by Willow Mason
“She was in your head?” Harriet asked, appalled. “Does that mean she was making all the children act out?”
James nodded. “But she can’t any longer and never will again.”
“No,” I said with confidence. “She won’t.”
Marsha Sloan ran down the path as we walked into view, picking James up in her arms and swinging him around. “I was so worried when you didn’t come home from school on time.”
“Sorry about that,” I said. “James has been helping out the coven with an important matter. Glynda will be in touch to tell you all about it.”
As we strolled towards the library, Beezley investigating all the vegetation we passed, I gasped and clutched at Harriet’s arm. “I forgot about the boxes of dolls in Marcus’s boot. We’ll need to destroy them so no one can use them again.”
“Well, I hope the library has a book on how to do it.” Harriet giggled. “Could you imagine if we just tossed them into the fire?”
The thought was so awful it was hilarious. The two of us stood on the roadside, clutching each other as we laughed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Trevor and I stood on the beach, staring out at the ocean. I rocked back and forth, digging my bare feet further into the pebbles.
“When you can feel the magic’s ready, let it loose,” Trevor said in a serene voice, a contented smile on his face.
I stopped myself rolling my eyes. Just. While I was only awake thanks to a sense of commitment and two large cups of coffee, my instructor was already embracing the day.
Morning people. Who’d have them?
With my mind as focused as it was going to be before noon, I pictured the waves parting, creating a path out to the reef.
“Is this thing going to get started soon?” Beezley called out. “Only the easterly breeze is cutting down to my bones.”
“Keep that up and you’ll be an outdoor dog,” I said back, trying not to lose my concentration. “I could buy you a cute wee doghouse and decorate it all in pink.”
While he stretched out, yawning so wide his tongue was in danger of lolling out onto nearby driftwood, I drew the picture in my mind again. One straight line, a metre wide, fit for a couple to have a lovely walk.
If they didn’t mind the unnatural walls of water on either side.
My gut clenched as I tried to send the magic out to do my bidding. The fear from when the lodge disintegrated around me recurred and I flinched, every muscle tightening.
“Most magic takes place here,” Trevor said, tapping the side of his head. “Once you’ve obtained mastery upstairs, the rest will follow.”
I drew in a deep breath, picturing the pathway I wanted to draw on the seascape. My fingers tingled, and this time when my stomach twisted, it was with excitement. Opening my eyes, I let the crimson light flow out of my hands in a constant stream. Controlled. Doing as I commanded.
The water drew apart, startled sea creatures flapping on what had been the ocean floor and was now a dry path, perfect for a summer stroll.
“Hold it,” Trevor said in a note of warning as the joy of creating something with my powers eroded my control.
I held it.
The sound of clapping caught some of my attention and I turned to see Glynda walking towards me on the beach. She stumbled on the rough surface, potentially because she’d decided high heels were fitting beachwear.
Trevor cleared his throat. “Now ease it back together before those little fishes die.”
It wasn’t so much of an easing as a thundering as the waves crashed into each other, sending spume dancing in the air.
Before I could remonstrate myself, Trevor clapped me on the shoulder. “Your landing needs some work but you’re definitely on the right track with the rest. Good job.”
“Yes, if the coven ever needs a path in the sea, I’ll be sure to rush and find you.” Glynda’s droll tone made me laugh even while Beezley growled at her.
“I don’t think I need to stay here,” Trevor said, not meeting Glynda’s eye. “This student is well on their way to mastery and the rest is practice, practice, practice.”
“Good, good.” Glynda frowned at the stones as though they needed careful checking. “In that case, I’ll write you a cheque and you can be on your way.”
“Wait, that’s it?” Even to my ears, my voice sounded screechy.
“Don’t worry,” Trevor said, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll keep in touch and issue you new challenges to expand your abilities. But you don’t need oversight and I’m sure if anything changes, your coven leader will report back.”
Yes, I bet she would.
We trudged back to the car park Beezley dawdling by the rubbish bins to have a good sniff. “You’re becoming more dog-like every day,” I said. “Pretty soon, you’ll be weeing on lampposts.”
“I don’t need to mark out my territory,” Beezley said, sticking his snub nose into the air. “I have an entire house to call my own, despite your threats.”
“You know I’d never actually put you out, don’t you?”
“Of course. You don’t have the skills to work alone.”
His face appeared so old and wise, I couldn’t help but laugh at the gentle ribbing. “One day I’ll get my license, then we’ll see who has the skills.”
“Or you can stick to witchy business and I’ll stick to humans who need a PI.”
“Sounds like a good deal.” I stuck my hand down low, and he slapped it with his paw.
When we were in the car, seat-belted and ready to go, I watched Trevor and Glynda in the rear-view mirror. He went in for a hug while she stuck out a hand to shake goodbye.
Wow. Awkward.
Although the love spell cast on them hadn’t lasted long, I couldn’t imagine they’d be in any hurry to see each other again.
“Oh, my goodness. Wait here,” I said, bustling out of the car before Trevor could leave. “Please hold up a minute.”
