argued your case with The Department, but they still won't accept Ed's murder as your quest. They want you to do another one."

This week just kept getting better and better.

"Oh, goody. After the last one went so well, I can't wait to get started on the next!"

Henry nodded and said sympathetically, "I know. I really am sorry."

I gave him one of those fake smiles you give someone to show that you're not angry with them, but you're still pissed off with your situation.

"So what will it be this time? Have they told you yet? And have you triple-checked it's legit?"

"Believe me, I'll never be making that mistake again. And yes, I'm sure this next quest is legitimate." There was a knock at the door. "Ah, just in time."

Frowning, I walked over to the door and opened it up. Outside, wearing his casual 'no Grim Reaper here, no siree' outfit of jeans and a T-shirt, was Death. He looked me up and down, but appeared to think better of saying anything about my appearance. He followed me back inside.

"You coming along for the ride this time?" I asked.

"I am indeed," he said. "I'd rather die than miss it."

I groaned, but smiled a little.

"What did I tell you about death puns?"

"That you love them?"

I rolled my eyes half-heartedly. "Are you actually going to help me out this time? Or just give me weird cryptic clues that I have to somehow decipher without knowing the most important facts of the case?"

He smiled wryly. "Satan gave me very specific instructions not to tell you. I tried to help as much as I could."

"Telling me it wasn't a real quest surely would have been a bigger help than just letting me have a go."

"Yes, but you managed it, didn't you? Got there in the end. And with minimal casualties."

I shot him a sharp look. That was not the sort of joke to be making in front of Henry. Death, I suspected, had figured out that Ed was responsible for the clouding of Henry's memory, and now he was enjoying toying with me.

"It could have ended much worse," said Henry in agreement.

Death and I made eye contact. He raised his eyebrows.

"Anyway," I said. "On to the matter at hand. Quest attempt two."

Death and Henry both shifted slightly.

"What?" I said. "Why are you looking so uncomfortable? What is it?"

Henry cleared his throat. "The quest is to track down a fugitive. He's been on the run for a while."

"On the run from what?"

"From me," said Death.

"You can't find someone? Wait – my quest is to help you kill someone?"

Henry shifted and avoided eye contact.

"It's all above board."

"You're turning me into an assassin?"

"Oh Nessa, don't be so dramatic," said Death. "I just need you to find the guy. It's not going to be particularly hands-on. I'm not asking you to do anything to him."

"He's outlived his time," Henry explained. "It's sad, but it has to be done. He's a criminal. We've just got to bring him in."

"Alright," I said finally. "I guess bounty hunting seems OK. Much more fun than helping a psychopath take over the world." Or whatever Ed had planned. He hadn't been very specific on that front.

"There is one thing we should tell you, though."

Oh, great. It was coming. The catch.

"What?"

"The guy we're looking for," said Death, "the one I have to kill..."

"What about him?" I asked.

"He's kind of well-known. You've probably heard of him."

"Who is it?"

"Now, promise me you won't get –"

"Who?"

Henry busied himself with plating up cupcakes for us all and continued to avoid looking at me. Death took a deep breath before answering.

"I need you to help me find Santa Claus."

_The Story Continues In_

Sled Head: A Damned Girl Christmas Story

* * *

**OR**

* * *

_Get The Next Three Books At A Discount In_

Damned Girl Books 1-4

# Hey there, lovely reader!

You're looking mighty fine today. Have you done something with your hair?

* * *

I'm here to ask you a massive favour. In return, you'll receive my eternal love and affection...

* * *

**If you liked this book, will you please leave a review for me?**

* * *

OK, so you'll get my eternal love and affection anyway, but I would appreciate it so much if you'd take the time to write just a sentence to let people know what you thought of the book. That way more people will be able to find it and read it, and I'll be able to afford to pay rent. And eat. And boy, do I love to eat.

* * *

Eternally, lovingly and affectionately yours,

_xx Clare_

# Have you joined the Readers' Group yet?

No? Then you should head over to **clarekauter.com/freestuff** immediately.

