A/N: Thanks again all you fantastic reviewers who got me up to 100 reviews! Never had so many reviews before, thank you so much!
I'm really sorry for the long wait with this chapter. I felt that the last one really lacked something so I wanted to take my time with this piece. To make up for it I've got new craptacular TVPD art on my deviantart page and two TVPD trailers on Youtube. The links to the trailers are on my profile – if you've got any free time please check 'em out and let me know what you think! They're my very first music videos XD
Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives
The Hanging Dog
oOo
"Nox! Oi, Nox!"
Fred's silvery face appeared through the hole in the floorboards her fall had made, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.
"Blimey, what are you doing down there?" he said.
"I'm taking a nap, what's it look like," Nox muttered irritably, and put a hand to her pounding head. The foul marshy taste at the back of her throat from her previous encounter with Jenny Greenteeth was now replaced with salty water. She squinted at her new surroundings. It looked like she had fallen into a secret compartment cunningly hidden in the floorboards of the lighthouse tower.
She scrambled about for a handhold to pull herself up with, but her gangly legs were caught under the pair of ladders that had toppled down with her. One of her hands slid over something slimy and rotten. Nox grimaced.
"I'm a little stuck here. Can you give me some help?" she called.
"Sure, just grab a hold of my hand and I'll yank you up then," Fred retorted sarcastically.
Nox sighed. "Now isn't the time to get testy about your non-corporeal situation, Fred. We need to get out of here before Flaversham gets back."
"Well if you hadn't climbed down there in the first place – "
"Climb?" she repeated, puzzled. "I didn't climb. I fell! You saw me fall. The Loathly Woman – the water – it came in through the window and … pushed me off the ladders…" Even as she retold the events she knew how crazy it all sounded, apparently even to a former wizard turned ghost, if the doubtful look on Fred's face was anything to go by.
"You hit your head pretty hard there, eh?" he said.
"I didn't imagine it!" she snapped. "You! You saw her too, you tried to let her in –"
"Alright, alright, you don't have to go throwing accusations around. I believe you," he said, waving an airy hand, though it was clearly obvious that he didn't. "Try and get those massive feet out from under the ladders."
"I'm trying, but there's not a lot of room in here – oh! Bloody, bloody damn." Nox pulled her hand quickly back away from the sharp object that had just sliced across her palm. She smeared the blood on her dress then began to feel gingerly about for the object and, upon finding it, discovered it was a small silver comb, engraved with the initials E.H. Nox stopped; she had seen the letters before. But before she could search any further, a pair of angry footsteps came striding across the floorboards above her. A moment later she was being wrenched painfully out of the hole by Flaversham Potts. The old man looked furious and very fierce in the flashing glare from the lighthouse lamp.
"What are you doing here? No trespassers allowed!" he bellowed angrily, dragging her to her feet. "I told you ah don't like tourists!"
"Tell him you thought you heard a noise," Fred quickly muttered in her ear, "and that you were checking it out for burglars."
Nox drew him a doubtful look, but Fred ushered her on impatiently.
She explained hurriedly to the irate toymaker and to her surprise her lame excuses seemed to have a positive effect on Flaversham's temper.
"Oh," he said slowly. "That'd be her again, then." His face darkened. "Every night she comes for them and every night ah close the window to her," the old man began to mutter, walking deliberately away towards the stairs with a distinctive limp. Nox had the feeling she was supposed to follow him.
"Who comes here?" she asked as they descended the curving staircase together. "This Loathly Woman?"
Flaversham turned sharply towards her. For a moment he looked as though he had completely forgotten Nox was with him, and when he finally spoke again his voice sounded bitter and heated, and his eyes flashed like hot coals. All at once Nox was reminded of Audra Beckinsale, the little maid of Rosewood.
"That one, yes," drawled Flaversham, thoughtfully. "Those ignorant half-wits on the shore think I'm mad for believing, but when you've lived and fought through two wars you start to understand that the world is a much bigger, deeper place."
Fred and Nox exchanged a glance, then Nox asked tentatively, "What does she come for?"
Flaversham gave her an icy look. "My pride an' joy o' course. Everything that's ever mattered to me. But she will not have 'em. No one will."
"Your toys," she stated, but the old man did not answer her and he didn't speak again until they had reached the bottom of the tower, and he was opening the door into the cool, calm night.
