Search Results for 'cedric'

The vine smothered statue proved to be the perfect place to hide behind to watch the events of the picnic unfolding. Cedric had been in a quiet turmoil of conflicting emotions, biting his bony knuckle to stop himself from uttering a sound as the extroadinary sequence of dramas and comedies played out before him.

He hadn’t expected to see Frella again. His mental confusion about his job as well as his troubling fixation on the witch had brought him to the brink of jacking it all in. Just leave everything, he told himself, Move away, get another job doing something else, something mundane and manual.  And forget her.   He’d almost made up his mind to do just that, and, feeling pleased and sure of himself for making the decision, tapped his device to locate and observe Frella one last time just to mentally say adieu, and to see her face again. And then quietly disappear.

When Cedric realized that the witches were going on holiday, and heard Truella saying that no spells were allowed, his heart leapt. If he was giving it all up and moving away anyway, why not have a holiday first? Why not go to Rome? I may not even bump into her, Rome’s as good as anywhere else. I deserve a holiday. And if I do bump into her, it will just be a holiday coincidence, and nothing at all to do with spells. Or work.

All pretence of not minding whether he saw Frella or not left his mind almost immediately, and he began to make arrangements.  He didn’t want Frella to use spells, but it didn’t occur to him to wonder why he was still using the tricks of his job. It was easy to track them to Italy.

His disguise as a North African on the coach full of Italians had worked well, even sitting so close to Truella and Giovanni he hadn’t been recognized in his hooded djelaba, and had been able to hear most of their conversation.  A quiet word and a large tip secured his trip with their tour guide.

The picnic started out normally enough.  They each had a short wander around, and then sprawled on rugs and cushions by the whicker hampers of food and champage. Cedric lurked in the shadows of an arch, sometimes slinking to peer from behind a statue. The temptation to pick a posy of wildflowers to give to Frella was all but overwhelming, as he watched her sitting pensively.  Silently sinking to his knees behind the marble bulk of Tiberius, Cedric plucked a daisy from the grass. And another.

When Cromwell appeared on the scene, Cedric, alarmed and almost angry at the intrusion, unwittingly crushed the flowers in his hand.  He had no choice but to remain hidden and immobile as the scene rolled out.

As the day progressed, the mood changed and Cedric felt hopeful again. He even had to stifle a laugh as he watched them play cards.  Watching Eris pour champage into everyone’s glasses reminded him that he hadn’t had a drink all day. He was parched.  He had to make a decision. He wanted to sneak off quietly and call it a day, find a nice restaurant. A part of him wanted to be bold and openly seductive, to stride into the scene and charmingly state his intentions. But he had no opportunity to further consider the options.

“You!” In the moments Cedric taken his eyes off the picnic to ponder his dilemma, Frella has risen and was heading for a necessary bush to go behind. “You! Spying on me!”

“Who?” shouted Truella, “Cedric! What on earth is he doing here, we’re on holiday! Now stop spitting nails, Frella, and invite the man over for a drink!”

Cedric seized the moment.

Frella woke with a start. The sun peeked through the curtains of her cottage, softly lighting her room. She lay there quietly trying to hang on to the dream: the bustling fair, the strange cloak-wearing girl with the black cat who said her name was —well she couldn’t remember now—, and even Cedric had made an appearance! Now he was infiltrating her dreams as well! She may need to do a spell for that. As the fog of sleep lifted, the vividness of the dream lingered at the edges of her consciousness and she played it over a few times, wondering what the message was. The fair was months ago, funny that it was coming up in her dreams now.

Her alarm buzzed on the bedside table and a warm tone chimed: “Good morning, Frella. The time is 6:45 a.m. Today’s forecast is mild with a chance of light rain in the morning. Would you like to review today’s tasks?”

Frella snorted and waved her hand in the air, silencing the digital assistant with a flicker of magic. It was far too early for that nonsense. The alarm faded into a soothing melody and the device shifted to Dream Journal mode:  “It looks as though you had a vivid dream. Would you like my help to record it while it’s still fresh?”

Ignoring the prompt, Frella sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet made soft taps on the wooden floor as she walked over to the window. She pulled apart the curtains and opened the window, letting the cool morning air fill the room. Birds called in the distance, and she smiled as she leaned on the windowsill and let the fresh breeze stroke her face.