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**Why?**

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Well, friend, because you'll get:

  * A FREE copy of the Charlie Davies prequel 'Short Fuse', PLUS 'Losing Your Head' if you haven't picked up your copy yet
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  * SNEAK PEEKS into new books before they're released
  * INSIDE INFORMATION about upcoming sales
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**What are you waiting for?** **Join me in the Readers' Group!** **It's like a cult, but less terrifying.**

# Also by Clare Kauter

### Damned Girl

Deadhead

Sled Head

Hell's Belles

Loch Nessa

Vampire Campfire

Gods and Frauds

* * *

Damned Girl Books 1-4

### Hellfire College Romances

When the Moon

Shadow & Shade

Killer Kiss

### The Charlie Davies Mysteries

Losing Your Head

Unfinished Sentence

Graceless

Higher Learning

Santa's Little Helper

Undetected

Caught in the Act

Raising Hell

New Year, Screw You

Strip Joint

Breaking News

* * *

The Charlie Davies Mysteries Books 1-3

The Charlie Davies Mysteries Books 4-6

The Charlie Davies Mysteries Books 7-9

* * *

Short Fuse (Prequel Novella)

### Baxter & Co. Mysteries

Live and Let Bondi

Gone Ghoul

Hark! The Herald Angels Sting

For an up-to-the-minute list, head to

clarekauter.com/allbooks

# About the Author

Clare Kauter is a semi-professional lawn bowls champion and compulsive liar who writes books in her spare time. She describes her books as 'mystery with a twist-ery and fantasy with banter-sy' – and advises that if you don't like puns, you should back away now.

* * *

Clare began writing her first novel at age thirteen, and eventually that book was published as 'Losing Your Head' (the first of the Charlie Davies Mysteries). In addition to contemporary mysteries, she also writes paranormal mystery and romance, always with a decent dose of humour.

* * *

She's currently off somewhere drinking tea and typing at top speed so you don't have to wait too long for your next read.

Find Clare Online:

www.clarekauter.com

clare@clarekauter.com

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# What now?

Now that you've finished this book, you're probably wondering what comes next on your reading list. I'm guessing that since you've made it this far, you're a fan of light-hearted mysteries.

* * *

If so, I have a suggestion for you...

* * *

I've included the first chapter of my book 'Losing Your Head', which you can pick up in its entirety for free from clarekauter.com/freestuff.

* * *

If you're unsure, why not give it a try? After all, it's free. What's the worst that could happen?

# Losing Your Head

### Chapter One

Why is it that every time you do something you hope no one will notice, you get found out? I once read that the probability of someone watching you is directly proportional to the stupidity of the action. I know this is true, because I screw up a lot and I have never once gotten away with it. It has been that way since the day I was born – when I did a poo during my first ever bath, which my father kindly documented on film so that he may bring it out at dinner parties forevermore – and it will probably be that way until the day I die. (Given the number of ridiculous injuries I incur on a daily basis, that day can't be too far away. Frankly I'm surprised I've lasted this long.) I know I'm not the only person who gets embarrassed, but I seem to receive more than my fair share of public humiliation.

Just look at my time in high school. I did a lot of stupid things in the space of those six years. All were noticed. All were highly embarrassing. As early as my first school assembly the rest of the school learned my propensity for, as I like to call it, 'bad luck' (others call it 'idiocy' or 'failing at life'), when I was called upon to receive an award. The laughter started the second I stood up and began walking towards the stage. I ploughed on regardless, hoping against hope that there was some event entirely unrelated to me that was causing this hysteria. I made it up to the stage, peals of laughter ringing throughout the hall, and accepted the certificate. That was when the man presenting the award leaned forward and whispered, "Your skirt's tucked in at the back."

Right, I know what you're thinking. OK, that's mildly embarrassing, sure. It's hardly next-level though. To be honest, I was expecting a little more.

Well, my friend, you will not be disappointed.

Realising that my bottom was on show to the entire school, I whipped around, trying to hide it. Unfortunately, however, my feet had become tangled in the microphone cord and I tripped right into the man presenting the award – also known as the school principal. We both flailed awkwardly for a time, but it was in vain – down we went, right over the edge of stage left, taking out a few members of the school band on our way down. Luckily, I came out relatively uninjured. The teacher I had landed on top of – one leg either side, straddling him – was less lucky. He tried to hold back the tears, but I saw them glistening in the corners of his eyes. He kind of took the brunt of the fall.

He transferred schools not long after.

From then on the other kids at school were always quick to ask whether my 'boyfriend' would be giving me another award at the next ' _arse_ mbly'. I don't even remember what the award was for. I just remember that I made sure I was at the bottom of the class in every subject for the rest of that year, out of fear that I may one day be called upon to receive another one of those dreaded certificates.

Even after I'd finished Year 12, if I bumped into someone down the street who knew me from Gerongate High (teachers included), I'd still get that same line. Honestly, it was getting a bit old. I mean, c'mon, I'd finished school two years ago. Why the hell would I be at arsembly?

