Suddenly, his eyes lit up. ‘Flopsy! Oh, thank God. I thought you’d gone missing, too. They do say bad luck happens in threes.’

  ‘Laurence!’ Flopsy called back. ‘That’s Laurence. He’s Gavin’s boss, the owner of the club. The one I told you about, who’s been looking after me since Gavin disappeared.’

  It was clear that Laurence couldn’t hear a word Flopsy said. He was looking curiously at me. ‘Where did you find him? I’ve been worried sick.’

  ‘Um … on the street outside,’ I lied. ‘Just … hopping around.’

  ‘Really?’ Laurence frowned. ‘That’s so strange. We’ve been looking everywhere for him. Well, thanks and everything. But listen, I’m in the middle of a raging argument with an idiot cop right now, so … if you could just give him to me, that’d be great. And if you come back later, I’ll let you in for free. I’ll give you and a guest some dinner and drinks to say thanks, too.’

  I wasn’t about to hand Flopsy over and scarper, but I had to think of a good excuse as to why he should stop whatever he was doing, and satisfy my curiosity. ‘Threes?’ I questioned, keeping hold of the rabbit.

  ‘Huh?’ Laurence was only half paying attention to me, as more shouts came from the other room. I heard a pot clanging, too, so it was almost definitely a kitchen.

  ‘You said: “They do say bad luck happens in threes”. Has someone other than Gavin gone missing? And the cop who you’re arguing with – is that about Gavin?’

  Laurence gave me a wary once-over. ‘Look, who are you? A journalist? Because, much as I’d like to talk to you, we’ve been ordered not to say a word about any of this to the press.’

  Goodness gracious, I was journeying down a right rabbit hole, wasn’t I? His comments were making me curiouser and curiouser.

  ‘Look, Laurence,’ I said, ‘I’m going to come clean. I’m a–’

  He cut me off, saying, ‘How do you know my name?’

  Before I could reply (and I would have had an amazing excuse, of course) a woman marched out of the kitchen. It was then that I realised why I’d recognised the strident voice. It was because it belonged to Victoria Byrd, a woman I disliked with all of my being and more.

  ‘Victoria.’ I gave the head of PENS an angry squint. PENS was a secret section of the Irish police force, An Garda Síochána. PENS knew all about the supernatural world. Their supposed aim was to work with us, and help us keep knowledge of our existence a secret, but it seemed to me that all they actually did was make a nuisance of themselves. Victoria was frequently arresting people she deemed ‘freaky’ and passing them our way. Sure, once or twice she managed to nab an actual supernatural, but mostly she mistakenly arrested humans and harangued them, trying to force them to admit to various imagined assaults against humanity itself.

  It was funny that she hated magic so much, because I was of the opinion that she was, most likely, a monster. My coven-sister, Melissa, worked with them a lot more than I did, and she believed that the true aim of PENS was to discover everything about us, so that they could learn how to destroy us without harming themselves. I was inclined to believe her theory.

  ‘You.’ Victoria glared at me. ‘Of all the people Captain Plimpton could have sent, you’re the second most annoying.’

  I met her glare with a grin. ‘Y’know, I’m usually the most annoying person on everyone’s list, so I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Nice to see you too, by the way. So … you were expecting one of our lot then, were you?’

  For a few seconds she sounded like a balloon which was letting out air, before she eventually said, ‘Very funny. You know perfectly well that I’ve been trying to get Captain Plimpton to take responsibility for this.’

  She turned to Laurence. ‘This is Detective Wanda Wayfair, Mr O’Leary. She’ll be overseeing this case from here on in. If any more magicians go missing, bother her about it.’ She moved a step closer to him. ‘But I warn you – leak one word of any of this to the press, or on social media, or to anyone outside of this enclave, and I will come down hard.’

  I ran out after Victoria, following her all the way through the street with no name, to where her car was parked close to the entrance. ‘I do not understand what just happened.’

  ‘Don’t you? Wanda, I’ve only just recently discovered the fact that there’s a street in Dublin City with no name. Do you really expect me to believe it isn’t one of your … what do you call those weirdy towns you inhabit?’