"You best take care on the roads," he grunted. "You know what night it is tomorrow I hope?"
"Night?" Nox asked and looked at Fred, who only shrugged.
"Paranormal Detective did yeh say you were?" The old man pushed his weight into the heavy door, opening it enough for Nox to slip through. "Not much of a detective if yeh don't know what night it is tomorrow. Friday the 13th o'course and you can bet she'll be waiting for you. She knows you're lookin' for her, and she won't make it easy." Flaversham closed the door behind her, adding softly, "And neither will I."
Fred and Nox looked at the lighthouse tower for a while, cold and bone-like in the pearly moonlight, and seemingly doubled in size under the velvety darkness of night. Nox chewed thoughtfully on the inside of her mouth, then turned to the ghost beside her.
"I didn't imagine it," she said, obstinately.
Fred considered her a moment then, with an easy mocking grin, turned to drift across the rocks towards the shore. "Let's get back to Hati's."
A wind was picking up. It whistled up the cobbled streets of Aber Duafe from the vast wilderness of the sea, whipping up Nox's short locks and passing easily through Fred as if he were not there at all. The cool air stung the cut across her palm and suddenly Nox realised she was still holding the silver comb that she had found in the lighthouse tower.
"What's that you've nicked, then?" Fred enquired, bending over her shoulder.
"I didn't mean to take it," she replied honestly and lifted the comb up to the lamplight. "I feel like I've seen it before, or at least the initials. Funny, though, isn't it?"
"Funny? As in 'ha ha' funny? I've got to wonder at you sense of humour sometimes, Noxy. You might need serious treatment."
Nox ignored his jibes and went on to explain. "My translation's a little rusty – I didn't have time to do any thorough research on the town before we left London – but Aber Duafe should roughly translate as 'Comb of the River Mouth'." She turned it over and over again in her fingers, admiring the silvery sheen on its surface. "It's an old comb; beautiful really. Here, have a look at the detail. Isn't that a snake and spear, like the Seal of Cagliostro?"
Fred looked at it dully. "Hmm, yeah. Fascinating." He crossed his arms behind his head and chuckled. "I dunno, you gotta wonder at the old man's sanity, really. I mean, toys?" He shook his head, looking appalled. "He's like the spoiled brat at playgroup who didn't let any of the other kids play with his things." He paused then added with a grin, "Reminds me a bit of Perce."
"Perce?"
"He's my brother. Bossy, important – stuffy sort." He beamed at her. "You'd like him."
A bottle smashed in the not too far off distance and Nox was suddenly aware that the music from the Hanging Dog inn had stopped playing. The town seemed derelict and empty. Yellow light pooled beneath each arched Victorian lamp, sending her shadow out behind them, stretched and flitting. It was strange to see it alone there. Part of her kept expecting to see Fred's shadow join her own in the streaming yellow light.
"Took me a while getting used to it, too," Fred said suddenly. "No shadow, no reflection, no breath against the glass. Funny things to miss. It's stuff I took for granted, but you do miss 'em when they're gone." Fred turned and smiled at her, then floated on ahead, whistling a tune.
Nox smiled wryly. She had to admire his easygoingness.
As she turned to follow him, her eyes caught sight of a large rock in the middle of Bracelet Bay and for a moment she thought she glimpsed a face on the standing rock – a hollow-eyed skull amongst the barnacles and seaweed, glaring at her, directly at her. The comb in her hand felt at once cold and heavy.
Nox turned to run, but Fred was blocking her path. He was frowning out to sea. Without moving his gaze, he put his icy hands on her shoulders gently.
"Don't run. Never run from a magical creature. It'll only make them chase you faster."
Nox suppressed a shudder. "You see her too?"
Fred's face darkened. "Yeah, I see her alright. Turn around, walk slowly."
Nox didn't want to turn her back to that face embedded in the standing rock, and for a moment she imagined how vulnerable her shadow was, flickering down the sloping length of the cobbled street close to the sea wall, almost within grasp of the Loathly Woman's wet fingers.
There was a ghastly howl and the bells in the church further up the road began to toll loudly. Fred looked a little relieved.
"It's alright. I think that's Ran." And as they passed the ancient building with its one glowing light, and beaming face grinning at them from the highest window, Nox felt strangely comforted.
