Chapter 2 Komal
“I’M GOING TO MAKE MODERN art from his spleen,” I growl as I throw my phone at the table.
It narrowly misses upsetting a Tupperware container of onion bhaji before skidding towards the half-empty bottle of wine.
My friend Celeste saves the bottle just in time, making her my new all-time favourite person in the world. Right now, I need all the wine.
Augustin forcing every shop in the village to shut down during the day is bad enough, but telling the shopkeepers by text message, in his uncaring robot tone, makes this so much worse.
I’d invited my friends to the park tonight to break the news to them so we could strategise over wine and leftover birthday food, but of course he has to bulldoze his way into our conversation without even being here.
“Let me guess – Augustin Durant and his amazing wastewater repair plan?” Beth Duncan taps her fingers against her mushroom-print phone case. Since her health food shop Zen and Tonic is also located on the village green, I’m assuming she just got the same text message.
“I’ll fill his mittens with glitter. I’ll find his old Twilight fan fiction and publish it in the Argleton Gazette, turn his suit trousers into low rise, and reorganise his bookshelves by colour.”
“Low-rise trousers? That’s some serious revenge.
Augustin is quite charming, really. You have to learn to stop letting everything that man does get to you—” Celeste looks down at her phone.
“What? This is absurd. How can he expect us to change our business hours for a whole month? On two days’ notice!
I sell baked goods. No one wants cream doughnuts and filled rolls at midnight.
They want pints of cider and questionable hook-ups. ”
“Komal Massi, look what we can do!” Nikhil calls from the slide. Our necks momentarily snap up to watch my two nephews barrel down the slide together and land in a giggling heap.
“Very acrobatic!” I call out. “I bet you can’t get from one end of the playground to the other without touching the ground.”
“Can too!” They rush off to complete my challenge, buying me at least seventeen more minutes to vent with my friends.
Celeste scratches furiously behind her ear. “Shop owners are supposed to be consulted on these matters. This is just like the sunshades incident. I’m pissed.”
“You’re not going to go all wolfy on us?
” Beth looks at our friend in concern, shuffling a few inches down the table as if that might save her from being mauled.
Ever since Celeste told us a few weeks ago that she’s a werewolf, Beth has been a bit nervous around her.
Personally, I think it’s super cool that our friend can sprout fur and claws. No body hair shame from Komal Ahuja.
“It’s only during the full moon that I can’t control my shift,” Celeste explains, squinting up at the waning moon peeking out from behind one of the huge floodlights.
Luckily, the park is well-lit at night, because me and darkness don’t get on.
“I’m just going to sit here, eating birthday cake and bhajis, unless Augustin Durant shows up, and then I’ll help Komal weave his intestines into a decorative fruit basket.
Your dad never would have approved this plan. ”
At the mention of Papa, my chest constricts.
“I’m sorry, Komal,” Celeste says quickly. “I know it’s scary. But your dad is going to be fine. He’s got you and your mum and sister looking after him.”
“Yeah.” I set down my wine glass. I’m not thirsty anymore.
“And just because he pulled out, doesn’t mean Augustin will win—”
“In true English local election tradition, he’s running against that mad army colonel who plans to reinstate cannons on the village green, and Reggie Brown, the crazy vegan handyman who wants to build tunnels under every road so hedgehogs can safely move about.
” I slump in my seat. “Augustin will be mayor, and he’ll make all our lives miserable. ”
“I don’t know what you have against Augustin. He’s really quite lovely,” Celeste says. “And maybe he’s on to something with these evening hours. You’re already doing well with your after-dark vampire beauty treatments, right, Beth?”
“They’re my bestsellers.”
“Too bad vampires don’t eat baked goods.” Celeste takes a second piece of birthday cake. “But maybe there’s an angle here. I could change my menu and make Glazed and Confused the new late-night dessert hot spot. Maybe I could even get a liquor license…”
Argh, no, don’t take his side! Augustin always does this. He makes some absurd policy that only benefits him, and instead of calling him on his bullshit, everyone congratulates him for being so sensible and clever. Why am I the only one who sees through him?
