by Susan Harper
“How old are you, Monica?” Beatrice asked suddenly.
“Um…twenty-nine?” she said, confused.
Beatrice thought for a moment. “Seventy years. I say we reduce Abigail’s sentence to seventy years. That’ll keep her around for the duration of her final witch’s lifespan, and likely a few years after.”
There was a murmur. Imelda spoke. “I think I can get on board with that,” she said. “I agree with you, Beatrice, that the initial decision of the councilmembers of her time was a bit rash. In fact, I think seventy might be too long. Monica, how do you feel about losing your familiar by the time you are approaching your seventies?”
“I’m an unnatural witch,” Monica said. “I’ll be lucky to have any magic left in me by that age. But if it’s me you are all concerned about, I’m okay with losing my familiar. I love Abs…Abigail, and if you’re concern in reducing her sentence too low is because of me, I have to ask that you put that in the back of your minds. I’m an unnatural. At the end of the day, I don’t have much use for a familiar. I have use for a friend.”
“You count this criminal as your friend?” Madam Warz asked.
“I do,” Monica said. “And she’ll be my friend whether she’s standing on four legs or two.”
The mermaid smiled. “See, now, Monica spends more time with that girl than anyone else. She would know whether she is ready to re-enter society.”
“I really am,” Abigail muttered, but she was told to remain silent by Imelda.
Imelda thought for a moment. “I would be willing to reduce her sentence to a remaining twenty years. That is my final word. Let us bring it to a vote. All in favor?”
“Aye,” came a number of voices.
“All opposed?”
“Nay,” came a few, but it was evident that the ayes had it.
“Good,” Imelda said. “Any final words?” The room was silent, so she banged her gauntlet. “I hereby reduce the sentence of Abigail Williams as a familiar to twenty years with the understanding that there will be a follow-up hearing when it comes time for her release to re-evaluate. Meeting adjourned.”
15
After picking up Holly, Monica and Mona flew out to Silver Shores, where the remaining members of the Wysteria Werewolves were all stationed for a day at the beach. Mona hurried over to Deimus and wrapped her arms around him, and the two of them were quickly engrossed in their own conversation along with Lenore. Deimus’s familiar, a jet-black owl, was there that day. The owl was getting a bit old, so he was rarely seen these days, but Lenore perched next to him on a fallen tree whose branches were sticking up in the sand, the two of them seeming just as wrapped up in conversation as Deimus and Mona.
“This is really sad, isn’t it?” Holly asked softly as they looked at Clowdia, who was speaking excitedly with some of her teammates. “I mean, Clowdia is obviously excited that she’s going to get to see her family again, but the rest of the team looks really bummed out about her leaving.”
“Can you blame them?” Monica asked. “It’s been a crazy week for them. One second, they’re on a high with the Wysteria Werewolves going to the finals…then they lose Leopold, Jonathan is arrested, and now Clowdia is going home… I don’t know what the team is going to do.”
“Whatever we have to,” a squeaky little voice said, and Monica spotted Coach Joanne-Jo fluttering nearby. “I’ve coached a few Romp-A-Roo teams over the years, but nothing quite like this one. They’re a family. I can’t even bring myself to tell them what I’ve just learned…”
“What?” Monica asked.
“The next game… It’s been scheduled during a full moon,” Joanne-Jo said, looking toward Bolt, Ida, and Gale, who were pushing each other around in the water.
“That…that’s not fair!” Monica said, and Joanne-Jo told her to lower her voice. “How do they expect the team to play?”
“I believe that’s the point,” Joanne-Jo said. “Wysteria is not a good representation of the state of the rest of the world. Not everyone is excited about our diverse team making it to the finals. The sports world was upset enough when I became a coach. I’m working on getting the date changed, but I keep getting bombarded by all sorts of red tape.”
“That’s just wrong,” Abigail said. “What are you guys going to do about your missing players?”
“Replacing three players and training them is going to be a nightmare,” Joanne-Jo said. “But we’ll have to make it work.”
