The Book of Witches by Jonathan Strahan

Author:Jonathan Strahan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

The Unexpected Excursion of the Murder Mystery Writing Witches

Garth Nix

Dorothy was writing when the ink suddenly poured from her Macniven and Cameron fountain pen in a torrent, to become one giant blot. She scowled in exasperation but made no move to stop the spread of Diamine Blue/Black across the page of Basildon Bond. Surprisingly, it stopped of its own accord at the edges of the paper, eventually making an intensely dark rectangle, which was slightly reflective, a black mirror with a slight blue sheen. A face formed in the ink, or rather an indistinct outline of a face. Not a reflection of Dorothy’s own. The mouth opened, shut, opened again, each time revealing the white paper beneath the ink. Finally, it spoke, very softly.

Dorothy frowned again and leaned in close so she could hear.

“Dorothy! Dorothy! It’s Agatha.”

“Yes, I’m here,” replied Dorothy crossly. “Must you use the ink spell? I do have a telephone, you know. Or you could send me a telegram, or even write a letter.”

“No, this is urgent,” said the inky face. “Ritual business. Besides, you never know who’ll be listening on the telephone, or reading telegrams. Some spotty young constable who’ll think we’re Germans speaking in code.”

“Ritual business? But it’s not the thirteenth,” protested Dorothy. “And I am very busy—”

“So am I, of course,” said the face. “Busier, I expect. But Peter just came in, all a-fluster and jumped up on my desk, knocked manuscript pages everywhere—”

“Peter your terrier?”

“Of course Peter my terrier, who else could it be? He jumped up on my desk, put one paw on the typewriter, and using a single, delicate claw typed ‘The Beast of Howlrodon is out.’ He’s such a clever little dog.”

Dorothy, not for the first time, wished Agatha had chosen a different name for her dog, no matter how clever he was. Peter was a very special cognomen to her. Something like “Bob” would be so much more appropriate for the terrier.

“How did Peter know? And . . . er . . . what is the Beast of Howlrodon?”

“I already told you he’s clever. Heard it from a rat, I expect, a final confession sort of thing before he killed it. He’s such a good ratter.”

“How does this . . . what is the Beast of Howlrodon?”

“I think it’s a sort of giant rat,” said Agatha.

“A giant rat?” asked Dorothy skeptically. Any sort of giant animal would attract immediate attention, and it wouldn’t need Agatha’s terrier to report its presence.

“I looked it up in Mary Sidney and it is in her second Booke of Secrets, but only a reference which says ‘Howlrodon’s most enormous ratte’ and ‘Blyn 65:6’ which I presume is a reference to the Boleyn secret work and you know I don’t have that.”

It remained unspoken between them that Anne Boleyn’s handwritten notes hidden within her Book of Hours were written partly in Latin and partly in English, and a peculiar construction of both at that. Dorothy’s command of Latin and her general scholarship were far superior to Agatha’s, so ownership of the text in question would not have helped the latter.

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