brimstone witch 11 - grotesque murder Page 8

  Stanley sighed. “We know.”

  I asked, “Did they cast any spells after they left us earlier?”

  “They did. They stood in the middle of the gazebo and muttered something. They had an old book in front of them. Quinn was near them as they cast the spells.”

  “What happened to the book?” I said.

  Luca thought for a moment. “When Blythe had finished casting the spell, she went back to her house with the book. Your gran and Quinn went with her. When they came back out, they looked like that.” He pointed to the giggling pair in their skimpy clothes.

  I said to him, “Do you think you could sneak into Blythe’s house and find that book? It sounds like it contains powerful spells and I wouldn’t want Quinn to get his hands on it.”

  “I don’t think I have to do any sneaking about,” Luca said. “The whole town is mesmerised by Quinn and his stories. Was I like that earlier?”

  I nodded. “I don’t think you could help it. You’re okay now.”

  He gave me a loving smile. “It must be the effect of having you so close. Perhaps you should give me a good luck kiss before you go.”

  “Hey!” Stanley called out. “We don’t have time for that sort of thing. Anyway, if anyone needs some attention, it’s me. I’ve had a stressful morning.”

  Luca picked Stanley up and gave him a cuddle. He tickled Stanley under his chin and put a kiss on his little head. Then he leaned over to me and planted a soft kiss on my lips.

  Luca put Stanley down, pulled his shoulders back and said, “Leave Brimstone to me. You two do what you have to. We’ll meet later. Be careful out there.” He gave me a wink before walking away.

  I looked down at Stanley. “Where should we go first? Marbled White or Speckled Wood?”

  “Marbled White. I’ve seen some of those butterflies in Esther’s garden. Oliver pointed them out to me. They’re beautiful. I hope the town has lots of them.” He aimed a nervous glance at the nearest tree which contained Brimstone butterflies. He said more loudly, “They are not as beautiful as our Brimstone ones! You’re the best!”

  The Brimstone butterflies bristled. I wasn’t sure if they were annoyed or pleased.

  “Come on, Stanley, let’s go before you get yourself into further trouble with our butterflies.”

  We got on my broomstick and zoomed upwards. We left Brimstone behind and headed towards the town of Marbled White.

  Chapter 16

  Forty minutes later, we came to land in the town of Marbled White. The buildings were made of dark timber. The window frames and doors were painted white, but as I looked closer at the nearest building, I noticed the paint was peeling on the door and frames. The glass on the windows was filthy and there was an air of neglect surrounding the building and those next to it.

  Stanley and I looked up and down the quiet street. A few residents in dark cloaks shuffled past us with their heads bowed. They didn’t look at us despite Stanley calling out a cheery hello.

  I said to Stanley, “This is a strange town. The residents look sad. The buildings do too, if that’s possible. I wonder if this town has always looked like this?”

  Stanley glanced at the building behind us. “Don’t look now, but someone is watching us from the roof. It looks like a gargoyle.”

  The top of my scalp prickled as I felt eyes staring down at me. A garden gnome walked towards us, her eyes downcast and the basket on her arm empty.

  I stood in her way and said, “Excuse me for bothering you, but I’m Cassia Winter. I’m a justice witch from the town of Brimstone. I’d like to speak to you for a moment, please.”

  The gnome aimed startled eyes my way and broke into a jog.

  We ran after her.

  “Excuse me!” I called out. “This won’t take long! I just want to have a quick chat.”

  The gnome dropped her basket, hitched up her dress and ran faster down the street.

  I came to a stop. “Stanley, let’s leave her. I don’t want to be chasing garden gnomes through the streets. Let’s trying questioning someone higher up.”

  “Like the witch who’s in charge of this town? If they have one, that is.”

  “I meant higher up, as in up on the roof. Like the gargoyle who’s spying on us. We’ll approach him or her from the rear so they don’t get the chance to scuttle away.”

