Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
No matter how much Mallory tried to push him out of her thoughts, Alexander MacTire kept sneaking back into her head as she turned onto the street where the Pitcairn coven’s house was located.
She was starting to get irritated with her inability to put him into a compartment and shut its proverbial door.
She hit the side of her head with the palm of her hand as if self-inflicted violence would drive him away, then squared her shoulders and marched up to the Pitcairn front door.
Its glossy paintwork reminded her of the sheen of Alexander’s hair.
Goddamnit. She gritted her teeth and tried to focus.
She was well aware that cold-calling rarely got results; she’d tried it during the fledgling days of her brokering business when seven full days of knocking on doors had yielded a grand total of three rather dubious clients.
Trying such an approach on the Pitcairns without good reason would only lead to abject failure but fortunately her scribbled notes had already offered her a way in.
The Pitcairns had spent several months complaining to anyone who would listen about a long-standing restrictive covenant that their ancestors had foolishly agreed to during the early nineteenth century.
According to the terms of the covenant, which was held by the Association of Ogres who owned premises on the street behind the Pitcairns’ house, the coven members were not allowed to grow any magical herbs in their back garden without incurring harsh penalties.
It was the sort of odd rule that had made sense a couple of hundred years ago when there was considerable worry about magic leakage and cross-contamination across residential properties but, during the last fifty years, magic wards had become more sophisticated and such covenants had usually been allowed to lapse.
The Association of Ogres, however, was not willing to budge on this one. Not yet, anyway.
Mallory smoothed down her hair and checked her clothes. Did these shades of blue green really match her eyes? She muttered under her breath then she reached forward and rang the doorbell.
The male witch who answered looked friendly enough. He was tall and lanky and his stained apron suggested that she’d interrupted him in the middle of something. Nevertheless, he smiled at her. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Actually, I think I can help you,’ Mallory said. ‘My name is Mallory Nash and I’m here to talk to you about the ogres and the restrictive covenant on your property.’
The witch’s expression froze. He wiped his hands on his apron and gazed at her for a long moment before nodding slowly. ‘In that case, you’d better come in.’
She followed him into a long hallway lined with shoes then into a side room that appeared to be a study area. Two walls were lined from ceiling to floor with crammed bookshelves and there were four separate desks, each laden with papers and office detritus.
Only one of the desks was occupied. Mallory knew instantly who the older woman leaning across the old oak desk with a fountain pen in her hand was because her black robes with their violet trim were a dead giveaway. This was Vanessa Pitcairn, High Priestess of the coven.
The witch cleared his throat. ‘We have a visitor,’ he said.
Vanessa Pitcairn looked up. She had a round face with laughter lines around her eyes and an upturned nose covered in freckles, all of which suggested she was a warm, friendly woman who would bake you a pile of chocolate-chip cookies at a moment’s notice.
Mallory knew not to underestimate her, however, or to mistake her kindly demeanour for weakness.
A small, poor coven this might be but Vanessa was High Priestess for a reason and her grey eyes reflected a fierce intelligence.
The witch shuffled his feet. ‘Her name is Mallory and she says she’s here about the ogres.’
Vanessa’s mouth tightened a fraction, although that was the only indication that she had heard him or that she cared.
‘Mallory Nash.’ She offered her full name. ‘I live locally but I’m just a squib.’
‘You’re not just anything, Ms Nash,’ Vanessa said. ‘I know of you. I heard what you did for the Sunbake coven a few years ago.’
Mallory was genuinely startled and Vanessa Pitcairn went up another inch in her estimation. Mallory’s work for the Sunbakes had been secret and it had required a light touch and finesse that had taken months to achieve. That Vanessa Pitcairn knew of it was nothing short of extraordinary.
‘I’m on very good terms with their High Priest,’ Vanessa added. There was a teasing glint in her eyes that went a long way towards explaining what those very good terms involved. Suddenly everything made a lot more sense.
‘In that case this will be an easier conversation than I expected,’ Mallory offered.
