The Case of the Strange Society, page 1
part #4 of Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery Series
A
Katy Kramer
Cozy Mystery
≈
No. 4:
The Case of the
Strange Society
by A.A. Albright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © A.A. Albright 2020
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
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Website: https://aaalbright.com
Table of Contents
1. Knocking on Heaven’s Door
2. Three Important Somethings
3. Dog Gone
4. Run
5. The Not-So-Hopeless Hollow
6. The Fluffy Professor
7. The Lizard People
8. The Old Ones
9. The Queen of the Night
10. The Fun in Funeral
11. The Garden of Reflection
12. Last Hope Decree
13. The Deep, Deep Down Below
14. A Laugh a Minute
15. How Samhain Street Began
16. Canny as an Alley Cat
17. Bow to the Feline Overlord
18. As Cold as Ice
19. This Sucks
20. The Sweet, Sweet Stench of Ignorance
21. A Scourge to Science
22. Blissful Ignorance
23. As Lovely as a Birthday
24. Let the Pre-Battle Bickering Commence
25. Date Night
26. Sweet Dreams
27. Betrayal
28. Never Look a Gift Ghost in the Mouth
29. The World and My Mother
30. The Nicest Place in the World
1. Knocking on Heaven’s Door
My knuckles were growing raw from all the rapping on the wooden door, and my wrist was beginning to ache from the tugging of the bell. I’d checked out the back entrance, called them on the telephone, tried to find them online … heck, I’d even thrown pebbles at their windows.
It seemed that at the Society of Cacklers, nobody was home.
‘Maybe they know that we know that your great-aunt Jude was here,’ said a doggish voice behind me. ‘Either that or they’ve spent the night clubbing and they cannae drag themselves out of their beds.’
‘Hah, hah.’ I looked at Hamish, standing next to me at the top of a flight of steep, icy steps. We were in a dirty and uninviting porch, standing before a dirty and uninviting door. In his matching dog-jacket and hat, Hamish was the prettiest thing in this place. Then again, if I were a wizard who’d been turned into a dog by a jealous, evil witch, I’d probably dress up every day too – anything to feel a little more human. ‘For all we know, the Cacklers do like to party.’
It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. No one knew much about the Society of Cacklers. The rumours said that they were all about the old ways – sacrifice, cauldrons, fattening up children to chow down on and so on and so forth. They wore black hats and cloaks and had warts on their noses, and yeah, they cackled a lot. But as far as I could tell, cackling and looking scary was about all that they actually did. If there’d been a spate of kids going missing on Samhain Street, someone would have heard of it, right?
‘Fair enough,’ Hamish said, shivering. ‘But I still think it’s more likely that they knew we were on our way, and they’ve decided to scarper before you can unleash your hunter fury upon them.’
‘As if,’ I scoffed. ‘First of all, how would they know we were coming? Second of all, it seemed to me like they actually wanted to have a little chat with me, judging by the way one of their lot was staring creepily at me last week. And thirdly … well, why would a large building filled with witches who are rumoured to chow down on children care about a hunter coming their way?’
Hamish shrugged. ‘You might not know this, but you’re incredibly scary when you’re tired and you havenae brushed your hair. If I saw you looking for me, I’d run and hide, too.’
I put a hand to the mess of auburn curls I called hair. There was a very long and tedious ritual involved if I needed to get them to sit neatly, and this morning I just hadn’t had the time.
Yesterday, we’d discovered that my missing great aunt had a husband and a family in the semi-supernatural town known as Riddler’s Edge. We’d also learned that she hadn’t seen any of them in almost a year. This wasn’t unusual for her, apparently – she often went deep undercover for long stretches of time. What was unusual was that I now had her hunter’s Toolkit. It had arrived on her nephew’s doorstep months ago (my uncle Faster) and I’d been using it since the summer. If Jude was working on a case, then why had she sent her Toolkit to Faster?