  We got on my broomstick, headed over to the building down the street and landed on the roof. We moved silently along until we came to a gargoyle leaning over the side. It was a male gargoyle and he was peering left and right.

  I said, “Looking for us?”

  The gargoyle screamed and fell back upon his shell. He was a tortoise-shaped creature and his legs jiggled helplessly in the air.

  I put my broomstick down and helped the gargoyle turn the right way up.

  He gave us an indignant look. “Why did you do that? Are you trying to kill me?” He raised his front legs, curled them over and waved them at us. I think he was trying to make them into fists. “I won’t go easily. Not like the other ones. Come on, give it your best. I can take you both on.”

  I held my hands up. “We’re not here to fight you.” I introduced ourselves.

  He lowered his legs. “From Brimstone, eh? What are you doing here?”

  I explained, “There have been incidents concerning two local grotesques, one of them lived in Brimstone. We’re investigating those incidents. We’ve been told gargoyles have gone missing from this town, and it could be related. Have gargoyles gone missing?”

  The gargoyle sank down and tucked his legs inside his shell. “They have. Six have gone missing so far. We don’t know where they’ve gone. They just upped and left one night. Not a word of goodbye. I’d known some of them for years. It upset me when they left so suddenly. I stayed in my shell for two whole weeks crying.”

  “Did you find out where they went?” I asked.

  “We put the word out to other towns, but no one has seen them.” He blinked rapidly. “I don’t think we’ll ever see them again.”

  I paused a fraction before asking, “Have you seen any piles of sand anywhere?”

  “Piles of sand? What do you mean by that? Why would I see piles of sand? And what’s that got to do with my friends?”

  I waved my hand quickly as if to wipe my previous words away. “Nothing. It’s not important.” I pointed towards the streets below us. “What’s wrong with the residents here? Do they always look so sad?”

  The gargoyle moved his head slowly from side to side. “This used to be a joyful town. Our residents were the happiest ones for miles around. They’d often break into songs or dances. And they looked out for each other. It’s not like that anymore. They don’t talk to each other. They don’t look at each other. No one has sung for months now. It’s like the joy has been sucked out of them. I keep hoping things will change for the better.”

  I asked, “When did the residents change? Was it around the same time that your friends went missing?”

  The gargoyle blinked in surprise. “It was. My friends went missing first, and then a week or two later, the residents changed. I hadn’t made that connection before. Has this got something to do with your town? What exactly has happened in Brimstone?”

  I ignored his questions. “Have you heard of someone called Quinn Ocean?”

  “The storyteller? Yes, I’ve heard of him. I’ve seen him too. He’s been here many times. I don’t care for his stories. He confuses me when he starts waving his arms about all over the place. Why are you asking about him?”

  Again, I ignored his question. “When was Quinn last here? And were your friends here at the time?”

  “I can’t remember. You’re asking a lot of questions. You’re up to something. You’re trying to trick me with your words. I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore.” His head disappeared into his shell.

  Stanley moved closer to him and said, “Please don’t hide from us. We need your help.”

  “I’m not in!” the gargoyle called out.<
br />
  “You are. I can hear you,” Stanley answered. “Please come out and talk to us.”

  “I said, I’m not in. Are you deaf?”

  Stanley looked over at me. “What shall we do? Can you use magic on him and make him talk to us?”

  I glanced at the creature’s shell. “No, I won’t use magic on him. I don’t want to force him to talk to us. While we’re here, we could talk to that werewolf from Quinn’s story. The one who defended a village of fairies from a hungry dragon. What was his name again?”

  “Pennington,” came a muffled reply from the shell. “Turn left at the end of this street and it’s the third cottage on the right.”

  I rested my hand gently on the shell. “Thank you. If we find out where your friends are, we’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you,” the creature answered from inside his shell.

  Stanley and I left him in peace and made our way over to Pennington’s cottage. It wasn’t as run-down as the surrounding properties and the clean windows gleamed in the sun.