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Vanessa snorted. She waved at the male witch, who quickly withdrew, then leaned back in her chair.
Mallory knew she was still on shaky ground. She couldn’t relax until she’d been invited to sit down. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. You have an issue with the Association of Ogres and I may be in a position to help you with that.’
Vanessa nodded slowly. ‘I appreciate someone who doesn’t waste my time beating around the bush, but you’re not here out of the goodness of your heart, Ms Nash. You want something from us first.’
There was little point in denying it or in prevaricating. ‘I need to find a useable bellarmine jug. I only require it for a period of a few months but it’s proving incredibly difficult to find one.’
Vanessa Pitcairn was giving very little away. ‘And you think that we could help you?’
‘Let’s say that I hope you can help me,’ Mallory replied carefully. ‘Nothing is definite.’
‘Indeed.’ The High Priestess tapped the end of her pen on her desk. ‘What do you know about our issue with the Association of Ogres?’
No offer of a chair yet, but this was progress. ‘They have a restrictive covenant in place on this property that forbids you to grow magical plants or herbs of any sort.’
‘Yes.’ Vanessa sniffed derisively. ‘They have resisted all our efforts to void the covenant, even though it’s completely redundant.
We have a vast garden at the back of the house that we could use for all manner of things, but we’re being held to ransom by market forces because we have to buy in all our supplies.
Have you seen the price of vervain lately? ’
Mallory opted for honesty. ‘I can’t say I have, but I can imagine. Why is the Association so determined to uphold the covenant?’
‘Spite. There can be no other reason.’
Mallory wondered if that was true; it seemed possible, but she’d reserve judgement until she knew for sure. ‘Well, I think I can help you. All I ask for in return is the temporary use of a bellarmine jug.’
Vanessa was already shaking her head. ‘We don’t have one.’
Mallory’s heart sank to the soles of her shoes. It had always been a long shot and on this occasion her optimism had definitely gotten the better of her.
‘However,’ Vanessa said, ‘I may be able to procure one. I have connections with many of the covens in the area and I believe I know of someone who may have a bellarmine jug stored away that they could lend you.’
‘Which coven?’
The High Priestess gave a tinkling laugh.
‘I’m not telling you that! You’ll simply cut out the middle man and I’ll be hung out to dry with those damned ogres.
’ She paused. ‘Tell you what, let’s have a chat about how this might work.
I believe there’s a good chance we can do business together. Have a seat.’
Mallory smiled.
The ogres were one of the smaller Preternatural communities in Coldstream and Mallory had never had any of them as clients, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know anything about them.
She was certain there were a few entries in her notebook, although she didn’t think there was any detail about their association.
She couldn’t check because her notebook was currently lying on her coffee table at home; it was far too precious to bring out with her.
It would be foolish to go back and read what was written there when she was a mere hop, skip and a jump from the association’s building. There was a chance that Mallory could solve her entire bellarmine jug conundrum within the next hour – a tiny chance, to be sure, but she crossed her fingers.
Although the Pitcairn coven maintained their house and clearly looked after it, they hadn’t been able to disguise its somewhat shabby and dilapidated air.
The Pitcairns were feeling the pinch, which went a long way to explaining why they were so desperate to get rid of the restrictive covenant and start growing their own magical supplies.
The building that belonged to the Association of Ogres was an entirely different affair.
Although it wasn’t especially large, it was certainly grand; looking at the pristine sandstone, perfect paintwork and immaculate planting around the building’s perimeter, Mallory didn’t doubt that these ogres were doing very well for themselves.
Vanessa Pitcairn had mentioned that the coven had offered ￡20,000 to void the covenant and that the association had turned them down flat.
The ogres obviously weren’t short of a bob or two and certainly had no need for the witches’ pennies.
Mallory eyed the tall irises on either side of the front door; they were truly stunning. Several of them were almost the same shade of amber as Alexander’s eyes. Her steps faltered briefly and she gritted her teeth. ‘Enough, Mallory,’ she hissed. This was getting beyond ridiculous.
