Feverfew and False Friends Page 3

  “Did Jesse come into the bakery?” I asked.

  Tristan’s forehead creased and a careless lock of reddish-brown hair slipped downwards before he brushed it back into place. “No… but his name might have been mentioned in passing.”

  I shook my head and swore under my breath before apologising to Tristan. “He just doesn’t know when to stay quiet. He’s going to get himself arrested!”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?” Tristan said, his mouth curving up on one side.

  “He does have it coming,” I confessed, finding that I was smiling back at him.

  We stood for a moment in a comfortable silence, just two friends sharing some time of the day together. I offered Tristan a tea, pushing it on him by saying I was thinking of using it as next month’s special at the bakery. He accepted and followed me through to the kitchen, where I put the kettle on.

  It was only then that I realised he seemed to be hovering near me, wanting to say something.

  I tilted my head questioningly at him.

  “I was just wondering about us…” he began, but I never got the chance to hear the end of the sentence.

  Jesse burst into the shop, flinging open the door with such panache that I was surprised not to find cameras filming the whole debacle, like some sort of twisted sitcom of my life. I would be the character who was the butt of every joke.

  “And now the drama begins! I should have brought popcorn,” Hemlock said from somewhere unseen up on a shelf in the shop. He was always spying on everything that went on. “Three gentleman callers in one day! That’s almost unseemly.”

  I frowned at my cat’s words. I’d warned him in the past about his television viewing habits, but it would appear that he’d swapped teen movies for Pride and Prejudice. Sometimes it was best to pretend that Hemlock was just a particularly annoying voice in my head and ignore him. Technically, that’s what he was.

  “Surprised to see me?” Jesse said with a broad grin, before noticing that Tristan was standing next to me. Jesse gave him the barest of nods, something which Tristan returned in kind. I had to conceal my surprise. The bakery owner was usually so warm to everyone, but Jesse definitely had a way of getting under your skin once you’d got to know him… and not in a good way.

  “Surprised to see you outside a prison cell after you’ve been blabbing about the crime scene all around town? Yes,” I finished for him.

  Jesse brushed his already perfectly placed dark hair. “I do not blab. And no, I meant surprised to see that I haven’t been dragged in for questioning. I think our local police force have finally realised that I’m not the bad guy.”

  I rolled my eyes before I could help myself. After Jesse had confessed that he was literally a devil, claiming that he was ‘not the bad guy’ was something I took with a great big pinch of salt.

  “The police are busy trying to find poor Helen. I’m sure they’ll drag you back in when they’re ready… especially when they find out that you’ve been spreading gossip.”

  Jesse leaned against the counter and cocked his head at me. “You keep saying these things about me and I have no idea why. What makes you think I’ve said anything to anyone about what we were up to this morning?” He winked at me in full view of Tristan. For the umpteenth time, I resisted the urge to strangle him.

  He slid away from the counter and wandered around the shop, pausing to examine things as he went. “In all honesty, I think we’re each other’s alibis. We found the scene together.” He looked up at me with his amber eyes. “If we go down, we’ll go down together. Isn’t that romantic?”

  “It’s moronic,” I said with a quick sideways glance in Tristan’s direction. We were still in our fake relationship together (which only we were supposed to know was fake) but Jesse was making a mockery of us both, and I knew he was doing it deliberately. I was surprised to observe that Tristan’s hands balled up by his sides for a second, before relaxing again. He wasn’t someone I’d ever imagined would have violent impulses.

  Jesse’s mouth twisted, the way it always seemed to when he got one over someone. “To be fair, I think the police don’t believe that whatever it was that got Helen was human. That means you and I get a free pass.”

  “Not human? Do the police think it’s an animal - like the animal that attacked Bridgette Spellsworth after she died?” Tristan jumped in.

  I did my best to not look at Jesse. Whilst the very human culprit had been found in the recent murder of the Wormwood fortuneteller, rumours of an animal attack had spread through the non-supernatural community. Although I knew the real story behind it, and the police had done everything they could to reassure the public that there was no dangerous animal at large, it was clear that Helen’s disappearance had added fuel to a fire that didn’t need much stoking to get going again.

  “I think the police are still at the early stages of their investigation. No one should jump to any conclusions,” I said, seeking neutral ground between the two men.

  “It was someone human who wrote that letter,” Jesse agreed.

  I shot him an exasperated look. So much for him not being a blabbermouth!

  “What letter?” Tristan was curious enough to ask Jesse a direct question.

  “A poison pen style letter. Someone wrote one to Helen. And judging by the envelope on the counter, Hazel got one, too,” Jesse said, causing my lips to thin even further. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Tristan, but Sean Admiral had specifically told me to keep my mouth shut and Jesse was well on his way to painting me as the one who’d slipped up.

  “You haven’t received a letter, have you?” I said to Tristan, giving up any further pretence of not knowing what Jesse was talking about.

  “No. What kind of thing do they say?” Tristan looked genuinely concerned for me - which was more than could be said for Jesse.