It wasn't until they were turning up the dirt track to Hati's cottage that she realised her dress was completely bone dry. But the water in the Bellrock Lighthouse had been very real and so had the Loathly Woman.
oOo
George had flung open the door and was bellowing in their faces before she had even reached her hand out to turn the handle. "Where the bloody hell have you stupid great prats been?"
"Hello to you too, George." Fred drifted past his twin, throwing him a half-assed salute. "Honestly, all night long we've been slaving away, working for you, and this is the thanks we get? And no kiss either!" he ranted in a falsetto voice.
George turned and leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "I tire of this dysfunctional family. What'd you find out?"
"That Flaversham's a nut," said Fred flatly.
"He's not a nut," Nox said archly over her shoulder, walking past both twins into the main sitting room. "He's trying to protect himself and his work from this… whatever it is."
"The Loathly Womanof Bellrock Lighthouse…" Fred answered in a mock spooky voice, hunching his back and wiggling his fingers at them.
As they entered the little sitting room again, a slight, blonde figure curled and sleeping on the half-couch stopped Fred and Nox short. Fred blinked rapidly as if he couldn't tell whether or not the girl was real or some sort of apparition.
"What the – Luna? Sorry, I miss something here?" He turned to George for an answer and nearly jumped at the death glares his twin was shooting his way.
"We missed the appointment you set up, Fred," said George through gritted teeth. "She came up here with our incredibly helpful new secretary. Remind me to thank him with a pink slip."
"Caith's up here?" Nox asked in disbelief.
"Blimey, that must have been an interesting ride up," said Fred.
George grinned and nodded, grabbing a couple of thick blankets from a shelf on the wall, and throwing one across Luna's sleeping form. "He's in the village, I think. Or in the church, tolling the bells."
George paused as Luna mumbled something fitfully in her sleep. Curled there beneath the blanket, she almost looked more animal than human. George stooped to tuck her in, then stood and said with a long stretch, "Dunno about you lot but I fancy getting some kip in."
There were two camp beds lying parallel to the couch along the floor, both looking moth-eaten and minus a few springs. Hati had turned in hours ago and Fo had apparently gone haunting with his young master. A couple of candles were sputtering on the mantelpiece. Nox climbed under the heavy quilt on the camp bed closest to the strange, wide-eyed girl, and closed her eyes as George blew out the flames.
Only once did she waken in the night.
Sweat was cold on her after her nightmare. In the dream she had been running through an enormous garden of roses, the wind close at her heels. It changed into panting, hot and breathless, and when she turned she saw the enormous head of a werewolf snapping its jaws at her. And then she was standing in the middle of the chequered floor in the entrance hall of Weasley Manor, surrounded by immense pieces of a chess set. Instead of a sword, the White Queen was holding a mirror, its frame a silver snake, slithering around towards the tip of its tail. There was music playing distantly. A horseman came riding behind her, harness clinking. He was helmeted and only his smirking eyes were visible. Nox stopped in front of the mirror. In the grimy glass she could see two figures, one dressed entirely in black, the other in white, and both impressively tall and intimidating. Then the figures blurred and merged, and there was Fred behind the glass, alive and grinning darkly, but when he spoke it wasn't his voice:
'Open the window. Let me in.'
The glass shattered and her eyes flew open.
It must have been very late. Moonlight was streaming in through the small window looking out onto Jenny Greenteeth's wood. Nox lay stiff, trying to comprehend the images in her dream. Her eyes drifted to the twins sharing the camp bed beside her. Fred was resting his head against George's chest, and snoring louder than ever. His glowing arm was draped comfortably across his twin's stomach, icy fingertips just brushing her elbow. He looked entirely at peace. Nox smiled warmly, feeling a touch of affection for the ghost. The fire behind them had sunk to a low glow. Already her eyelids were beginning to feel heavy again.
Just then, Nox realised she wasn't the only one awake.
George was staring hard at the ceiling; his dark eyes were thoughtful and impossibly sad. His red hair, which normally hung just below his ears, had fallen back onto his pillow. Before sleep overtook her, Nox could have sworn that instead of an ear, there was a small dark hole in the side of his head…
oOo
They left Hati's cottage at noon the next day. Sunshine flooded the bay and Nox was glad that Hati had managed to clean her marsh sodden clothes for her, because the idea of wearing a stiflingly hot velvet dress in mid-summer was not one she relished. The town looked very different in the daylight. Even from the top of the winding, steep road they could see the tourists gathering in the Green near the seafront. Hati had mentioned something about a summer fête before they had left her cottage.