There are many other occasions when I have found myself as the centre of attention through less-than-comfortable circumstances. Take my last job interview.

Things got off to a bad start for me when I was walking into the interview room and realised – would you believe – my skirt was tucked into my undies at the back, revealing them to the world. (Oh yes. Again.) Whilst I was attempting to untangle the clothing that was – or, rather, wasn't – covering my backside, I was also trying to remain balanced in my brand-new stilettos. I had worn them in the hope of making a good first impression, although I hadn't quite learned to walk in them yet. I was nearly to the chair when, wouldn't you know it, one of the heels clean snapped off my shoe. I fell face first and whacked my head on the table on the way down. I hadn't shut the door on my way in, so everyone got to admire me as I lay face down on the floor, unconscious, with my hand still resting on my arse, outlining my failed attempt to pick my skirt out of my crack.

And as though that wasn't bad enough, the only pair of clean undies I could find that morning had been a G-string. Oh, no. I'm not joking.

The good people at the office dialled 000, and were advised to leave the injured exactly as she was until the professionals got there, to prevent them from causing any further damage.

As a side note, I feel I should tell you that not _all_ of my humiliations involve bums and/or poo. Just most of them.

For the record, I didn't get the job. Not that I wanted it after what happened. Things would have been kind of awkward around the office, and I probably would have been a major Occupational Health and Safety risk. OK, I _definitely_ would have been a risk. All in all, I wasn't too surprised about not getting it. But I haven't bought shoes from Payless since.

Like I said, you can't screw up and expect not to be noticed. It just doesn't work that way. Even if you think no one sees at the time, sooner or later things are going to start to unravel and everyone is going to find out what you've done. That is life and, like it or not, that's just how things go.

Sometimes it can be a good thing. Like when someone commits a crime. A murder, for instance. Obviously, it's not great news for the person who did it, but someone's bound to see something. There will be some evidence, some hint, no matter how hard you try to hide it. Of course, somebody has got to figure out what those clues mean, and that doesn't always happen. Which is how people get away with things.

That's what I've learned about crime. At least, that is what I learned from my first case. (Did I just say _my first case_? Cringe. It sounds like a Fisher Price toy.) It isn't like I'm a professional or anything. I really only did it to prove that I could and I'll admit that I made a few mistakes, but hey, how else are you supposed to learn? So, anyway, my first 'case' – the murder of old Frank McKenzie.

Gerongate wasn't an exceptionally large place. I mean, it was a city, but with only 300 000 people, well, it wasn't exactly New York. Even by Australian standards, it was fairly small. It was big enough, though, that you could never know everyone like you could in a country town. You'd get people who seemed to know everyone, but that was just because they always did the same thing and never saw anyone new. I guess I noticed this during the time I spent working at Gregory's Groceries (George Street, Gerongate – just so you can avoid it).

Every customer had a regular shopping day and time, so by the end of the first month I knew everyone's name. Two months and I knew all about everyone's immediate family. Three and I could name everyone in their extended family as well. Four months and they started to let me in on the latest gossip. Five months and my job _really_ pissed me off.

On the rare occasion that we got a new customer, it was normally just one of the regulars' kids who'd grown up and left home. That was fine, but if someone _entirely_ new came in, watch out. The amount of foul looks they received was enough to ensure that they would never return. The way people reacted to newcomers, you'd think that they were criminals. Then again, in the parts of Gerongate that I'd __ been in, change pretty much _was_ a crime.

So I was about to do something illegal.

I guess this is about time for the boring introduction – don't worry, I'll keep it short. My name is Charlie Davies. I'm nineteen, and I have sometimes-curly, sometimes-straight blonde hair (it still hasn't decided on its true identity), and dysfunctional blue eyes (read: I have to wear glasses). Being roughly 5 feet 3 inches, most fully-grown humans are taller than me. Some people think I have anger-management issues. I disagree with this. I disagree with most things.

If you want a concise assessment of my general personality, you could just look at the sum of notes written in my file by the high-school counsellor over the course of my two-year stint of sessions. It was part of the anger-management program that the head of the P.E. department (is it me or is 'physical education' just an exceptionally creepy name for a school subject?) stuck me on after I attempted to assault a guy two years up from me with a hockey stick. Not that it was my fault. He had it coming. Anyway, the counsellor didn't have much to say about me when I took a sneak-peek at the folder while he was out getting coffee one time. All he had written was 'snide, jaded – would not date.'

