He pulled my e-reader out, and pointed to the book on the screen. ‘In this one, Detective Draper is looking for a missing trophy and solving the murder of the old lady who runs the sweet shop. He solves things by a process of deduction, and so far he’s deduced that the trophy theft and the little old lady’s death are connected. Do you think this could be connected to Bess’s murder?’

  I thought about what Will had said in the library – his certainty that his father’s murder was connected to Bess’s. ‘It’s definitely connected,’ I said with a sigh. ‘It’s all connected. Whoever stole this chair had to have a whole lot of power, because it was put here by the Queen herself. The average witch should not be able to move it.’

  I sat down on the empty spot, hoping that there would be some of that elemental power remaining. Unfortunately, I felt nothing but the cold and damp of the floorboards. And it was a cold that seemed to seep all through me, making me shiver. I thought about the book, the book that could have gone missing days or even weeks ago, for all anyone really knew. Could a book like that give someone enough power to remove the Elemental Seat?

  If so, we might not be working to stop the Whisperer’s return. He could already be here, among us, and we wouldn’t have any idea who he was.

  13. Braggs of Wondermare

  I sat at my old desk, spinning in my chair, tapping a pen against my chin and thinking. And then I did some more spinning, followed by some more thinking …

  In the interest of honesty, I’d been spinning and thinking since I left the old Wyrd Court. It was now almost five p.m., and no one else in the Wayfarer station looked any happier than me. Probably because we’d just heard back about Emily’s arrest – an arrest which had been followed by an incredibly quick release.

  ‘It’s considered criminal damage,’ Paul spat angrily. ‘She’ll get a fine and some community service. She’s already told me she’s going to tell the judge that I was responsible. That I created something that carried out acts of intolerable cruelty to her, day after day.’

  I glanced at the desk near Paul’s, where Sixteen used to sit. There was a framed photo of me next to his jar of pens. I had no idea where he got that photo, or how long he’d had it out on display, but something about it made my eyes begin to sting. I thought of all the sweet little emails he used to send me from that desk.

  Paul had tried for long after I left him this morning, but there was simply no saving Sixteen. Emily had killed him. That’s how it felt, anyway, and here I was, totally powerless to do anything about it. Because no matter how I felt, or how Paul felt, all Emily had done was damage some property.

  Wreck-Tech, we’d discovered, was still perfectly legal to use. My mother had taken steps, just a few days earlier in fact, to bring in a mandatory sentence for owning, selling or using it, but it would be weeks before it made it through the system.

  I wasn’t totally oblivious to Emily’s feelings. I knew that in a way, Sixteen’s existence had seemed like intolerable cruelty to her. Sixteen had looked just like Max. His appearance and – as I found out this morning – a great deal of his personality, too, had been modelled on my friend. And yet he had developed a crush on me, not Emily. It must have broken her heart. But I refused to believe that this was what had broken her mind – because her mind was broken. The Emily I used to know would never have behaved that way.

  ‘I’ll get you a cheese toastie,’ I said, standing up. ‘That’ll help.’

  Paul looked tearfully at me. ‘There’s some Stinking Warlock in the fridge. Could you grate a little bit of that in with the cheddar?’

  ‘Of course I could,’ I said, ruffling his hair and walking to the kitchen. Shane and Finn were seated together, Finn with his feet up on the table as he read through Shane’s latest report.

  ‘“The force exerted during strangling was exceptionally strong …”’ Finn’s voice trailed off and he looked at me. ‘I just don’t get this, Wanda. We’ve even had that wizard from Riddler’s Edge in to consult. Greg. He can’t pick any magic up in the vault where Bess was killed, or in the cell with Kilian Berry. No aura traces, either. And as to how Kilian was killed … Shane thinks it was a death spell.’

  I glanced at the healer, who nodded. ‘I don’t just think. I know. Kilian Berry was killed with a death spell. But a death spell done by … who? What? A ghost? A witch-vampire hybrid? Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘There has to be something we’re missing here. Even the Dark Team couldn’t manage to send a death spell at someone inside a Witchfield prison cell.’