  “They seem to make a threat to reveal a secret you’re keeping to everyone in Wormwood, followed by an action you’re supposed to undertake in order to appease the writer. In my case, the writer threatened to reveal the identity of my father. It proves that, whoever it is, they probably don’t know me well, because anyone close to me would know that I’ve wanted to know the answer to that for a long time. As for the threat, they wanted me to stop publishing the magazine and being nosy.” I smiled at Tristan. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from that.” I bit my tongue as soon as I said it, realising the faux pas after this morning’s crime scene. Jesse laughed under his breath. Evidently he didn’t have a ‘too soon for jokes’ filter.

  The shop lapsed into a strange silence. Jesse had sidled back over to lean against the counter in a permanent sort of manner that hinted he wasn’t intending to go anywhere soon, and Tristan was in the kitchen with me and an un-drunk tea.

  It was Tristan who broke first, placing down the tea and giving me an apologetic look. “I should be getting back to the bakery. I’ll see you soon,” he said, doing everything he could to ignore the curiously watching Jesse. I wasn’t so good at playing along and threw Jesse the dirtiest glare I could muster when I felt him observing us. I knew he was waiting to see if we were going to put on a show.

  “I’ll let you know when I’m free of unwanted visitors,” I replied, not caring that the person I was talking about was eavesdropping on every word.

  “Yeah! Throw those verbal punches. That will show him,” my infinitely sarcastic cat commented from his hidden hiding place.

  Tristan reached across and rested his hand on my shoulder for just a second in a gesture I recognised as completely genuine, before he let it slip off and turned and walked across the shop and out the door. He paused to wave at me before shutting it behind him.

  “Not even a goodbye for me? I have to say, I don’t think much of the company you’re keeping, Hazel. I’m surprised you’d pick someone that rude to be your ‘boyfriend’.” He used his fingers to make quotation marks around the last word.

  “Ask around. I”m sure you’ll discover that Tristan is one of the friendliest
and best liked members of this community. You must have really rubbed him the wrong way.” I raised my eyebrows at Jesse.

  “Uh-huh. It’s completely unclear why he dislikes me so much,” Jesse said, drenching his voice in sarcasm. My brain told me to pause for a second and consider whatever it was he was trying to imply, but I didn’t get a chance to think before he dropped a fresh bombshell.

  “I was actually going to tell you this when we were out walking together this morning, but one thing led to another, and before you know it, we’ve stumbled on another crime scene!” Jesse grinned like it was all one big joke to him. “My big news of the day was going to be that I’ve acquired Hellion Gray’s old shop. I’m setting up a permanent base for my private detective business. You know… for real.” He winked at me.

  I felt my towering disapproval looming over everything. Even though it was hard to find anything out at all about Jesse, I’d definitely realised was that he almost certainly wasn’t a ‘real’ private detective. But then… what kind of qualifications did a person need to do that job? Perhaps premises and a sharp mind was all it took. Now it would appear that Jesse had one of those two things. “Good luck with it,” I said, as mildly as I could.

  “Thanks,” Jesse said, coming closer and leaning against the kitchen table. He was apparently incapable of standing unsupported today. “Look at us… just two ordinary businesspeople in an ordinary town.” He smirked.

  I folded my arms. I had better things to do than joke around with a man I still suspected was playing some sort of long game.

  He cleared his throat and I realised that his new shop wasn’t the big news he’d wanted to share. There was something more.

  “I was wondering if you felt like coming along with me on some of the cases. I was thinking you could write it all down - chronicle our adventures. It would be fun.” He gave me a dazzling smile - the one he used to charm people. Jesse’s charms had worn off long ago as far as I was concerned.

  “You want me to be Dr Watson to your Holmes?” I couldn’t believe I was hearing this.

  He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to liken myself to Sherlock Holmes. But thank you for the compliment!”

  I felt my hands ball up by my sides - Jesse definitely seemed to have that effect on people. “I’m not your sidekick.” If anyone was a side-something, it was Jesse. He was a thorn in my side.

  “I know it’s a lot to think over. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Drop by the shop anytime! I’ll show you around… maybe we could talk about some of those questions you’re always asking, too,” he said, trying to bait me. When I didn’t react, he nodded his annoyingly perfect hair at me and swaggered out of the shop before I could tell him what I really thought about his ‘offer’.

  “A sidekick! How dare he?” I muttered.

  “But you’re already so good at it!” Hemlock contributed from his spying spot. “Hemlock and Hazel… the magical dream team.”

  I frowned. In what world was I Hemlock’s sidekick? He’d clearly been at the catnip again.

  4

  The Devil you Know

  I hated to admit it, but Jesse had annoyed me into finally taking action.

  Back when he had hit me with the revelation that he was a devil, I’d done what any self-respecting modern sleuth would do and had gone to the internet in search for answers. But the internet search had come back with a slew of insipid-looking fantasy books and not much else. Much in the way I hadn’t been able to find out about Wormwood’s folklore by searching online, I suspected the answer to at least some of my questions about Jesse were hidden somewhere other than on the first page of Google.

