Potions and Pageants Read online

  Nan threw back her head and laughed. So did Percy.

  Once upon a time, Mr Bramble had entirely eaten only natural and raw vegetable products, being horrified by the idea of eating anything that came from the body of an animal. And while he still refused to eat fish or meat or eggs, he had developed an impartiality to cheese and cream.

  He gobbled up the rice pudding greedily, and asked for a second bowl. Jeeves was only too happy to serve it, with a hefty dollop of strawberry jam in the middle.

  By the time the girls had finished theirs, they were feeling very sleepy indeed. They made their way lazily up to Percy’s bedroom, leaving Mr Bramble and Jeeves to each other’s company.

  The moment that Percy shut her door behind her, she turned to Nan and demanded, “Out with it! What is this Draught of Doom?”

  Nan threw herself face onto Percy’s bed, grabbed a pillow and tucked it beneath her back with a sigh. The smile had slipped from her face.

  “I read about it during my studies with mom,” she said. “The Draught of Doom is the opposite of the lucky potion. It’s worse than just an unlucky potion because it’s so powerful.”

  “What does it do?”

  “If you give someone a tiny bit of it, it makes them have all sorts of bad luck. But Draughts of Doom can be so dangerous that their recipes are prohibited by the conclave. And their key ingredients are controlled substances.”

  “How dangerous?” demanded Percy.

  “If you use too much then the drinker will have such bad luck that horrible accidents can happen to them and then they could die.”

  Percy gasped. “That’s exactly what happened to Judge Emma,” she said fiercely. “The worst bad luck possible. Such a freakish weird accident that she actually died.”

  Nan’s face had fallen as she contemplated this fact. “To die after stepping on a juggling ball! Oh heavens. It would never have happened if I hadn’t arranged the pageant.”

  “Thinking like that is nonsense,” said Percy. “You arranged a good thing. It was someone else who made it bad.”

  Nan’s hands flew to her cheeks in shock. “What if it really was Bella?” she said in a choked voice.

  “Don’t get upset,” said Percy.

  “But… but you don’t understand!” said Nan. “You can’t get recipes for Draughts of Doom from just anywhere. The hegwitch said the potion was one of the best that she’d ever seen! What if it is the one from mum’s grimoire?” She wailed the last part in horror.

  “Your mum can’t have that recipe,” Percy protested. “She’s too straight laced to do anything wrong.”

  “She does have it! Mum didn’t have the heart to destroy that page because it has a recipe she loves on the back passed down from her great-great-grandma. If it was Bella who spiked the green juice, then she definitely got the recipe from my mum’s grimoire!”

  “She couldn’t have photographed it,” said Percy. “That grimoire’s too magical. The camera wouldn’t have worked.”

  “But she could have copied it down! She had time. Once, when she was over at mine, she disappeared for ages. And when she came back, she said she’d been in the bathroom making a phone call!”

  “It isn’t your fault,” said Percy.

  “It is! And she could have stolen the ingredients from mum’s workshop too. Stuff we shouldn’t have. We’re going to get in so much trouble!”

  Percy put her arm around Nan’s shoulder and said comfortingly, “Don’t panic, Cherub. It might not have had anything to do with your mum. And anyway, even if it did, it’s not your mom’s fault. If Bella wanted something bad enough, she would have got it from somewhere else. She would have done it anyway. And we already agreed the killer could have been anyone, even a judge.”

  Nan took a deep breath and bit her lip. She said in a resolute voice, “You’re right. It doesn’t matter if we get into trouble. Now that we know what happened, we need to take it to Councilor Strickt. It was murder. We can’t investigate this ourselves.”

  18. Thanks For Nothing

  “We can’t go to Councilor Strickt, remember?” said Percy. “He’s working with the Sentinel Alliance.”

  “But we have to tell someone,” said Nan, looking mutinous, as if she thought Percy was trying to wriggle out of doing the right thing.