  ‘You just used the word “enclave” inside the club, so don’t pretend you don’t know what our realms are called. And I can’t stress this firmly enough, Victoria – this street is not an enclave.’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t, is it? Well in that case, I’m the Queen of England!’ She looked in irritation at her car. The lights were flashing, the locks on the doors were opening and closing, and I could hear the radio, switching quickly from channel to channel, until finally it settled on a song I’d loved when I lived in the human world: A Kind of Magic.

  I looked in the window. In the back of the car, there was a frazzled-looking uniformed garda, seated beside a small boy in a car seat.

  ‘Is that little Daire?’ I asked.

  Victoria glared at me. ‘You lot keep your hands off my son! He is not a weirdo like his sister!’

  I felt my lip curl as I looked at her, unable to disguise my disgust at what she’d just said. Victoria’s daughter was far from a weirdo. Despite being born to two of the most irritating human beings on the planet, Hailey Byrd was an incredibly powerful young witch. Victoria ought to be proud of her daughter, but instead she’d abandoned Hailey, leaving her in the care of the Nemo Foundation.

  ‘Well?’ Victoria tapped her foot impatiently. ‘Have you anything else to say, or can I just get on with my day?’

  ‘Seriously? No, you can’t just get on with your day. You need to tell me what you know about this missing magician.’ I thought back to what Laurence said inside. ‘Or maybe magicians, plural? We need to talk about this. About what you’ve done so far to find whoever is missing. And about this street, too. Because it’s really not one of–’

  She opened her car door and slid inside. ‘This is your mess, Wanda. You clean it up. I’m not having it. Just do … whatever it is you’re supposed to do to hide your heathen streets from the rest of us.’ With that, she slammed the door and drove away.

  4. The Magic Hat

  As I watched Victoria speed off, I felt a new presence appear beside me.

  ‘Boss,’ I said, smiling at the handsome, fair-haired Wayfarer captain. ‘Long time no see.’

  He arched a brow. ‘Is it? Because I’m pretty sure that when I was having a meeting with Christine a couple of days ago, you were loitering outside, trying to listen in.’

  I gave him my most wide-eyed look. ‘Me? But Finn, you told me not to worry about work. You specifically said I ought to concentrate on finishing up my degrees, and spending some time with Max. I would never go against you.’

  ‘But you were there. I know you were, because I smelled apple tart.’

  Cat in a hat! ‘You could smell my cold apple tart from the other side of a closed door? What are you, a weredog? Look, I was there, yes. But it was just because Christine and I were going shopping after your meeting, and I was having a snack while I waited. I wasn’t listening in. Not on purpose, anyway. But listen, let’s get back to today, Finn.’ I gave him my most winning smile. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’

  Despite his every effort to appear strict and sombre, his face softened, and he was soon grinning back at me. ‘Of course I’m happy to see you, Wanda. We’ve all missed you at work, and you know it.’ He pointed to the road. ‘Was that Victoria Byrd I saw speeding off? Shouldn’t she be setting a better example? Because she was definitely breaking the speed limit. And also, why do you have a rabbit in your arms?’

  I quickly brought Finn up to speed. ‘You know,’ I said when I’d finished filling him in, ‘Victoria mentioned you. So, do you know about this street? About the missing magician?’

  ‘Magicians, plural,’ said Finn. ‘And yeah, I know.’

  ‘So that’s what Laurence meant about it happening in “threes”. Another magician went missing?’

  Flopsy twitched in my arms. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I am just as worried about Hattie. That’s her name. Hattie Trick.’

  My eyes widened. ‘No way. That’s not her real name.’

  ‘Yes way,’ said Flopsy. ‘It is her real name. Gavin was looking for her when he disappeared. But I was afraid that if I made it sound too big of a job, I’d scare you off.’

  ‘I’m not scared,’ I promised him. ‘I’m going to work on your case, just like I told you. Right, Finn? You did tell me I could come back in the spring.’

