_The_Undetectables_-_Courtney_Smyth
Contents
Cover
Title Page
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Copyright
Dedication
One
Two
ree
Perimortem I
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Perimortem II
Eleven
Twelve
irteen
Fourteen
Fieen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Perimortem III
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-ree
Perimortem IV
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
irty
irty-One
irty-Two
irty-ree
irty-Four
irty-Five
irty-Six
irty-Seven
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About e Author
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e Undetectables
Print edition ISBN: 9781803364780
E-book edition ISBN: 9781803364797
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP
www.titanbooks.com
First edition: September 2023
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
is is a work of ction. All of the characters, organizations, and events
portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are
used ctitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except
for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.
© Courtney Smyth 2023
Courtney Smyth asserts the moral right to be identied as the author of this
work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written
permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of
binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a
similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
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For Michael
You were right, you know.
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T
ONE
Six years ago
heodore Wyatt’s greatest regret in life was dying while wearing a cat
costume. ough this story is not about him, it is important to know this.
Every year on 31 October, the Broadwick family hosted a Samhain ball.
It was described to eodore as a massive celebration of both the dearly
departed and of the Ternion, the three goddesses all of Occulture honoured.
is was held in Broadwick Mansion, partly because the Mayoral Offices
could not be used in the days surrounding Samhain – due to highly volatile
spectral activity in the building – and partly because the Broadwicks liked
everyone in Wrackton to be reminded of how well connected they were.
‘It’s a big deal to be invited to a Broadwick ball, so don’t fuck it up,’ the
Night Mayor of Wrackton had barked at eodore a few days prior, just as
eodore was making a break for home on the last day of his rst year
working in the Mayoral Offices.
‘How, as a matter of interest, can one get going to a party wrong? Just so
I can gure out how offended I should be,’ eodore had asked acidly. He
was already very upset at the idea of having to go to a party. eodore had
hoped to spend Samhain as he always had before he’d moved to Wrackton –
sitting at home with a book and letting it pass him by. He was Apparent, a
non-magical being, and the festival did not mean to him what it meant to
everyone else.
e Night Mayor’s eye twitched. It could’ve been annoyance, it could’ve
been that something had got into it at the exact moment he started speaking;
eodore weighed up asking which it was before the Night Mayor choked
out, ‘If you have to ask… Just remember you’re representing the Mayoral
Offices as much as yourself, Timothy.’
‘It’s eodore.’
‘Are you sure?’
eodore decided maximum offence should be taken.
e Night Mayor had then given him vague directions to the mansion,
and followed that up by shoving a Visit Wrackton: Samhain Etiquette leaet
into eodore’s hands before walking away while eodore was still mid-
sentence. He still had the leaet stuffed in his pocket, just in case anyone
were to ask him if he had done due diligence in preparing to party.
Now eodore clung to the edge of the crimson-lit ballroom, looking
around for any of his wide-eyed Apparent colleagues, or any Apparent at all.
It was a novelty for him, being in an Occult town like Wrackton and seeing
magic up close, like visiting a theme park – if theme parks were typically
found exactly halfway between Bath and Bristol, should one take a sharp
enough le turn towards the faerie Redwoods. Something eodore could
talk about at parties, if he were the sort of person who usually went to
parties. Or spoke to anyone at them.
He sidled up to the buffet table, piling enchanting food on a plate and
staring at the enchanting décor and the equally enchanting demons, trolls,
vampires, faeries and witches in attendance. Some of them were even in
costume. is was an important addition conspicuously missing from the
leaet and from the Night Mayor’s instructions.
Faeries were the most daunting, ethereally beautiful and draped in
avant-garde outts that could have been abstract costumes, had eodore
not regularly seen faeries at the supermarket wearing something similar.
ere were several vampires wearing plastic fangs as a nod to Apparent
folklore, and eodore noticed how certain vampires made a big show of
laughing uproariously. e folk whose skin had a blue-grey tint were trolls
and they glowered from the corners of the ballroom, though eodore had
come to understand too that this was just what their resting faces looked
like. He couldn’t believe that a mere year ago he hadn’t been able to tell the
now-obvious differences between each Occulture. No amount of leaets
could’ve taught him what living in Wrackton had.
* * *
‘You’re Apparent, aren’t you?’ A tall demon in a bold checked suit and red
plastic devil horns sauntered up to him. His angular face was bathed in red,
and he raised a strong eyebrow at eodore’s outt of choice: a black-and-
grey-checked shirt, a huge purple cardigan, and wildly unkempt blond hair.
It was exactly what he’d put on that morning and had just considered
changing out of before he noticed it was late and ran out the door.
‘Apparent-ly so, yes,’ eodore said weakly, and shoved what he thought
was a tiny silver cake into his mouth. is demon was the most attractive
individual to look at him since he’d moved to Wrackton and eodore didn’t
quite know what to do.
‘Isn’t this food amazing?’ He swallowed. ‘A shiny silver cake. It’s almost
like magic!’
e demon ignored both of his terrible jokes and extended a hand.
eodore juggled his plate into one hand and took the demon’s, realising too
late that his ngers were still covered in cake crumbs.
‘Grey Quinn. I knew you were Apparent, because you’re not in costume.
