tends to hang around for a while after it’s happened. Good magic – our sort – often just shimmers a bit. Black magic is heavier, more like an unpleasant atmosphere. Not everyone can see it, but I believe everyone can feel it – it’s just we know what it is and you don’t.
Star wasn’t a witch, so I had no idea why there would be magic hanging about her desk. Except, she’d been trying to talk to me all day. I’d not seen her for a while – I’d been away on holiday at the start of December and then the spa had been closed over the Christmas break and today was our first day back at work. Like I’d said to the police officer, Star had been desperate to grab five minutes with me. But I’d had back-to-back clients and I hadn’t had a minute. I knew she had been waiting for me to finish this evening so we could talk.
I had an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Uneasiness, perhaps, or maybe just guilt that I hadn’t been there for Star when she wanted me. I glanced over my shoulder to see if the police officers were watching me, but their attention was all on each other, then I opened the filing cabinet next to Star’s desk, where she kept all our HR records, and started to flick through… Her surname was Poling but I couldn’t find anything under P. Filing had never been Star’s strong suit. Frustrated, I waggled my fingers. Silvery shimmers flew from the tips and the files ruffled in an invisible breeze. Then, slowly, one file rose up above the others in the cupboard. ‘Star Poling’ it said along the top.
“Gotcha,” I said.
I opened it to check Star’s address was written inside, then I opened my bag and stuffed it inside. Taking a last look at Star’s desk, I left the building. I politely thanked the police for their time, as though they’d been customers who’d booked a spa day, handed over my spare keys, and left.
It was freezing. I thought it might snow though it hadn’t yet, and it was dark. I huddled down in my coat and pulled my hat down over my ears, feeling sorry for myself and very alone as I tramped along the main road to home.
I was unsettled. Really unsettled. We – me and my family – had had a rough couple of years. About eighteen months ago my mum, Suky, had been diagnosed with breast cancer and at the same time we’d been the target of a pretty nasty hate campaign aimed at driving my mum out of the café she runs with my Aunt Tess – who’s my mum’s twin sister. I’d split up with my girlfriend Natalie, leaving me with financial troubles and a broken heart, and my cousin Esme – Tess’s daughter – had almost ruined her own love life. It wasn’t a great time for any of us.
Thankfully Mum was now well on the mend, the café was secure once more and all the trouble seemed to be behind us – at least it had been, until now. I was really worried this might be the beginning of another bad patch. Though, obviously, it was going to be a whole lot worse for poor Star’s family. I shivered as I hurried along in the biting wind, desperate to get home and hoping I’d have the flat to myself for once. I shared with my cousin Esme who rented a swanky New Town flat in Edinburgh from a banker friend of her boyfriend. It was huge – too big for her on her own – so I’d moved in when I sold my place in Leith to fund the spa. Ez and I were like sisters with all the bickering, sniping and affection that entailed. Esme and I were living together like a couple of students – though without the fights over who cleaned the loo – as witches we could simply do the cleaning with a wave of our hands. Things were fine until she decided she missed her boyfriend too much. Jamie was a GP. He had been planning to take over his dad’s practice up in Claddach in the Highlands, where we’d all grown up. But his dad wasn’t ready to retire quite yet and after rekindling their teenage romance, he and Esme were inseparable… So we all ended up living together. I adored Esme, and I loved Jamie, who’d been a brilliant support to my mum when she was ill. But even so, our living arrangements weren’t exactly where I’d intended to be in my late thirties, but needs must, I told myself, and it was a great flat.
Anyway, after everything that had happened, I was desperate just to be by myself and as I walked up the stone stairs that led to our front door, I crossed my fingers that Esme and Jamie were out tonight.
I was out of luck. As I opened the door I was greeted by the sight of Esme and Jamie snogging. They sprang apart when I came in and grinned at me, identical stupid love-sick grins. In the mirror on the wall opposite I caught a glimpse of my reflection; my face was ashen and my lips white, stark against my dark brown hair. Then I looked at Esme, who was glowing with health and happiness.
“Why are you standing in the hall,” I asked, though I didn’t really care. Then I burst into tears.
Esme exchanged a glance with Jamie – he looked concerned, she looked more pissed off. Then, together, they bustled me into the kitchen, and sat me at the table. Esme put the kettle on and Jamie found a bottle of brandy in one of the cupboards and poured me a stiff measure.
I knocked my drink back in one mouthful and wiped my eyes carefully to avoid smudging my make-up.
“What’s happened, Harry?” Esme said.
I shuddered.
“God it was awful,” I said, reaching for the brandy bottle.
“I’d been with clients all day – I hadn’t had more than five minutes to myself all afternoon,” I explained glugging brandy into my glass. “Star wanted to speak to me though, and she said she’d wait for me to finish. So when I was done, I went into reception. And that’s when I found her.” I took a long jagged breath and stared into my glass.
“Who?” Esme said. “Who did you find?”
“Star.”
“But you wanted to see her, surely?” Esme looked confused and I rolled my eyes.
“Not like that,” I said.
“Why, what was she doing?” asked Jamie.
“She was dead.”
Esme gasped.
“I’ve been with the police for hours,” I continued, rubbing my forehead as I thought about how to explain it all. “The paramedics said it was a heart attack and the police aren’t suspicious. And yet…”
“And yet…” repeated Jamie.
I leaned forward so they knew how important this was.
“I saw her face,” I whispered. “She was terrified.”
“Really?” Esme said doubtfully. “Can you tell?”
“Oh you can tell,” I said, with all the wisdom of a woman who’d seen her first corpse just a few hours earlier.
Jamie nodded.
“You can, actually,” he said. “I’ve seen all sorts of strange facial expressions on bodies.”
Esme shivered and I scowled at her.
“That’s not all though,” I said, perhaps slightly over-dramatically. “There was magic there. Dark magic. Hanging – you know how it does – like a heat haze. Over Star’s desk.”
“Oh that’s not good,” Esme said with a shiver. “Do you think something sinister has happened? Something that could have hurt Star?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said. “I just don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt her.”
“Is Star, erm, was she, you know?” Esme began.
“A witch?”
She nodded.
I shook my head.
“She was interested,” I said. “Actually she was really interested. She was always asking me stuff and I’d helped her out a few times with advice and explanations about spells and things. I know that was why she took the job in the first place. She dabbled in a bit of aura cleansing and she did a lot of our yoga classes. But she wasn’t a witch – not by birth. It’s not in the terms and conditions of