  ‘I did,’ he admitted. ‘But I also told you that your next case would be absolutely devoid of angst. And this street is just … I don’t even know what it is. It’s not an enclave, but it’s not a normal human street, either. I mean … it is, in the sense that everyone here is human. But it just feels too … too …’

  ‘Special?’ I suggested. ‘Like a great big bear hug? Free of absolutely any angst whatsoever?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he reluctantly admitted. ‘Yeah, that’s how it feels. And it does technically exist in the human world. Sometimes it gets left out on printed maps, but if you look on those satellite internet maps they have, it’s there all right. It’s just … not got a name. And yet every single postman knows where to bring the mail. Each property even has an individual postcode, just like all the other human properties in Ireland.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, why is Victoria so certain it’s our case to solve?’

  ‘I don’t know. But let’s … let’s just go to the Magic Hat? I guess? I mean, if Flopsy here disappeared into one of his own top hats and wound up appearing out of your hat in Luna Park, there’s got to be magic involved somewhere.’

  Flopsy’s nose got all scrunched up. ‘Of course there’s magic. Duh! Haven’t you listened to anything Wanda told you? Gavin’s a magician.’

  Finn gave the rabbit a gentle smile. ‘Of course, Flopsy. What was I thinking? Come on then, let’s get to the Magic Hat.’

  ≈

  As we stood on the street with no name, looking at the magic club, Finn suddenly said, ‘Funny, isn’t it? That the building is number thirteen?’

  ‘Is it?’ Dizzy squeaked, from somewhere beneath my hair. ‘You should probably look up the definition of “funny”, Finn. Because everyone in the world knows that the number thirteen is unlucky.’

  ‘Well, they’re wrong,’ argued Finn. ‘It’s not unlucky. And it is funny, because if I let you solve this case, it’ll be your thirteenth.’

  ‘Huh?’ I gawked at my boss. ‘I’ve worked on way more than twelve cases up until now.’

  ‘I guess,’ he conceded. ‘But some of them stand out more than others, don’t you think?’

  From inside the club, I could hear a woman begin to sob. ‘I think we’d better get inside, that’s what I think. Jeez, I don’t remember you being quite this weird, boss. You’ve clearly been struggling without my calming presence.’

  ≈

  The sobbing woman was beating her fists against Laurence’s chest. She was short, slim, and she had pale gold hair that fell to the small of her back. ‘We can’t open up tonight, Dad!’ she cried. ‘We can’t. They haven’t even looked for them. First Hattie, then Gavin, and now some supposed detective has wandered off with Flopsy, right when we thought we had him back again.’

  ‘Ahem,’ said Finn.

  Laurence and the woman who had called him ‘Dad’ broke apart. I could see now that she was much closer to my age than to his. Her hair wasn’t the only thing that seemed to shine, though. She exuded … well, I don’t know what she exuded, but she exuded something. She was one of those people, the sort of person that everyone turns to stare at. The sort of person you immediately wished was your friend. But there was something mischievous about her, too, like she’d be a particularly fun sort of friend.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘And why do you have Flopsy?’

  ‘That’s the garda detective I was telling you about,’ said Laurence. ‘Wanda Wayfair, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh.’ The woman straightened her shoulders. ‘Well, you’d better be a better detective than Victoria. And the guy?’

  ‘Also a detective. Wanda’s boss, actually,’ he said. ‘We’re part of a special branch in An Garda Síochána, okay?’ he lied. ‘Now, from what Victoria’s told me, two people have gone missing from this club. A magician called Hattie Trick, and a magician called Gavin Givens. Is that right?’

  Laurence shook his head. ‘No. Yes. Well … Hattie was a magician in her own right, but lately, she was just working as Gavin’s assistant because she’d … I dunno. She’d kind of lost her mojo, for want of a better word.’

  As he spoke, his daughter was scrutinising me. ‘You look really young to be a detective with some sort of special branch.’

  ‘I’m not young,’ I told her. ‘Well, not super-young, anyway. I’m twenty-four.’

  ‘Oh. Same age as me.’ She reached out a hand, which I awkwardly shook. ‘I’m Fifi. I’m a good friend of Gavin’s and Hattie’s.’ She pointed to the ceiling. ‘We all live upstairs. Not in the same flat. Well, me and Hattie share. Gavin shares with Theo and Fran.’

  Laurence ruffled his daughter’s glossy hair. ‘The Freaky Five they call themselves. All magicians or performers. I gave up performing myself, just recently. Getting too old to be hacking off the legs of young ladies.’

