Chapter 19

He sat there staring a them, his trophies, his treasures; three wands lined in a row. The first was broken, cracked by his brute strength. The other two were perfect still, except for the blood that covered the third, lacing through the grain of the wood. Their owners were all dead now. He had done what he had set out to do. So why didn't he feel any better? She was dead, she who had betrayed him. Shouldn't he have felt better? He picked up the second wand and gave it a wave, though nothing happened. Then, anger burning his insides, he took the wand over to one of the chairs that surrounded his kitchen table. Placing the wand across the wooden back of the chair, he put his hands on opposing sides of the wand and pressed down with all his might. After a while, the wood of the wand began to splinter and then it snapped. He held up the two pieces, still strung together by a thin, silver hair. How amusing it was that these great, powerful, divine, magical objects could be broken so easily.

The experience of traveling through the "Flu Network" or whatever Indira had called it, was not one that JJ was going to forget quickly. After a minute or so of tossing and turning, JJ wasn't sure she'd be able to go much further without throwing up. Luckily for her, a few seconds later, everything stopped and she was thrown out of an opening, almost falling on to the floor of the room she had been deposited into. Looking around, it seemed that she was in some of kind train station; the ceiling stretched up to a great height, there were what looked like ticket booths arranged in the centre of the room and there was a slight cloudy haze hanging in the air. But there were no trains, only the strange openings like the one that JJ had just come through. Indira followed her a few seconds later, though her entrance was much more graceful than her companion's. Placing one heeled foot on the hard wood floor as she was forced outwards, Indira simply broke into a fast walk.

"You survived then," Indira smiled as JJ walked beside her.

"Only just," JJ said, "How do you travel like that all the time?"

"One gets used to it," Indira shrugged, "Or, at least, one gets better at pretending they are."

She continued to walk with purpose towards the ticket booths, stopping in front of one with a middle aged man wearing a pale blue uniform, similar in colour to the changing room curtains from the shop. He smiled as they approached.

"Ms Inkpen," the man said warmly, "I hope you are well this morning?"

"Perfectly, thank you, Alf," Indira said, "I'm just showing my friend the sights. She's new in town."

"Well welcome," Alf said to JJ, "How are you liking Salem?"

"It's been educational," JJ smiled, shooting Indira a knowing look.

Alf nodded, not entirely understanding. Then he returned his focus to the witch, a more serious look on his face.

"I was deeply grieved to hear about the tragedy at the school," he said in a loud whisper.

JJ's eyes flicked over to Indira, who had temporarily frozen.

"Sorry?" she said in clipped voice.

Both women shared the same thought; how did he know about the killings?

"The young girl," Alf replied, still in a conspiratorial hush.

"Oh, of course," Indira said slowly, "It's been a hard time for everyone. We must be going, but it was very nice to see you again."

She took the key that she had purchased out of her pocket and handed it to Alf before walking away quickly, with JJ right behind her. She ran some fingers through her greying fringe and exhaled quickly.

"For a second, I thought -" she said.

"-I know," JJ cut in, "We can't keep the deaths secret forever, not from the magic community anyway, but any thing we can conceal for the time being is going to help."

"You think?" Indira said, "I can't speak for our reporter, but Lucy had friends. It's going to hurt when it comes out."

"That can't be helped," JJ said, her agent training setting in, "We've told those closest to her and it's all we can do, without putting your world at risk. It could also buy us more time if the UnSub doesn't know how far we've gotten."

Indira sighed and nodded.

"Is your job always like this?" she asked, "So much smoke and mirrors?"

JJ shook her head.

"Nope. Typically, we have a fully trained police squad at our disposal, we have masses of online catalogued data and we appeal to anybody who could help us. Typically. But this isn't exactly typical."

"No, I guess not."

The two woman walked out of the building and into the open air. Immediately, JJ was caught in an explosion of the senses; so many sights, sounds and smells that were completely unfamiliar and completely wonderful. The buildings were all of different shapes and sizes, not to mention colours; bright oranges and pastel greens clashed with deep purples and midnight blacks. The cobblestone road was paved with a light, almost rose colour brick and Victorian-style streetlamps lined the sidewalk. People, dressed as eclectically as the buildings, walked up and down, robes swishing along the ground, pointed hats reaching up to the sky. JJ couldn't help but stare at the woman who wore a blue bird attached to her hat (partly due to the fact that the bird appeared to be moving). Puffs of smokes pushed their way through shop doors, street vendors yelled slogans, selling products to solve problems the special agent didn't know existed. Pulling herself away from a demonstration on "The Greatest De-Gnoming Technique Since Just About Ever", JJ caught up with Indira, who had gone ahead. How the witch could wander through a place like this without even looking, she could not comprehend; although, it must've been pretty ordinary from her point of view.

They came to a building that was gold in colour. It was a square shape, the corners rounded off. A large, glittery star was stuck on the front, the same gold colour as the walls, with the words "Spell Caster Chronicles" engraved in it.

"This is us," Indira said, going up to the doors.

Inside the Chronicle building was much colder than the temperature outside, the air-conditioning (or magical equivalent, JJ guessed) cranked up to full volume. The floor was tiled, leading up to a large wooden desk. A glass pane constituted the back wall and through it JJ could see a large printing press. It looked exactly like the ones she had seen before, although, on closer inspection, some of the cranks and handles were moving on their own. A woman sat at the desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment. She looked up as the two witches approached.

"Hello," Indira said with a smile, "Could we speak to whoever's in charge, please?"

The woman nodded and flicked through a notebook.

"I'm afraid our editor is in a meeting," she apologised, "But I could get you our deputy?"

Indira glanced over at JJ, who said that would be fine; all they really needed was someone who would have a good overview of everyone working for them. The woman wrote out a note and then folded it up into a small paper plane. JJ watched in amazement as the woman brought out a wand, tapped her creation and then threw it up in the air. As opposed to falling straight back down, as the Muggle had expected it to, the plane continued to soar, flying off to somewhere in the building. JJ grinned, she just couldn't help herself.

A few minutes later, a rather large young man came to the desk, where he was pointed towards the visitors. He came over and then stopped in surprise.

"Ms Inkpen," he said, standing a little straighter.

"At ease, George," Indira said jokingly, "It's very nice to see you again."

"Likewise, Ma'am," George said, "How may I help you?"

"We've come to inquire about a Mary Holden?" Indira said, "She apparently works for you."

George frowned.

"I don't believe I know that name," he said, "Of course, some of our writers are freelance, so you can't always keep track of them. Still, it doesn't sound familiar."

JJ stepped forward.

"It could be an alias," she explained, "But I have a picture here."

Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out some of stills Garcia had taken of the security footage. George took them from her and had a look, his face changing as he looked.

"This isn't Mary Holden," he said, "This is Meredith Hennessy."

"Are you sure?" Indira asked.

"Of course," George replied, "She's a private investigator. A bit too underhand for my liking, if you know what I mean. Sometimes she comes here to talk to the writers, find out what they know. If she's gotten into some sort of trouble, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Oh she's in some sort of trouble alright," Indira muttered, "Thanks, George."

"Anytime, Ma'am," he said, "Meredith has a address in the Old Town, so if you're looking for her, I'd try there."

Indira nodded and thanked him for his time. Then the women left the Chronicles.

"He seemed a little scared of you," JJ commented.

"Ex-pupil," Indira explained with a smile, "I tend to have that effect on them."

"So, to the Old Town?" JJ suggested.

Indira nodded her agreement.

"To the Old Town."