Maksym Pachesiuk
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Wizard's First Lesson - Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2025-02-01 21:54:47 +0000 UTC“Answer, boy,” Kate said with darkened lips and a sultry, seductive voice. Knuckles shook his head and waved his hand in front of his face as if swatting away invisible gnats.
“How do they punish attempts at mind manipulation?” I asked Sunset.
“Three to five years in prison,” the detective replied grimly. “And a permanent seal as a preventive measure.”
“Oh, come on, I was just joking,” Kate protested.
“I wasn’t,” I said, looking at Sunset. “I think she’ll grow more cooperative in a cell.”
“Couple days on rotten blood will make her downright obedient,” the detective agreed.
“Oh, you’ve cut me to the core! Is that how you treat friends?” Kate took a sip of blood from her cup, then licked the remnants off her lips.
I put up with Sunset because he’d been polite when we first met, turned a blind eye to a lot during the encounters that followed, and even though he had his moments, he’d earned a certain level of mutual trust. Not friendship, per se, but trust. A trust I would never extend to the slippery bloodsucker sitting across from me. She, on the other hand, had clearly convinced herself that I’d let her push me around just to keep my inclination toward compulsion under wraps.
“Madam,” I hissed, snatching the cup from her hands and setting it on the table. Then I leaned in close, leaving only a few inches between our faces. “We were never friends. But it would be very easy for us to become enemies.”
Surprise flashed briefly across Kate’s face.
“Seems your new status has gone to your head,” John added. “Big mistake.”
“There is no status,” Kate replied, gently pushing me back. There was no point in resisting the strength of her not-so-dainty hand, so I stepped back of my own accord, allowing us both to save face. She stopped playing games after that – something she was frankly terrible at.
“Didn’t you become the new Mother of the Nest?” Sunset asked.
“Have you heard an official announcement? I’m on probation.”
“Then stop playing with us, or I’ll throw you in a cell and keep you there until your Prince picks someone else,” Sunset threatened.
“Oh, with Valerie dead, my chances are barely above zero.”
“That’s exactly why we’re here – to talk about her,” I said.
Kate shot me a thoughtful look, probably wondering if I’d decided to help her after all.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, picking up her hat to cross the sunlit expanse of the garden.
The vampire led us to one of the upstairs offices in the mansion and gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. Since there were only two, Knuckles had to stand.
“This is her file,” Kate said, placing a string-tied folder on the desk. Next to it, she laid another one. “And this is everything I’ve gathered about her final night.”
Without a word, John and I each reached for the nearest file. The detective got the hefty life story, while I ended up with a few pages covering one evening.
The notes were written in the same elegant handwriting, resembling more of a book’s table of contents than a proper report, with times listed instead of chapters. A young vampire’s day was noticeably different from a human’s. The older ones could somewhat tolerate the sun, but the young had to avoid it at all costs. Daytime sleep was crucial for their health and maintaining a natural skin tone.
Breakfast at six in the evening, not the morning. Training, lessons… It was more akin to the schedule of a young aristocrat than a bloodsucker, especially considering that from midnight onward, Valerie had free time, which she spent at the Golden Tear. No surprise there. That was her last known location – she didn’t show up for work after that.
“She had a job?” I asked.
“We all work for the good of the Nest,” Kate replied.
“I can imagine.”
“Valerie’s job was completely legitimate!” Kate said indignantly.
Sunset wasn’t surprised by her profession.
“Calm down, Duncan. The girl worked at a slaughterhouse,” the detective said.
“As a manager!” Kate added quickly before I could jump to conclusions.
So Valerie was responsible for feeding the family, ensuring that the esteemed bloodsuckers didn’t have to resort to sucking yesterday’s blood off meat scraps. Only the freshest bovine and porcine juice for them! Could her disappearance have disrupted the established order?
“No,” Sunset said, as if reading my thoughts. “This isn’t an attack on the Nest’s business. We’ve already ruled that out. In fact, while the Lindemanns may have lost their patriarch, they’ve actually gained a little ground, business-wise.”