She was due to get back in touch with her husband in a month, but I wasn’t sure we should wait that long – not when one of the last things she’d mentioned was the Society of Cacklers. I might not have met my great aunt, but since I’d been using her Toolkit I’d begun to feel as if I knew her. If the Cacklers had done anything to her, then I might unleash some of that hunter fury Hamish was talking about.
‘Y’know,’ said Hamish, while using one of his back paws to give himself a good scratch. ‘Your great aunt also mentioned Ned. If we cannae get in touch with the Cacklers, maybe it’s time we asked Ned to tell us what she knows.’
Ah, yes. I was reluctant to think of the other thing my great aunt had mentioned to her husband the last time he’d seen her. She had told him that she was going to visit a woman called Nedina, who she said was a member of the Society of Cacklers. But the only Nedina I knew much preferred to be called Ned. She was my friend, roommate and the owner of the local necromancy supply store – she was not, as far as I knew, a Cackler.
‘I love Ned,’ continued Hamish. ‘But … your great aunt was – hopefully still is – a witch hunter. And Ned hates hunters. We still haven’t told her you’re one for that very reason. It’s unlikely Jude would have gotten a friendly reception if she paid Ned a visit. Not that I think Ned would have killed Jude but … it’s not totally implausible that she sent her to some hellish dimension to live out her days getting chased by hungry beasts.’
I flopped down on the icy step, chucking more pebbles at the door behind me. My bum was cold but I didn’t care. ‘You don’t really think that, do you?’
‘Nah.’ He shivered. ‘I was just joking around. I don’t think Ned’d be capable of something like that. If she was, it’d mean that we’ve been wrong all along, and that it’s Angelica who’s the good sister and Ned who’s the bad. And no way is anyone with hair as shiny as Angelica’s not evil. That’s the kind of hair you have to sell your soul to a demon lord to achieve.’
I laughed. ‘It is pretty perfect. How does she get it to stay in such a neat ponytail all day long?’
‘I’m telling you – by doing evil. But I do think we need to get inside and out of the cold while we think of our next move. Maybe get some breakfast, too. We need some food in our bellies or we’ll be no use to anyone.’
He was right. We had a nice dinner at Moonstone Farm the night before, but we’d left early and had nothing but a flask of tea and some chocolate on the journey home. At the mention of food, my stomach began to grumble and groan. ‘Come on, so. I’ll make us some breakfast. Bacon and eggs?’
‘And toast,’ added Hamish. ‘Lots and lots of toast.’
‘Oh definitely,’ I agreed, standing up and brushing the dirt and ice from my jeans. ‘With butter, lots and lots of butter.’
We headed down the steps, Hamish rushing along on his four legs, me going far more slowly on my two, being extra careful because of the ice – and if I hadn’t heard a sudden scream, I might have managed to get to the bottom in one piece. Instead, the shock caused me to slip, twisting my ankle and falling forward, bumping down awkwardly on my front all the way to the street below.
As I landed with an ‘Oof!’ Hamish came to my side.
‘I think that was Diane,’ he said. ‘The scream.’
I twisted to face him. ‘I’m all right, by the way. Thanks for asking. I mean, considering I’ve just fallen down a million steps and knocked my noggin on the filthy concrete footpath!’ I stopped screeching at him because it was hurting my already sore head even further. There was a large lump forming on my forehead and my ankle was definitely damaged. Yay – coupled with my frizzy hair and lack of sleep, my bumpy head and limping walk was going to make me look ever so pretty today. ‘Why are you jiggling so much, Hamish? You’re making me see stars.’
‘The stars are probably a concussion,’ he informed me. ‘But I am jiggling, and it’s because I’m trying to do a spell to get you on the broom so we can fly you into our flat. You know I’ve had to go back to my usual pathetic barely-magic since I took Cleo’s hat off.’