"Summer fairs, ay," said George airily. "Friday the 13th, middle of summer, tourists running rampant… You know what this means, right?"
"The gits on the town council couldn't give a damn about any old watery legend," replied Fred, shaking his head with a soft smile on his lips. "That bartender was right; they wanted us down here for the novelty. Betcha we'll look good on the tourist guide."
George nodded. "Right in one."
"Does it really matter as long as we solve the case and get paid?" Nox asked. "A town council isn't likely to skimp out on us. Which reminds me; Rosewood haven't got round to sending us that big paycheque yet."
"We've got one objective here and it looks like Flaversham's our main bet." said George quietly, casting a short glance at Fred who looked the other way.
"Main bet?" Nox repeated, looking bemused.
Luna suddenly stepped nimbly out of the bushes on the side of the road and into their path, several leaves and twigs tangled in her strangley long hair. Her normally pale face was tinged with pink and engrossed in a sketch of what Nox instantly recognised to be a pair of Gwyllion. When Luna finally looked up, she appeared just as surprised to see them as they were to see her.
"Taking the scenic route Lu?" asked George with a grin.
"Oh, good morning, Fred! Good morning, George." Luna turned and smiled warmly at Nox. "Good morning. I left Hati's early in order to catch the morning Dewbats flying against the sunrise." She flicked through her clipboard and produced a beautiful pastel coloured picture of several silver-tailed birds flitting across a blood-red sky.
Nox examined it, incredulously. "They're actually moving."
"You don't say," said Fred, beaming.
"Ahh, Nox, you're still such a naive little Muggley Muggle." George ruffled her short hair so that it stuck up on end with the static. "So Luna, you coming into town with us then?"
Luna blinked her impossibly large eyes at him. "Oh… that would be very nice. Yes, I will," she said in a shy, soft sort of tone that didn't seem to suit her.
"Great! Give you a chance to properly meet our new toy," cried Fred throwing his icy arms around Nox's neck who sighed dolefully.
They continued together down the winding road into the edge of the town where the cottages sat closer together and the old churchyard was visible along the last stretch to the sea wall. Luna was skipping a little ways ahead of them.
"You can always trust a Lovegood not to do things the conventional way," said Fred with a bright grin. "Not that there's any fun in conventionality, anyway."
George gaped at him. "That's six syllables, Fred. You choke on a thesaurus last night? Cough it up, there's a good lad."
"Apologies, George," said Fred, raising himself up with a tone of stuffy importance. "It was inconsiderate and pretentious of me to use such multi-syllabic convoluted language at this early time of day."
"Indeed it was." George nodded gravely. "I dare say you demonstrated a level of ineptitude that bordered on the moronic. A dirty word too, that, conventionality."
"Not one we want to be associated with," Fred readily agreed, then gave a sudden jump when Luna released a burst of laughter. Tears were filling her eyes and she was clutching her clipboard tightly to her stomach.
When at last her laughing fit had subsided, she turned to Nox and said, "They're very funny, aren't they? Sometimes they make me laugh so hard it feels like I've swallowed a barrel of wriggling hinkypuffs! Which I really wouldn't recommend, by the way. It would be very silly and not the least beneficial, a bit like standing on your head to make yourself taller."
Nox smiled and nodded warily. "Er, right… Uhm, yeah I guess they are funny," she said, then added as a quiet afterthought under her breath, "But you get sick of it after a while."
They were taking the shortcut to the town Green through the churchyard. It was a quiet, peaceful place when Ran wasn't howling at the top of his lungs from the steeple. Many of the tombstones and graves were a good four-hundred plus years old. The townspeople still left flowers on many of the older graves.
Rounding the corner of the church, Nox caught sight of a familiar figure crouched over a more modern-looking headstone. She tapped George's arm and whispered in his ear, "That's Padrig from the Inn house. He's our toymaker's nephew."
"And a ruddy big git, besides," added Fred from behind her.
Luna frowned and pointed. "Why do you think he is taking that little box from the grave? You can get into a lot of trouble doing that. He'll have the Grave Bogles on his tail tonight."