  I sliced Paul’s cheddar – remembering to grate some Stinking Warlock, too – and then I arranged it all between two slices of bread and placed it into the toaster-press. ‘Have you guys ever heard of the Mage Monks?’ I asked.

  Finn snorted. ‘Everyone’s heard of them. Same way every human kid and weredog has heard of Santa Claus. Doesn’t mean either of them exist.’

  ‘I think Candace Plimpton might disagree with you on that one,’ I said with a smile. ‘She’s still convinced Santa Claus stepped in to deliver all that privilege jewellery last year – and I tend to believe it myself. I also tend to believe in the Mage Monks – or the kind of magic they’re rumoured to do, anyway. I mean, don’t they have ways of killing people from thousands of miles away? They don’t have to be in the room with someone to use their power. If they can do that, maybe they could get through the protective wards at Witchfield, too.’

  Shane looked up at me. ‘That professor – Erik Shannon – is he the one filling your head with this stuff?’

  I sat down while I waited for Paul’s toastie to cook. ‘Professor Shannon is a very difficult man, but the spells he’s been teaching us are making me think that complicated long-distance magic is possible. That Greg guy from Riddler’s Edge? He never gets it wrong. If he says that there are no discernible traces of magic or auras in the room with Bess, and none in the cell with Kilian … then we should believe him. So what does that leave? Greg can pick up on Púca and fae auras now, right?’

  Shane nodded reluctantly. ‘Yeah, but only just. It’s new tech, Wanda. Experimental, really. It’s possible that this time, he is wrong.’

  ‘But more likely he’s not,’ I argued. ‘And if fae magic and Púca magic are out of the picture, then shouldn’t we at least consider that Mage Monks might be real?’

  Finn looked like he was about to tell me all of the reasons why Mage Monks couldn’t possibly exist, when his phone buzzed. He read through a message, and his eyes widened. ‘It’s a text from Will Berry. He managed to find out what hotel the College Board are staying at.’ He stood up and downed his glass of cola in two big gulps. ‘Fancy coming along, Wanda?’

  I grinned. ‘Of course I do – you know how I love to annoy those people.’

  ≈

  ‘This is my first time in Wondermare,’ I said to Finn as we stood on a coast road in County Kerry, backs turned to the sunset. ‘It’s … it’s not really what I expected.’

  Finn grimaced. ‘My mother used to take me on holiday here when I was a kid. There were magical sandcastle competitions, and she’d try and make me cheat to win.’

  I scratched my head, looking away from him. Carmel Plimpton, Finn’s mother, was one of my least favourite people in the world. She was one of his least favourite people too, but she was still his mammy, so I wasn’t about to tear her down.

  There was no one on the beach today, but all of the expensive cafés and boutiques along the coast were filled with well-dressed supernaturals. There were some enormous yachts docked, too. This might be a small enclave, but it was clearly a rich one. I watched as a child, walking along the road with his father, screamed out, ‘This is a crappy broom! I want a new one!’ before snapping the broom in two.

  I gasped. ‘That’s one of the most expensive brooms around!’

  Finn nodded miserably. ‘Sure is. But look where they’re going now.’

  I followed his eyes, and father and spoiled son walked into a shop called Braggs Brooms – If You Need to Ask the Price, You Can’t Afford It.

  I shuddered. No wonder my mother hated this enclave so much. A little up the road, I could see our destination, Braggs of Wondermare Flying Golf Club. ‘Braggs again?’

  ‘Their coven own everything in Wondermare.’

  ‘I think I’ve heard my mother mention them. I heard her mention flying golf, too, but I always thought she was joking. It’s really a thing?’

  ‘My mam plays it,’ he said. ‘Basically, you sit on your broom so you don’t even have to walk in between holes. Anyway, come on. We might catch them out on the course, take them by surprise.’

  As we headed for the club, I could see that there was very little chance of catching the board members out on the course. It was well lit, and it would have been quite safe to play this late in the evening, but nevertheless the course was empty. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I thought as we headed towards a swanky looking club house and hotel. Just like Riddler’s Cove Flying Club, most of the action probably took place in the bar.

