Page 6 of A Skirl of Sorcery
Her lip curled and her two friends opened their mouths, keen to spring to her defence. I stepped to the side to continue walking; I was happy to get into an argument with most people but I knew I was no match for a group of teenage girls who wouldn’t take any prisoners once they got going. It was safer for us all if I extracted myself from the situation.
‘You old bitch!’ one shouted after me.
Tiddles growled and tensed, clearly prepared to defend my honour. ‘It’s not necessary,’ I told her quickly. ‘And you have to learn to choose your battles.’
I turned my head and called, ‘You’re right! Iaman old bitch and I’m fucking proud of it, too!’
The girls exchanged looks. ‘Damn straight,’ the third one muttered. ‘I hope I’m like that when I’m older.’
I grinned, waved and moved on.
When I rounded a corner less than a hundred metres from the tram stop, yet another figure approached us. My irritation was beginning to get the better of me and I gritted my teeth in annoyance. Then I realised who it was and my eyes widened.
‘Good day, Ms McCafferty.’
I sighed at the spriggan. ‘Hello, Boris,’ I said. ‘I’d say that it’s good to see you again but I can only imagine you’re talking to me because Mallory wants to call in that favour I owe her.’
I’d signed a contract with the squib a few months earlier: in exchange for information about the witches’ council, I’d agreed to do a favour for her. Even if I’d wanted to back out of the deal, which wasn’t my style, I couldn’t because it was fully binding. I’d signed on the dotted line with my own blood.
The spriggan bowed slightly to acknowledge my words. ‘I am glad that you understand. She is waiting for you at her flat.’ He indicated in the vague direction of Crackendon Square where Mallory lived.
Tiddles glared malevolently; apparently a blood contract didn’t impress her and she didn’t care whether I fulfilled the terms or not. I gestured to her. ‘Let me take this one home, then I’ll go straight to Mallory.’
The spriggan’s lips thinned. ‘Not possible, I’m afraid. She is very busy with another client and doesn’t have much time to spare. She has to see you now.’ His tone brooked no argument. I could have pushed the matter because nothing in the contract said that I couldn’t take a couple of hours to respond to the summons, but curiosity got the better of me.
I had no idea what favour Mallory was about to demand of me and I was fascinated to find out, so I ignored Tiddles’ brief growl and changed direction. Boris immediately disappearing down the street, his errand complete. He clearly wasn’t concerned that I’d refuse the order – but, of course, blood contracts were powerful things.
I affected a grim,haughty expression, which was enough to deter further advances from well-meaning members of the public who were keen to make Tiddles’ acquaintance. That didn’t mean the ginger cat was pleased with me; unimpressed by my detour, she huffed and hissed at regular intervals. I ignored her adolescent bristling and made a beeline for the pub above which Mallory had made her home.
The entrance was the same as I remembered from my first visit: narrow, with an old creaking wooden staircase, There was a map of Coldstream on the wall by the front door with various coloured dots and pins placed at seemingly random points. Last time I hadn’t known what the dots were supposed to indicate but now I noted that one of them marked the location of my house.Ah. The dots showed the locations of Mallory’s clients. My dot was blue, so I figured that colour indicated those owing favours.
There were as many red dots as blue ones, but only two yellow dots. I peered at them and raised an eyebrow when I recognised one of the properties which was marked; it appeared that Mallory had taken on an interesting new client. Maybe that was why she was so busy.
It wasn’t any of my business but I hoped she knew what she was doing. That particular Coldstream resident, while devastatingly handsome and often kind, had teeth.
As soon as I started to climb the staircase, Tiddles dug her claws into my flesh. I reached up a hand to stroke her and realised that her hackles were raised. ‘It’s fine,’ I murmured. ‘Mallory is a nice person and I know that she likes cats. Besides, this won’t take long.’
Either Tiddles didn’t believe my reassurances or she didn’t care, because she doubled down, whipping her tail from side to side to indicate her displeasure. ‘You can wait down there if this bothers you so much,’ I said.
She didn’t need telling twice. She sprang from my shoulder, ripping both my skin and my T-shirt, and bounded back down the stairs. Her eyes were wide, her pupils elongated and fearful, and I felt a sudden prickle of apprehension. There was no reason for Mallory to provoke that reaction in any cat; maybe it was time to be less curious and more wary about what I was about to confront.
I climbed the rest of the stairs more slowly, listening hard, but all I could hear was chatter and faint music from the pub beneath. I didn’t relax, though: if there was one thing I trusted, it was a cat’s instincts.
I reached the tiny landing and knocked tentatively on the door.
When Mallory appeared she looked different, though I couldn’t put my finger exactly on what had changed. Her hair was the same mess of frizzy curls and her clothes were the same colourful boho patchwork that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but the brightness in her eyes and pinkness in her cheeks were definitely new. I tilted my head, more fascinated by her than ever.
‘Kit!’ she exclaimed warmly. ‘Thank you for coming at such short notice.’ She didn’t sound stressed or unhappy.
‘I don’t believe I had much choice in the matter,’ I said, not unkindly.
She offered me a rueful grin. ‘Yes, I’m somewhat busy with a new client at the moment. I don’t have a lot of time to spare.’
I considered mentioning that I probably knew who her new client was but she didn’t give me the chance. As she ushered me inside, she was talking so quickly that I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.
‘I have the perfect favour to request of you,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’s not too onerous – in fact, you’ll probably find it very easy. I know you have rooms to let at your house so I immediately thought of you when this matter arose.’
I only had one room – or rather only one small flat – available in my house because the others were uninhabitable. One of these days I’d get around to doing them up, but I was in no rush to let them out and my ground-floor flat was more than spacious enough to cover my needs. The last time I’d rented a room to someone had been to Alexander MacTire’s nephew, and I wasn’t convinced that being a landlady was an attractive proposition after that particular experience.