As she turned away from the window, her eyes fell on the postcard which had arrived in the mail yesterday, still sitting on her dressing table. The edges were slightly worn as if it had travelled a very long way to reach her and the spindly writing was indecipherable even with the help of a decrypting spell. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps it was somehow connected with her dream. She picked it up and studied it again; did that signature read Arona? Wasn’t that the name of the girl in the dream!

The fair was in full swing, with vibrant tents and colourful stalls bursting with activity. The smell of freshly popped corn mingled with the fragrance of exotic spices and the occasional whiff of magical incense. Frella turned her attention back to setting up her own booth. Her thoughts were a swirl of anxiety and curiosity. Malové’s sudden appearance at the fair could not be a mere coincidence, especially given the recent disruptions in the coven.

Unbeknownst to Frella, Cedric Spellbind was nearby. His eyes, though hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, were fixated on Frella. He was torn between his duty to MAMA and his growing affection for her. He juggled his phone, checking missed calls and messages, while trying to keep a discreet distance. But he was drawn to her like moth to flame.

As Frella was adjusting her booth, she felt a sudden chill and turned to find herself face-to-face with Cedric. He quickly removed his glasses and their eyes met; Cedric’s heart skipped a beat.

Frella’s gaze was guarded. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, her tone icily polite.

Cedric, flustered, stammered, “I—uh—I’m just here to, um, look around. Your booth looks, uh, fascinating.”

Frella raised an eyebrow. “I see. Well, enjoy the fair.” She turned back to her preparations, but not before noticing a fleeting look of hurt in Cedric’s eyes.

Cedric moved away, wrestling with his conflicting emotions. He checked to make sure his tracker was working, which tracked not just Frella’s movements  but those of her companions. He was determined to protect her from any potential threat, even if it meant risking his own standing with MAMA.

As the day progressed, the fair continued to buzz with magical energy and intrigue. Frella worked her booth, engaging with curious tourists, all suitably fascinated with the protective qualities of hinges. Suddenly, Frella’s attention was drawn away from her display by a burst of laughter and squeals coming from nearby. Curiosity piqued, she made her way toward the source of the commotion.

As she approached, she saw a crowd had gathered around a small, ornate tent. The tent’s entrance was framed by shimmering curtains, and an enchanting aroma of lavender and spices wafted through the air. Through the gaps in the curtains, Frella could see an array of magical trinkets and curiosities.Just as she was about to step closer, a peculiar sight caught her eye. Emerging from the tent was a girl wearing a rather large cloak and closely followed by a black cat. The girl looked bewildered, her wide eyes taking in the bustling fairground.

Frella, intrigued and somewhat amused, approached the girl. “Hello there! I couldn’t help but notice you seem a bit lost. Are you okay?”

The girl’s expression was a mix of confusion and wonder. “Oh, hello! I’m Arona, and this is Mandrake,” she said, bending down and patting the black cat, who gave a nonchalant twitch of his tail. “We were just trying to find the library in my time, and now we’re here. This isn’t a library by any chance?”

Frella raised her eyebrows. “A library? No, this is a fair—a magical fair, to be precise.”

Arona’s eyes widened further as she looked around again. “A fair? Well, it does explain the odd contraptions and the peculiar people. Anyway, that will teach me to use one of Sanso’s old time-travelling devices.”

Truella wandered over to join the conversation, her curiosity evident. “Time-travelling device? That sounds fascinating. How did you end up here?”

Arona looked sheepish. “I was trying to retrieve a rare book from a past century, and it seems I got my coordinates mixed up. Instead of the library, I ended up at this… um … delightful fair.”

Frella chuckled. “Well, don’t worry, we can help you get back on track. Maybe we can find someone who can help with your time-travelling predicament.”

Arona smiled, relieved. “Thank you! I really didn’t mean to intrude. And Mandrake here is quite good at keeping me company, but he’s not much help with directions.”

Mandrake rolled his eyes and turned away, his disinterest in the conversation evident.

As Frella and Truella led Arona to a quieter corner of the fair, Cedric Spellbind observed the scene with growing interest. His eyes were glued to Frella, but the appearance of the time-travelling girl and her cat added a new layer of intrigue. Cedric’s mission to spy on Frella had just taken an unexpected turn.

“Will you stop flirting with that poor boy, Tru! You can’t help yourself can you?” Frella’s  word were softened by the huge smile on her face. “Isn’t this place just grand?”