“What do you need?” Trevor asked, turning with a smile. “A handy guide to controlling the world.”
“The Animus Wizard,” I said, panting. “You said you might be able to put out feelers to see if there’s one nearby.”
He held up a hand. “Already done. Now it’s just a waiting game to see if anyone has information. Once I hear back, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Thank you.” I stood, all elbows and knees, then bent forward to give him a hug. He jerked in surprise, then his arms closed around me, giving me a sense of protection. When we parted, I felt in my pocket and handed him a grainy photograph. “I don’t know if Glynda asked you, but I also wondered if you’d ever seen this man before.”
It was a still image taken from the CCTV, showing the man who’d popped a bag over my head. Beezley had obtained it from the police files, but whether small or blown up large, it was poor quality.
“He might have a few scars from falling debris,” I added.
“Doesn’t ring any bells.” Trevor handed the picture back. “Why’re you after him?”
“I’m not, really,” I said with a shrug. “But it appears he’s after me.”
Trevor nodded at the image. “Send a copy through to my email and I’ll ask the boys.”
“Is your coven entirely composed of men.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Nah. We have a couple of tokens on the roll. Why? You feel like joining?”
“Never say never,” I said. “After all, I’ve been excommunicated once so it could be in the cards again.”
“In that case, you’ll always find a place with us. As I said before, we’re the odds and sods nobody else wants. You’ll never find a group as close-knit as that.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” I waved as he got into his car, then went back to join Beezley. “So much has happened this week I feel like I could sleep for a couple of days running.”
“Yeah, we’re pretty impressive,” he agreed. “Thanks to our efforts, we’ve managed to solve two murders the police didn’t even have on thei
r radar, stop a violent attack, thwart another weird witch whacko, and solve a case of blackmail.”
As I wound the car through the twisty dirt lanes of the beachside recreation facilities, I nodded my head. “Although the last one wasn’t nearly so impressive.”
“But without it, we wouldn’t have the rest of the list.”
“True. I still hope they go easy on Kevin. He might’ve been deluded but I don’t think he meant any harm.”
“Not our call.” Beezley gave a firm nod. “We do the investigating and leave the judging to the judges.”
“Yes, sir.”
I headed for the library, jumping out and glancing back at Beezley. The place didn’t hold the greatest memories for him. Even though my occult spells had brought him back from the brink of death on the side lawn, his mind focused more on the nearly dying than the rescue.
But he jumped down from the seat, nudging his way out my door when I didn’t open his. “Do you think Harriet still has some shortbread stashed under the counter?”
“If she’s eaten it all, I’m sure she’s replaced it with something else to nibble on.”
Once Beezley was happily munching his way through a packet of Belgian biscuits, smiling in delight at the smattering of pink jelly crystals on top, Harriet led me into the back room.
“I think they’re ready,” she said, biting on her lower lip. “The colouring from the spell is gone, but I too scared to try anything in case I’m wrong.”
We’d found a spell to loosen the voodoo cast on the dolls when they were created. Over the past few days, the boxes had been encased in a bright yellow haze while it worked its magic. Now, all trace of the glow was gone.
“How about we find a test case,” I suggested, hunting through the boxes for a familiar figure and passing it across. “Here’s me.”
Harriet trembled as she stared at the doll. “What if I did the spell wrong and kill you?”
“Then I’ll haunt you forever. Give me your safety pin.”
She pulled it out of her kilt, immediately dropping it onto the floor. When I bent over to pick it up, she did too, and we banged heads.
“At this rate, you’ll kill me before we even get to poke the doll,” I said, giggling. I unhooked the pin and aimed it at the doll’s head.
“How about you start with the arm?”
“Good call.” Although I’d been the one to suggest this, my fingers were sweaty as they plunged the pointed end into the hessian. After a few seconds, I puffed out a relieved breath. “I can’t feel a thing.”
“What if it’s not you?”
I shook the doll in front of her, the sleek pageboy not a perfect match for mine but still unmistakable. “Who else would this be?”
Harriet shook her head, but her nerves were catching. I should tear the doll apart and throw it away, stick with the plan. Instead, I turned and whispered, “How about we lock these in the temperature-controlled vault until we feel more confident about what we’re doing?”
She clapped her hands together and gave a squeal. “I like that idea much better.”
“But you’d better make sure no voodoo queen slips inside when you’re not looking.”
“I’ll never let the key out of my sight,” Harriet solemnly promised.
When we’d finished, Beezley was hyped up on the sugar, turning in quick circles as he tried to catch his tail. “Warmed up again, have you?” I asked, picking him up before he made me dizzy.
Our next stop was outside the Grand Valley Lodge where workers were clearing the site ready to build again. With Miss Armitage’s powers halted, the coven had worked hard to re-establish the network and wipe everyone’s memories as best they could.
Everything else should be covered by the radio broadcast Glynda had arranged on the fateful day. A good call, except now Riverhead also had a team of health inspectors examining the water supply for traces of chemical hallucinogens.
“I still feel guilty about the destruction I caused,” I said, with a shake of my head. The section where the building had once been was so desolate, it ached to stare at the empty property. Still, I kept coming back here. Perhaps as a warning of what I could do if I lost control.
