Back Room Bookstore Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1 - 12

by Susan Harper

  “Elevare!” Roderick’s voice beckoned from a short distance off, and the young Abigail went floating into the air. “Abigail Williams, I hereby place you under arrest by authority of the Sorcerer’s Council for your crimes!”

  The young Abigail started to screech loudly, snarling and flailing as she tried to free herself from Roderick’s spell. “Put down my wand, mortal! Get your filthy, disgusting hands off my wand!”

  Madam Hort and the others had captured several other witches and wizards and were currently making their way over. Madam Hort looked at the young Abigail and rolled her eyes. “So this is the little witch responsible for all those deaths in Salem?” she asked.

  “Mortal deaths!” the young Abigail snarled.

  Madam Hort cast a spell, and the young Abigail fell fast asleep. Roderick lowered her to the ground. “She’ll have her day in court,” Madam Hort said. “Good news, time travelers.” She held out a small golden coin. “This was found in the warehouse.”

  Monica held out her hand as Madam Hort placed the gold coin in her palm. “Awesome!” Brian said, unaware of the extreme devastation and shock that Monica was currently experiencing.

  “Great,” Monica said. “So, er, where is Sarah? Is she okay?”

  Madam Hort pointed toward the building. “Miss Williams here knocked her out when they first came burling out of the building. She’ll be fine. A little stunned, but otherwise unharmed.”

  “Williams?” Holly asked, and her eyes lingered on the young Remembrance girl. “Wait…”

  Abigail—the conscious one—was limping her way over to Monica. “I suppose we’ll have a bit to talk about when we get back to our time,” Abigail said to Monica.

  Monica huffed at her. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said.

  Madam Hort, blissfully unaware of cat Abigail’s true identity, smiled at Monica. “A very loyal familiar you got there, Miss Montoya,” Madam Hort said. “Those are quite hard to come by, especially for an unnatural.”

  “Yeah,” Monica grumbled under her breath. “I have to ask. The Split… When is it happening? You’ve already made up your minds, right?”

  “A week from today,” Madam Hort said. “Though I’m sure your history books tell you that.”

  “There’s quite a few things our history books have left out,” Monica said, glancing down at the unconscious Abigail. She looked back at Hort. “I have to say, the deaths of all those immortals, I’m not sure if it’s worth it.”

  “Do you live in a more peaceful world than this?” Madam Hort asked and then held up her hand. “Don’t answer it because I’m not allowed to know what you can tell me, time traveler. We do what we think is right, and then we hope for the best. Now, dear, I believe it’s time for you all to return to your own time, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “It was a pleasure, folks,” Roderick said and bowed his head politely to all of them. He shook Brian’s hand in particular, having enjoyed his time working with a mortal from the future.

  “So, how does the time coin work?” Monica asked. “We don’t know how to use it.”

  “Who touched it to get you here?” Madam Hort asked.

  “Abigail,” Monica said and sighed. She knelt. “Get close, guys. We’re going home.” She felt Brian touch her shoulder as did Holly and Isaac. Abigail looked up at Monica sadly as she held out her hand for Abigail to touch the coin. “Go on, Abigail. Let’s go home.”

  Abigail reached her little black paw forward and touched the coin. They vanished.

  15

  Over the next few days, Monica couldn’t really bring herself to speak to Abigail much. Seeing who she really was—before she’d had her life stripped away from her by the Sorcerer’s Council—had been a bit much for her. She had made excuses for Abigail for so long that she’d started to believe them herself. She had only been twelve when the incident in Salem had taken place, and she was just a young girl of seventeen when the council enacted their harsh judgement, but seeing what she had really been like had been a true eye opener. Sure, she had been young, but she had been completely mad. The young Abigail had been so full of hate. She might not have killed anyone, but if she hadn’t been caught by the Sorcerer’s Council and Roderick that day at the docks, Monica didn’t doubt that she would have. Not only that, but she had worked directly under the masked founder of Remembrance which, in retrospect, would explain why Abigail knew how to read their coded language, Cinur, and now Monica felt foolish for never having questioned this skillset before.