“Oh! Here it is!” Bolt howled. He and his female werewolf companions came scurrying out of the water as Busby, the authority who had helped Monica speak with Noah and the other, arrived toting a small wooden box.
Everyone ran over, Clowdia especially. “Is that it?” she asked. “My skin?”
“It was right where Leopold said it would be,” Busby said. “Buried in the cave.”
Rosemary gripped Clowdia on the shoulder. “Clowdia, you’re going home.”
Clowdia wiped tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
Busby opened up the box, and Monica could see what looked like a thin, glittery piece of fabric.
“That’s it?” Holly asked, and Monica shoved her to tell her to be quiet and watch.
Clowdia took the fabric, her skin, and held it in her hands for a moment. “Well, come on! I bet most of you have never seen a selkie transform before? It’s quite fun!” She bolted toward some rocks that formed a cliff-like structure over a deeper area of the water. Everyone followed, standing back a bit.
Clowdia wrapped the glittery fabric over her, and it immediately formed to her. She didn’t look different, yet there was something about her that seemed even more magical now. More endearing and beautiful than ever before. She twirled, and the skin seemed almost like a ball gown as she bolted toward the edge of the rocks and jumped. The ocean water rose up to greet her, catching her and pulling her under.
“Where did she go?” Trixie asked, the little dwarf jumping up and down trying to see past her taller companions.
“I see something that way!” Bolt shouted, and they all ran down the strip of beach when what appeared to be a seal popped its head out of the water.
“What?” Holly asked, obviously not having expected a friendly little seal to be swimming about in the water. “That’s her?”
“That’s her,” Deimus said as Clowdia gave them a wave with her tail and disappeared beneath the water. “She’s gone,” he said sadly.
“She went home, then?” Ida asked, her shoulders slumped. “What are we going to do, Deimus? We’re short three players, and the finals will be here before we know it.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Deimus assured them, still staring out at the water.
They all seemed to turn around together, their fun day at the beach coming to an abrupt halt now that Clowdia was gone. Monica sighed, not liking how upset the whole team now seemed. It was like losing another friend. They heard a barking sound behind them, and they all spun back to face the ocean, where they saw a number of seal-looking creatures poking their heads up from the water. One began swimming rapidly in their direction and seemed to almost jump out of the water, turning from seal to humanoid in a matter of seconds, her delicate feet landing in the sand. It was an elderly woman, and though she was quite old, she was still mesmerizingly beautiful, her long gray hair falling down to her midback, wearing a similar silky and glittery dress like they had seen Clowdia in only moments ago. “Which one of you is Abigail?” she demanded.
“Uh…” Abigail muttered. “That would be me?”
The elderly woman knelt down and picked Abigail up without warning and gave her a kiss right on the forehead. “I haven’t seen my granddaughter in years. Thank you,” she said, putting Abigail back down. She smiled at all of them. “Clowdia is coming home with us. We have much catching up to do, but she asked me to find out when the next team practice is? Whatever that means…”
“Wait… Clowdia still wants to be on the team?” Deimus asked.
“I�
��ve only spoken with her briefly—her parents and sisters are in the water having a fit over her right now,” the woman said with a laugh. “But it sounds like during her stay here, you lot became her family. I don’t think my granddaughter intends to abandon your…what was it…Romp-A-Roo? We aquatics are not extremely familiar with land games, forgive me.”
“Thursday!” Deimus exclaimed and quickly calmed himself down. “Please tell her Thursday evening, same time.”
The old woman smiled. “She looks forward to it, I’m sure. Thank you. Thank you all so much.” The old woman ran off toward the water, becoming a seal as she dived in. The seals all disappeared below the water.
All of the guys seemed to be staring with ridiculous grins on their faces. “Seriously? Snap out of it, every one of you!” Joanne-Jo yelped. “She had to be, at least, eighty!”
