‘But of course. Cuddles are incredibly therapeutic, you know. Cuddling a dog, even a magical one like me, can help to release oxytocin. It’s a bonding hormone, but it’s also one that makes one feel warm and fuzzy from the inside out. Dopamine is released too, I believe.’

  He jumped up on my lap and I bent my head down, sniffing his neck. I didn’t care whether this was just him being a therapist. He smelled like heaven. Even though there were no dogs in the coven, I’d always wanted one. I could picture the perfect one in my mind right now. Some enormous, enthusiastic dog that loved to chase balls and sticks.

  ‘Well, those hormones sure are good,’ I said. ‘And I’m definitely digging your warmth and fuzziness. But on a far more depressing note, we should probably talk a bit more about the murder.’

  He heaved out a sigh. ‘Of course we must. And I’ve been thinking about the conversation we had just a short while ago – where I told you that both Gareth and Nelson worked with underprivileged weredogs. There was one instance, just a few days ago actually. We’d just been in the orphanage on Eile Street, giving the children there a check-up. As we were on our way out, we were approached by someone. You’ll have heard of Darrell Plimpton?’

  ‘Of course. He ran against Will in the election last year. He’s a real piece of work, that guy.’

  Russ let out a low growl. ‘He certainly is. I don’t often say this, but I doubt all the therapy in the world would help that man. Some people are just bad, y’know? Anyway, he said he had an offer for Gareth and Nelson. He said that he knew of a private healing facility that would pay them far better than their jobs. At first they were interested. They were both working at Night and Gale, but what with Will’s potions meaning that hardly anyone gets sick, they were afraid it was only a matter of time before they lost their jobs. And if that happened, they couldn’t afford to volunteer anymore, because they used their own money to fund their volunteering. Gareth even took out a loan a while ago so he could buy a batch of Heal All for the orphanage.’

  As he spoke about Gareth, Russ was getting a little bit upset, so I gently stroked his fur. ‘Gareth sounds like he was a wonderful person,’ I said.

  ‘He was. He was one in a million. And as it happened, neither he nor Nelson took the offer. Because there was a condition attached to it – they would have to give up their volunteer work, effective immediately.’

  I felt my forehead scrunch in puzzlement. ‘But … why would Darrell want them to do that?’

  Russ snorted. ‘Isn’t it obvious? Darrell is a Plimpton, and all Plimptons hate weredogs. He asked them to stop their volunteering because his evil little compassionless heart couldn’t stand the thought of those weredog children getting the healthcare they deserved.’

  I was feeling about as depressed as a girl can get, when he added something else. ‘Wanda,’ he said carefully. ‘There was one more thing I noticed when I was following you today. I noticed that you took the shock away from that weredog. Max. You know what that means, right?’

  I bit my lower lip. ‘You really saw that, huh?’

  ‘I really did. And it seemed to me like you did do magic. So I’m left to ponder … why aren’t you more excited about that fact? Or at the very least, testing yourself to see if you can repeat it?’

  ‘Because,’ I said. And after saying it, I wasn’t really sure how to follow it up. I mean, I was unempowered. Some things were just plain fact, no matter how much you wished differently.

  I still didn’t know how to finish the sentence by the time a knock came on my bedroom door. I rushed from my bed and yanked the door open, grinning when I saw Melissa and Gretel standing there. I didn’t care why they had come – all I cared about was that I no longer had to answer Russ’s question.

  ‘Come on in, both of you,’ I said. As they walked in past me, I looked Gretel up and down. ‘You look amazing,’ I told her.

  She really did. I rarely saw Gretel out of her uniform, but tonight she was wearing tight black jeans and a glittery top. Her braids fell loose around her face, and her eyes were lined with kohl. She paused just long enough to trip over my rug, and then she said, ‘Melissa told me everything that happened since this gorgeous doggie arrived.’

  Russ rolled over, happily letting her rub his belly. ‘I’m only allowing this because it’s therapeutic,’ he said. ‘For her, obviously.’