Let me help you.’ He didn’t seem to notice the crumbs. Grey took the plate
from him, and in a swi movement jammed a pair of cat ears on eodore’s
head. eodore had not thought he required help with this particular aspect
of his person.
‘ere. Oh, wait.’ Grey Quinn produced a marker from his pocket,
uncapped it with his teeth and drew onto his face what eodore both
hoped and feared were whiskers.
‘ere. Perfect. Look at us now.’ He turned eodore around to face a
mirror on the wall behind them. eodore had no choice but to see he was
indeed a bewhiskered cat, which he felt contradicted Quinn’s use of ‘perfect’.
He didn’t voice his chagrin, though there was much of it; he was not yet
aware that this was a grave mistake.
‘Come on, smile.’ Grey Quinn shook him jovially by the shoulder. ‘Get
into the spirit of things. It’s a party!’
eodore felt himself smiling, and was uncertain if he’d meant to smile,
or if the demon was using magic on him.
‘Go on, off you go. Have fun!’ Grey Quinn stumbled away.
It was only then that eodore had three thoughts: one, that he was not
going to have fun dressed like this at all; two, that he needed to gure out a
way to resist the magically persuasive charm of demons before he was forced
into doing something terribly untoward, like robbing a bank or
compromising the scientic method; and three, that Grey Quinn was clearly
intoxicated.
eodore wondered how many steps there were between the buffet and
the drinks table.
He took another bite of cake.
e lights went out.
e room clamoured with vague concern. e gathered Occult folk
pulled lighters, phones and neon witchlight crystals out of their purses and
pockets. eir hosts, Imogen and Ezra Broadwick, hastened to calm the
crowd.
‘Does anyone know where the electricity is kept? Could one of our
esteemed scientically-inclined guests assist us?’ Imogen called. Her tone
was calm, but her face twisted in the sort of panic one might expect of an
individual who didn’t know how their home functioned.
Of his own volition this time, eodore put down his plate of enchanted
appetisers and volunteered to nd the trip switch.
is, too, was a grave mistake.
‘Oh you’re too good. And you came in costume, that’s so… darling. Isn’t
it darling, darling?’ Imogen said to her husband, who had already moved
across the room to calm everyone. She directed eodore to the basement
and handed him a witchlight crystal to illuminate his way. eodore had had
to learn about witchlights quickly upon moving to Wrackton. ey were
magical lamps that had their own self-contained energy source – the exact
nature of which he had yet to discover, though he expected they involved
noble gases – that spectral activity did not affect the way it did other
electricity sources. ey came in a variety of colours and shapes and
eodore was very partial to the lavender ones, which is precisely what
Imogen handed him. He held it up over his head so he could see a path
through the ballroom.
‘Excuse me. Sorry. Cat coming through. Let miaow-t.’
An older vampire glared at him. eodore hurried on in silence.
In the darkened basement of Broadwick Mansion, eodore successfully
found the trip switch. He thought about the plate of mini iridescent
sandwiches he was going to return to. e last few days of working from
home due to the intensity of the spectral disturbance in the Offices meant he
hadn’t had access to faerie-catered food, and had missed out on numerous
sandwich-and-tea opportunities as a result. As he closed the fuse box, he
reasoned that he didn’t mind staying in Wrackton another year, especially
when things quietened down aer Samhain. e town had so many things
going for it that he couldn’t get anywhere else. For instance, the sandwiches.
ere could’ve been an entire Visit Wrackton leaet just on the sandwiches.
eodore pressed the switch on a freestanding lamp near the doorway to
check he’d been successful. It did not turn on, and he noticed the bulb was
askew.
In a move perhaps even more regrettable than accepting the cat costume,
he reached inside the lampshade without unplugging it.
He didn’t hear someone approaching behind him. He didn’t see the ex
on the lamp twitch and jerk twice. He didn’t hear anything again.
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M
TWO
Also six years ago, at the same ball
allory Hawthorne’s greatest desire was to nd a dead body. She – who this
story is really about – was fourteen when this wish was granted.
‘Tell me then, what does an “undependable” do?’ e older witch
Mallory was talking to sipped her drink, which sloshed onto the oor a little
as she did exaggerated air quotes.
Mallory was losing the will to live. Her father had brought her to the
annual Broadwick ball, hosted by her best friend Cornelia’s parents. e
night was meant to honour the Ternion and to celebrate the life and death of
loved ones, but Mallory oen thought it was just an excuse for folk to gather
enough gossip about each other to last until the next Equinox. ings had
been briey exciting when the lights went out, but now they were back on
and conversation was in full swing once again.
‘No, I said Undetectables.’ Mallory xed a smile on her face. ‘e
Undetectables, Private Investigators. It’s an agency myself and two of my
fr— colleagues are launching tonight. Here’s our card.’ She passed it over,
hopeful butteries forming in her stomach. Mallory had reasoned that the
party was a prime opportunity to nd clientele.
e witch took it and peered at it, her eyes telling Mallory that she
needed her glasses and could not for the life of her read the card, which was
printed on cardstock stolen from Cornelia’s parents. Nonetheless, Mallory
was proud of it. On one side it said e Undetectables below a logo featuring