Ta-dah, my psychological profile when I was fourteen. Yes _, fourteen,_ and I was already bored with the world. (And also apparently not worthy of the attentions of a paedophile, which is somehow both comforting and offensive.) I haven't changed much since then, except that I'm slightly taller. Roughly a centimetre.

I glanced down at the clock display on the checkout computer. Ten to five. Ten minutes and then my shift was over. I'd been a checkout chick at Gregory's Groceries for four years now. Four years of employment at a supermarket that barely passed health regulations. Oh, joy. You'd think that after working somewhere for that long you would at least have a bit of cash saved up. Only in my dreams.

I cast my gaze around the supermarket. Not that you could really call it that, being that there was nothing exceptionally 'super' about it. Supersized rats emerging at night, maybe. Perhaps you could say that the owner had superpowers in his ability to sweet talk health inspectors. It amazed me that they didn't close Gregory's the moment they entered and were confronted by the cat-sized cockroaches guarding the front door.

I stood there surveying my surroundings, trying to spot the owner-slash-founder-slash-manager of this gem of a store, Mr Gregory himself. Strangely enough, the man's real name was Jeremy Martin. Apparently there had been a misunderstanding when the sign was printed and he was too cheap to get it redone, so the store remains _Gregory's_ to this day.

Jeremy wasn't hard to spot, even amongst the large crowd of Wednesday shoppers. (I think it must have been pension day or something. Or maybe everyone came shopping after bingo.) It may have been more difficult to find Jeremy were his wife not with him. Mrs Jeremy Martin was a nice woman with what most people considered to be a respectable husband. She had married Jeremy at age 18 and had been regretting it ever since. OK, so that's just speculation on my part, but if I'd somehow ended up married to a ferret like Jeremy, I would _definitely_ be regretting it. And judging by the way Lea was screaming at him now, I was pretty damn sure she agreed.

I didn't really know Jeremy that well as a person. I just knew him as a boss, and he was a crappy one of those. He never paid me enough unless I did special off-the-books jobs for him. He made us scrub the real use-by dates off produce and stamp on new ones after hours, and for that he gave me a decent amount of cash. I would never have done anything illegal if he hadn't paid me well for it. At least not for him.

I gathered up my belongings and, standing, took a deep breath before making my way back through the crowd towards the angry Lea and her ferret. As I got closer I was able to make out some bits of the torrent of abuse Lea was hurling at Jeremy.

"Just tell me where the hell you were on Monday night, Jeremy. I want the truth. And don't try and spin me that line about you helping your sister. Just admit what you were doing, you creep!" She let out a stream of descriptive words about her husband. Some people may have said that they were vulgar, but not me. Every single one of those words suited Jeremy down to the ground.

"I just want to know where you were!"

"Darling, I've told you over and over again, I was with Karen. My _sister_. Now, you need to calm down and –"

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, YOU ARSEHOLE! IT'S YOUR OWN BLOODY FAULT!"

Ah, the joys of married life. I wondered where Jeremy had been. I had no idea of course; he was probably with his sister, like he said. A plan was forming in my head. Well, it _was_ my last day...

_What have I got to lose?_ I asked myself. _I might as well go out with a bang._

I strutted over to Jeremy, pretending not to notice his irate wife, or at least pretending not to care. I gave Jeremy a kiss on the cheek (which was kind of gross, but it was for a good cause).

"Hi Jeremy," I said, just loud enough for Lea to hear. "Dinner was great on Monday night. We'll have to do that again some time."

"THAT'S IT! I'M GETTING A DIVORCE!" Lea screamed. And on that note, she left. I thought she did it in a very dignified fashion, considering how angry she'd been a moment before. She just walked out as though nothing had happened.

Mission accomplished. Almost. I'd ruined Jeremy's life and reputation. I'd saved Lea. She was only 22 and beautiful. She'd have no trouble finding a better husband – not that she could get one much worse. I was hoping now that she had a bit of experience behind her she'd pick better second time round.

Now for the next thing on my list. I turned to Jeremy, whose face was red and contorted with rage.

"Charlie – Davies –" he spat at me. "You – are –"

"Suspended?" I suggested.

"Yes! Two weeks."

I snorted. "Oh dear, how can I live without my pay for two weeks? Oh wait, I've lived without it for the four years I've worked here, so I guess I can manage. By the way, I'm quitting."

