Bark Side of the Moon: A Paranormal Animal Cozy Mystery (Spellbound Hound Magic and Mystery Book 3)

by Jeannie Wycherley

  Toby nudged her again. She glared down at him. “What?”

  “You’re waving your wand about!” he hissed.

  “Oh!” She stared aghast at her right hand. Her wand sparkled as she tried to stuff it inside her handbag.

  Ed regarded it with evident curiosity. “What’s that?”

  “My pen,” Clarissa forced a laugh. “Just my fancy biro.” She rummaged around in her bag for her notebook. “I wanted to take some notes, you know how it is.”

  “Indeed.” Ed nodded, his face serious. “Listen, you ought to be on your way. You could be accused of trespass.”

  “Alright.” Clarissa stepped away from the door and Toby dutifully followed her. “I hear you. But why are you here?”

  “We had a call about a disturbance—”

  “Let me guess. An anonymous tip-off, was it?”

  Ed pulled his lips into a grimace. “I’m not at liberty to say—”

  “No. How silly of me,” Clarissa replied, trying not to sound bitter, “of course you’re not.”

  “But as you say, there doesn’t appear to be anyone here.” Ed shrugged.

  Clarissa had the sudden and awful thought that he wouldn’t bother to investigate, and Sue Mitchelmore would remain undiscovered inside for a long time. She shuddered inwardly.

  “I haven’t tried opening the doors. Maybe you should?” Clarissa suggested. “Just to be sure.” She stuffed her notebook into her handbag and rummaged around once more for her wand. “We’d better be off,” she said hurriedly. “Good to see you again, DC Plum.” She flashed an insincere smile once more. “Come on Toby,” and with that she scurried around the corner, increasing her pace as soon as she was out of sight of Ed, navigating the fallen fences with deft and graceful ease.

  Freeing her wand from her bag she directed a jet of sharp energy at the bedroom window at the front of the house. “Discutio!” she muttered, and the window shattered.

  DC Plum came flying down the side of the house. “What was that?” he asked her.

  “I think I saw a bird fly into the window,” Clarissa replied, quickly rearranging her features so she appeared shocked.

  Ed pulled out his radio. “I’d better get some assistance, I think. Even if Sue Mitchelmore, or the owner of the property isn’t in there, we’re going to need to secure the premises.”

  “Good work,” Clarissa said, and with one final nod, she ran for her car, Toby scurrying after her. She jammed him into his seatbelt and burned rubber zooming away from Priory Avenue.

  She only breathed again when the village of Thatcher’s Combe gave way to the countryside once more.

  “That was close,” Clarissa exhaled, her breath hitching.

  Toby glanced over the back seat, although there was nothing to see except the tall hedgerows reaching for each other across the narrow lane. “Good thinking on your part,” he said.

  “DC Plum is no idiot though,” Clarissa sighed. “I’m pretty sure as soon as they find the body, he’ll come looking for us to ask more questions…”

  “About what we were doing there?”

  “Yep. And who it was that tipped us off that Sue Mitchelmore lived there.”

  Toby considered this. “But we don’t know that.”

  Clarissa recalled the anonymous letter. “That’s a fact. We don’t.”

  “So if we say that, at least we won’t be lying.”

  That cheered Clarissa up a little. “Added to that, we didn’t kill Sue Mitchelmore, so we’ve got truth on our side. He’ll have to take our word for it.”

  Toby nodded. “Maybe just show him the letter.”

  Clarissa considered this. “Hmm. Good idea. I should imagine any Secret Agent worth their salt will have made sure their fingerprints weren’t on the envelope or the paper.”

  Toby nudged Clarissa’s elbow. “We could use a dis-spell.”

  Clarissa regarded him through the rear-view window. “A dis-spell?”

  Toby grinned. “Dispel any incriminating evidence.”

  “I’m not sure I know the magick that would do that.”

  “Aww.” Toby ducked his head in disappointment. “We should learn some.”

  Clarissa pulled a face as she slowed at a junction to join a main road. “Sure. I’ll add that to the list of things I have to do.” She concentrated on the oncoming traffic for a second, before pulling out. “I have to get a job and earn some money, you know?”