“Frella! Don’t be sneaking up on a person like that!” Truella gave her friend a hug. “Anyway, you won’t believe it but Malove is going to be here! I mean, talk about unexpected plot twists. And you know she’s not going to be thrilled when she finds out I’ve nabbed her corner pod!” She giggled, albeit a little nervously.

Frella grimaced. “Tru, you’d better be careful. Malove’s not one to take things lightly, especially when it comes to her personal space.”

“Oh don’t worry. It will be fine. Anyway, what about your fancy man? Will he be here doing his important MAMA spy work? I do hope so.  Dear Cedric always brings a certain je ne sais quoi to the scene.” Truella rolled her eyes and smirked.

“Oh you mean tart! And he’s NOT my fancy man but yeah, he is going to be here. You should be glad we’ve got someone on the inside. Those MAMA agents can be pesky devils and they’re bound to be sneaking around a gig like this.”

Frella opened her eyes. She felt rather woozy and very peculiar and it took her a moment to work out that she was sitting on the camphor chest in Herma’s shed with Herma and that awful Cedric Spellbind looming over her, their faces close and large. Too close. She looked from one anxious expression to the other.

“And what the devil is he doing here?” She nodded towards Cedric.

Cedric straightened himself. “I am here on official business,” he said stiffly. “Investigating this AirBnB for potential Witch Violations. And lucky I turned up when I did because you gave Mrs McCarthy here quite a turn with the way you were carrying on.”

Herma shook her head crossly.” Violations my foot. I told you lot last time your people came sniffing around, there’s none of that carry on here.”

“Why have I got salt all over me?” asked Frella.

Cedric rolled his eyes. “Now THIS, THIS is what I am talking about. SHE,” he pointed at Herma, “threw salt all over you to break the evil spell she said.”

“What nonsense!” said Herma, her face colouring. “But you had gone all odd, sort of not-here like and I couldn’t get any sense out of you.” She considered her hands for a few moments and then raised her head and beamed at Frella. “Why don’t I go and make you a nice cup of tea?” With that, she scurried off.

“Well, you’ve done what you came for. You can go now,” said Frella glaring at Cedric. She stood up and turned pointedly away from him, wondered how much he had seen and hoping she didn’t fall over. She silently cursed the other witches for their crazy shenanigans and desperately hoped that Herma would not get in trouble with the Authorities.

Cedric’s thoughts had taken quite another turn, mostly something about how beautiful the Witch was when she was angry. “Frigella,” he said.

She swung around. “It’s FRELLA,” she hissed.

“Frella …. “ Now it was Cedric’s turn to colour and he looked at the ground, so many thoughts jumbling through his head and he couldn’t make sense of any of it.

“Damn it Man! Spit it out, will you!”

“I just want to say that I know what you are.”

“And what am I exactly?”

Cedric met her gaze. “I know you’re a Witch and I’m not going to turn you in.” He shrugged. “I can’t.”

“And why can’t you, then? Something wrong with you, is there?”

Cedric’s hand reached under his shirt. “Look,” he said. He was holding a small round device. “It’s a listening device. We are supposed to wear them whenever we have a suspected Witch Violation or Interaction.” He threw the device to the ground where it bounced a couple of times. Then—rather dramatically in Frella’s opinion—he stomped on it.

Frella giggled. She couldn’t help herself

The lyrical tones of a familiar Irish accent halted Cedric’s reluctant attempts to make the long distance phone call.  He glanced up at the burly man unsuccessfully attempting to order a Guinness and said to him kindly that they probably didn’t have any anyway, even if they could understand him.

“That’s a Limerick accent if ever I heard one, and it’s good, so it is, to hear it. Are you on holiday? Cedric’s the name.”

Rogers face brightened and his broad shoulders relaxed. “I’d give anything to be back in Limerick. Can you take me home with you?”

“Are you lost, son?” Cedric asked gently. “Not to worry my boy, I’m in a bit of a pickle meself to be honest, but we’ll sort something out, eh?”

“The monkeys ran away from me, so they did,” Roger said. “Frigella’s gonna have my guts for garters so she is, when she finds out I’ve mucked it all up again.”

Cedric’s eyes widened and his heart started racing. “And who might that be?” he said, doing his best to remain outwardly calm.

“But she sent me away and then there were all those monkeys and then I don’t know what happened.”

Clearly Roger was a bit ninepence in the shilling.