"By company rules you're required to give –"

"A two week notice? Yes, I know. This is it. At the end of my suspension, I'm not coming back. Have a nice divorce, Jeremy."

I was amazed that by the time I'd reached the street I still hadn't screwed up. So amazed, in fact, that I was checking behind myself as I walked along to make sure my skirt wasn't tucked into my undies (my classic party trick). When I turned my head back around to look forwards, a brick wall ran straight into my face and broke the bridge on my glasses. Oh well. No day is perfect.

I walked all the way back to my parents' house holding my specs together with one hand. I didn't have a car or a house of my own, so I walked to work and lived with my parents. I know, I know. What a grown-up.

My parents' house was your average Gerongate abode. There was nothing all that special about it. It was a two storey, three bedroom home designed in the 70s. As it had slowly moved on through the decades, much of the interior/exterior had (luckily) been updated. However, there was still evidence of the original decorating to be found in the lounge room, where you practically had to wade through the cream-coloured shag pile carpet in order to reach the couch.

I had once pointed out the lack of taste in that rug to my mother. She just told me that if I didn't like it I could move out. She had never changed that carpet, so I guess she was hoping I'd go for the 'leave' option. She'd probably call in the decorators the second I was gone. I was sure she hated it just as much as me; she probably just kept it as an incentive. Mumsie's quite cunning like that.

I entered our house through the front door and walked through to the back. I was heading for the kitchen to see if I could scab some food off my mother. She'd probably be cooking something, since I hadn't seen her in the garden when I came in. Now, despite the kind of mental images this may provoke ("Oh, thy mother art such a lovely housewife"), that's not quite accurate. If you think that her hobbies make her sound a little repressed, then you need to take into account that another of her favourite pastimes is driving her bad-arse Nissan with the massive bull-bar out into the country and 'sight-seeing' (read: drag racing) with her best friend, Violet McKenzie (who drives a Prado). She thinks we don't know she races, but it's pretty obvious – who goes for a country drive with their best friend in two separate cars?

I stood in the doorway of the kitchen getting high on the smell of biscuits cooking. Mmm. She was putting a second round of mixture on the trays ready to go in the oven when the first lot was done. Mum had her back to me, but she must have heard me come in because before I even spoke she said, "No, there will not be any mixture left over, you won't get it if there is, and you can't lick the bowl. You can eat one of the biscuits when they come out of the oven, like a nice, civilised _grown up_ would do. And –" She turned to face me. "Jeez, what happened to your face? It's hideous!"

I can always rely on Mum for a confidence boost.

"Well, the wall wasn't watching where it was going..." I trailed off.

"Get some ice on it or something, for god's sake! It's all bruised and swollen. Where does it hurt?"

Well, I was guessing it was probably hurting in the same place it was bruised and swollen, but I told her anyway.

"Just up the middle of my face." She passed me a bag of frozen peas to put over it.

"So, apart from your 'run-in' with the wall," – at this point she began to laugh hysterically at her own joke – "how was your day?"

"Great!" There was no sarcasm in this statement, and my mother cut her eyes to me suspiciously.

"Drugs?"

"No, I – "

"You found a wallet full of money on your way home and you're keeping it?"

"No, I – "

"Oh well. Better luck next time."

"I've got big news. It's the reason I'm happy."

"You've finally got a boyfriend and he's asked you to move in with him! Isn't that wonderful? Quick, let's go upstairs and I'll help you pack. Who is he? When do I get to meet him? How old is he? Not that I care too much if he's going to get you out of my house."

"MUM! That's not it. I don't have a boyfriend." She looked a bit put out at that. "But I _did_ quit my job today."

"Really?"

"Yes..."

She was concerned. I could see it on her face.

"Where are you going to work now?"

I paused. I hadn't really thought about that. In fact, I'd totally overlooked it.

"Umm..." I began. "Umm..."

"Yes?"

Oops. Forgot about that bit. That whole getting-another-job thing. I wasn't really qualified to do anything. At all. Maybe I could get unemployment benefits. It probably paid better than my last job.

"I don't actually know. I don't s'pose you've heard of any jobs available?" I hoped she had. I'd do anything. It couldn't be any worse than working at Gregory's. I was desperate. "Anything?"

"I've heard there's an opening at Coles."

Well, maybe not _anything._

The next morning I stumbled out of bed far too early. Somehow I managed to make it to the bathroom with my eyes still shut. When I finally opened them and caught sight of myself in the mirror I nearly screamed, thinking there was a monster in the room with me, but when I put on my glasses (which I'd taped together last night) I realised it was just my own purply-blue face in the reflection. The bruise hadn't gotten a lot better over night. If anything, it was worse.