I giggled. ‘Hah! Cleo was trying to hypnotize you with that present. The little cats on your hat were whispering to you every night so that eventually you would have loved her. You might even have been her slave! Those naughty little cats with their little whiskers!’ I giggled some more. Everything seemed hilarious to me all of a sudden, even my ankle. I took a look at it, trying to move it this way and that, laughing out loud at the strange way it dangled.
‘Of course you do,’ I said, trying to heave myself to standing. My ankle was having none of it. ‘She’s got amazing skin, glossy black hair and a voice that could literally lure sailors to their doom. You go and check on sweet, beautiful Diane, and I’ll somehow hobble home by myself. Really. I’m fine.’
Hamish didn’t need telling twice. He thundered along the road and into the Bank, the bar where Diane lived and worked with her parents. And as for me, I still hadn’t managed to stand. My bag was in the sidecar of Hamish’s broom just a few feet away. If I could crawl to that, I thought, and grab my wand, then I could use it to transport myself home.
I’d just begun my brave and perilous journey when I found myself looking at a pair of naked feet. My eyes travelled from the feet, up along some pyjama legs, past a tight white T-shirt, and settled on the handsome, scarred face of Cullen Keats.
‘Why are you barefoot in the ice?’
He chuckled. ‘Because you’re crawling along the ground in the ice and I thought you might need some help.’
‘Oh.’ I stood up (well, I stood on my knees). ‘At least someone cares. Hamish high-tailed it to the Bank when his wiggly-bum spells wouldn’t work on lifting me onto the broom. He thinks it was Diane we heard screaming. Was it?’
Cullen hesitated, looking from the broom to me and grabbing my bag. He placed the bag across his shoulders, then lifted me into his arms.
‘Whoa. You’re strong. That’s sexy. Oh, wait … is it magic that’s helping you lift me so easily? Because if it is, it’s not quite so sexy. Still a little bit sexy, but not as much as the thought of you lifting me with your big strong arms alone.’
A husky laugh escaped his mouth. ‘I’m guessing that you hit your head, otherwise you’d never call me sexy. Annoying, maybe. Cocky for sure. The best tea-maker in the world if you were tortured into admission. But never sexy.’ He walked easily to the shop. ‘Where’s your keys?’
I reached into my pocket and handed my keys to him, watching as he found the right one and turned it in the door. ‘Something bad must have made Diane scream like that. Wait, did she see you naked? Because that’d probably make any woman scream.’
‘There she is,’ he said as he opened the door and lifted me into the shop. ‘That’s the Katy I know and love.’
I patted his stubble. ‘Aw. You love me?’
‘Sure,’ he grunted, heaving me up the stairs towards the flat. ‘Y’know, in the way that people eventually grow to love an irritating cat, or a hyperactive nephew. Katy, I saw the last second or so of your fall. You tumbled down the steps outside the Society of Cacklers. What were you doing there?’
‘Knocking on their door,’ I said with another giggle. His eyes had such a lovely sparkle to them. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’ve got perfect eyes? They say they’re the window to the soul you know. You must have a fantastic soul if your eyes are anything to go by. Hey, you still haven’t told me why Diane was screaming.’
We’d reached the flat, and Cullen opened the door and carried me in, laying me gently on the couch. ‘Well, while you were knocking on the Cacklers’ door, Derek Carey was knocking on heaven’s door. Katy, the reason Diane was screaming was because she found her father’s dead body.’
2. Three Important Somethings
Cullen propped some cushions behind me. ‘Where does it hurt?’ he asked softly, looking at my forehead. I could feel the sting there, and my head was pounding, but the urge to giggle was fading away. ‘My ankle’s worse than my head,’ I replied with a wince. ‘I think I’ve broken it or something.’
He eased off my boots and touched my swollen ankle. ‘Not broken. Maybe sprained. I’m going to take you to Night and Gale, okay?’
I was about to reluctantly agree when something strange began to happen. There was a fizzing feeling on my forehead and in my ankle, which quickly graduated into a warm, comforting buzz that chased the pain away. I’d heard hunters healed fast, but this seemed miraculous.