She stepped up to door and knocked. By the time it opened, she’d plastered on her most professional smile, and she maintained it even when the person in front of her obviously wasn’t an ogre. She hadn’t expected to find a nymph here, let alone a water nymph with delicate blue skin.
‘Good afternoon!’ she said brightly. ‘My name is Mallory Nash and I’d like to make an appointment to speak to Richard Stone-arm. I believe he’s the head of the Association of Ogres. It’s vitally important I talk to him as soon as possible.’
The nymph blinked at her with wide, limpid eyes. ‘He ain’t here.’ She started to close the door.
‘Somebody else then,’ Mallory said quickly. ‘Another ogre.’
The nymph sighed. ‘Ain’t no ogres here at all.’
‘This is the Association of Ogres, right?’
The nymph shrugged. Mallory continued to smile. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Where are they if they’re not here?’
‘AGM.’
‘Uh…’
The nymph rolled her eyes. ‘Annual General Meeting, innit? Ogres love a damned meeting.’
‘Of course!’ Mallory exclaimed, as if she’d known that already. ‘Remind me – where is it taking place?’
‘Not telling.’
Okay. ‘How long will it last?’
‘Not telling.’
Mallory inhaled. ‘Is there anything you can tell me?’
The nymph considered. ‘Sure.’
Mallory waited; when nothing more was forthcoming, she prompted, ‘What, then?’
‘I can tell you that there ain’t no ogres here.’ For the first time, the nymph flashed a smile, then started to close the door again.
Mallory wedged her foot between the door and the frame, forcing the nymph to keep it open. Although she preferred carrots to sticks, she’d play hardball if she had to. ‘I’m not done yet.’
‘Move your foot,’ the nymph muttered.
‘No.’
‘Move your foot!’
‘No.’ Mallory steeled herself and went for it. ‘I know you’re a water nymph,’ she called through the gap.
‘Wow,’ came the sarcastic rejoinder. ‘Ain’t you the clever one?’
‘I also know that water nymphs are forbidden from working for other Preternaturals until the vernal equinox – you’re all supposed to be focused on Jacob’s Well. Unless the ogres also have a vested interest in that particular patch of water, then…’
She didn’t have to finish her sentence. The nymph opened the door wide and glowered.
‘I’m broke, alright? I need the money. That’s not a crime.
It’s only a few bloody hours here and there.
We can’t all afford to sit and stare at a damned ancient water spring for weeks on end because of some daft ancient tradition. ’
‘I’m not judging you.’
The nymph’s lip curled. ‘But you are blackmailing me.’
‘Yeah.’ Mallory nodded sadly. ‘I am. I’m sorry. It makes me feel very grubby and I’m not trying to make your life difficult, but I need you to answer a few simple questions. That’s all.’
‘For fuck’s sake.’ The nymph crossed her arms. ‘Alright, already. The AGM is taking place at the Belladonna Hotel. It’s on until next Wednesday.’
That was a long AGM: the ogres really did love a meeting. ‘Thank you.’
The nymph huffed.
‘One more thing…’
The blue-skinned woman bared her teeth. ‘What?’
‘What’s the deal with the Association of Ogres and the Pitcairn coven?’
‘That’s why you’re here? Those bloody witches?’
Mallory waited. The nymph laughed. ‘They want their silly covenant rescinded but the ogres here won’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because of Old Man Stone-Arm.’ She paused.
‘Not the current boss but his father. He hates people and he’s a petty wanker who takes pride in making life as difficult as possible because he’s a grumpy old bastard.
His son humours him because it’s easier that way.
No-one really cares about those witches or that covenant, they just want to keep Old Man Stone-Arm happy. ’
Mallory beamed. Fabulous: ornery, petty bastards were her speciality. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘That’s it?’ The nymph glared at her as if she’d been blackmailed into giving away her firstborn.
‘That’s it. Have a good—’ Mallory didn’t get to finish the sentence because the nymph had already slammed the door in her face.