I had a quick shower (only half an hour – quick for me), avoided looking at myself in the mirror again, dressed in semi-professional clothes, and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. After that I planned to spend the rest of the day job seeking. I settled on a glass of orange juice (which I spilt) and a piece of toast (which I burned) with jam (which kind of made up for the other two mistakes), and then I sat down and grabbed the newspaper to study while I ate. I meant to look for jobs vacant in the Classifieds, but the heading on the front page caught my eye. This had been the hottest piece of gossip going around Gerongate yesterday. I'd heard about it from everyone I talked to. Well, nearly everyone – Jeremy and I hadn't had a chance to discuss it, for obvious reasons. I'd been far too busy destroying his marriage for that. But everyone else had mentioned it. When I saw the headline I just couldn't resist.

OLD MCKENZIE HAS THREE FARMS, $2 BILLION, NO HEAD...

(What a touchingly sincere title. So sensitive I could barely stand it.) I discovered that Francis McKenzie had been found dead on Tuesday morning, when his (headless) body was discovered by a couple of kids. They must have been awful burdens on society to get a karma trip like that.

The decapitation wasn't what had killed him, luckily – it looked like he had been shot to death first. Phew. It would suck to be murdered, but if I had a choice between dying of bullets or having my head hacked off, it wouldn't take long for me to decide.

I read further down the article and found out that Frank had left everything he owned (which was quite a substantial amount, what with him being a billionaire and all) to one person – his nephew, James McKenzie.

I knew James McKenzie. Everyone did. He was two grades above me in school, and he was the most popular guy there. He was also my mother's best friend's youngest child. After he completed Year 12 he'd gotten straight into police academy. He must've done OK there because a year later he was working as a cop at a Gerongate Station.

Personally, I didn't really like James McKenzie. I'd always thought that he had an over-inflated sense of his own importance. I suppose that wasn't really his fault if you saw the way people acted around him. Not me, of course. I'd been friends with him when we were little because of our mothers, but he changed. (I know, I know – "He's not the same person as he was when he was four!" Whatever.) We still had to see each other a lot while we were growing up (much to our disgust) but since it generally ended in tears/swearing/violence, we tried to keep our contact to a minimum. I'd hardly seen him since his mother kicked him out, even less since we finished school, and that was fine by me.

Everything James ever had was a present from his Uncle Frank. Frank had no wife or kids and was a bit of a cranky old fart, to tell the truth. He didn't like many people, but he and his nephew James got on like a house on fire. When James was kicked out of his parents' house (age 16), Frank had taken him in and made him continue on with school. When James had decided to become a cop, Frank had paid his fees, and given James a house (free of rent) as a graduation gift. And it wasn't like this was just some shack in a side alley. We are talking a few million dollars' worth of mansion. I'd never actually been inside, but I'd driven past and it was massive.

Some people have all the luck.

But now Frank was dead, and everyone was accusing James. It was understandable that they thought it was him. I mean, he had motive (a couple of billion motives, if you catch my drift), and the only person who could give him an alibi had left for South America on Tuesday afternoon, hadn't been questioned, and was currently unable to be contacted. And James had means. Frank had been shot with a pistol, and in Gerongate – and the rest of Australia, as far as I knew – only cops were legally allowed to carry pistols. If James had used a registered gun then it was only a matter of time before he was caught. Of course, being a cop, he probably came into contact with plenty of _un_ registered guns, too...

Poor little James. Means, motive and, right now, no alibi. Everyone thought he was a murderer, and his perfect reputation was in tatters. Boo-hoo. Now don't get the wrong idea – it wasn't like I was _enjoying_ this. Well, maybe I was. It was just nice that for once I wasn't the one being publicly humiliated.

It was sad about Frank, though. What a gross thing for someone to do. And everyone thought his nephew had done it – at least, nearly everyone. I thought McKenzie was a moron, but I still didn't think he was a killer. I wasn't sure he had it in him.

When I finished reading the article I flipped over to the 'Jobs Vacant' section. Not much there. Coles needed new checkout workers. McDonald's was looking for young people to pedal their 'food'. Same old, same old. I checked the date on the paper. It was yesterday's. Hmm. So the jobs in the paper weren't looking incredibly promising. Google didn't throw up much either.

There was only one thing for it.

I shuddered at the mere thought.

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