  As we headed towards the reception desk, I saw a woman with a whole lot of blusher, and earrings that could sink the Titanic. She lifted her nose, sniffed, and said, ‘You’re not members of this club.’

  Finn ignored her snootiness, and simply pulled out a list of names and placed it before her. ‘I need the room numbers of these people, please.’

  She shook her head, her enormous diamond earrings rattling. ‘Here at Braggs of Wondermare, we respect our guests and their right to privacy.’

  Finn gritted his teeth. ‘If you’re going to give me some spiel about client confidentiality, then can it, please. I’m a Wayfarer, so give me their room numbers. Now.’

  She picked up a phone, dialled one single digit, and proceeded to mumble. After a minute or so, the mumbling ended, and she dropped the receiver and leaned across the desk. ‘Actually,’ she whispered, ‘seeing as you’re here … maybe you and your little assistant should come and check out those rooms.’

  ≈

  Finn and I stood in the doorway, both our jaws unhinged. There was a woman, lying out on a chaise longue, with a glass of flat champagne next to her and a racy book lying open on her stomach. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t enjoying either the champagne or the book. She’d never be enjoying either of those things again.

  I only knew she was a woman because I recognised her vivid black hair. This was Arabella Albright, one of the members of the College Board. Or at least it had been Arabella. Now, her skin and flesh were quickly wasting away, and Arabella was little more than a skeleton.

  Hers was the twelfth and final room Finn and I had visited, all belonging to members of the board, and in each and every room we had found the occupants in the same skeletal state.

  Finn re-hinged his jaw, and glared at the receptionist. ‘How long have you known these people were dead?’

  She held her nose high. ‘Does it matter? Dead is dead.’

  He ground his teeth together, then said, ‘Answer me, or I arrest you. And just so you know – the surroundings in our holding pens aren’t quite what you’re used to.’

  ‘Fine. But just so you know, we have other guests to think of, and the Braggs of Wondermare will not be getting embroiled in whatever scandal this is. It happened last night. Well … in the early hours of the morning, I should say. One or two of the guests called for room service. When our staff members arrived with their food and drink, they were already in this state.’ Somehow, her nose titled even higher, and her diamonds rattled once more. ‘The Braggs of Wondermare are not responsible for this. As a matter of fact, our assessor has just declared that none of our food, or heating, or air filtration systems were to blame.’

  Finn’s reaction was a truly fascinating thing to watch. Somehow, he managed not to actually strangle her. But while his hands might not have moved, I could see that he had just murdered her, and every other member of the Braggs coven, in his mind.

  ‘You checked out your liability before reporting this?’ He took in a deep breath. ‘Well check this. Your club is closed. I’ll be setting up to question people in one of your conference rooms, and locking the whole place down.’

  As she scurried off, I moved closer to Finn. ‘You know what this looks like, right?’

  He closed his eyes, put his hands to his head, and sighed. ‘Yeah. I know what it looks like. It looks like someone has drained these witches of their power and their lives.’

  14. Emily’s the Boss

  I could hear Emily and Max in the kitchen when I arrived home, so I took my time shrugging off my coat. I was exhausted, I was scared, and I was sincerely thinking of looking into moving to another dimension. There had to be one good one, right? One where everyone got along with one another and didn’t carry out acts of unspeakable evil?

  We had no idea who had drained the members of the board. Just like we had no idea who killed Bess. Or Kilian. But I knew one thing – an enormous amount of people had just been murdered, meaning that the second of the rituals might already be complete.

  Finn was rushing around the club even now, desperately trying to discover the killer, while I … I was hoping for a flash of inspiration that would lead me to the truth. And if that flash didn’t come, then I was going to stick out a thumb and hitch a ride to the aforementioned perfect dimension.

  As I hung my coat on the stand, I noticed a large black bag on the floor below it. I glanced at the kitchen door. It was shut tight, so I quietly opened the bag and looked through. As I did, my face fell. This was every single gift I’d ever given to Max. Books, clothes, and even the wizard-made stationery box I’d bought him the Christmas before.

  I pulled the box out and stomped my way into the kitchen.