  “I agree,” said Percy quickly. “We’ll just have to find a way to keep your mum and Lucifer out of it.”

  Nan had gotten off the bed and was pacing agitatedly.

  Watching her, Percy said, “I thought you were going to say we need to take this to Headmistress Glory.”

  Back in their old life, Nan had always been trying to please Mother.

  Nan’s cheeks went pink. “Maybe she is not the best choice this time around,” Nan mumbled. “She’s too… It’s like she could always read my mind. She sees too much.”

  “I wonder if Nanny Nora knows anyone at the Conclave of Magic who could help?” Percy mused.

  “Yes!” said Nan, looking relieved. Then she looked around Percy’s room as if hoping. Nanny Nora would suddenly appear. “Where is she?”

  “Gone,” said Percy. “I had to fire her as a fifteenth birthday present to myself. Figured I was too old for the nanny lark.”

  “But you know where she lives?” said Nan. “The Conclave of Magic is perfect. And they’ll be interested because Judge Emma was a witch.”

  “I don’t know where she lives,” said Percy glumly. “She and I aren’t in touch, since I fired her and all that. Jeeves knows, but Mr Bramble will have told Jeeves about the Draught of Doom by now. Which means Jeeves won’t tell us anything we want until we tell him everything, and then he’ll tell the whole world about it.”

  Nan resumed her pacing with even more ferocity.

  “What is it?” Percy asked.

  “I can’t get it out of my head that Bella was in mum’s workshop,” she said, wringing her hands. “And if she was in the workshop, who else was in the workshop? I let all the girls in my house and I clearly didn’t keep a close enough eye on them!”

  “We need to keep an open mind,” agreed Percy. “It could have been anyone, not just the girls. And I’ve been thinking that it might not be Bella. She loves herself too much to ever risk her future like that. She knew I caught her in your mum’s workshop. She would have been far too careful after that.”

  “Maybe,” said Nan in a small voice. She sounded unconvinced and hopeless. “But what if it was Blanche? She’s Bella’s best friend.”

  Percy thought it was more likely to be Barbie, the third wheel in the trio, who seemed a bit more desperate to please Bella. She did not think that mentioning this would make Nan feel any better.

  “If it was a student, it could have been any of Bella’s admirers from around the school. She’s got enough of them. It doesn’t have to be someone who came to your house. There’s a great big magical world out there were someone could have got hold of that potion.”

  “I suppose.” But Nan looked distracted, as if she was thinking about how to explain to her mum what had happened. She looked like she would rather eat slugs than do that.

  “What’s the worst your mum would do if you told her?”

  “I’m not scared of her being angry,” said Nan. “It’s just that she would be so disappointed in me. Or for me. She was so excited that I was finally making all these new friends. You know, I think mum had a secret ambition for me that I would be really popular at school, and she doesn’t understand why I’m not. I’ve tried to tell her I don’t want that, but she doesn’t get it.”

  “She wants you to be happy.”

  “If we get into trouble with the Conclave of Magic, none of us are going to be happy. Poor dad. It’ll be like his worst nightmares have come true.”

  “Your dad doesn’t get it. He’s got that secret Humble prejudice of thinking witches are bad.”

  “It’s not his fault!” said Nan hotly. “He tries his best to overcome it. And he has to keep it a secret from his whole family. It’s not eas
y, you know!”

  “Anyway, your mum might not have anything to worry about. It might not have been a student.”

  “Statistically that’s unlikely,” said Nan glumly. “There are far more students at the school than other groups.”

  “Pfft. Forget statistics. This is crime we are talking about,” said Percy. “We need to think about motive. We did say it would make sense if another judge had done it. Like why did Head Judge Alice need a witch working as her assistant?”

  Nan shrugged.

  “Come on, help me out here! Is it because she was involved in magical stuff herself? Maybe Judge Emma found out something about Alice that Alice didn’t like, and that’s what got her killed.”

  “I don’t know,” said Nan, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “What are we going to do? Should I tell my mum? She’ll know someone at the conclave who we can go to.”

