Rune Witch Mysteries- The Complete Series Page 2
“He give you any idea why he wants us to check it out?”
“Just said that we were the closest.”
“Makes sense, if they knew where we were. Although, I guess it should come as no surprise the Council keeps a tab on us.”
“I’m sure we give them hours of entertainment.” Thomas smiled, but that smile soon faded when his phone alerted him to a message and he read the contents. “Or,” he said. “This particular house fairy may have worked for a goblin and the Council want to keep their distance from the case.”
I stopped in my tracks. Goblins were bad news, arseholes of the highest order.
“You still want to take the case?” Thomas asked. “I could call Joe, tell him thanks but no thanks.”
I shook my head and sighed. “The fairy deserves a proper investigation.” I took one last look at Nana’s house and was about to turn away when a flicker of movement caught my attention in the upstairs window. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. I called forth the power of the hazel tree in my Coll tattoo again. The same sense of love and protection washed over me, but I found no trace of a spirit, living or dead.
“You okay?” Thomas asked, looking from me and to the house with concern on his face.
“It’s nothing. I just... I thought I saw something, that’s all.”
“Then I doubt it’s nothing. We should stay and investigate.”
I turned to Thomas and smiled. He always had my back, never doubted me. “Whatever it was is gone,” I said. “We’ll check it out later. Right now, we have a murder to look into.”
Chapter Two
Goblins are mean and mischievous creatures who only care about themselves. In general, they have a deep rooted disdain for other supernaturals and humans alike. This disdain mostly keeps them out of the affairs of other races, that is, unless you piss them off. And a pissed off goblin is somebody no-one wants to be around.
I was somewhat surprised when we arrived at the address we had been given. Not by the high-security gates and the two guards beside them, nor by the surveillance cameras and the men patrolling the grounds. What surprised me most was that Darren Platt, the head of the house, was waiting for us as soon as we were ushered past his private security and into his luxurious mansion. Mr Platt portrayed himself as a fit, athletic man with short-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair. By human standards, he looked to be in his early forties. All business and no heart. His designer pinstripe suit reeked of the high opinion he had of himself: a fitting disguise for the goblin beneath the glamour.
He looked Thomas up and down before dismissing him as a human and beneath his regard, and then turned his attention to me. A snort escaped his mouth when he took in my jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket.
“The bwbach is this way,” he said in a voice used to being obeyed. Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heels and stalked through the opulent foyer, resplendent with marble floors and dazzling chandelier.
Thomas looked to me and raised his eyebrows as Platt led us up the winding staircase and through the house without a backwards glance.
There’s something bothersome about a murder site, beyond the obvious tragedy of the event itself. There’s a taint to the air, a tear in the fabric of the world. Animals and humans kill all the time. We kill to eat, to survive, but a murder, no matter the reason or means, goes against the natural order of life and death. This scene was no different. Platt led us to a large room painted pastel pink. A white leather suite sat centre stage along with a glass coffee table. Bookcases lined one wall, devoid of books and instead, filled with photographs, expensive knick-knacks, and a state of the art docking station. Two windows looked out onto the rear garden. An open door led through to a similarly pink bedroom. The smell of perfume tinged air you could cut with a knife.
Thomas let out a harsh breath when he saw the frail remains of the house fairy, discarded like yesterday’s news behind the sofa. Like all of the bwbachod, she was small and dainty, no bigger than a five-year old child, and with hair as wild as the wind that whistled through the forest. A simple house sprite, taking care of her family in exchange for a good home, a daily slice of bread, and a glass of milk. They ask for very little, but provide so much. If you treat them right.
Somebody hadn’t treated this fairy right at all. Her head lay at an unnatural angle to her body, with an iron chain tethered around her neck.
“What was her name?” Thomas asked.
“As far as I am aware, she had no name,” Platt answered.
“What do you mean, as far as you’re aware? How long has she worked here?”
“The bwbach came with the house, but served us for over eighteen years, since the birth of my daughter.”
“Eighteen years, and you don’t know her name.” Thomas stood and I could see the controlled anger burning beneath his surface.
I placed my hand on his and shook my head in warning. He couldn’t take on a goblin and win.
Platt ignored Thomas’ words and our exchange. “I had nothing at all to do with the creature. She lived in my daughter’s rooms alone,” he said. “Taking care of both this antechamber and my daughter’s bed chamber.”
“Who had access to these rooms beside you, your daughter, and the bwbach?” I asked.
“No-one. To enter my daughter’s room for any but the three of us is forbidden.”
“And your daughter’s mother, does she not have access to the room?”
“Rachel’s mother was human. She is not a part of her life.”
Thomas shook his head in disbelief. “Then we need to speak to your daughter,” he said.
Mr Platt smiled, tilted his head and looked Thomas in the eye for the first time. “That is also forbidden. Rachel is distraught. The bwbach was her loyal friend and servant, and I won’t have you upsetting her further with your questions. Get what you need from the body and leave my home.”
With that, Mr Platt turned on his heels and left us alone in the room.
Thomas clenched his knuckles in frustration. “The nerve of that man,” he said. “Eighteen years and he doesn’t know her name, or care that she’s dead.”