With the carnival in full swing, Truella was finding it hard to focus on everything that was going on. Was this mission more chaotic than usual, or did it seem that way because she wasn’t giving it her full attention?  She hadn’t thought too much about Jezeel not closing the portal.  She was having enough trouble stabilizing her own bilocation spell.

Where was Frigella when she needed her?   And what was going on with that Cedric guy? Truella decided to go in search of her. Frigella was always good at explaining and clarifying things that she hadn’t been paying attention to.

Outside on the pavement, Truella paused to light a cigarette.  The street were a cocophany of raucus banter and gay shreiks, a riot of colour and imagination and Truella stood rapt at the sights and sounds. Such a contrast from her quiet life at home in the garden with only ghosts for company.  In a way Truella was glad that Roger was still missing with the pack of monkeys, rather than leaving him alone at home.

“Aye, look at all them monkey costumes, our Mavis, they’m really good int they, look just like real monkeys,” a chubby Englishwoman in a garish pink outfit said, passing by where Truella was standing.

“That’s because they ARE real monkeys, ya daft cow,” retorted her companion.  “And they’re all following that big fella.”

“Ooh, that big burly chap?” piped up the third woman in the group. “I clocked him right off, come on girls, let’s go after the big boy.”

“Ooh, Sha, what are you like, ya tart.”

As the three women cackled and trotted off after the monkeys, Truella’s peaceful interlude came to an abrupt halt.  What burly man with a pack of monkeys?  Surely not, surely Roger and his monkeys hadn’t entered that portal that Jez forgot to close?

“Would you be looking for me?”

Cedric jumped. Where on earth had she come from? It was the blond witch from the cafe, but what was she doing sneaking up behind him when he’d seen her rushing off down the street not a minute before! And yet here she was, smirking at him like butter wouldn’t melt!

He studied her. She wasn’t conventionally pretty he decided, with her thin, sharp features. And she had no meat on her bones. Cedric liked women who were soft and had a bit of something he could squeeze. And she was so … white … almost like one of those albinos … still, there was something he found strangely compelling about her.

She’s a witch, he reminded himself. “What on earth gave you the idea I was following you?” He twisted his mouth into an amused sneer, hoping it showed the contempt she surely deserved.

“You’re not then?” Her gaze was unswerving and Cedric had to look away, pretending to take a great interest in a black poodle peeing on a nearby lamp post. Cedric liked dogs and up until six months ago had a miniature schnauzer called Mitzy. Thinking of Mitzy, he felt the familiar little squeeze in his chest.

“I’m Frigella O’Green,” she said, still studying him intently.

Reluctantly he pulled his gaze back towards her. “Oh, ah … Cedric … just Cedric.” He’d nearly told her his surname which didn’t seem a good idea, all things considered.  Out of habit, he raised his hand to take hers, then remembering, thrust it awkwardly in his jacket pocket.

“Well, just Cedric, if you’re not looking for me, I’ll be off … I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Then she smiled at him, properly this time, and Cedric wondered why he hadn’t thought she was pretty a moment ago. “Nice hat by the way, Cedric. Stylish.” She turned then and Cedric watched her stride down the street until she was no longer visible. Distractedly he brushed the wool tweed of his cap.

Frigella O’Green is a witch, Cedric, he told himself sternly.

Cedric peered through the peephole in his newspaper. He’d have recognised that bogwitch anywhere. Drat that blonde one grabbing her arm, he’d have been able to catch her red handed and arrest her.

Cedric was ambitious.  He’d been working for MAMA for thirty years as an agent and wanted a promotion, a nice cushy office job where he could sit in comfort dishing out orders.  He’d had enough of traipsing round the countryside and sitting in draughty pubs in the back of beyond and felt it was high time that the Ministry for the Abolition of the Magical Arts recognised his potential as a leader.

Who was that blonde one anyway? Another bogwitch no doubt, covens springing up everywhere these days, defying proper law and order, it was an outrage.  She hadn’t seemed too happy to see that old tart Aggie, though. Maybe there was a rift between covens that he could exploit for his own ends.  Cedric decided to keep an eye on her, perhaps mislead her into thinking he was on her side.  It gave him a frisson of pleasure to think how clever he would look when he made his report.

Frigella her name was, Cedric heard Aggie ask her why she was rushing off.

“Gottta run, I’m babysitting. And just you behave yourself Aggie, I told you, we don’t do things like that around here. It’s witches like you that give us all a bad name.”