  She looked like this was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Let’s keep your mum out of this,” said Percy firmly. “She’ll want to confess to the conclave every misdemeanor she’s ever committed. It’ll ruin her love potion business. If it was one of the girls who did it, you know their rich families will be all too eager to point the finger at your mum.”

  Nans eyes widened in horror. Her words trembled as she said, “You think… you think they might try to blame everything on me and my mum?”

  “The hell they will,” said Percy. “Not if I’ve got anything to do with it. You leave this up to me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Glory has got to have the conclave’s number, right? I’m going to steal it from her office.”

  Nan did not look comforted by this fact, but they both knew they had run out of options.

  The next day at school, during the mid-morning break, Percy hurried to the school library to find Lucifer.

  She arrived to find the library was empty of students. Clearly he had frightened them all away. She found him in his office, glumly lounging in his armchair.

  He brightened when he saw her, and jumped up to greet her.

  “Percy! I thought you had given up on coming to see me. I wanted to talk to you. That’s the terrible thing about being a former Lord of Hell. There’s no one to talk about your problems to! No one who believes you anyway.”

  “Who have you been talking to about your problems?” said Percy, aghast.

  “Oh just some pretty little nobodies at a bar,” he said airily.

  “You should stop doing that,” she snapped.

  “Don’t worry, darling. They didn’t believe a word,” he said. “And anyway, I have you now.” He flung his arm around her shoulder. “Tea? Choux bun? I can’t believe they don’t have chocolate patisserie in hell. They’re simply the most delectable things!”

  “No time for tea,” said Percy. “I need your help.”

  His eyes lit up. “My help, ey? Is this to do with our dastardly plot? Have you made progress?”

  “Er, sort of.”

  “Tell me everything!” he demanded.

  “Not now. We have to do something before break is over.”

  He crossed his arms, and pouted petulantly. “Shan’t help you til you tell me what you’ve found out.”

  “Found out what? There was nothing to find out.”

  “Now, now, darling. Don’t keep secrets from Lucifer. I’ve been keeping my eye on you, and I know that you know something.” He tapped her nose. “So tell me what you know at once, or I shan’t help.”

  Percy glared. “You want me to find you your murderer, but you won’t help me do a little something when I ask?” she demanded.

  “Who says you’re trying to really help me find my murderer?” he sulked. “You haven’t even asked how my powers have been growing since the murder. Haven’t even been to come and see me. You don’t care.”

  “How have your powers been doing?” she said, scowling.

  “Terribly, if you must know! That tingling rush of pure energy that surged after the murder disappeared within a half hour. Look!” He bent his head over towards her and pointed at his temple. “My horns have sunk away and everything!”

  Percy touched where he had indicated, and was relieved to feel nothing but scalp and hair. “Thank goodness,” she murmured.

  “Thank goodness?” he cried in outrage.

  Percy tried to look sympathetic. “Don’t worry. You look better without them. They were only going to get you into trouble anyway.”

  “Didn’t you come here to tell me some news?” he demanded.

  Percy couldn’t help but let out a little groan. He was as petulant and changeable as a toddler. How was she going to get him to focus?

  Ten minutes of the break were over already. Headmistress Glory liked to spend the break prowling the school grounds and keeping an eye on the students. They only had fifteen minutes left.

  She decided that there would be no harm in giving him a little something to encourage him along. So she told him about the Draught of Doom she’d found in the green juice.

  “Ha! Murder! I told you, didn’t I?” he said looking ecstatic.

  “Yes, murder, now hurry along.”

  Tucking her arm into the crook of his, she dragged him out of his office and into the library.

  “Where are we going now?” he said. “To apprehend the culprit? Is it that Bella girl, the succubus?”

  Percy froze. “Who told you about Bella?”

  He tapped his nose. “I have my ways.”

  Percy gasped. “Have you been spying on me? The sheer creepy nerve! Don’t you trust me one bit?”