“The insurance companies would’ve had to pay out a lot more overall if you hadn’t put a stop to the mayhem.” Beezley nudged my arm until I raised it enough for him to sit in my lap. “It’s unfair to the owners, sure, but at least Riverhead is still standing.”
Knowing he was right didn’t stop the hollow pull in my chest. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I started the car and refused to glance in the rear mirror until we’d turned the corner.
“Will you drop by the community centre on the way home?” Beezley asked, leaning his front paws on the dashboard and wagging his tail. “There’s a new sign I want to put up there.”
“No problem.” I swung away from the lodge and headed in that direction, happy to not be heading home to my chaotic thoughts just yet. We pulled up outside and I let Beezley out, walking ahead to open the door into the lobby.
“Where’s this new sign, then?”
He pawed out the piece of paper folded into his collar and nudged it towards me. “There you go.”
“Beezley and the Witch for all your private investigation needs,” I read out—our standard message—then smiled as I saw the new printed message underneath. “Fees payable in advance.”
I pinned it to the cork board and stood back, admiring the new sentence. “Now we just need a new taker with deep pockets, and we’ll be set.”
Thank you for taking the time to read Vexatious Voodoo. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author's best friend, and much appreciated.
Thank you, again. Willow Mason
Chapter One
“I can’t wait for the mermaid parade this year,” I said to Beezley who’d been sitting on the sofa, unmoving, for so long I expected him to get a cramp. “Then we get the secular Santa handing out gifts to all the children in town. I love it when the holiday spirit gets going. Everyone in town seems so much nicer.”
Instead of answering, Beezley shot through the dog door, barking at the top of his lungs. I crossed to the window in time to see the postie drive by in her single person cart. As if the poor woman didn’t have enough worries on her plate, operating a vehicle with more in common with a ladybird than a car, now she had an annoyed French bulldog hurling abuse as she continued down the street.
It was lucky she couldn’t hear anything but barking. Beezley’s language tended to delve deep into his father’s navy past when he was upset.
“Your mother’s a cockroach and your father’s a weasel,” he spat out as his final invective before trotting back home with a pleased smile on his face.
“Honestly, what’s the poor woman ever done to you?” I asked, shaking my head. “Just because you barely get mail anymore, it’s no reason to take it out on her.”
“She’s keeping things from me,” he said darkly. “I’ve never missed a payment on a credit card in my life until she started on this round.”
I rolled my eyes but knew better than to hound him on the subject. The credit card statement might have been missing from the letterbox for one month, but the email and text reminders from the bank should have sufficed.
Still, he’d been acting weird about a lot of things lately.
“I’ve seen the secular Santa for the last few years,” he said, snuffling around the flowerbed to show a millipede who was boss. “But what’s the mermaid parade?”
I was about to answer when I discovered my cardigan tangled in the rose bushes. “What’ve you been doing?” I howled, pulling it free and sniffing it gently. Ugh. “This smells like you’ve been wrapped in it for a month without showering.”
Beezley headed for the doggie door, scowling. “That’s nothing to do with me and I had a bath last week.”
Indeed, he had. I fondly remembered getting covered from head to toe in used bathw
ater when he clambered out and shook himself. Inside.
Before I could question him any further, he disappeared indoors, cutting off the conversation. Back to work in front of the television because those mid-morning soaps wouldn’t watch themselves. Actual paying jobs had been thin on the ground lately and he’d become somewhat addicted.
I took the ruined garment around the back of the house, rinsing it out under the garden tap. The worst of the dirt washed cleanly away, but the stink remained. I’d once found a half-eaten fish and chip wrapper down the back of the outside bin, which had probably been there for two weeks. It smelled about the same. Rotting meat and maggots. Even if I couldn’t see any of the little blighters, my nose insisted they weren’t far away.
Into the outside bin, and thank goodness the collection was this Friday, rather than in a fortnight. A cloud of flies rose and drifted away, rather than resettling. If even a fly couldn’t stay in proximity, it had to be bad.
That had been my favourite merino cardigan. Without an impending job on the books, it wouldn’t be replaced anytime soon, either.
In fact, with so little work coming our way, it was probably time I gave DI Jonson a chase to see if there were some witness statements or a research case he could pass our way.
I sent him a text before lethargy or pride could put a stop to the idea. A few months before, we’d had so many jobs I’d turned down some grunt work with a sense of relief that we didn’t need to bother with such mundane tasks any longer. I couldn’t be certain, but the crawling sensation on my cheek could be from the egg on my face.
“If I find out you had something to do with that…” I said, letting the threat trail off because really—what was I going to do? Smack my boss with a rolled-up newspaper to teach him a lesson? Not likely.
“I already said I didn’t.” Beezley rolled over and splayed his legs out, seeking a pat. “I’ve been a very good dog.”
With a laugh, I gave him a belly rub before settling back on the couch to stare vacantly at the TV screen. An infomercial tried in vain to sell me a vacuum cleaner. With headlights! To see under beds! So light! So powerful!