  ‘Sure,’ I drawled. ‘The oxytocin.’ I quickly filled them both in on everything that had happened at work. When they had finished gasping at all of the appropriate moments, and I finally came to the end of the whole confusing tale, I noticed that Melissa was still wearing her work clothes.

  ‘You’re not ready yet?’ I asked her. ‘Isn’t the concert starting soon?’

  She shrugged. ‘Can’t say I’m looking forward to it. My skeevy boss already asked me a hundred times today if I’ll join him in his box. And after what you just told us about the offer he made to Nelson and Gareth, I hate him even more than ever – something I did not think was possible.’

  I gave her a quick squeeze. ‘I won’t argue with you on that score. He’s managed to go lower in my estimation, too. But you can’t miss out on your favourite band just because he’s a great big ball of slime. I mean, you don’t have to go anywhere near his box, do you?’

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t. But he’s been going on and on all day about how he’s even going to the after party. I mean, it’s not fair, is it? He’s one of the worst people I’ve ever known, and yet he gets to hang out with the Call of the Wild.’

  I had to agree with her there. When Will became Minister, I thought that the supernatural world had finally seen sense and elected a decent leader. But I was beginning to realise that it didn’t matter who was in charge. Powerful and corrupt people would always be powerful and corrupt. Not only that, but they’d get awarded for it, too.

  I was beginning to wonder how inappropriate it would be for me to go along tonight. Sure, Will wouldn’t like me going to his enemy’s venue, but some things were more important. Like getting a feel for Darrell Plimpton, taking a good long look at him just in case he happened to have murderer written on his forehead.

  And if he wasn’t quite that obvious, then I could always ask him some pointed questions about his whereabouts at the time of Gareth’s death.

  Gretel, who was still rubbing a happy Russ’s belly, looked up at me and said, ‘Y’know, it’d be a really good opportunity for you to talk to Darrell tonight. We could find out where he was when Gareth died.’

  I groaned. ‘You read my mind. I wish you hadn’t, but you did. But you’ll have Todge there tonight. He can be your wing man. I’m sure he’ll ask Darrell some very probing questions about his favourite variety of jam.’

  She shook her head. ‘Todge isn’t going. There’s a meeting of the Jam Sandwich Appreciation Society in the community hall tonight. It’s an unmissable one, according to him. Some American speaker is coming to have a debate about whether to call it jam or jelly. Apparently they’re all going to try out some peanut butter in their sandwiches, too.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Well I can see why he wouldn’t want to miss a thing like that. And y’know … if Todge doesn’t need that third ticket, I just might go along after all.’

  Melissa gave me a hopeful smile. ‘You will? Because if you go, I’ll definitely go, whether stupid Darrell Plimpton annoys me or not.’

  13. It’s All About the Rhythm, Baby

  I knew I was supposed to be there for one reason, and one reason only – to find out if Darrell was a murderer as well as a moron – but once I entered that concert hall, a thrill of excitement rippled through me.

  Clearly, a lot of people felt the same as I did. The venue was packed to capacity, and in the standing areas, people crushed against one another, calling out for the band. Melissa, a woman who had more admirers than I’d had apple tarts, seemed as nervous as a teenager on her first date.

  Of course, we were all nervous. Darrell Plimpton was quite a likely suspect, given what Russ had told us. The problem was, how could we get close enough to ask him questions, and yet not so close that he’d make us vomit?

  ‘He makes my skin crawl,’ said Melissa. ‘But I imagine he’d make Satan’s skin crawl, too. So we’ll go to the after party – but we are not going to watch from his private box.’

  Gretel’s eyes widened. ‘He invited us all into his private box? I thought that he just asked you.’

  Melissa shuddered and showed us her phone, her screen displaying the latest text from her boss:

  If you don’t want to leave your pretty friends alone while you come party with me, by all means invite them to my box. There aren’t quite enough seats, but I’m sure we can all squeeze in nicely.

  ‘Ew!’ Gretel almost dropped the phone on the ground. ‘Save that message, Melissa. You’ll need it when you’re suing him for being just about as inappropriate as it gets.’