“Not as much as the Gratches,” Kate chimed in. “That bitch snatched up the juiciest bits left behind by the Valentines.”
John said nothing, and Kate didn’t press the subject. After all, the Valentines didn’t vanish; they still had some vampires left. The youngest ones, sure, but the treaty remained in place, and soon enough, their Prince might send a new head to the city. Of course, that head would first have to pass an interview with the Duke. Just a tradition, but Farnell wouldn’t be handed over to just anyone. I wondered if the official authorities, in the form of His Worship de Camp, had any influence over the situation.
Wait a second…
Lost in thought, I flipped a couple of pages and found another structured list – this time of Valerie’s contacts during her final day. One name immediately struck me as suspicious, even though I’d only heard it for the first time yesterday.
“Simon August Kettle, Baronet.” Simon and August… Hell of a name.
“The judge’s son?” Sunset asked, surprised, leaning over to glance at my file. “What’s he doing here?”
“That bastard could belong to anyone, but he’s clearly not his son,” Kate said. “A talent like that doesn’t come out of nowhere – It’s obviously inherited, and his mother certainly didn’t have it.”
“I know,” John said.
“Well, I don’t. Care to share?” I asked.
The vampire took it upon herself to explain.
“Miss Kettle studied in the capital when she was young, but her education got cut short when she found herself in a… delicate condition. The lady returned home, and a month later, she married her father’s young secretary. Six months after that, they had a child.”
“So the Chief Justice started his career as a mere secretary?”
“Well,” John said, “not a mere secretary. He was the secretary to the previous Chief Justice – Miss Kettle’s father. And that was the extent of his ambitions. He had neither the connections nor the pedigree to rise further.”
“What about his vaunted honesty?” I asked.
Sunset shrugged indifferently. “They never caught him taking bribes, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. As far as I know, the judge didn’t amass any great wealth – everything of the baronet line, money, property, and title, went straight to Simon. So what’s his connection to Valerie?”
“Flirting,” Kate replied. “Why are you making such a fuss? Everyone knows Simon Kettle is a fool, a boozer and a skirt-chaser.”
Sunset and I exchanged a glance. Could the vampire not know that the Archmaker had already killed one of the judge’s sons? I highly doubted this was a tight-knit family.
“We’ve already ruled out other possibilities,” John said tactfully. “This is something new.”
“And here I thought you’d surprise me,” Kate sighed in disappointment.
She might have had her reasons for excluding Simon from the list of suspects, but she didn’t share them. So we borrowed the files and headed straight for the courthouse. Sure, we could have gone to the baronet’s house, but that would’ve been shortsighted. No matter how chaotic things were in their family, our actions might offend the judge, and that was something neither I nor Sunset wanted for different reasons.
Sunset quickly found out that the judge wasn’t busy, though his secretary tried to stall us, inflating both his own and his boss’s importance. John brusquely told him where to shove it, shoved him aside, and barged into the office.
The secretary raised a fuss, the judge looked scandalized, but Sunset calmly said, “It’s about the latest case.”
“Leave us,” the judge immediately ordered the secretary and gave me a suspicious look.
“Smith is helping with the Archmaker,” the detective said. “Duncan knows.”
“Fine. Sit down. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
“We don’t have much,” John said, ignoring the invitation to sit. “The night before the murder, your son was seen flirting with the victim. Can we question him?”
“What? My… Simon? That’s why you’re here?” The judge’s voice rose with anger. “He flirts with every skirt he sees. If he drinks enough, he won’t even turn down a dockside whore!”
“Should we have gone straight to him instead?” I asked dryly.
“If you’re here for permission, you’ve got it! Now get out of my sight and stop bothering me with trivialities!”
“As you wish, Your Honor,” John replied, his voice dripping with as much venom as the judge’s speech had carried anger. Clearly, these two had a history. Maybe if the conversation had gone differently, I could’ve “put in a good word” for the cockroach gentleman and Fairburn, but with tempers this high, it would’ve only caused more trouble. I wisely kept my mouth shut and followed the detective out of the office.