  Fifi crossed her arms. ‘So are you going to actually start searching now? Because I don’t understand any of this, I really don’t. Why wouldn’t that Victoria woman let us put up posters around town? Why wouldn’t she let us put out messages on our social media pages? Why did she wipe all the footage we had of the night Hattie went missing? Because all of these things seem helpful to me. We need to get the word out about this.’

  Laurence was worrying at his lower lip while his daughter spoke. ‘You … you think there’s something weird about all of this, don’t you? Either that or … or you think this is a hoax. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why no one is taking us seriously. You think this is all some stunt to get more people into our club.’

  He moved to the bar, where he poured himself a small shot of vodka and downed it in one. ‘Look, maybe Wayne’s club is doing better than ours these days, but we’re not desperate.’ He looked out through the small window. ‘No matter how many of our magicians he poaches, we’ll never resort to Wayne’s dirty tricks.’

  ‘Who’s Wayne?’ I asked.

  Fifi sighed, and took a seat at the bar. ‘Wayne owns another club, just across the street from this. He thinks fancy special effects are what makes a magic club, but he’s wrong. People might go there once, for the experience, but they always come back here. Anyway, Wayne isn’t what matters now.’ She pointed to the curtained stage. ‘There. Behind that curtain is the box from where they both went missing. Hattie and Gavin. So, I dunno, maybe you want to do something crazy like actually investigate it?’

  5. The Definition of Madness

  Laurence left the bar and pulled back the curtain.

  In my arms, I felt Flopsy begin to panic.

  ‘That’s it!’ the rabbit squealed. ‘That’s the box. Gavin put Hattie in it and she disappeared, then he went in it when he couldn’t find her and …’ He paused to take in some short, sharp breaths. ‘And … and I waited. I sat in my hat, and I looked at him, and I waited. He’d already crawled all over the space under the floor. He’d looked everywhere he could think of.’

  ‘So he decided to try the box?’ I asked.

  Before Flopsy could respond, Fifi gave me a searching smile. ‘Are you talking to Flopsy?’ She held her hands out. ‘Hey, I’m not judging. I’ve often convinced myself that he’s trying to talk to me, to Gavin, to all of us.’

  She nodded to my shoulder. ‘But when you’ve got a bat on your shoulder and you’re treating Flopsy like he’s a reliable witness, I’ve got to ask myself: who are you people?’

  Her father nodded. ‘A minute ago I was worried that you thought we were involved in a hoax, but now … now I’m thinking that Victoria’s just passed a case she doesn’t want onto some other kind of investigators. Paranormal investigators, maybe? Is that what you are? The kinds of folk who go into supposedly haunted houses, pretending you can use technology to record God knows what?’

  Fifi glared at us. ‘Is my father right? I mean, Hattie went missing last Friday night, and Gavin the following day. That’s almost a week ago, y’know? And in all that time, Victoria did nothing except confiscate our phones, wipe any video that customers might have taken, and threaten us not to say a word to anyone. Now you’re here, with your cute little bat, and your Doctor Doolittle tendencies, and … well … are you paranormal investigators?’

  I looked at Finn. Finn looked back at me. After a few more seconds he said, ‘No. No, we’re not paranormal investigators. We’re … we’re honestly just another branch of the police force, and it’s our job to figure out strange cases, like this one. Did Victoria send any gardaí in to search the place? To look for any kind of clues?’

  Fifi’s hair looked dazzling as she shook her head. ‘Nope. Like I said, all she wanted to do was make sure we kept this a secret.’

  ‘And the box?’ I pointed to the stage. The box was rectangular, large enough to fit a person inside, standing upright. It looked like it had been designed to spin. ‘That’s a regular trick of Gavin’s?’

  Laurence hopped up onto the stage and opened it up. ‘See, the trick is pretty straightforward. Hattie would come in here, then Gavin would spin the box.’ He got down onto his haunches and pulled up the bottom of the box, then pulled another opening – a trapdoor, fitted so flush into the stage, that, if you didn’t know it was there, you would never see it. ‘While the box was closed, Hattie climbed down here. Sometimes he made her disappear and reappear. Sometimes, they did a trick where she’d turn up in the audience.’