  I knocked on the door and said to Stanley, “Let’s hope Pennington can answer some of our questions.”

  Stanley nodded. “We can hope.”

  Despite our optimism, our hopes were soon dashed.

  Chapter 17

  The door in front of us opened a crack and a pair of yellow eyes stared out at us.

  “Yes?” a low voice growled at us. “What do you want?”

  “Are you Pennington?” I asked. I felt Stanley shuffle closer to me. We’d both come across werewolves before, and we knew a pair of angry werewolf eyes when we saw them.

  Another growl came from the creature. I could hear him sniffing us too. He said, “What business is it of yours who I am?”

  I tried to smile at him. It was a brave smile, but it soon fled. “I’m Cassia Winter, and this is Stanley. We’ve come here from Brimstone. There has been some trouble there, and I think you could help us. If you’re Pennington, that is.”

  “What sort of trouble?” the yellow eyes narrowed.

  I lifted my chin. “I’d rather not talk about it on the doorstep. This is a private matter.”

  Yellow-eyes asked, “Has this got something to do with those gargoyles going missing?”

  “It has. What do you know about that?”

  He opened the door a tad wider and glanced at the street behind me. “Were you followed?”

  “I don’t think so.” I looked behind me. Stanley looked over his shoulder too.

  “You’d better come in.” The door opened more to reveal an elderly werewolf standing there. He was wearing a brown cardigan over beige trousers. I noticed he was leaning heavily on a walking stick in his left hand.

  We stepped into the house and one look around showed us it was a well-kempt dwelling. Fresh flowers adorned many vases around the room.

  The werewolf ushered us over to the sofa and then closed the door behind us. Stanley and I sat down and I placed my broomstick at my feet. I liked to have it near in case a swift exit was necessary.

  The werewolf limped over to us and sat down, letting out a small wheeze as he did so. He gave us a friendly smile and said, “Sorry about the interrogation. You can’t be too careful, not these days. It never used to be like this around here.” He looked wistfully towards the window. “No, it never used to be like this at all. My door was always open. I had friends calling in all the time.”

  “Are you Pennington?” I asked.

  He turned his attention to me. “No, I’m Kenway. Pennington is my grandson. I’m looking after him.” Sadness crossed his face. “Someone has to look after him. He can’t look after himself. Not any longer. I don’t know what’s going to happen to him when I’m gone. I can’t sleep some nights for worrying about him.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Kenway shook his head sadly. “I’ll tell you about him in a minute or two. Can you tell me more about the trouble in Brimstone? I’ve never been there myself, but I’ve heard it’s a lovely place. This used to be a lovely place too. We had regular visitors to our town, but no one comes here now. I don’t blame them.” Tears filled his old eyes.

  Stanley jumped off the sofa and padded over to Kenway. He leapt onto his knee and said, “Don’t be sad. Things can always get better.”

  Kenway stroked Stanley’s head and gave him a small smile. “I used to think that too.”

  Stanley settled himself on Kenway’s knee, and the werewolf continued to stroke his little head.

  I said, “Two grotesques were hurt in Brimstone.” I hesitated before continuing. “The life force was taken from them. I think they were murdered.”

  Kenway slowly nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. It would have done at one time, but not now. Some of our gargoyles have disappeared. No one knows where they’ve gone. That’s not the only change. My neighbours and friends have changed. It’s happened gradually. Gone are the happy smiles and friendly waves. Now everyone looks at each other with hostility and suspicion.”

  “When did this happen?” I asked.

  “Months ago. I think. It’s hard to say because it happened bit by bit. I didn’t notice at first because I was too busy looking after Pennington. Then I realised one day that my neighbours had stopped calling around. They used to bring meals for my grandson and me, but they stopped. When I went to their houses, they refused to open their doors to me.” He looked down at Stanley. “It broke my heart to see them treating me like that. I could deal with their hostility, but I thought they’d still bring meals for Pennington, especially after what he did.”