Mona punched Deimus, and he shook his head. “Sorry… I stared…” he said. “Selkies… Honestly…”
“She was pretty…” Bolt said in a daze, and his fellow werewolves laughed at his expense while he shook himself off.
“Idiots,” Trixie said.
“So, looks like we’re only down two players,” Joanna-Jo said excitedly. “That’s better than what I’ve been thinking all morning!”
“I can’t believe Clowdia would want to come back on land after everything,” Deimus said and smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Me too!” Gale exclaimed. “Clowdia kicks butt for a delicate little selkie! So we just have to get two more guys, right?”
“That’s right,” Deimus said. “We need to spread the word quick that we’ll be holding tryouts soon. We have to get the new players up to par with our plays.”
“I’ll help you create some fliers, and we can hand them out all over town,” Mona said and then turned to Monica and Holly. “You two want to help?”
“I’m afraid we can’t,” Monica said. “Not right now, at least. We’re going to be gone for a few days.”
“A few days?” Mona asked. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going to go find my dad,” Holly said nervously.
“Whoa, heavy stuff,” Mona said and smiled. “Are you excited?”
“Nervous more than anything,” Holly said. “I have no idea what he’s like. That snow globe St. Nick got me only lets me see glimpses of him. He seems happy wherever he is, and I’m worried about dropping in on him.”
“It’ll be well worth it,” Deimus assured her. “I meant to ask, Monica, how did the hearing go this morning?”
“I got a license,” Monica said, pulling out the little plastic card.
“So, you’re going to tell that Brian guy?” Deimus asked.
“I think so,” Monica said. “My license doesn’t expire for another two months. That gives me plenty of time to think things over and make sure I’m ready for this. It’s going to be a big share, you know? I mean, Holly nearly lost her mind when she saw this place for the first time.”
“Did they bring me up at all during the court case?” Holly asked. “I know that was something you were worried about.”
“No one mentioned it,” Monica said. “Which is probably a good thing, but even if they had, you are technically a mystic, even if we don’t know what kind, so it’s not like they could have used it against me. But, Abigail, you haven’t shared your news.”
“Twenty years,” Abigail said, sashaying a bit.
“They took off twenty years?” Deimus asked. “What’s that leave you, one sixty… No…one sixty-eight…five… Something like that?”
Abigail beamed. “No, Deimus, I mean they are only making me serve another twenty years!”
“What?!” Lenore exclaimed, flying overhead. “Seriously? You are one lucky black cat, you know that?”
Monica laughed. “She’s earned it.” She mounted her broom and Holly climbed onto the back.
“Hey, Bolt,” Holly said, turning around to the werewolf who jumped a bit to hear his name. “I noticed you can fly. When I try to fly a broom, it throws me because I’m not a witch. How do you do it?”
“Oh, there’s this new brand of broom,” Bolt said excitedly. “They’re not real fast or anything, and it’s something they use for training young kids in wizard schools, but it’s not bad. Non-wizards have an easier time with them.”
“Where can I get me one of those?” Holly asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy riding with Monica.”
He laughed. “Yeah, local broom shops. Ask for a training broom for non-wizards.”
“Thanks, Bolt,” Holly said, gripping onto Monica.
“Want to stop by the broom shop before we go?” Monica asked.
Holly grinned as Abigail jumped up between them. “Definitely.”
“See you guys around!” Monica called and kicked off on her broom, sending the three of them high into the air, overlooking the beautiful town of Wysteria.
A Supernatural Slaying
Back Room Bookstore Cozy Mystery, Book 8
1
Monica Montoya was no ordinary woman—in either of the worlds she inhabited. In the mortal world, Monica was unusual in the sense that she was a witch. In the mystic world, the world from which she came, she was something known as an unnatural. Meaning she was a witch born with very little magic coursing through her veins. She made up for this with great study, excellent flying skills, good potion work, and a twin sister with more magic than she knew what to do with. In fact, it had been her twin sister Mona who had cast the fun transformative spell on her broom that allowed her to transform it on command from broom, to flying bicycle, to a jet-black motorcycle with a purple racing stripe and a sidecar. The latter of which she was currently flying through the air over her home town of Wysteria, her mortal-raised friend, Holly, in the sidecar, and Monica’s black cat familiar, Abigail, in the woman’s lap.