  The two of them rode her broom, in bicycle form, to the shop one morning. Abigail sat in the little basket at the front, occasionally looking back at Monica, who would avert her gaze to avoid a conversation starting. They arrived at Backroom Books before Holly, so they headed inside, and Monica got right to work on opening up shop. She had stayed a bit late the evening before straightening up, so the only thing that needed to be done was to have the barista station set up. Holly arrived just as she was finishing up with this. She too hadn’t spoken to Abigail much in the past few days, citing young Abigail’s free use of the connotation ‘unnatural’ toward Monica as her most irritating discovery during their time as time travelers.

  Monica hadn’t cared for the way the young Abigail had thrown the phrase around. She was an unnatural, but it was the way the young Abigail had said it that had hurt. Like it disgusted her. Like she was some sort of monster for not having been born with a proper amount of magic flowing through her like most witches. Monica was fiddling around with the cash register when Abigail jumped up onto the back counter. “Monica,” she started to say, but Monica shot her a filthy look that caused her to pause. Evidently, though, she was feeling a bit braver today than she had in the past few days since their return from the 1600s. “Look, can we talk?” Abigail pleaded.

  “About what?” Monica hissed. “The fact that you were part of Remembrance? The fact that you helped to create it?”

  “I didn’t…exactly…” Abigail said. “The woman in the mask we called Masquerade. She helped hide me from the Sorcerer’s Council. She started up Remembrance while I was in her care. I got drawn into the whole thing, and—”

  “You can save it, Abigail,” Monica said harshly. “Look, I think I just need some time, all right? You didn’t exactly ever bother to prepare me for what I saw back there. I knew that you used to have some grievances about being stuck with helping an unnatural like myself. I knew you were that way but that things had changed. I didn’t know you were part of Remembrance. That you were right under the nose of that nasty group’s founder. That you were harassing hobbit refuges, stealing time coins, and terrorizing mortals. That was a lot for me to find out, and you and I never once talked about it for real. All you ever wanted to talk about was how you were some sort of victim of circumstance.”

  “Because I was ashamed,” Abigail said. “I never wanted you or anyone else to see that version of me. I was young and stupid. I’ve had several hundred years to grow up. I’m just… Well, I’m sorry.”

  Monica waved her off. “Just give me some time, would you? Why don’t you spend the day up in the loft or something. You like napping up there anyway.”

  Abigail’s shoulders slumped. “All… Alright, Monica...” She jumped down from the counter and disappeared.

  The front door opened, and Brian entered the shop along with Isaac. Isaac had on a smile, but he was the only one who had been chipper since they got back. He didn’t know Abigail the way they all did, so it hadn’t affected him so much. He was still in a state of awe about the whole ‘magic is real’ thing. When they had arrived back from Boston, Monica’s reveal license had expired. Isaac had been the fifth person she’d let know about the truth of the world of the mystics, so she was at least not going to be facing penalties for letting that happen.

  “Morning!” Isaac called to Monica and Holly. “So, you will both be happy to know that I disposed of my alien conspiracy blog.”

  Monica smirked. “Oh, really?”

  “Well, Brian
and I were going through it last night. Turns out a lot of what I’ve been calling alien activity was, er, mystic,” he said. “And it got me thinking….” His face turned a bit red, and it seemed like it was a push for him to talk about whatever it was he was about to bring up. “You know that thing that happened to me when I was a kid?”

  Monica stared at him for a moment. “You’re talking about when you went missing in the woods?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Well, you know I convinced myself as a kid I had been abducted by aliens or whatever. But if Bankstown is really a secret hotspot for mystics, who’s to say I didn’t have a run-in with something else? Like a wizard or something?”

  Holly perked up suddenly. “You know, I’ve actually wondered that a bit myself.”

  “I mean, not that I’m super stoked over the idea of reliving a childhood trauma, but…I’ve always known there was something more that went down other than me just being lost in the woods despite what my childhood therapist tried to convince me of,” Isaac said. “Do you think it could have been magic-related?”