I expected Kettle to live in an apartment in New High or a house in Sungarden, close to the vampires, but instead, he resided in a cozy two-story house near the park, practically on the outskirts of town. The area, known as Sleepgarden, earned its name for its tranquility, with perfectly trimmed lawns and ancient trees that had been preserved from the old forest. Most yards had a couple of their own oaks or elms, making the houses seem small in comparison. But Kettle stood out here. Why he needed a massive wooden barn in his backyard – twice the size of his house – that practically radiated elemental energy was anyone’s guess.
Kettle also had an old butler, who greeted us with a stone-cold expression and informed us that the master was sleeping.
“At three in the afternoon?” I said in disbelief.
His schedule turned out to be almost vampiric. The lazy bastard had returned from his latest escapade at seven in the morning but couldn’t sleep because he wasn’t feeling well. Sunset wasted no time, flashed his badge, and requested that the master be awakened.
We were led into a cozy sitting room that reminded me of home back in Avoc and served tea.
Simon appeared ten minutes later. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, his hair disheveled, and the smell of stale alcohol stung like fresh cut onions. The only thing preserving any semblance of gentlemanly dignity was his blue robe embroidered with gold monograms.
“Morning...” Simon yawned wide enough to swallow the room, hitting us with another wave of alcohol fumes. “Good morning, gentlemen. What brings you here so early?”
“Sir,” the butler interjected slyly, “Mr. Moody has advised you several times not to answer questions without his presence.”
“Ah, right… Would you mind if we summoned him here? I’m afraid the journey to the station or your office might be more than my stomach can handle.”
“I’ll arrange breakfast for three,” the butler announced.
“For two,” Kettle corrected.
“For three!” the old man insisted, starting to leave with a proud stride, but I stopped him. With all these “snacks,” I’d be lucky to fit into my trousers soon.
“For one, good sir. The detective inspector and I just had lunch.”
“As you wish, sir,” the butler conceded. “For one.”
“Who’s the master here, anyway?” the baronet protested a little too vigorously, turning green in the face before rushing past the butler. Moments later, the sound of his stomach emptying itself reached us from down the hall.
“I’m starting to think,” I said, “that Kate and the judge were right.”
Sunset shook his head. “You don’t need to be a genius to do something vile. You just need the desire.”
“He wouldn’t have the strength to pull off the Arch,” I said.
“But he has enough money to hire someone who does,” Sunset replied.
I had to agree. Money is a universal resource, capable of replacing just about anything – even personal qualities like principles or morality.
“Who’s this Moody?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s one of the people you’ve been looking for,” Sunset said.
“Then why is he working for this…” I gestured toward the doorway, from which the sounds of retching continued to echo.
“Harold’s father was friends with the old baronet long before he became a judge. Rumor has it, the former Chief Justice entrusted him with looking after his daughter before he passed. Lady Kettle later asked Harold to take care of hers.”
We waited over half an hour for the solicitor to arrive. In that time, Simon thoroughly emptied his stomach, took a hangover potion, and began lazily picking at oatmeal with honey while trying to push toast with jam on us whenever the butler wasn’t looking. It was so absurd that I started suspecting the baronet’s buffoonery was a carefully crafted act. That suspicion only grew stronger when Simon’s demeanor shifted completely upon the solicitor’s arrival – a short, unremarkable man in a sharp gray suit carrying a black leather briefcase.
We all stepped out onto the veranda overlooking the barn, poured ourselves tea, and began the conversation.
“What are the charges against my client?” Mr. Moody asked.
“Oh, come now, Harold,” Sunset replied. “If Sir Simon were being charged, we’d be having this discussion at the station. For now, he’s merely a witness, so I’m hoping for an open and honest conversation.”
Harold gave a small nod.
“Well, as long as my client is just a witness, I trust the questions won’t be too invasive.”
“They will be,” the detective parried, “not because I want them to be, but because of his behavior.” Without giving the lawyer a chance to object, John asked directly, “Sir Simon, where did you spend the night of May 31st into June 1st?”