As if he had heard her, Padrig's shrewd, red face twisted sharply towards them. For a split second he looked quite panicked, and quickly pocketed the small ornate box Luna had witnessed him taking from the grave. Then he stood, rolling his shoulders back in a threatening posture, and narrowed his small dark eyes.
"You still 'ere, girl?" he said, glowering at Nox. "Thought you'd have been long gone by now." His eyes ranged over George and Luna standing beside her. "So this is what the town's come to, ay? Paying for groups of rag-tag, self-important students to come tearing up the place looking for evil hobgoblins and the like."
"Actually the correct term is Goblin," Luna quickly cut in. "Hob Goblin is slang applied in folktales depicting a friendly Goblin, and I'm afraid you don't get many of those. In fact," she added thoughtfully, putting a finger to her mouth, "I'm not aware of any Goblin groups in this area at all. Oh, and we aren't students either."
Padrig stared utterly perplexed at Luna. Something about her simple, straightforward manner – or maybe her apricot earrings and patchwork dungarees – must have offended him because his face was turning a pleasant shade of violet.
"She bein' funny ay, or is she just a screw loose upstairs?" he asked Nox brusquely, tapping the side of his head.
George strode angrily towards him. "If you've got a problem, mate, you can take it up with me!"
Padrig growled and raised a fist, but Nox was between them in an instant, one hand pressing George firmly back. "Come on, George. We don't have time to waste on people like him. Let's get down to this fête, okay?" She could see his hand twitching above the wand in his back pocket and swallowed thickly.
Finally George nodded in agreement and let her lead the way past the sneering man.
The rest of the journey passed uneventfully, and the sight of the fair on the Green put the unpleasant incident out of their heads. A brass band had been set up on a make-shift platform in the middle of the grass and there was a variety of different stalls selling cakes, bric-a-brac or displaying games where you had to shoot several targets in order to win a prize. Fred and George wasted no time in running off to explore.
"Dad would've loved this. What Muggle novelty!" laughed Fred from inside one of the game-stalls. A large, spotty boy was attempting to knock a coconut off its stand, but every time it teetered on its edge Fred moved it back into place. By the end of the twentieth failed shot, the boy had thrown himself violently onto the ground, wailing and hammering his legs and fists into the grass until the stall keeper finally gave him one of the stuffed bunny-rabbits hanging on a hook.
George shook his head and tutted sadly as the boy went merrily on his way, his tantrum having quickly subsided.
"What a spectacle. Reminds me of Harry's cousin, ickle Dudders. Maybe that was his son?"
"Oh Merlin, don't go saying that!" cried Fred, looking horrified. "I think Harry'd have a heart attack if he thought Dudley had gone and reproduced."
Nox staggered over to them, panting heavily. "Have you seen Luna anywhere?"
"Luna's a music lover," said George, jabbing his thumb towards the brass band where Luna was standing alone, clapping along to the music.
Fred looked Nox up and down and pulled a face. "Where've you been? You're all sweaty."
Nox wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, still breathing hard. "You'd be too if you'd just spent the last half-hour dodging the press. Owena really wasn't lying about – oh no…"
A bustle of eager looking men and women were running towards her, snapping her photograph and talking in an excited nonsensical jabber.
"Matilda Twiddy, editor of the Bracelet Post. Your full name is Gertrude Nox Wolfe, that right? Can you tell us what the Loathly Woman eats? Is it right that she feeds on the hearts of handsome young men when the moon is half crescent?"
Nox blinked. "Er…"
"Barnaby Watts of the historical museum – can you tell us your credentials? Is it true that your father was the notorious Mad Rozza who lost his fortune, prompting him to fake his death?"
She glared. "That's a little personal –"
Matilda Twiddy had pushed to the front of the queue again and was thrusting her audio recorder in Nox's mouth. "We've heard that you had a hand in the Rosewood case in Dartmoor. Was it your gift of second sight that enabled you to discover Catherine Beckinsale's murderer, where Officer Argos Thickley could not?"
Nox goggled at her. "'Second sight?'" she repeated.
A long pale hand moved across her field of vision to stub a smoking cigarette out on Barnaby Watt's notebook.
The little man scowled at the tall intruder. "What the devil do you think you're doing, sir?"
"I'm Miss Wolfe's secretary," Caithion easily replied in his smooth Irish tones. "All interviews must be scheduled between the hours of nine and five every alternate Thursday." He lit another cigarette, took a deep puff, and blew the thick acrid smoke into Matilda Twiddy's disapproving face. "This is a Friday."