This late-night shopping is all for his benefit, I’m sure!
But there’s no point trying to convince my friends.
They may have been temporarily annoyed, but they’re just as taken with Augustin Durant’s “charm” as the rest of the village.
For members of the Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven – our book club that’s investigating a series of vampiric murders in the village – they’re too easily taken in by Augustin’s easy smile and empty promises.
I can’t believe he’s going to be mayor instead of Papa.
As Beth and Celeste mull over how they’re going to manage the month-long shutdown, I fiddle with the broken pieces of plastic on the table in front of me – what remains of the remote-controlled helicopter I got the twins for their birthday.
They’ve been dying to fly it all day, but Mamma said not in the hospital.
(Probably wise.) So then they wanted their mother, my younger sister Preeti, to take them to the park, but she said she doesn’t know how to fly the helicopter.
I tried to show her how simple it is, but she said the remote control didn’t fit in her hands and left the room to drink tea and gossip with the other aunties who have taken over the hospital waiting room, leaving me to deal with all the kids.
Even though it’s getting dark, I said I’d take them to the park, so Mamma can visit with Papa in peace.
Of course, they crashed the helicopter into a tree within ten minutes of getting it airborne.
Now, in addition to the large cooler filled with leftover party food (and wine – essential if one has to make it through a day of hospital visiting with screaming sugar-laced children), I’m now carrying several bits of helicopter I’ll have to figure out how to put back together.
But it’s fine, I can do it. I’m good at mending things. It’s kind of my whole personality.
Madam MacGyver can fix anything broken, solve any conundrum, and make any problem go away. I’m not going to deny my abilities, because when I went away to join the RAF, my family fell apart. It’s a good thing I decided to come back and fix everything, or they’d be completely lost.
My Madam MacGyver talents come in handy in the Nevermore Coven, too. I’ve always got a creative idea to help solve a mystery (they’re not all good ideas, to be fair), and I’m the one who drops everything when Beth’s stuck in an overly ambitious yoga pose or Isis locks herself out of her shop.
Immediately, my brain whizzes through all the problems in front of me, searching for solutions. My nephews will make it home without slide-related head injuries, I’ll figure out a clever way to keep my friends solvent, fix the toy helicopter, avoid flying at night, and keep my business afloat—
Hang on a second.
“Is that…” I squint into the gloom. A shadow emerges from the woodland path that leads along the edge of the village.
It’s a figure dressed head to toe in black.
Fear flares within me because skulking around in the shadows is peak vampire-killer behaviour, and we still haven’t caught the vampire who has been killing people in the village.
This psycho bloodsucker has already drained Danny O’Hare (no great loss), my friend Winnie’s cheating ex, Patrick (no one is crying), and the vampire Alyra, who died right before she could tell my friend Arabella something important about the killer (irksome and way too close to the plot of an Agatha Christie).
What if the killer is coming for the boys?
Panic pushes against my ribcage. The shadow steps beneath one of the floodlights illuminating the playground, and my fear turns to rage that flares hot against my skin.
I recognise that stupid, handsome face.
“Augustin Durant!” I yell, waving my phone. “What do you think you’re doing with this text?”
He winces, spins on his heel, and stalks back towards the woods.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I leap to my feet and run after him, birthday cake clutched in my hand. “Don’t you run away from me like a Byronic hero late for the orgy. You don’t get to send every shopkeeper in Argleton this absurd message and skulk off into the shadows. Turn around and face me.”
He hesitates, one foot dangling in the air, then whips around to face me. Tonight, he’s wearing a long peacoat that accentuates his broad shoulders and billows around him like a Victorian villain, and an expression of disdain mixed with mild panic, which is a face he seems to reserve only for me.
“You tell him, Komal!” Beth yells.
“Give him hell!” Celeste adds. “Hi, Augustin!”
“Good evening, Ms Lucas, Ms Duncan. Councillor Ahuja, I am on my evening walk,” Augustin says irritably. “This is my private time. If you want to discuss village matters, either wait until the next council meeting or make an appointment—”