‘I … I’m not sure I’ll need to go,’ I told him with some degree of bafflement. ‘I’m starting to feel better already. See?’ I wiggled my ankle as proof. ‘Anyway, there are more important things than me face-planting the pavement. Tell me more about the bombshell you just dropped. Derek Carey is dead?’
Derek wasn’t just Diane’s father. He was also Cullen’s boss – well, his boss while he was working undercover anyway. Derek had given Cullen a job as barman and cook, with no idea that he was actually a Wayfarer sent to infiltrate the Warlock Society – as Derek was one of their members, living and working with him provided the perfect cover.
Cullen sat on the chair near the couch, pulling my bag from his shoulders. ‘Basically Derek had a fall down some steps too, except he wasn’t as lucky as you. It looks like he gave himself a fatal blow to the head. Diane found him at the foot of the basement stairs this morning. He had a storeroom down there. I’m not sure whether his accident happened late last night or early this morning, but we did run pretty low on whiskey last night, so maybe he went down there after we locked up. There’s always a morning rush for the stuff, so he could have been trying to get ahead of himself.’
‘There’s a morning whiskey rush at the Bank? That’s grim.’ I sat back against the cushions Cullen had propped behind me. ‘Are the Wayfarers there yet?’
‘They just arrived when I saw you,’ he answered as he looked into my eyes (not in a searching, romantic way, but more in a probing for evidence of a head injury kind of way). ‘Y’know, a minute ago I thought you were lying about feeling better, just because you were too curious about Derek to go to hospital. But you really do look much better than when I heroically rescued you a few minutes ago. The bump is still there, but now it looks less like a football and more like an egg.’
He sat forward and reached out. ‘It’s getting smaller before my eyes,’ he said in a husky voice as his fingers grazed the bump. ‘Almost a pity. Kind of liked it when you needed my help.’ He cleared his throat and stood up. ‘I guess I’d better go, then. The Wayfarers will have some questions to ask me.’
‘That should be easy for you, Cullen,’ came a voice from a nearby bedroom doorway. ‘Seeing as you’re one of them.’
We looked over to see Ned, standing on the threshold between her room and the living area of the flat. Like Cullen, she was in pyjamas. She also wore a sneer on her face, which was no doubt because she hated the fact that Cullen was a Wayfarer. I really wished she didn’t feel that way. Very soon I was going to have to tell her everything, including the fact that Cullen wasn’t the only undercover agent on Samhain Street. Between now and then, I hoped I could find a way to make her love all things Wayfarer-related.
‘Is it true about Derek?’ she asked, approaching the couch. ‘Good goddess, poor Diane must be devastated. But first, we need to deal with this. I heard the two of you out here, talking about how you had a fall too, Katy?’ She gently touched my ankle, then looked at my forehead. ‘Huh. That’s strange. I swear that there was an egg-sized lump on your forehead just a second ago.’
Cullen gave a quick but emphatic shake of his head. ‘No, it was barely a bump at all. Just looked worse from a distance, I reckon.’
‘No, Cullen. I specifically heard you yourself say it had diminished from a football-sized lump to an egg-sized lump in front of your eyes. You also said her ankle was sprained,’ Ned continued. ‘But Katy said it was feeling better, and now … well, now it’s a perfectly healthy ankle.’
Oh fluff. I’d assumed Ned was fast asleep and dreaming. But maybe it was just as well. I couldn’t wait for some perfect moment. Not with Jude’s whereabouts in question. I needed to tell Ned everything, and then I needed to ask her the question I was terrified to voice: did she know anything about my great-aunt Jude?
What I needed to figure out was how I could possibly frame this so that at the end of it Ned forgave me for all my lies. I mean, if she had done something to my missing aunt, then maybe her forgiveness didn’t really matter. But even though she was a necromancer who lived in the dodgiest enclave in Ireland and regularly kept important facts from the police … I still couldn’t believe she had an ounce of badness in her body.
