Page 39 of A Skirl of Sorcery
Her tail twitched but thankfully she acquiesced. Despite my earlier declaration, it was clear who was the boss here – and it certainly wasn’t me.
Chapter
Seventeen
Ihad thought it would be a simple matter to scramble up to the rooftop but it was far harder than I’d expected. Several times I wondered if I should ask Tiddles if I could use her fur to affect a feline transformation but I suspected that the answer would be no. She stayed where she was, enjoying the sunlight on the street, ignoring me. It was obvious that she felt this entire enterprise was beneath her.
I knew I didn’t have much time so I ploughed on, shimmying awkwardly up an old drainpipe that was thankfully stronger than it looked, then clambering from one windowsill to another. Finally I stretched up and pulled myself onto the sloping tiles above me, arms straining with every inch of my progress. I’d been working out lately and I was much fitter than I’d been a year ago, but I still wasn’t back to the level of my EEL assassin days. I suspected I’d never be that lithe or agile ever again and it was a galling thought.
Given the spate of local robberies, I didn’t want any of the Shellycoats’ neighbours to see me; I’d be hard pressed to prove my innocence if I were spotted on the rooftops. I crouched down and shuffled from one house to the next. There was only one large gap in the terrace where I was forced to jump, startlinga resting seagull that squawked violently at my appearance. I muttered an apology but it only glared at me, flapped upwards then dropped a white splatter that narrowly missed my head. If Tiddles had witnessed the seagull’s attempt at ruining both my hair and my outfit, she would have been highly amused.
I peered over the edge of the roof to look for her. She’d moved closer to the Shellycoats’ garden gate and was pawing at something on the ground. Good.
It took another couple of minutes to reach the right spot. As soon as I landed on the flat-roofed section, I knew it was the perfect place for an attacker: the view to the Shellycoat house was unimpeded but the angle of the chimneys in front of me concealed me from the street. I might no longer be so adept at climbing up the side of buildings but I could still rely on my old instincts.
I searched the small area for signs of anything untoward. Some dried leaves had gathered in the far corner and there was a large puddle of dirty water that suggested the roof needed some minor repairs. I ignored them and moved to a dark patch next to one of the brick chimneys. It looked suspicious and when I was close enough to it to sniff the air, I was certain it was magical residue.
Not many spells left traces that the likes of me could notice, though there were plenty of witches and druids who would recognise the leftovers of magic spells. I couldn’t – unless the magic was particularly powerful. The stronger the spell, the more obvious the residue – and this patch of black nastiness was very obvious indeed.
Although the more sensible part of my mind rebelled at the thought of getting too close, I hunkered down to examine it. Immediately my eyes started watering and I felt nauseous. I breathed in until I was absolutely sure, then retrieved a white linen handkerchief from my pocket. Taking care not to touchthe stain with my bare fingers, I scooped up a small sample of the sticky substance and folded it into the fabric; there would be more than enough for testing. I didn’t need the likes of Trilby to confirm that it was the same gunk I’d seen eating Keres from the inside out.
I straightened up, pleased to put some space between myself and the nastiness, and scuffed several other sections of the roof with the toe of my shoe. Whoever had been up here waiting to attack Keres hadn’t left any other calling cards. I turned around and climbed back down the building to where Tiddles’ tail was swishing angrily from side to side.
I checked my watch: I’d been gone for twenty-two minutes. ‘I’m only two minutes late,’ I told her.
She glared, suggesting I’d committed a heinous crime, then stood up and immediately headed towards the end of the street, determined to find Thane as quickly as possible. I turned to follow her but I stopped as I saw the white scrap that she’d been pawing at. I frowned and bent down. It was a shell.
I ran my finger over its smooth surface and glanced towards the Shellycoat house. From several metres away, Tiddles let out a wince-inducing wail. I ignored her and nipped into the small front garden.
‘Holly?’ I called through the open front door. ‘Can I ask you another question?’
She appeared in the hallway carrying a cardboard box. ‘I thought you’d gone already,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
I curled my fingers around the shell. ‘There have been several home burglaries around Danksville recently,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose that you?—’
I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence because she was already pulling a face. ‘Yes, we were targeted. I suppose I should be thankful that we didn’t notice the theft until after Dad had died.’
‘What was taken?’
Her expression was a mixture of anger and sadness. ‘His most treasured possession, his shellycoat. It had been passed down through generations.’ She sighed. ‘It wasn’t worth anything but its sentimental value was incalculable.’
‘You’re talking about the traditional coat made out of shells that your ancestors wore when they were luring travellers astray?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. Dad hadn’t ever worn it, but it was part of our history. He would have been devastated to know it had been stolen.’
I heard Tiddles wail again. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
Holly grimaced. ‘Me too.’
My mind was still churningover the implications of what I’d learned from the Shellycoats when we arrived at the front gates to the MacTire mansion. I paused for a moment and looked over my shoulder at the buildings behind us. Thane owned the low-rise block of flats that was only barely visible from here and I knew he had hung around there watching the MacTires. I didn’t think there was any chance he was there now, but I waited for a beat until I was sure there was no stirring in the air to suggest he was watching.
I sighed and faced the gate before thumping so hard on it that at least half the people inside would hear me. Tiddles added a miaow for good measure; it was unnecessary but I appreciated her support.
Within seconds the gate swung open and a pale face appeared. I recognised him immediately: Ribbit wasn’t his real name, but he was one of the MacTire foot soldiers. He was lessdisciplined than the others and, not too long ago, I’d dislocated his knee when he’d attacked me without giving the matter proper thought first. From his pallor, he was suffering the after-effects of a particularly active full moon the previous night and his right ear was still pointed and furry, but his lingering wolf didn’t prevent him from blanching when he saw me.
‘What do you want?’ he snapped in a voice that was as much of a whine as a snarl. I was on relatively good terms with Alexander MacTire these days and Ribbit knew it but he still didn’t want to be my friend. He was scared of me. Smart guy.
‘I need to speak to your boss.’