  ‘Hey Max,’ I said, then added, ‘Hey Emily,’ in a darker tone, holding up the stationery box. ‘How come all of this stuff is out in the hall?’

  Max’s face reddened, and he looked down at his hands. ‘It’s … I’m just getting rid of some stuff. Giving it to charity.’

  ‘But … you love this stationery box. I got you this.’

  Emily turned to me and smirked. ‘He only said he loved it to be nice. Max is far too nice for his own good, Wanda. But I’ll tell you the truth. That present was tacky. Everything that you’ve ever bought him is tacky. Anyway, I’m getting rid of all of Max’s stationery as it happens. No one needs that many pens and pencils. It’s ridiculous.’

  I stared at her. ‘It’s not ridiculous,’ I protested. ‘Max loves stationery, and he loves this box. But if you think that the things he loves are ridiculous, then I’m beginning to wonder why you’d even want to be with him.’

  She steeled her jaw, narrowed her eyes, and turned back to the cooker. ‘We’re about to sit down to dinner together,’ she said. ‘We’ve not made enough for three. Especially if the third has an appetite as big as yours.’

  My mouth hung open, and I turned to Max. ‘I’m going to ignore the fact that your robot murdering girlfriend is being even ruder than usual,’ I said. ‘And I don’t want to have dinner with you, either.’ I waved the stationery box in the air. ‘But I’m keeping this, for when you come back to your senses. Oh, and I also think you ought to know that Wolfie is with Mack and Melissa right now. They’ll be taking him over to Jasper’s for the night.’ I narrowed my eyes at Emily. ‘Seeing as it seems like he’s no longer welcome here.’

  Emily concentrated on the meal she was dishing up. It looked like … lamb chops?

  ‘Um … what are you making, Emily?’

  ‘You have eyes.’

  ‘But Max is a vegan. Like almost every other weredog in the world.’

  Emily shrugged. ‘I’m sick of eating rabbit food. I need something more meaty, y’know. And if Max doesn’t like it, he can always nibble on a carrot stick.’

  ‘And is that okay with you, Max? Emily cooking meat in your kitchen? Getting rid of every present I’ve ever bought you, too. Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that she’s kicked out Wolfie, who you love more than life itself.’

  Max hung his head low. ‘Emily’s the boss,’ he said, still refusing to meet my eyes.

  I glanced at Emily. Her right leg was jumping up and down, and there was sweat on her brow. She was sucking back saliva, too. I’d been convinced she was doing something to Max, but now I wondered if she’d done something to herself, too.

  ‘I’ll be going out in a while,’ I said. ‘But I’ll be dropping Dizzy and Terrence off at Wayfarers’ Rest first. Just in case the robot killer decides to have another outburst.’

  I didn’t wait for a reply, just bounded up the stairs. As I passed by Max’s open bedroom, I cupped a hand to my ear, just to check no one would be coming upstairs anytime soon – by the sounds of it, Emily was telling a long and boring story about her sugar supplier, so I figured there was time.

  I stared through his doorway for a moment, feeling guilty about what I was about to do. Just a few short days ago, Max and I had been so close. Now … now he was a stranger. I knew Emily had done something to him. Something even worse than when she’d used that Eau de Wolf perfume to make him more attracted to her. But I needed proof before I could accuse her. As much as I hated to go behind his back, I wasn’t sure there was another option.

  I crept into Max’s room and grabbed his comb, pulling out some hairs and securing them inside a small plastic baggy. As I shook the hairs about, I realised that they’d been sharing the comb. Maybe having Emily’s hair along with his might not be such a bad thing.

  ‘Ooh, are you up to some crime solving?’ Terrence said in a booming voice, poking his head out of my bag. He had a book called How to Catch a Criminal open on my e-reader.

  ‘Shush!’ I said, legging it into my own room. ‘It’s a secret.’

  ‘Well, you can’t possibly think Max is the murderer. Emily now, I could definitely see her murdering Bess. I could see her murdering an orphanage full of bright-eyed children in fact. She’s not a pleasant girl. Perhaps we should slip her a truth potion. The sleuths in Poison Petals did that, and the truth came out.’