Cedric rolled his newspaper up and pulled his deerstalker hat low over his eyes and followed Frigella out onto the street.

“But Mother, she is vile and hateful, you wouldn’t believe the things she makes us do, it’s not fun anymore!”
“Well you know what they say, Cedric, if it’s not fun don’t do it. Although,” his mother added, “You are a bit lacking in discipline.”
“That’s like a contradiction in terms! It doesn’t make any sense!”
“Life’s like that” was the rather pointless reply. “When are you coming to visit me?” she started the usual whining. “All your life I’ve been crossing the oceans to come and see you, but you wouldn’t cross a puddle for me, your poor old mum.”
Cedric could feel his stomach knotting.
“But Mum, I can’t leave now, I’d be letting the others down, I can’t leave them here on their own with that prune faced troll.”
“I see,” replied his mother, sniffing pathetically, “I know where I stand. Don’t you bother about your poor old mum, you have fun and don’t worry about me, I’ll manage somehow.”
“I just told you I wasn’t having fun, you…you….” but Cedric couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not to his mother. But he thought it, and his stomach twisted painfully.
Cedric spent the rest of the day trapped in the mental justifying conversation he was having in his head; the energy he was beaming out unwittingly encouraged the dwarf to single him out, adding to his misery.
Cedric was trapped between the rock of his responsibility to his mother, and the hard place of Anna Purrna’s cane.

“I’m here to make this all business profitable for the investors”, said Anna Purrna to the Queens when they complained about her manners. “They find you are too sloppy and too young to manage such a venture”, she was punctuating each sentence with her cane. It was an understatement to say that she was not very pleasant to look at.
“We were managing very well without interference from the Network, until now. And we were having fun”, said Cedric. “Now it seems that all the fun has been taken away”, he added on an impulse. He had been the one designated by his peers to be their voice. The two other Queens were nodding just behind in the shadow.

“Oh! You want fun ?”
The three young boys nodded in unison, encouraged by the sweet tone of her voice.
“I’ll give you fun! This is the Cane of Byrna. You know Zelda ? Oh! Maybe you are too young. It’s a video game from when you were not even spermatozoons and eggs. Anyway, adding to its magical powers, it can be used for music”, the dwarf showed her plain metallic cane, a big smile on her crooked face. “57 Push-ups ! Each of you.”
“One! (Bam) Two! (Bam)… And sing with me : BUSINESS IS NOT FOR FUN, BUSINESS IS TO MAKE MONEY ! “
Whenever one of the boys were to miss a push-up, they would receive each a blow on the back with the rod.

Consuela has been sneaking out, hoping nobody would notice. And by nobody, she meant that fat short drag of a tyrant. Since the arrival of the dwarf queen, their life has been like hell. She’ve made them scrub the floor several times a day, butt tight and high; she’ve made them move the furniture around, and put it back into place. And with all that they also had to keep on with their usual duties, the fat dancers, the bar and St Germain’s show.

“Kittie, kittie, kittie” The voice of the dwarf seemed ominous.
Oh! Shit, thought Cedric, I didn’t even have time to call mum. He tried to hide behind the bins but it was too late.
“Ah! Little kittie, I found you.” The voice was sweet as a Grannie’s voice, but the face could compete in the category of the evil clowns.

“Oh! No more phone calls during work”, said Anna Purrna without looking at anyone in particular. It was at least the 57th rule she had been enacting since her arrival. She seemed to have plenty of them.

Maurana and Terry looked at Consuela who was gasping like a fish out of the water, desperately trying to find oxygen in a dry environment. Cedric was used to call his mother several times a day. The numbers varied. Maurana thought there could be a pattern to these phone calls, and she had tried to time the interval between them. She hadn’t found it yet, but she felt she was close.

“You can go back to your chores”, said the scrawny little drag. She turned back to Saint Germain’s double, to whom she was sickeningly sweet, as if to make the young queens more miserable by contrast.

“I can’t believe I thought I was fired”, said Terry. She tittered.
They had shown the letter to Maurana when she arrived, and to Consuela’s dismay, noticed their three names were now on the envelope.

“Rumor has it that she nails whole cat skins on her walls”, said Maurana.
“Only road kicked ones”, added Terry.
“That’s disgusting. The bitch”, said Consuela. Had the thing not been so sensitive, Maurana would have laughed at Cedric’s grimace.
“When do you think she will arrive ? And why would they put someone on our back ? We were doing great on our own.”