  ‘Oh, it’s saved.’ Melissa lifted a brow. ‘And backed up. I might not be able to get a job practising law right now, but I am building a very thick file on Darrell Plimpton.’ She looked me in the eye. ‘Something about that orphanage on Eile Street rang a bell with me, Wanda. I definitely overheard him saying something about it in one of his closed door meetings.’

  She gave me a wicked smile. ‘And if he wanted to have real closed door meetings, then he shouldn’t have hired me. I’ll look back through my recordings and notes and see exactly what he said.’

  I clutched her hand. ‘Y’know, when we have conversations like this, I sometimes wonder how it was that you and our mothers were so bad at fighting crime. Seems like all of our coven should be good at it.’

  Gretel nodded in agreement. ‘You’re all nosey, and stubborn, and incredibly good at remembering Magical Law. It is weird that you were all so bad at fighting crime.’

  ‘And yet,’ said Melissa, ‘we were. Who knows? Maybe we were too big for our boots. Or maybe we were just out of touch with things. Either way, if Will hadn’t reinstated the Peacemakers, we probably would have mismanaged all of the enclaves to the point of madness.’

  The three of us laughed, somewhat hollowly, it has to be said. Because here we were, taking matters into our own hands, and somehow feeling certain that this was the only thing to do. Until Will bothered to answer his phone, someone had to act. Gareth Flowers was murdered, and that man sitting up in his box smoking a cigar could well be the killer.

  As the Call of the Wild strutted onto the stage, I felt a leap of excitement in my tummy. I wasn’t a superfan or anything, but there was just something about these guys. Even though they were the most famous band in the supernatural world, they always felt like old friends to me. Even Jasper, with his penchant for going topless and wearing frighteningly tight jeans, seemed like he might be a decent guy deep down.

  Probably every woman felt the same about them, I imagined – but not every woman had one of their roadies approach them as they slid into their seats.

  ‘You,’ said the roadie, nodding his head to Melissa. ‘The redhead. Callum Cool says you and your friends can watch from the VIP area if you like.’

  ‘Callum Cool?’ At the mention of the band’s drummer, Melissa’s nose wrinkled. He had a reputation for wooing beautiful women and then blanking them afterwards. ‘Well, you can just go and tell Callum Cool that I have more self-respect than that,’ she said.

  I was about to give her a fist bump, when I noticed her eyes drift away from the drummer, and settle on the singer. Even though there was quite the distance between them, somehow the singer seemed to notice Melissa’s sudden attention. His eyes locked with hers, then Melissa looked back at the roadie and said, ‘On second thoughts, we’ll accept the invitation.’

  Gretel and I grabbed her either hand, Gretel grinning and saying, ‘See? Who needs a skeevy boss when we’ve got a rocking hot friend?’ She paused and winced. ‘Aaaand, I realise I just sounded as skeevy as Darrell.’

  Melissa laughed and kissed Gretel on the cheek. ‘Not in a million years, my rocking hot friend.’

  ≈

  As we watched the concert, I knew that I should be revelling in every minute of it, but instead I was revelling in Melissa. While the drummer gave her flirty smiles, winks, and performed some serious look at me antics, Melissa’s attention was all on the singer. I’d never seen her like this around anybody before. Looking like she did, Melissa had countless admirers, but she barely paid them a moment’s notice.

  After a while I began to feel a little awkward sitting next to her, to be honest, because while she was staring at Mack McAdams, he was gazing right back at her. I felt like I was playing gooseberry. Gretel felt it too, shifting in her seat and whispering, ‘Y’know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped singing and grabbed you and kissed you right now.’

  Melissa laughed it off, but kept right on staring at Mack.

  Finally, after the last song, and a few encores, Mack spoke into the microphone and said, ‘We just don’t have any more songs in us tonight, guys, but we do have a very nice surprise. The venue’s owner has sponsored a super-fab prize. Could you all take out your tickets, please?’

  As the audience pulled out their tickets, someone ran onto the stage and handed Mack an envelope, which he quickly opened. ‘All right then, I know it’s not often that people check the serial numbers on their concert tickets, but you’re really gonna wanna check ’em now. Because if your ticket says PH after the serial number, then you are the winner of the holiday of a lifetime. You’ll be going to the brand new Plimpton Hotel, right after the gig, and enjoying some serious luxury. If all of you lucky winners stand up and make your way to the north-east exit, you’ll find buses waiting outside to take you there.’

