The Howling Hag Mystery, page 7
Raven leapt to her feet. ‘Just being here is creeping me out. Can we go?’
We started to wind our way back, Morti unstoppably full of ideas and questions.
‘Ooh,’ he said, his eyes gleaming. ‘How about this. Is the stone that was stolen magical? Ella showed it me and it was weird and glittery.’
‘Someone just happened to find a magical stone lying around?’ I said.
‘Don’t see why not, especially here in Twinhills where all these witches secretly hang about. Although Ella got proper upset, you know, after that trick with her shoes, and then her stone. Bianca was kind and found her another even shinier stone the next day and then Ella wasn’t so bothered. So I guess probably not magical.’
Raven shrugged. ‘If we had the stone we could have looked into whether there was anything magical about it that would make it worth stealing.’
Morti wanted to know how.
‘It’s my mum’s skill – detecting magic,’ Raven said. ‘Using magic leaves ripples in the air. She uses this special bracelet to see them and work out what magic’s been used. That enables her to break curses. But we don’t have the stone.’
‘Morti could be right,’ I said. ‘The theft might not have been about the money at all. If we could find where that stone is…’
Morti looked pleased for a second, then groaned again. In fact, he moaned the whole walk back. ‘She’d have to get near that box. I get that. I still say this Howling Hag could be hiding in the woods, she could be taking some sort of revenge. But how is she getting into school without anyone noticing? Even if she looks like anyone. Invisibility? You’re going to tell me that’s not real either. Operation Pickles. We’re only on Alpha Phase and already it’s impossible.’
‘It’s a good point and actually, I do have a little theory.’ I snaked my tail. ‘One I should probably mention.’ I didn’t think this is what they mean by saving the best until last, but they needed to know.
‘As long as it’s some good news. Preferably something that gets us out of interrogating old Odorless,’ said Morti. ‘I haven’t forgotten that part.’
‘It’s more of a warning,’ I said. ‘One explanation for all these curses is that it is slightly possible that… someone has inherited the Howling Hag’s magic.’
‘Inherited?’ Raven looked as terrified as if Mr Odorless had appeared.
‘How does that work?’ asked Morti as we reached the high street and burst back out into dazzling sunshine.
‘Someone in Twinhills, someone at your school, could be a descendant of the Howling Hag,’ I said quietly.
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Morti. ‘That’s why you keep saying that witches can look like anyone. That’s why no one is seen sneaking into the school. I get it! That’s what you mean by narrowing down our suspects? We shouldn’t just talk to Mr Odorless, Aaliyah, Carsen, Rookery, Bianca, Miss Percy or Miss Sunny to find out if they saw anything as they were the ones at the scene of the crime – you’re saying one of them actually is the Howling Hag?’
13. Operation Pickles – Alpha Phase
Raven had tried so many kinds of magic. She’d tried to blow out candles with her mind. She’d tried to lock doors with a charm where all you had to do was learn to say the right words – drusyn caw-giflyn. It felt about as magical as chewing a tough bit of meat. And about as successful. The locks didn’t so much as squeak.
Mum never lost patience, but simply passed over more spells that were scratched on well-worn scrolls of parchment curling at the edges. Spells based on so many different magical affinities it made Raven’s head swim. Mum said they were all simple enough to have kick-started the magic of hundreds of sorcerers throughout the ages. Just not Raven’s.
Another day, yet another type of magic. And Raven could do none of it.
Yesterday, just before they’d let Nightshade head off for her daily salmon feast at the Maudlins’, Morti had made them come up with a strategy for Operation Pickles. They’d agreed to each take one of the suspects. Nightshade and Morti had argued, but finally agreed they would take on fearsome Mr Odorless together. They’d sneak in and search his house for clues, only because this was slightly less terrifying than having to interrogate him. Raven had been cowardly, shrinking at even the idea of breaking into Tidy House.
If she was serious about trying to expose any new witch determined to stir up magical trouble in Twinhills, she should have been the one to do the breaking in. Yet she had left that job to Morti Scratch and the talking cat.