I shook my head. “No, Thomas. Despite his appearance, Darren Platt is not a man. He’s a goblin, and you need to remember that before I have two dead bodies on my hands.”
Thomas stilled at the obvious concern in my voice. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I just... I never expected her to be so small, so...”
“Childlike.”
Thomas nodded.
I sighed and moved to examine the body. The bwbach must have died sometime within the last few hours. Rigor Mortis had yet to set in, but the body had started to cool. The chain around her neck had a blue nylon handle on one end and a clasp on the other: a simple dog lead. The iron would have been anathema to her magic, but it was hard to fathom how anyone could get close enough to fix it around her neck. House fairies were rarely seen, even by those who lived with them.
“I know it’s hard,” I said, taking a deep breath, “but if it’s any consolation, she wasn’t a child. From what I can tell, I’d say she was at least fifty years old.”
“It’s still not right.”
“No, it’s not, but we’ll try to do right by her and find out who did this.”
“How, when Mr Platt won’t allow us to speak to his daughter?” Thomas sighed. “You think she was involved somehow?”
Did I? Only someone close to the bwbach could have killed her, but Mr Platt had described her as a loyal friend to his daughter. I looked around the pristine room, at the fluffed pillows and dusted shelves.
“It’s doubtful,” I said. “Bwbachod are kind to you only if you are kind to them. If Rachel had been cruel to the fairy, she’d have made the girl’s life a living hell.”
Rachel’s suite was in the old part of the house. The walls were thick, the ceilings low, and the windows large. From the many photographs of the same girl displayed throughout, I took Rachel to be a slim eighteen-year-old with long blond
e hair and a pale complexion. In one picture, she wore bright red lipstick and more eye makeup than I could get through in a month, maybe even two months. A typical teenager.
I stood for a second looking out the window before opening it to let an icy blast of air into the room.
The back garden with its perfect, manicured lawn was a mirror of the front. The plants and trees wrapped around its edges were lacking their full lustre and becoming dormant for the coming winter. Yet, not a single stray leaf tarnished the picture-perfect image. A damn near impossible feat given the time of year and the abundance of leaves falling to the ground. Platt, no doubt, had an army of gardeners at his beck and call to keep the garden just so. Lovely views of a wild and free countryside and Wentwood forest beckoned in the distance, shut off from the garden by a six-foot high wall with spiked railings atop. Guards patrolled the perimeter, but whether this was a normal occurrence or a precaution given the murder was unclear.
“Should we arrange for someone to collect the body?” Thomas asked.
I shook my head and moved to sit next to the bwbach again. It was strange looking at her face. I’d read about house fairies in books, learnt how they had very little hair on their head as younglings, but that it grew wilder and darker as they aged. As I looked closer, I saw that the fairy’s hair was almost black and as long as she was, so my estimate of fifty years may have been an understatement. Yet, there was something else, a thought that maybe I’d seen a house fairy before. They were tied to the building, not the people within it, and I couldn’t recall a time when I’d encountered such a creature, but I couldn’t shake an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
I took a deep breath, activated my Ruis and Luis tattoos, and sent a wave of Elder energy over the bwbach’s body to ensure she could reach the other side, along with a wave of Rowan energy to ensure her journey was a safe one. Then, I carefully removed the chain from her neck and placed it on the sofa.
Thomas stood in wonder as the tiny body disappeared into nothing before us.
“The iron in the lead was blocking her fairy magic,” I said by way of explanation. “With it touching her skin, her body and spirit were still trapped in this realm of existence.”
Thomas ran his hand through his hair as if in contemplation. “If her spirit was trapped, couldn’t you have spoken to her, found out who killed her?” he asked.
I shook my head. “The only way to reach her spirit was to remove the iron, and the second I did, she left us.”
I stood up and looked around the room. “Right,” I said. “What do we know?”
Thomas smiled. “We know Rachel’s the tidiest teenager I’ve ever seen.”
I smiled back. “The bwbach would have helped, but Rachel had to be house proud herself, or the house fairy wouldn’t have bothered.”
“These windows are big enough to gain entry.” Thomas stuck his head out the window and pulled on some vines on a trellis beneath them. “Easy access, too.”
“So, you think Daddy’s rule about no-one else in the room may have been broken?”
“You had me in your room a time or two when you were Rachel’s age.”
“I had you in the whole house.” I laughed. “We were young.” A wave of sadness washed over me. “But I had no-one to lay down any rules, remember.” If Nana hadn’t died, if Mum hadn’t left, would I have been sneaking Thomas in through my bedroom window at eighteen instead of walking him through the front door?
Sensing my mood, Thomas moved away from the window and put his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a warm hug. “I remember,” he said. “But you were never young. I think you were sixteen going on sixty when we first met. In fact, it was your old eyes that first attracted me to you.”
“So, it wasn’t my long legs and heaving bosom?”
“Not in the slightest,” Thomas answered with a straight face, then kissed me on my forehead. “You okay?”
I gave him a wry smile. “Better now.”
“Good.” Thomas kissed me again and let me go. “What else do we know?”