The group of journalists grumbled and muttered bitterly, but quickly disbanded under Caithion's blood-curdling glares. Nox grinned appreciatively at her saviour.
"Cheers, Caith."
"Yeah," George whistled impressively. "Not too shabbily handled, mate."
"I see you didn't deem it necessary to come to her aid," said Caithion impatiently and the twins fell rigid under his sharp gaze. When he turned his head away, Fred narrowed his eyes darkly.
"Why are his eyes purple? That's not normal for a Muggle, is it?" he asked Nox later as they sat alone beneath a carved stone archway. A trellis wound its way over the stonework, entwined with roses. "He gives me the creeps and I swear he bloody looked straight at me earlier."
Nox was fanning herself with a flier listing the fête's events, only half-listening to Fred's misgivings.
"Fred, they're coloured contact lenses. Lots of people wear contacts. Even I do. You're just being paranoid. I've known Caithion all my life. And sure he might be a bit odd, but no odder than…well, Luna."
"Wonderful comparison," said Fred rolling his eyes. "Made me feel heaps better, cheers…Gertrude."
A black cloud seemed to materialise above Nox's head and she glared at him menacingly. "Never call me Gertrude, Fred. Ever."
Fred beamed at her. "Ah, if looks could only dig me up and kill me again!"
A small smile lit her face and she added sardonically, "Hmm, if only."
She leaned her back against the cool wall of the arch and watched the people milling across the Green. The entire day so far had been spent interviewing the locals about the Loathly Woman, most of who had outright laughed in her face. Caithion had kept the journalists at bay, but even he couldn't stop the torrents of children that swarmed after her. George had been happy to entertain them with spooky stories about Jenny Greenteeth and the faerie rings in the wood, but she had no solid information that could prove the recent deaths had been the work of the Loathly Woman; nor did she have any idea as to what linked Flaversham to the creature. She took the comb out of her shirt pocket and frowned at the engraved initials.
"I don't see the point in this," she said finally. "If the town council only wanted us here for a publicity stunt, then where is the point in sticking around?"
"Come off it Nox, you didn't really think you could prove the existence of this Loathly Woman to the whole town, did you?" Fred asked her.
Nox answered tentatively after a pause, "I didn't really expect to find her in the first place."
"Ever the nutty realist," said Fred tiredly. "Look, the council might not believe but if this creature really is dragging people into a watery grave, then we've got an obligation to protect the people here. Least until we find out what's riling her up and making her come to shore every night. It's not normal, not for a water sprite…" He sat hunched over his knees, sighing deeply. "Normally the Ministry would clear something like this up in a couple of days, but as it is… Merlin, we're still trying to figure out who was under the Imperius curse and who's just blagging it to get outta Azkaban."
This was another one of those speeches Fred and George often made that caused her stomach to tighten uncomfortably. Whatever dark past the snippets of conversation hinted at, the twins had never gone into detail which told her she wasn't meant to know any more. But when she caught the look on her companion's face, her heart sank.
"Fred? Are you alright?"
His head snapped up and he gave her a shaky sort of smile. "Course I am."
Before she could enquire any further, George staggered up to the stone arch, clutching his stomach and laughing uproariously. "You'll never believe it, but I just caught Ran handing that little Muggle girl from the inn a love note. Luna wrote it for him. Twisted, eh? C'mon, Fred, we can have some fun with this!"
Fred waggled a finger in the air. "Tsk, George, it would be criminal to mock a heart so young in love." He clapped his hands together and grinned wickedly, his staged concern dropping like a sack of potatoes. "And criminal activity being right up my street, show me the way dear twin!" He patted Nox on the head, still grinning. "I knew he was hiding something yesterday, the ickle sod. Go and find Luna, would you?"
Nox watched as the twins set off again into the Green. They were quick to catch sight of the petrified ghost boy and give chase, hollering and hooting at the top of their lungs while onlookers stared in bewilderment at the one rowdy paranormal detective they could see charging through the crowds.
Chuckling, Nox drew her knees up to her chest. But the first real sense of curiosity over Fred's death was beginning to niggle away at her. What on earth could have happened in the Ministry that allowed werewolves, hags and water spirits to go rampaging about the place? Nox suddenly had the feeling that she did not want to know.
oOo
She had caught up to Luna and Caithion on a path that joined onto a trail cutting into the side of the towering Fort Hills. It was a sparsely wooded path and to her right the ground fell sharply away towards the sea which thundered against the rocks far below.