Well, she would just have to make a really good job of another part of Alpha Phase – to comb all the magical books she could for all available intel to help them defeat the Howling Hag – or her descendant.
Oh. And investigate her own sister.
Mum would be out most of today and Raven said she’d head to Knox’s. Instead, once she heard Rookery and Bianca chattering in the lane that wove up to Bianca’s, Rookery getting updates on the latest hamster news, Raven secretly slipped back into a silent and empty house. This was her chance.
She twirled the shiny finial on the side of the fireplace that made the bookcase revolve and revealed the room where Mum kept the tools of her trade – including a generous selection of magical books. She was determined to track down the Howling Hag’s connection with Twinhills and find out what had happened to her.
Asking Mum would only lead to awkward questions Raven couldn’t possibly answer, not without it all spilling out just how many secrets Raven was keeping. There was the horrible fact that Raven had utterly blown Denying Everything. This made Raven go hot and then cold. Then there was her constant fear that Rookery’s magic was somehow involved in what was happening at school. This was before she even started on the terrible thought that she was close to admitting she had no magic. She could not even imagine a future without it.
She heaved A Most Utterly Comprehensive History of Magical Folk Ever off the shelf and started turning its two thousand pages.
Mostly she read these books hoping for a spark, some flicker of recognition of what magic she might be able to do. She knew about charms and curses; Mum specialized in those. She had learnt about magical science – disguising magic within everyday objects (like a specolens that Snapdragon had built to keep an eye on who might be coming to call at Dandelion Cottage). Really powerful magical artefacts were the sort of treasured objects that only the very wealthy could afford and only very skilled magical scientists could create.
More and more she was drawn to read about the magical frauds. Like Professor Perfidious. He had sold thousands of bottles of his truth potion before someone tricked him into drinking his own spell and asked him how it worked. He could pretend it had worked, he had been charmed, and he was compelled to tell the truth… but whatever potion recipe he gave wouldn’t work when someone else made it, revealing he was a fraud. Or he could refuse to tell, but that was only going to reveal that his own potion didn’t work and he didn’t have a clue how to do any magic… and he would be revealed as a fraud anyway.
Whichever he chose was going mark the end of a lucrative business.
Within the space of twenty-four hours, Professor Perfidious went from being a rich and successful man to a confused and broken one and he was offered a room at the Retreat for the Magically Impaired and Disappointed. Raven had begun to feel she was going to end up there if her magic didn’t kick in soon.
She turned more pages. What was the Howling Hag’s story? Could she have a descendant living among them in Twinhills? Raven turned pages more feverishly. But the Howling Hag had been either too daft or too devious to make it into the books of notable witches and wizards. Her only place in history appeared to be that she’d had an inn named after her. This was going to be another thing Raven was going to fail at.
Pretty much everything made Raven feel that she had a rip of wrong inside of her. The only way to deal with it had been to give that hollow place a name. The Not Good Enough hole. Neg, she’d started calling it, because she wasn’t even good at acronyms.
Neg niggled inside her right now, telling her the Howling Hag was notorious enough to have an inn named after her, so she should be able to find her.
Why couldn’t she? Because she was useless at everything, that was why.
She closed the heavy book with a snap. She pressed the finial to slide back the revolving bookcase and hide the secret room, hating to admit she’d failed. But she had another task she needed to do while the house was empty.
She had promised to investigate her sister and she could not miss her chance and fail at that too.
The Howling Hag had stolen Ella’s sparkly green stone and the twenty pounds from a locked box. All Raven had to do to prove Rookery’s innocence was tell the others she did not have the stone, or the money. Or anything that might link her to the terrible death of Mr Pickles. Or anything that might prove she had come up with any sort of spell to make Sam Carruthers burn his hand, or make the warning I am here and I am going to eat you appear on Miss Sunny’s board.
Raven reached into her pocket and touched what she had rescued from the fire. She would think about that later.