“Oh,” the baronet perked up, “a rather hot…”
“Sir Simon!” the solicitor raised his voice sharply, then added in a quieter tone, “Use your brain.”
“Well, I mean… people will find out soon enough anyway,” Simon shrugged. “I spent the night with a lady.”
“Name?” the detective asked.
“His honor is at stake…” the solicitor began, but Simon cut him off.
“Nina Gratch.”
I choked on my tea, and both the detective and the lawyer’s jaws dropped. The latter covered his face with his hand in visible anguish.
“She’s three hundred years old,” I said. And that was far from all. I had plenty more to say about that bloodsucking beast, but decorum held me back. Simon, however, was unbothered.
“Can you imagine the experience?” he winked.
I knew exactly what kind of “experience” he was talking about, but Nina also had another kind of experience – in combat, duels, and stabbing people in the back. Centuries of expertise in intrigue and deception that mortals like him couldn’t even dream of. I closed my eyes in frustration. No, it wasn’t just an expression – he truly was an idiot.
“Do you have any idea what she could do to you?” I asked.
“You have no idea what she’s already done to me! Even the best professionals in Shiny can’t compare!”
“And have you considered her previous favorites?” the solicitor interjected. “Shall I remind you how many fights they’ve had?”
“Huxley’s a coward. He wouldn’t fight me.”
“No, but he’d send a couple of goons to break your legs or shove a shiv into your kidney while you’re drunk. Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.”
“I think we’ve strayed from the point,” Sunset said. “Did you spend the entire night with her?”
“We parted late in the morning.”
“I believe you were in public at first. What time did you… retreat together?”
“Can’t really say. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the time.”
Meaning he was drunk?
“Was it your first night together?”
“Detective,” the solicitor interrupted, “I fail to see the relevance or purpose of these questions. Are you attempting to disgrace my client?”
Disgrace him? He seemed to be doing just fine on his own.
Sunset’s expression said he was thinking the exact same thing, but this time, Simon stayed silent, forcing the detective to rephrase.
“Who else did you meet that evening?”
“Oh, lots of people… I can’t remember them all.”
The detective grew tired of this verbal dancing and asked directly.
“Valerie Lindemann?”
“Oh, her… Let’s just say she didn’t appreciate my efforts. But fortune smiled on me that night. To answer your earlier question, Detective: yes, it was my first night with Nina. And I have Valerie to thank for it – her fiery reaction is what caught Nina’s attention. I hope the girl didn’t take it too hard; I’m genuinely grateful to her.”
The fact that the “girl” was twenty years old when she turned and had lived another twenty since, making her twice Simon’s age, didn’t seem to faze him.
“She’s dead,” Sunset said, wiping the grin off the baronet’s face. “I trust Lady Gratch can confirm your alibi?”
Simon opened his mouth, but the solicitor silenced him.
“My client refuses to answer that question.”
“Why?” Simon asked, bewildered.
“Because Gratch is the head of a rival clan, and her involvement in this death cannot be ruled out.”
Simon clearly hadn’t expected that answer, but I understood. What could Nina confirm? That they’d spent the night together? Sure. Proving what they’d actually been doing, however, was another matter entirely. Maybe they’d been tangled in bed all night, or maybe they’d performed a sacrificial ritual in the depths of the barn.
For Simon, finding a motive against the Lindemanns was difficult, but with Nina, it was easier to argue she wasn’t involved. And the worst part of this situation? They really could have just been rolling around in the sheets. Investigating the full scope of this would take an eternity. Nina, being a vampire, would twist and turn the story every which way, and if Kate found out, we could end up with another escalation of conflict.
Not that I’d mind seeing fewer vampires in this city – I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But in the chaos that might follow, the last remaining clues and evidence would likely go up in smoke. No one would find the Archmaker, and some half-baked explanation would be handed down from above, leaving us scratching our heads over what actually happened. In that case, Harry and I would lose any leverage over the judge entirely.
The only hope was that Smith would dig up something about the Arch. But in the meantime, we needed to move faster on other angles to counter the Fairburns.