Luna was humming a tune and making the occasional comment on her clipboard with an orange-feathered quill.
"George was telling me that you are looking for the Loathly Woman here," she said abruptly in her usual dreamy voice. "I think she might be a water nymph;Aquaticus Nymphus-duplicari, to use their correct term. They can change their shape at will, you know. Only they must have a blood bond with their chosen form."
Beside her, Caithion smiled widely. "I see you have an interest in the paranormal yourself," he said without ever taking his eyes from the road. Nox felt her heart leap – she wanted to beg Luna to stop talking.
But the girl returned her secretary's smile and nodded sagely. "More than an interest. Perhaps it will be my life's work. I do like to hope so." She clutched her clipboard tighter to her chest, a wistful smile upon her pale face.
"You'll find that my Nox is something of a realist," Caithion chuckled dryly. "Paranormal detecting is what you might call the worst job in the wide field of jobs ill-suited to her."
Nox slanted her eyes and 'hmphed'. "I'm still here you know."
Caithion's smile widened further. "I know."
"We shouldn't be out here too late, I think. It is Friday the 13th and I wouldn't like to get caught in a faerie ring," said Luna thoughtfully. "It might be safe to plug our ears on the way home to avoid capture. Faerie music is very alluring. I'd love to capture a ring on paper one night; no one ever has before – at least not without being caught up in the dance. You can dance for up to fifty years if you're caught; one hundred if it's a special night, like tonight."
"Luna was describing the mating habits of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks on our journey yesterday," said Caithion, drawing another cigarette to his lips – it had already been ten minutes since his last one. "A very interesting dance indeed. Not to mention the song of the lamenting Water Hags. That was one the entire train carriage thoroughly enjoyed."
Luna nodded. "It's a pity it hasn't any lyrics."
Nox looked at Caithion askance and preyed that he was taking all of Luna's ramblings with good humour. There was a secretive smile dancing in his bright eyes, and Nox felt she could forgive Fred for feeling so distrustful of him. Her lips twitched in a small smile.
Far below them in Bracelet bay Nox caught sight of the tall rock she had seen the night before. There was no socketless, menacing face there now, but as she looked she fancied the rock itself had the appearance of a forlorn woman reaching her arms out towards the wild sea.
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," a voice muttered over her shoulder. She turned to see Caithion and Luna standing shoulder to shoulder, staring solemnly at the rock far beneath them. "Once you see the waters rage, they're never quite as beautiful again."
Nox quirked a brow at her secretary. "Reciting?"
Caithion only shrugged his slim shoulders and turned down the path again, replying casually, "It felt like the right moment."
Nox shook her head amused, but before she could follow him Luna grabbed her hand and motioned with her finger at something slithering wetly across the trail and over the edge of the steep fall to the sea.
"What do you think it is?" said Luna curiously.
Nox groaned. "I have a good idea, but I hope to god I'm wrong." Just then, music began to drift towards them. Familiar music – the music in her dream. "Where's that coming from?" she asked in alarm, then caught sight of an adjoining path to her left leading deeper into the forest. Without a moment's thought, she set off towards it at a run.
"Wait, you mustn't follow the music! You'll be caught in the ring!" Luna was shouting behind her, struggling to keep up as Nox pounded through the trees.
The music was getting louder as she cut a path deeper into the woods, tripping over roots and squelching through mud. At last she skidded to a halt in a clearing. Her hand flew up to her mouth at the morbid scene that greeted her, bathed though it was in friendly golden sunlight.
In the centre of the glade was a huge oak tree. From one of its thick boughs hung Padrig, a rope of seaweed tied tight around his neck, his body twitching spasmodically above the music box he had stolen from the grave.
Luna came crashing through the trees behind her. Her eyes flew to the body hanging from the oak and in another instant her wand was out. There was a loud bang! And Padrig fell limply to the ground.
oOo
A/N: She might be hard to write, but I bloody well love Looney Lovegood XD And I am addicted to making Twin Vice trailers now. Any suggestions for a song to use on my next one? And Hikaru and Kaoru from Ouran Host Club make for a PERFECT Fred and George. Please review! Pints to allxxx