“There!” Holly called excitedly. “That must be the shop!”
Monica pulled back on the handlebars of her bike, and it did a quick turn. Leaning forward caused it to nosedive, and she pulled up just in time for it to land right in front of the shop. She allowed Holly and Abigail to hop out of the sidecar before she called, “Broom!” After a moment, she was straddling a very ordinary-looking broomstick. The broom flew out from under Monica and sped off. “Fine! But be back soon. We have a lot of miles we have to fly today!” She turned back to Holly and smiled. “You sure about getting yourself a training broom today? We can travel by bicycle if you’d like?”
Today was going to be a rather exciting day, for Holly especially. The three of them were headed to find her birth father. Holly, though raised to believe she was mortal, had recently discovered that she was part-mystic. However, they were not sure what kind. They were fairly certain she was not a witch of any sort, as Monica’s broom had thrown her from it. Non-witches and wizards had a terrible time with flying, but recently, a werewolf friend of theirs had shown off his flying abilities. He claimed he had gotten his broom from a shop here in Wysteria that made a broom specific for non-wizarding mystics. Really, it was simply a training broom, but according to their friend Bolt, training brooms worked well for all sorts of mystics.
“Are you kidding me?” Holly exclaimed. “The one thing I’ve wanted to do more than anything else since discovering Wysteria and the mystic community is fly my own broom! I didn’t think I would ever be able to after your broom bucked me off. But after seeing Bolt’s impressive broom work, it’s all I’ve been able to think about!”
“Really?” Abigail huffed. “That versus going to actually see your father for the first time, and the broom is all you can think about?”
“Abigail, be nice,” Monica said as they made their way into the shop. “This is where I bought my first broom when I was a little girl.”
“Really?” Holly squealed. “Aww, I feel like a little kid coming to pick out her first bicycle.”
“Morning, ladies!” a man in a large, ridiculous top hat called.
“Morty!” Monica called. “Always good to see
you. Got a friend here who is ready to pick out her first broomstick. This is Holly.”
The man removed his hat and squinted in Holly’s direction as though the hat had been affecting his vision. “Miss Holly! First broomstick? How old are you? Oh! You ain’t a witch…”
“You can tell just like that?” Holly asked. “Because it took me getting bucked off a broom to realize it.”
He laughed. “Something about the way you carry yourself—very…mortal?”
“I was raised mortal,” Holly said. “But I am mystic. Just not sure exactly what my ancestry is.”
“Interesting…” Morty said, scratching at his long, gray beard. “Well, if you ain’t a witch, I’m guessing you’re here to get yourself a training broom? That’s all the rage these days for non-wizarding types. I don’t know who figured out that these training brooms work for most mystics, but I need to shake their hand because business has been incredible.”
“So, this is a new trend all over the place then?” Monica asked curiously.
“That’s right,” Morty said. “Someone in the Appalachians discovered it, I believe is the story. They started doing broomstick races for non-wizards, and word got around. Non-wizards have been showing up to broom shops in droves all over the world ever since. I’ve had to triple my inventory in training brooms! Never in my life have I sold more training brooms.”
“That’s so fun! It’s like a movement has gotten started,” Holly said as Morty led her to the large wall in the back.
“I used to have one little rack I’d keep in stock of training brooms for kids,” he laughed. “Now I have a whole wall, and I’ve got them in different makes and models—sizes too.”
“What’s the difference between a regular flying broomstick and a training broom? Why do the training brooms work for non-wizards?” Abigail asked curiously.
“Something to do with the type of potion used to give them their life force,” Morty said. “The potion used on training brooms is a bit more relaxed. Non-specific. Very general.”