  There were far more squeals of delight than I would have expected. It looked like at least a couple of hundred people had won. As they all stood up, I recognised one of them. It was Lassie McGrath, the cousin of the most average-looking guy I had ever seen.

  ‘Hopefully she has a good time,’ I muttered. ‘After today, she deserves it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Gretel. ‘Donny sounds like a right piece of work, and don’t even get me started on Majella Aherne. I still can’t believe Finn let it all get so far. He just seemed so … I dunno. I got a good feeling about him. I’m really disappointed that I was so, so wrong.’

  Melissa sighed. ‘I know what you mean. I’ve run into him at the Wyrd Court once or twice, and I liked him a lot. But y’know what they say … like deranged evil aunt, like deranged evil nephew.’

  Her phone buzzed, and she looked down at it. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Darrell has some important business to attend to and won’t be at the after party.’

  ‘Oh.’ Callum Cool sidled over to us. ‘Sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear, babe.’

  ‘I’m not your babe.’

  ‘Sorry, I meant to call you darling. But listen, I hope you’re not thinking of giving the after party a miss just because your politician boyfriend won’t be there. Trust me, sweetcakes – I mean, love – I can rock your world better than he ever could. It’s all about the rhythm, baby.’

  Melissa visibly shivered. ‘Lead the way, Callum,’ she said. ‘We would love to come to your after party. Y’know, as long as you start calling us by our actual names.’

  14. The Man of My Dreams

  The after party was deep in the Wandering Wood. The Call of the Wild had some witch assistants, and had arranged brooms to take us all there. There was a marquee set up close to a stunning wood cabin, a house that was built at the point where the Rabblesome River met Willow Lake. The house was built on stilts, and crossed over both the stream and the lake, with see-through bridges and floors looking at the water below.

  There were more bridges outside, criss-crossing the river and the lake, all strung with white lights and Solas spells, giving the whole area a fairy tale vibe.

  Despite the fact that there weren’t many who would have said no to an invitation, the party was small. I recognised the caterer – a girl called Emily who worked at Caulfield’s Cakes with her grandmother and her father. I didn’t know her well, but I’d always liked her.

  As we wound our way through the marquee, Veronica Berry approached me, with her guitar-playing husband by her side. ‘I thought I heard your voice, Wanda,’ she said, her eyes darting around the tent. ‘Is Will here?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. He’s busy with work. And also, y’know, there’s his whole I hate Darrell thing.’

  She laughed. ‘Yeah, I know all about that. But I really wish I could track him down. I’ve been hoping to chat with him about something pretty big.’

  I sighed. ‘You and me both. He’s been incommunicado all day.’

  ‘Oh? I’m surprised he’s not talking to you. Do you happen to know what he’s up to?’ She and Bryce were exchanging strange glances as she asked this question.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. I guess I could say what I hoped – which was that he was busy tracking down Gareth’s murderer. But I still had no idea whether the official there was no murder line was truly coming from Will, or from Finn himself. In the end, I opted for honesty. ‘Y’know, I really have no idea what he’s up to. I just hope I hear from him soon.’

  After a few more pleasantries, they moved away.

  ‘I think I’ll go dance,’ said Gretel. ‘Who wants to dance with me?’

  Melissa looked like she was about to say no, but she spotted Callum making a beeline for her, so she grabbed Gretel’s hand and said, ‘Come on. Let’s just hope the drummer doesn’t join us. Wanda?’

  I nodded my head to a table piled high with food. ‘I’m just gonna refuel first,’ I said.

  While the others partied around me, I poked about at the buffet table. Melissa and Gretel were joined on the dancefloor by Jasper Jaunt, Callum Cool, and Mack McAdams. Soon after they started to dance, Melissa and Mack edged their way to a quiet corner, talking shyly to one another. Shy wasn’t a word I’d usually use to describe Melissa, but I guess anyone would feel shy when they were talking to the most eligible werewolf in the world.