  “Maybe,” Monica said. “But if we’re going to figure that out, Isaac, you and I are probably going to have to talk more about some pretty uncomfortable memories of yours.”

  He nodded, though the thought seemed to cause him to fidget a bit. “Yeah, well, maybe I’d be okay with that. Not today…but… I don’t know. Some answers about what happened to me as a kid would be nice.”

  Monica smiled at him and was about to comment further when a note slid out from under the back door and flew up by her, landing promptly on the counter. “Whoa,” Isaac said. “Does that happen a lot? Magic mail?”

  Monica smirked and picked up the letter. “It’s for Abigail. Abigail! You got mail!”

  “Oh, she’s here,” Brian said under his breath. “Thought you might have left her at the cottage today.”

  Holly got to work on making Brian’s coffee as Abigail made her way over to them, hopping up onto the counter. “Mind giving me a hand so I don’t shred this thing?” Abigail asked, holding up one of her paws. Monica rolled her eyes and opened Abigail’s mail for her. Abigail’s ears twitched for a moment. “It’s the Sorcerer’s Council. They want me and Monica to come straight away. There has been a motion to adjust my sentence.”

  Monica sighed. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go. Holly, we’ll be back soon.”

  “Sure thing,” Holly said.

  Monica and Abigail went through the back door. A flash of light, and they were stepping through to her twin sister Mona’s side of the shop. They took Monica’s broom to the courthouse, and soon they were standing in the enormous courtroom before the Sorcerer’s Council. The court was a large, circular room with a high ceiling. She and Abigail stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by members of the Sorcerer’s Council—a much more diverse lot than the all witches and wizards council she had met during their time in Boston.

  The mermaid, Beatrice, was swimming around in her oversized fishbowl when they entered, but she popped out of the water and propped her elbows on the rim of the bowl as they found their stance.

  “Monica Montoya. Abigail Williams,” Madam Imelda, an elderly witch on the council, spoke. “As you both know, we have been discussing the council’s past decision over Abigail’s sentencing. We have come to realize just how harsh of a sentence this was for a minor witch, and given Abigail’s recent behaviors, we feel she has demonstrated a full rehabilitation. What do you think, Ms. Montoya?”

  Monica simply nodded.

  “Could you please vocalize your responses for the record keeper?” Nud, the centaur on the council, said.

  “Yes,” Monica said. “She’s definitely not who she used to be.” Monica, though still quite bitter about what she had seen in Boston, wasn’t going to ruin Abigail’s court hearing.

  One of the warlocks leaned forward. “Our concern, really, Monica, is for you. As an unnatural witch, you’ve been assigned your familiar, and—”

  “I don’t need a familiar,” Monica said sharply. “Honestly, I’ve always been more of a potions person anyhow. And I think I’ve learned all I can about wand-work, which is really the sort of magic witches rely on their familiar to help with. I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to do more than I can now. I’ve accepted that. I’d rather focus on potions, and no one needs a familiar for that.”

  “You are saying you wish to surrender your familiar?” Beatrice asked, leaning halfway out of her fishbowl in surprise.

  “I’m saying don’t let me affect your decision,” Monica said.

  Abigail looked up at Monica. “Mon—”

  Monica glared down at her, so Abigail said nothing. Beatrice spoke. “I motion to release Abigail Williams from her current sentence.”

  “I would take it a step further,” Nud said. “And grant her the five years back she lost while on the run from the Sorcerer’s Council of the past.”

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” Madam Imelda said. “Let us take a vote on it. All in favor of Beatrice and Nud’s proposal?” The ayes echoed through the room. There were a few nays, but they were clearly outvoted. Madam Imelda clasped her hands together. “Very well,” she said. “We will begin preparations for the spell to turn you human once more.”

  “Th- thank you!” Abigail exclaimed, looking up at Monica in hopes she was sharing in her excitement.