  “Maybe I could learn a dis-spell for us both?” suggested Toby, his tail wagging enthusiastically and creating quite a draft. “I’ll learn it and teach you.”

  “But somebody would have to teach you, first. That’s quite advanced magick. I don’t know—”

  “I thinks it and I makes it happen,” Toby preened, a hint of obstinacy creeping in. “I got skillz.”

  Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Of course you do, babe.”

  Disgruntled, Toby flopped down on the back seat next to Clarissa’s bag. “Well, I do,” he huffed.

  He turned about and created a nest, settling in for a quick nap, until he felt something vibrating beneath his tummy. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but slightly alarming given the unexpected nature of it. He bore it for a few seconds then stood back up. “Clarissa! There’s an earthquake in your bag!”

  Clarissa snatched a quick look behind her. “What do you mean?”

  “Your bag is trembling. It’s going to explode!”

  Clarissa, turning her attention back to the road and spotting a country pub a little way ahead, drifted to the right, indicated and turned into the car park. Yanking on the steering wheel she unclipped her seatbelt and twisted to grab her bag.

  Now that the engine had quietened down, Toby could hear the ringing of her mobile phone.

  “Well, sheesh. I thought it might have been a seismic tremor of some kind, destined to wipe out Sun Valley.”

  “Pfft,” Clarissa admonished him. “Where do you get that dramatic streak of yours from?” She rummaged frantically until she could extract the phone from her bag. It stopped ringing the second she put it to her ear. “Marvellous,” she muttered, studying the screen. “Unknown number.”

  “Probably just a prank call,” Toby suggested. “Or someone trying to sell you something. They’re the worst. Old Joe used to hate those calls to the house. He always used to say, ‘If I want something, I’ll find it myself without any cold calling from you people’ and then he’d put the phone down on them.”

  “A man after my own heart,” Clarissa nodded. About to return the phone to her bag, she jumped when it began to ring again. “Ah! Well, maybe I’ll get to put that into practice now.” She thumbed the screen and lifted the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?” She listened. “Oh, hi Dom!” She turned around to Toby. “It’s Dom.”

  He wagged his tail. Hoomans could be odd at times. Did she think he couldn’t hear her side of the conversation, at least? “Say hi to Star from me,” he said.

  “What, now?” Clarissa was asking and glanced at the dashboard to check the time. “Well, I guess so. No, I don’t have anything else planned… it’s just I’ve had a rather traumatic morning. What? Alright. No, I’ll come.” She stared at Toby. “Yes. We’ll come now. We’re about ten or twelve minutes away from you.”

  She hung up. “Looks like we’re going to see Dom and Star again.” Clarissa threw her phone into the passenger seat and buckled her belt once more.

  “How come?” Toby braced himself for Clarissa’s jump to warp speed as she hightailed it out of the pub’s car park—relatively speaking, given the age of the Nissan at any rate—and peered into the rear-view mirror to watch her face as she answered.

  “He’s managed to contact his Aunt. She has a brief window this afternoon when I can Skype her.” Clarissa laughed, sounding genuinely happier than she had in weeks. “I can’t believe it! I’m going to interview Winifred Breazeazy. My absolute hero!”

  “That’s smashing,” Toby responded carefully. “But what about Sue Mitchelmore? What
about finding The Four Stone?”

  Clarissa rolled the car forwards to the exit of the car park. “We’ll get back to it straight afterwards, I promise. I can’t pass this opportunity up, Toby. I may never get another one.”

  Toby lay on his stomach next to Star in the shade of a bounteous apple tree. They watched the chickens scratch around on the ground in front of them. Chickens—like ants—appeared to be permanently busy. Or hungry. Or both. Dom was sitting cross-legged close by, whittling away on a chunk of tree branch with a battered old penknife. Today he had donned a pair of Hawaiian shorts, coupled with a tie-dye t-shirt, a pair of holey socks, and walking scandals held together with twine.

  “You seem a little down,” Star was saying.

  Toby gave himself a shake. “Do I? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be. I’m alright really.”

  “But—?” Star pushed.