  “Are you talking about the fairies he rescued?” Stanley asked. “We heard about that in Brimstone. Is it true he fought off a fierce dragon who was ten times bigger than him? And the dragon lashed out at Pennington and ripped his ear off?”

  A small smile came to Kenway. “It’s all true. There were many witnesses who saw it happen. That dragon had been bothering our town for weeks. Everyone was too scared to confront it. Except my brave grandson. He said he’d deal with the dragon. I told him to leave it alone and said it would go away. But then the dragon began to terrorise a nearby village where the fairies lived. Pennington said he had to do something.”

  “Wow,” Stanley said. “That was brave of him.”

  “Brave and stupid,” Kenway noted. “He lost his ear and almost his life in the process. But he did it. He saved the fairies and got rid of the dragon. Everyone called him a hero. And rightly so. He was modest about what he’d done and claimed anyone would have done it. I was so proud of him. I still am.” His voice caught in his throat.

  I said gently, “What’s happened to your grandson?”

  “He’s become a shell,” Kenway said. “He’s there in body, but his spirit has left him. He stays in bed all day and stares at the ceiling. He refuses to leave the house. He stopped talking months ago. I don’t recognise the creature who’s living here. He looks like my grandson, but he doesn’t act like him. His bravery left him a while ago. He has a haunted look in his eyes now.”

  This was beginning to sound horribly familiar to Ekon’s story. I said, “When did this happen to him? How long was it after he rescued the fairies?”

  “Not long. A month or two, I think. Like the residents here, it was a gradual thing.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why this happened. Why any of this happened. Do you know?” He cast me a pleading look.

  “I don’t, but I’m going to find out. Have you heard of Quinn Ocean?”

  Kenway’s face lit up. “The storyteller? Yes. He’s great. I can remember every story he’s ever told. The whole town looked forward to his visits. It was like a celebration when he came here. I was thrilled when he said he’d tell other towns what Pennington had done. He spent hours with Pennington going over what had happened. Quinn wanted every little detail. Was it Quinn who told you about Pennington and what he did?”

  Stanley nodded. “Quinn told us everything. It felt like we were there fighting the dragon with your grandson.
And Quinn’s butterflies helped him tell the story. They were really good. They made the shape of the dragon. They swooped through the air and—” Stanley abruptly stopped. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  Kenway’s eyes brimmed with tears and they trickled down his weathered cheeks.

  I leaned over and put my hand on his arm. I softly said, “It’s the butterflies, isn’t it?”

  Kenway nodded and composed himself. “I try not to think about them. It’s better that way. But just hearing the word has brought the memories flooding back.”

  Stanley said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t know you liked Quinn’s butterflies so much. They’re in Brimstone at the moment. You could go and visit them there.”

  “Stanley,” I said quietly, “Kenway isn’t talking about Quinn’s butterflies.”

  Stanley turned his confused face my way. “Isn’t he? Then which butterflies is he talking about?”

  Tears suddenly sprang to my eyes and I couldn’t speak.

  Stanley picked up on what was wrong. “Oh! The butterflies here. The Marbled White butterflies. Cassia, we didn’t see any when we came into town. Where are they?” He patted Kenway on his arm. “Where are your butterflies? Are they hiding somewhere? Are they shy?”

  Kenway shook his head. His voice was hoarse as he said, “They’ve gone. All of them.”

  “Gone? What do you mean?” Stanley’s voice was rising. “Butterflies don’t leave their towns. They can’t do! They’re part of the town.”

  Kenway put a soothing hand on Stanley’s back. “They have left us. Every single one.”

  “No! This can’t be true.” Stanley jumped off Kenway’s knee and came over to me. “Cassia, do something. Use your magic. Find the butterflies. Make them come back!”

  I picked him up. “Stanley, you need to calm down. You’re upsetting Kenway.”

  We looked over at the werewolf who was crying freely now. He sobbed, “The butterflies left us and then everything started going wrong. Why would they leave us? Why?”