  “I haven’t been spying,” he protested sulkily. “Octavia Smythe-Smith saw you were keeping a very close eye on Bella backstage at the first round of the pageant. She told me. There’s no need to look grumpy. It’s marvelous news. Now that we know who the culprit is, all I have to do is find out where she lives and I’ll soon have hold of that juicy damned soul of hers!”

  Percy nearly choked on her own breath. She wanted to yell at him that he could not do it. But one could never tell Lucifer he couldn’t have a thing because that would only make him crave it more.

  And arguing with him now was not going to help matters. She needed his help.

  “We need to get into Glory’s office during this break. They’ll never let a student in on her own. You’re going to have to get me in.”

  “Whyy didn’t you say so?” He beamed as there was nothing more he wanted to do in the world. “Your Mother will hate that when she finds out! Let’s do it.”

  “She can’t find out. You can’t tell her.”

  “Where is the fun in that?”

  “We need information.”

  “Is it the Bella girl’s address? Are you going to help me ambush her?”

  Percy did not reply. Let him think what he wanted.

  She dragged him out of the library, and to her relief he happily followed her to the headmistress’s office.

  The headmistress’s secretary, Mrs Preem, glowered at them when they approached her desk.

  “The headmistress is busy,” she said. “You will need to wait.”

  “Now, now, Violet,” said Lucifer. “It was you I was after, not the headmistress. Miss Prince here is helping to organize the charity pageant, as you will know.”

  Mrs Preem nodded, as if to show that she did indeed know a great many things.

  “We wondered if you could help us find the details of poor Judge Emma’s family,” said Lucifer. “Wouldn’t it be a wonderful gesture for us to send her family our condolences? Some flowers perhaps? We knew if we came to you, you would help us.”

  “Oh yes,” said Mrs Preem. The iron-haired madam looked rather flattered to have been thought of by the handsome librarian. “That poor woman. Yes, I think I might be able to help you.”

  She stood and turned towards a door behind her. When she opened it, Percy saw that inside was a small records room that seemed full of filing cabinets. Lucifer went with her, continuously talking in tha
t silky voice of his, and shut the door behind them.

  Percy ran across to the headmistress’s office. Trying the handle, she was immensely relieved to find the door unlocked. She hurried in and shut it behind her.

  She had to be in and out before Mrs Preem finished. Lucifer could only sweet-talk her for so long.

  Percy hurried over to the headmistress’s desk. It was very neat. On top was a single notebook and pen, a small tray of correspondence, and a neat stack of files.

  She hurriedly rifled through the notebook and stack of files, and then through the drawers, but saw no address book and no business cards. She had hoped the conclave people would have left theirs with the headmistress. They had to have.

  Percy did however spot a small stack of letter-headed notepaper – the kind the headmistress might write a hall pass on – and grinning, she tore off a few sheets and pocketed them.

  By the side of the desk was a shelving unit that had numerous little drawers. Percy was just about to yank some open when someone cleared their voice.

  In horror, Percy looked up. Ruthless Glory was standing very still just behind the door. Her perfect golden eyebrows were raised, and there was a cold sort of amusement on her face as if she had spotted a particularly comical ant and was looking forward to treading on it.

  “Persephone,” she said, in a way that was reminiscent of a mouse playing with a cat. “What are you doing?”

  Percy flushed bright red. “Dammit, woman, why are you skulking around behind your own office door?” she demanded.

  “To see what you were up to, of course. Tunnel vision is not good for you dear. You really must learn to broaden your peripheral awareness.”

  She stalked to Percy and snatched away the notepaper that Percy had put into her pocket. She looked bemused when she saw what it was.

  “This?” she said contemptuously. “This cannot be it. What are you really after?” She tossed the letter-headed notepaper aside.

  Percy picked it up and put it back in her pocket. “Tut, tut. Littering, headmistress?”

  The headmistress did not respond. She did not whine or sulk or glower like Lucifer. She merely crossed her arms over her chest and waited.