  Sighing, Toby lay his chin on his paws. “I want to find the woman that killed my master, Old Joe. I want to see justice done. I’m worried that Clarissa is forgetting what’s at stake.”

  Star weighed his words and responded carefully. “I’m sure she isn’t. You need to have some faith in her.”

  “Oh, I do. Don’t get me wrong. I loves Clarissa lots and lots.”

  “So what’s the problem, Toby?” Dom asked, his voice soft and his eyes on the task in his hands. An onlooker might have imagined that he wasn’t paying much attention, or that he didn’t particularly care about the conversation.

  Comforted by Dom’s averted gaze, Toby felt confident enough to confess his thoughts. “I’m worried that The Pointy Woman is a… what’s the word? Formbiddabubble?”

  “Formidable.” Dom hid his smile and scattered wood shavings on the ground.

  “A formidable opponent. She has dark magick.” Toby warmed to his theme. “And she has friends and contacts. We don’t have anything like that.”

  “You have courage,” Star replied, ever stalwart. “That makes up for a lot.”

  “Maybe. But I’m afraid—”

  “What are you afraid of?” This time Dom did look at Toby, his eyes crinkling at the edges, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up.

  “I’m afraid that Clarissa doesn’t have enough magick.”

  “I see. Hmm.” Dom returned to his whittling, thinking about what Toby had said. The dogs fell silent.

  Eventually Dom lay his carving aside. It looked like a duck’s head to Toby, the bill slightly parted. Dom jumped to his feet and nodded at the dogs. “Come for a walk with me, Toby. Star will look after the chickens.”

  Toby obediently trotted after Dom, staring up at him as they made their way around the side of the farmhouse. Somewhere inside, Clarissa was hooked up to Dom’s laptop, speaking to her great witchy heroine. No doubt Winifred Breazeazy could teach Clarissa a thing or two about magick.

  “Toby? Do you recall what Clarissa and I were talking about the other day? About chaos magick?”

  “I do. You said that chaos magick is a kind of pick-and-mix.” This had stuck in Toby’s head because the local pet store did a pick and mix of dog treats which Old Joe had often bought for him. He therefore identified pick-and-mix as a Very Good Thing Indeed. “You also said that we can create our own system of magick.”

  “That’s right. One that works for each of us as individuals.” Dom smiled down at Toby. “It’s my understanding that you’ve already started to do this. I think you have the potential to be a great magician.”

  “You do?” Toby blinked in surprise.

  “It’s like I said. You can just conjure up ideas for magick.”

  “Intent and belief,” Toby remembered. “And choose a god or goddess if you wish.”

  “Or a symbol. Or you can perform a ritual. Or you can use props—things that you discover in the natural world always work well, I find. Shells, stones, leaves and so on.”

  “And no need for magick words, you said.”

  “I did say that.” Dom grinned. “Unless you really want to.”

  They resumed walking while Toby considered the meaning behind Dom’s words. “Are you suggesting I can do magick like Clarissa?”

  “I’m suggesting that if Clarissa’s heart isn’t really in magick, you could surpass her.” Dom gestured at the landscape. “Your potential is unlimited Toby. You need to believe that. Tap into your own heart and soul and mind. Unleash the latent power within yourself. Be free.”

  “But I don’t even know the basics!” lamented Toby. “I’ve just been copying what I see people do or making it up as I go along.”

  “That’s the way everyone learns,” Dom chuckled. “It’s no different for any of us. But if it will help at all, I have a book that my Aunt gave me when I first started learning magick as a young lad. I’ll lend it to you if you like. If your reading is coming on as well as Clarissa says, you won’t have any issues with it.”

  “Wooo-weee!” Toby whooped. “I’m going to be a proper spellbound hound!”

  Clarissa emerged from her interview with Winifred Breazeazy pink of face and shining of eye. She positively glowed with excitement, flapping her notebook in triumph.

  “Thank you so much for setting that up for me, Dom. I’ve taken notes and she’s happy for me to rewrite my original article on her and insert some direct quotes so that I can resubmit it to some potential markets.” Clarissa wiped her brow. “I can’t quite believe it! She’s everything I imagined she would be.”

  “Intelligent, astute, stern—” Dom nodded.