  Like in my mother’s collection of black magic books.

  Being a curious child, I’d found them hidden behind the more pleasant herbal and hedge witch spell books on the shelf. I still remembered opening one of them and flipping between the pages and seeing some truly harrowing illustrations of the things curses could do to the person you put them on - like cause certain parts to rot away, or inflict eternal agony. It had given me nightmares for years. I certainly wasn’t in any hurry - even now - to go poking about again. Especially now I knew that these curses were all very real.

  But better the devil you know than the one you can’t stalk on social media.

  I steeled myself for some disgusting drawings and sickening spells and removed the outer layer of spell books from the shelf by the old family computer in order to get to the secret stuff behind it.

  I kept an ear out for anyone coming into the shop whilst I spent the next two hours searching the books. Only a couple of people ventured in. The rest of my clientele, I was certain, were congregating elsewhere to discuss the newest mystery to strike Wormwood.

  I put all of it out of my mind and focused on solving my own mystery.

  The books were better than the internet. I found the story of the Devil’s Jumps written in one of them. In another, I discovered an interesting passage about what a devil actually is, how to summon one, and how to know it when it arrived.

  In many ways, devils are one of the least adept users of magic. They do not have a wide range of abilities and their skills cover only transporting themselves magically between places, their charming manner (similar to that of a vampiric glamour), and finally, their ability to make magically binding deals. It is not known how or why these deal makers came to be, but whilst they have a reputation for being tricksters, it is impossible to say whether they are inherently evil. With this in mind, it is advised that any person wishing to summon a devil to seek something they desire, does so with the utmost level of caution. A summoning spell follows below. Once you have summoned one of their kind, you will know it by its charming voice and its striking amber eyes.

  I heard my breath hiss between my teeth when I read that last part. I’d worked out there was something strange going on when I’d briefly observed a female devil making a deal with the mayor. I’d been struck by her amber gaze, but it was quite another thing to see it in writing. I had the eyes of a devil.

  It is claimed that their unusual eyes give them the ability to see what normal magic-folk cannot, but the truth of this is impossible to verify, and may be a devil’s boast. A final word of warning - never cross a devil once a deal has been made, lest you want all of hell’s fury on your tail!

  Hell’s fury? I thought, baffled by the last line. To be honest, I was baffled by a lot of it, but at the same time, there wasn’t much that I hadn’t already figured out.

  Jesse was probably evil and one-hundred-percent a trickster.

  He used his magical charms to manipulate others.

  And for some reason, I had eyes that allegedly marked me as being a devil - something I was certain I wasn’t. The only deals I made were two for one on tea that was approaching its best before date. While that was a great deal, it wasn’t the kind of thing the book was referring to.

  It was far from illuminating.

  I shut the books in annoyance and wondered if they were the sort of thing you could give to a charity shop.

  Probably not.

  Things were ominously quiet for the rest of the day and the start of the next one. Even the gossip didn’t have much substance to it. I took that to mean that, beyond the baffling disappearance and the signs of a struggle, the police hadn’t found out anything more about Helen Regal’s disappearance.

  I spared a thought for her partner and daughter who were missing a partner and a mother. I knew it wasn’t the same, but I felt I understood a fraction of what they might be going through, due to Aunt Linda also being missing and at an undisclosed location. I didn’t think the Witch Council would go so far as to kill her, but lifetime imprisonment in a secret detention camp felt like the same thing. What if they’d done something terrible to punish her for the slime incident? I really needed to get up to speed on Witch Council law… whatever it may be.

  I was still wondering if my mother had a book on that when my mobile phone rang. I glanced d
own and wasn’t too surprised to see that a member of my coven was calling. What was a little more unusual was that it was Sarah. I’d expected there to be panic over Helen, but not from one of the older and more sensible members.

  “Hazel, I have to tell you something,” she said breathlessly when I answered. I hadn’t even got a chance to say hello.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked in that stupid way you do, even when it is abundantly clear that everything is not okay.

  “It’s about your family… I think I’ve found something out, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone,” she began to say but was interrupted by the sound of a doorbell ringing. “Hang on, someone’s at the door.”

  I heard the sound of her footsteps and the door opening.

  “Hello! What are you doing here?” she asked in a cheery sort of way, before her voice came louder again as she returned the phone to her ear. “Can you meet me at my house as soon as possible? I don’t like to do this to you, dear, but it is rather important…” She hung up before I could reply.

  I stood in the shop looking at my phone and wondered what on earth could have suddenly put such a bee in Sarah’s bonnet. I knew she’d been very close to my mother in the past, before, inevitably, my mother had done something to turn that friendship sour. I’d been glad that the other witch had never seemed to bear me any ill will, but this sudden development was… strange.

  I knew it was probably borne of false hope, but what if my mother had confided something secret… like the identity of my father? With the new mysteries about my strange magical abilities and the way my eyes were the same as a devil’s, I was more eager than ever to find out the truth.