“We know that despite the innocent appearance of her room, Rachel was no saint. Bwbachod loathe puritans.” I took a deep breath. “We also know that this was planned?”
“How so?”
I walked over to the sofa and picked up the dog’s lead. “You seen or heard a dog since we got to this place? There’s plenty of guards, but not a dog amongst them. Dogs and goblins just don’t get along.”
“The lead was brought here deliberately to use against the fairy. A source of iron to block her powers.”
“That would be my guess. As soon as the iron touched her she would be weak and helpless, no longer able to defend herself.”
“So, we’re looking for someone who knew the bwbach was here?” Thomas moved towards the bookcase and picked up the picture of Rachel, in which she was caked in makeup. “That brings us back to the owner of these rooms.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “If it was Rachel, why not remove the chain? The body disappears and no-one notices the bwbach is gone.”
“That same thought could apply to anybody. If they knew enough to bring the chain, it’s logical to assume they knew the removal of the chain would cause the body to vanish.”
“Then why wouldn’t they? Unless...”
“Unless the killer wanted the body found.”
I nodded in agreement. “I think we need to talk to Rachel, whether Mr Platt wants us to or not.”
Chapter Three
Darren Platt looked like the sort of man who would have your body chopped into little pieces and dumped in the river if you looked at him funny. For a goblin, he’d already shown us a remarkable amount of restraint when he’d chosen to ignore Thomas’ remarks about not knowing the bwbach’s name. Although, in all likelihood, he’d considered Thomas beneath even an effort at contempt.
He sat in his living room with a glass of whiskey in his hand and an irate look on his face. A gaggle of men busied around, bringing him files and answering telephone calls. We stood silent in the doorway for a short while, but when it seemed clear no greeting or welcoming questions would be put to us, I cleared my throat.
“I thought I told you to get what you need from the body and leave,” Mr Platt said without looking up from the papers in his hand.
“We have more questions. I believe it imperative to our investigation that we speak to your daughter.”
“I believe, I also told you that was forbidden.” Platt gestured to two of his men, who stalked towards us.
The men crunched their knuckles, no doubt to impart an air of menace to their bearing. “The boss wants you to leave,” the heavier-set of the two said, although both could give a rhinoceros a run for its money.
Thomas stepped forward. Ever the gentleman, placing himself between me and danger, and whilst I wouldn’t like the odds should he come face to face with a goblin, Platt’s men were human. Rhinoceros sized or not, Thomas had trained in Krav Maga for years and was more than capable of holding his own against them. That doesn’t mean my heart didn’t skip a beat and my forehead bead with worry when one of the goons snarled and charged at Thomas, swinging forward with a right hook.
Thomas blocked the blow with his left forearm and followed quickly with a reverse punch to the face. Before anyone had time to react, he’d twisted in place, lifted the guy with a hip throw, and casually tossed him on top of the other goon. All the while, he’d managed to keep a hold of his attacker’s arm, which he continued to hold as he pressed his boot into the prone man’s face.
“Stay down,” he said.
Platt stood to intervene, but I called forth my power. The runic tattoos on my arms blazed to life: Luis, Fern, Duir — protection, endurance, strength — sent energy coursing through my veins. I gathered a magical orb in my hand and released it without a moment's hesitation. Platt flew back onto the sofa, the wind knocked out of him.
“He was talking to you, too,” I said. “Take that first blast as a warning shot.” I indi
cated the newly formed orb in my hand. It shone brighter and pulsed with a multitude more energy than my first. “This one, you won’t get up from.”
Platt railed for a minute, but soon barked orders at his men to withdraw. He looked at Thomas with newfound respect, and me with newfound fear.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” I said when it became clear they weren’t going to attack us anymore, “we’d like to talk to your daughter about the murdered bwbach.”
“Summer Daniels and Thomas Heart,” Platt said, suddenly interested in people’s names. He stood slowly with his hands raised. “Would you care for a drink?”
Platt walked over to his drinks cabinet and poured himself another whiskey. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” he asked again when Thomas and I failed to answer his first question.
“Rachel,” I said.
Platt sighed. “I understand you work for the Council,” he said, taking a seat back on the sofa.
“That’s correct. So, unless you want me to call in extra agents, I suggest you cooperate with our investigation.”
“But not exclusively,” he said, ignoring my last statement.
I bristled. When someone asks about exclusivity in a contract, they’re usually about to try and buy you off.
Thankfully, Thomas stepped in before I gave in to the urge and hurled another magical orb at Mr Platt. “We’re exclusive on this contract,” he said.
Platt nodded along with the words, as if searching for a way to twist them to his advantage. “Indeed.” He smiled and took another sip of whisky. “And your contract with the Council is to find the bwbach’s killer?”
“As you are fully aware.” Thomas shifted on his feet, as annoyed by Platt’s posturing as I was. “I think it’s time we spoke to Rachel, now,” he said.
Platt’s smile wavered. “I would like to retain your services.” I moved to protest, but before I had the chance, Platt continued. “The contract would in no way hinder your investigation into the bwbach’s death. In fact, I am sure you could perform your duties to both me and the Council in parallel.”