  “Sharp as a tack—”

  “Honest to a fault.” He grimaced.

  “Perceptive—”

  “Chaotic.”

  Clarissa laughed. “She is all of those things. She reminds me of the fashion designer Vivienne Westwood.”

  “Ah yes. Another icon of our times.”

  “A total genius,” Clarissa grinned. “I suppose I should be going. I need to type these notes up.” She looked around. “Where’s Toby?”

  “He’s in my laboratory. I loaned him a book and he decided he wanted to start reading it straight away.”

  Clarissa pulled a face. “Do you think we should encourage him? Only—”

  “Encourage him? I one thousand per cent do think we should encourage him. Absolutely all the way. Some things are just meant to be, Clarissa.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I want to keep him safe, that’s all.”

  “Funnily enough, he says the same about you.”

  Clarissa’s face fell. “He worries too much.”

  Dom hesitated. “May I be bold?”

  “Of course.” Clarissa unconsciously clutched her notebook to her heart and regarded him with trepidation.

  “Good.” Dom took her arm and led her away from the house. “Are you scared of The Pointy Woman?”

  Clarissa nodded. “Of course. But—”

  “Fear is often a useful emotion. It drives us to behave in rather odd ways. Sometimes we rush into danger, other times we bury our heads in the sand.”

  “What are you saying?” Clarissa pouted, although she thought she knew.

  “Toby is worried you’ve taken your eye away from bringing The Pointy Woman to justice.”

  “I haven’t at all!” Clarissa protested, hurt that Toby would think such a thing.

  “Perhaps he’s being a little impatient, but I wonder whether you’ve considered all the angles.”

  “I’m certain I have. It’s just I’ve hit a wall at every turn.”

  Dom shrugged. “Then there must be other perspectives you haven’t contemplated.”

  The feeling of exuberance Clarissa had been enjoying after her successful interview with Winifred Breazeazy had rapidly begun to diminish. “I can assure you that—”

  “Forgive me. I don’t think that’s true.” Dom held a gentle hand up.

  Clarissa held her annoyance in check, taking a deep breath to quell her frustration and sense of hurt. “What would you suggest?” Her voice sounded tight.

  Dom cocked his head as tho
ugh he’d had a sudden thought, but they both knew he was about to say something he’d already been considering.

  “Go straight to the horse’s mouth,” he suggested, his voice calm, his face serene.

  Clarissa wrinkled her nose as though discovering a bad smell. “Speak to Miranda Dervish?”

  “No, no. Speak to your grandfather.”

  “My grandfather?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s dead.” Clarissa shook her head. “Remember?”

  “Since when has that ever stopped anybody?”

  “You mean I should visit a psychic? Do a séance?” Clarissa hated the idea.

  Dom laughed. “Didn’t they teach you anything at school? Talk to someone who can talk to the dead. Someone who lives half in this world and half in the next. Who straddles the cusp between here and there.”

  Of course. “A hedge witch.”

  “Do you know one?” Dom asked, “because if not—”

  “Yes. I know one.” A witch who lives in a hedge, Toby had described her as.

  Mad Mabel.

  “I guess we’ll go and call on her.”

  “Mabel should invest in some goats.” Toby and Clarissa were fighting their way through Mabel’s overgrown garden. They could just make out the slightly sagging roof of her cottage over the rise of the earth in front of them. The cottage sat in a dip, sheltered from the worst of the weather blowing in from the sea.

  “That wouldn’t be a bad idea, but I suppose a lot of this will die back in the winter.”

  “That’s a lifetime away!”

  “It isn’t really,” Clarissa said, hacking at the tall grass in front of her. It hadn’t been long since they’d last been here, but any path they might have previously created had grown through again.

  “Dom has goats, you know?”

  “I do know that, yes,” Clarissa rolled her eyes, and slapped in annoyance at a few gnats that brushed against her face. Toby hadn’t stopped talking about how wonderful Dom was during the whole of the journey to Beer.

  “Okay.” Toby, sensing Clarissa’s angst, decided to back off. He skipped on ahead, moving more easily through the grass than Clarissa could, and picking up a zillion seeds on his coat in the process.