Even though she was alone in the house, Raven paused at the top of the stairs to listen for a moment before sneaking into her sister’s neat room.
She knew the sort of places Rookery would hide something. She started with the chest of drawers, moved quickly to the bedside table and under the mattress and behind a shelf of her sister’s books.
Rookery possessed such a very useful sort of magic. She could move things just by focusing and thinking hard. It was magic that didn’t need a secret room, years of learning, or lots of standing around cauldrons.
Rookery was destined to become famous for her incredible magic. Raven would get a job like Dad, one where you had to know your times tables and the capitals of ever so many countries.
But Rookery could not be responsible for the curse on the school.
Yet as Raven tackled the wardrobe, it was bothering her that Rookery no longer talked about what troubled her. When she and Raven used to talk about everything, Rookery had explained that things often happened without her even meaning them. Like that boy who’d been bullying a small kid when they’d been at Fivetors. He’d fallen flat on his face in the mud and everyone had laughed. Was that cruel or kind?
Raven delved further, unable to stop herself thinking of that little trouble with Henry Figgins. Rookery had been putting the finishing touches to one of her best-ever paintings when Henry had spilled dirty water for cleaning brushes all over it. Accidents do happen, he’d said.
Henry was best in the school at science, as well as being the much-envied holder of the ‘Knobbliest Knees’ trophy (awarded annually at the Fivetors and Twinhills Annual Horticultural Carnival). Yet he was most proud of his arty picture of a starlit sky, entitled Night Sky. It had been awarded first prize at the Twinhills School Photography Club Competition.
Rookery had screwed up her ruined picture and told Henry she didn’t mind. But then, suddenly, Henry somehow squirted himself with pink paint. It was just before he was about to accept his Best Photograph rosette and certificate in assembly. Well, accidents do happen.
Raven finally found what she was hunting for: Rookery’s box of treasures hidden in a shoe box right in the bottom of her wardrobe, under an untidy pile of colourful jumpers it was far too hot to wear at the moment. Raven took out the box. Rookery had used it to collect things on their adventures in Beechy Wood; a shimmering tail feather, a once-shiny conker.
She hoped against all hope that she would not lift the lid and see that stone, or the twenty pounds. Or any other signs that her sister had got herself involved in something bad.
She had just lifted the lid when the sound of the front door opening made her jump. But not as much as what she saw in Rookery’s treasures box.
She hadn’t even time to be scared. She replaced the box hurriedly and jumbled some jumpers over it, and ran downstairs where Mum was standing by a book Raven had left out, one Mum would approve of her reading.
‘Oh, well done, Raven, you’ve made a start without me. Sorry I’m late.’
But not as sorry as Raven was.
The second she’d lifted that lid she’d found herself staring at something horrible. Not the stone, not the money, but a mask – a nasty thing, a blank face, with slits for eyes. But more than that. It had a hood that would go right over your head and would completely cover up who you were. You really would not want to come across anyone wearing a mask like that.
What could Rookery possibly be doing with it? Was this magic? If so, it was magic Raven knew nothing of at all.
Now she had yet another secret to keep.
Now she really had no idea what to do.
14. All About Dogs (unfortunately)
Morti should have been here by now. I stretched out along the sun-dappled wall and checked my claws. Where was he? Had he abandoned me to tackle the beast on my own?
We’d had a bit of an argument. That small snappy creature who thought yapping was clever was not something I wanted to run into when I was searching Mr Odorless’s house. Morti and Raven were more worried about old Odorless himself.
Raven had made the very reasonable observation that if Odorless was the Howling Hag’s descendant and was cursing the school, he’d have magical things about and all we had to do was nip into Tidy House and take a quick peek around.
‘Nip into his house?’ echoed Morti.
It was a great idea. ‘Well, don’t look at me,’ I’d protested. ‘He’s got a great big dog.’
‘He’s got some tiny, yappy terrier thing that’s about the size of a rat,’ scoffed Morti.