  Monica looked up at the council. “Do I even need to be here?” she asked. “Or are you done with me?”

  Madam Imelda looked rather surprised at Monica’s coldness. “No, dear, I suppose not. You are…surrendering your familiar to the court?”

  “I don’t have a use for her,” Monica said, a bit surprised at her own tone.

  Abigail’s ears fell back on her head.

  “You’re free to leave then, Ms. Montoya. This could take some time,” Madam Imelda said.

  “Thank you,” Monica said. “I need to get back to my shop.”

  Monica turned and left without saying another word to Abigail. That chapter of her life was over and it was time to move on.

  Seeing Double

  Back Room Bookstore Cozy Mystery, Book 11

  1

  It was unusually quiet that morning at Backroom Books, a witch-owned bookstore in the middle of the mortal city of Bankstown. There were not many people who knew that Monica Montoya was really a witch and that the back door of her shop led into her twin sister’s bookshop in the mystical town of Wysteria. Most days, the shop was full of customers by this time, all happily chatting away with the unusual Monica, who they believed to be a perfectly normal young woman from Chicago, and her assistant Holly. The sudden onset of rain that day, however, had kept people away.

  The only ones there, apart from Monica and Holly, were Detective Brian, Monica’s boyfriend, and Isaac, one of her and Holly’s friends. Even with friends present, the place was unusually dull. Missing from their usual group was Abigail, Monica’s familiar. Abigail was in Wysteria.

  “So,” Isaac said as Holly handed him his cup of coffee. The bookshop had a small barista station in the back that she usually manned. “Any news from Abigail?”

  As if it had not already been quiet enough, now everyone fell into an uncomfortable standstill in anticipation of Monica’s reaction. Holly punched Isaac in the arm as though questioning why he was being so insensitive. Ever since their accidental trip into the seventeenth century, Abigail had been staying in Wysteria at Monica’s request. Abigail was not a typical familiar. In fact, she wasn’t really a familiar at all. She was really Abigail Williams, a witch from the Salem witch trials era who had been punished by the Sorcerer’s Council to spend five hundred years as a black cat as punishment for various crimes against mortals. Monica had always known this, but their trip back in time had been a true eye opener. Abigail had been part of Remembrance back when she had been human.

  “No,” Monica said, her voice riddled with bitterness. Seeing that version of her long-time friend had been almost too much. The th
en seventeen-year-old version of Abigail had been full of hate and prejudice. She had taunted Monica for being what was known as an unnatural—a witch born with very little magic flowing through her. In fact, the Abigail of the past seemed to have felt as though Monica’s mere existence was an insult and had tried to exterminate her. She had worked directly under the masked founder of Remembrance, which was another startling discovery. The group was awful and was experiencing a modern day resurgence of hate and violence all throughout the mystical world—attacking anyone they deemed to be inferior. In other words, anything other than witches and wizards.

  “Sorry,” Isaac said under his breath. “I just know that she was talking about a hearing she had coming up.”

  “It’s in a week,” Brian said. “Beatrice, the mermaid on the council, said there was a good chance they were going to put an end to her sentence.”

  Abigail had been working hard lately at getting reductions from her sentence. A year ago, she’d had nearly two hundred years left, but she had knocked off decades for various deeds and displays of a changed heart toward mortals and non-wizards. Now, however, Monica wondered if it was sincere or if it had all been some sort of act to get her human body back. “Well, good luck to her,” Monica said. “Glad you’re keeping track.”

  “Are you going to talk to her?” Holly asked uncomfortably.

  “I don’t know,” Monica said. “Our trip to Boston was more than just a little disturbing for me. You all know that. You guys didn’t grow up in the mystical world like I did. Remembrance, until their resurgence, was this crazy sort of distant boogeyman parents talked to their kids about. When it started resurfacing last year, it was like the thing that went bump in the night had come to life.”

  “Kind of know what that’s like…” Isaac muttered under his breath, and Monica was fairly certain he was referring to the fact that he had recently learned the truth about the mystical world around them.