‘And how scary do you think a dog’s teeth are when you’re my size?’
‘OK, point taken. But er, hang on, Raven – are you seriously suggesting we break into Mr Odorless’s house and search for a cauldron or something?’ Morti had said.
‘Probably not a cauldron,’ mused Raven. ‘He’s more likely to have magical books. And if he’s got Ella’s stone we’ll prove he stole it.’
‘So we sneak into his house and search it for a tiny stone?’ Morti had said. ‘Right, that makes a lot of sense. Can see that’s going to be a big help.’
‘No, of course we don’t have to do that at all,’ I’d said. ‘Not if you’ve got a better suggestion.’
‘You just need a simple plan to make sure Mr Odorless and Titus are out,’ said Raven.
‘All right,’ Morti had groaned. ‘You and me, Nightshade, we’ll be spies. I’ll be the distraction and lookout. You go covert and break into his house. You’ll need to be a stealth cat.’
I’d pinged my claws. ‘I think you’ll find I am always a stealth cat.’
Now I twitched my tail impatiently. This was so not how taking on two human sidekicks was supposed to work out. I was meant to send them to do the sneaking around and the dangerous stuff while I sat and pondered all the fiendish clues between naps.
Morti only lived at the inn next door – what on earth was taking him so long? Because Carsen Samuels was now wandering along, whistling tunelessly, hands in pockets, heading for Mr Odorless’s house. I had little choice but to act.
I slunk off the wall and did the usual. Rubbed around his legs. Carsen was a friendly boy, a nice soft shape like a ripe pear, perhaps not the obvious choice to ask to exercise your dog. Raven had told me he was best in the school at jokes. And the one who never forgot to take marshmallows to share on Miss Percy’s regular fire-lighting and bushcraft sessions. Raven was very good at spotting people’s talents.
I delayed Carsen as long as I could and finally the rickety gate to the inn flung open and Morti tore through, hurtled towards Carsen and skidded to a halt.
‘Hi! You’re off to walk the pooch, aren’t you?’ Morti said breathlessly. ‘I thought I’d come with you.’
What had happened to the carefully constructed plan? Morti was supposed to stroll past at just the moment to make it look as if he was just happening to stop, just to be friendly. I’d told him Carsen was bound to be fed up walking that piece of carpet every day as he only did it because Mr Odorless paid him. Morti was to keep him busy as long as possible.
Not surprisingly, Carsen looked suspicious at this sudden enthusiasm bursting at him from nowhere. I relied on Morti to say the right thing.
‘I thought about an hour, you know. It’s a good length of walk for a dog,’ said Morti. ‘Shall we go?’
I would have put my head in my paws. This lack of basic detectiving skills was making my whiskers ache.
Carsen shrugged and clicked open the gate, and they walked along the straight path lined with white stones that Mr Odorless bleached regularly. The boys were careful not to step on the immaculate square lawn, edged with weed-free borders and waxy geraniums a regulation fifteen centimetres apart.
Carsen let himself in the back door with a key and a low white rug hurled itself out in a frenzy of barking.
This was the trickiest bit. This was the bit we had gone over and over in the plan.
‘Where d’you take him?’ asked Morti, sliding sideways to move between Carsen and the back door. ‘How about Beechy Wood?’ He moved to point and shuffled to block Carsen’s view of the inside of the house. ‘Guess you could throw sticks and stuff in there.’
Carsen turned to look towards the wood behind him and shuddered. ‘I’m not going up there.’ He bent to click on Titus’s lead.
‘Nah. It’s all scuttling and insects, isn’t it? Even the trees make ominous noises, like they’re coming to life. So where are we going?’
Carsen closed the door and locked it. Titus strained and the barking reached fever-pitch. He hurled himself against the door as if the last thing he wanted was to go on a walk. I guessed Titus hadn’t missed what happened. Because the boy had done good. Morti had given me just enough of a moment to play my stealth cat part. I’d slipped inside.
