Secondly, Toby, ignoring the fracas Catesby was causing, directed his nose at Jebediah’s tree. “Viridi… riddy… viror omnis evanescet!” he shouted. The beech tree shimmied once, twice and… disappeared.
Clarissa hardly had time to take in what was happening, because thirdly, squirrels poured out of the darkness, thousands upon thousands of them. They gathered around the edge of the moonlit circle as Miranda clambered to her feet, her wig lost on the ground somewhere, her face a mask of hatred. She stared at the space Jebediah’s tree had once inhabited and howled, incandescent with rage. “Where’s my tree?” she shrieked. “What have you done with my tree?” She whirled about, rounding on her nemesis, Toby, and hefting her wand.
Grappletwigs nodded tersely, just the once, and a single squirrel leapt from high on a pine tree. It landed with unerring accuracy on Miranda’s outstretched arm and plucked the wand from her grasp before tumbling gracefully to the ground and disappearing into the shadows with its prize.
Miranda swallowed, her face paler than ever. She wobbled in place for a second, dashing a hand across her eyes. “I… I…”
Clarissa thought she would crash to the ground, a mighty witch felled by an intrepid band of misfits, but it transpired feinting was more Miranda’s style than fainting. She shifted incredibly quickly, faster than Clarissa had ever seen any mortal move, and dashed away into the safety of the shadows, disappearing in a blur.
“Go!” Grappletwigs ordered, and every member of The Blackdown Hills Squirrel Community bounded after Miranda. Leaves rustled, twigs snapped, branches creaked…
Clarissa, Catesby and Toby huddled together, listening to the sounds of thousands of ferocious squirrels scurrying through the forest in hot pursuit of their evil quarry.
“Where did the tree go, Toby?” Clarissa asked the question that had been on everyone’s lips for the past few hours.
Dawn had broken and the morning sky burned bright orange and purple. They dawdled slowly down the path that would take them back to Clarissa’s car. Toby limped along well enough on three legs, Grappletwigs on his back, holding on to his collar, but you didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to recognise that a trip to the vets lay on the little dog’s near horizon.
Squirrels flanked them on both sides. The Pointy Woman had not been found. Her disappearance had them all a little spooked, but in true heroic style, everyone tried to hide their unease.
“I’m not really sure where it went,” Toby admitted. “I know the spell works, because I practised on the roses, and the second book that Dom gave me said I could send things to a specific place rather than just disappear them, and I liked that idea because it upsets the bees less… but … erm… I haven’t quite figured out where I’m sending stuff.”
“You’ve been magicking plants away?” Catesby asked.
“Oh yes,” said Toby. “I got skillz.”
“So somewhere… some place that nobody knows… including you… you’ve installed a garden full of plants and Jebediah’s Beech tree?” Clarissa shook her head in disbelief.
“If no-one knows about it, at least it’s safe,” Grappletwigs chimed in, and even she, keeper of the straightest of faces, looked vaguely amused by that idea.
“I think Old Joe will like that,” Toby said. “Maybe he’s there now, tending to it all.”
As they approached the edge of the path at last, Clarissa pulled up short. “Where’s my car?”
“What?” Catesby moved past her. “Maybe we’ve come out of the forest at the wrong point?”
“I’m afraid this is the correct exit,” Grappletwigs said.
Clarissa groaned. “I thought you had sentinels looking after my car?”
“My apologies. They were otherwise engaged.”
“Did Miranda take it?” Catesby asked.
Clarissa stared down the road in disbelief, clamping her hand to her forehead.
“I guess we’re in for a long walk,” Toby said, not that he particularly minded. The squirrels had pumped him full of squirrel mana and he wouldn’t be coming down from his sugar high any time soon.
Clarissa looked from Toby, to Catesby, to Grappletwigs. An idle thought occurred to her. She snorted, then broke into a giggle, and within seconds, as exhausted as she was, she had started to laugh so hard that tears were rolling down her cheeks and she was having trouble catching her breath.
“What’s the matter?” Toby asked. Catesby, not sure what Clarissa was laughing at, joined in. The younger witch’s giggle was infectious.
Clarissa tried and failed to speak and broke off into another peal of helpless laughter. Eventually she pulled herself together.
“I hope she wasn’t planning on going very far. The poor car was running on fumes, virtually out of petrol. There was enough to get us back down the hill if I rolled it most of the way, and that was about it!”
“She’ll be on the bus with us, then,” Catesby said, and that brightened the day for them all.
“You’ve got mail!”
Toby limped in from the hall, his right paw bound up in the fattest roll of dressing the vet had been able to lay her hands on. He looked comical and of course milked his injury for all it was worth. Catesby had paid the vet bill as a thank you for them rescuing her before she headed back to Ravenswood to confront Dr Ermintrude Chevalier.
Toby had also been given painkillers to add to his food, but they didn’t come anywhere close to squirrel mana. He was sorely tempted to ask Clarissa if they could pay Grappletwigs a visit so he could stock up, but he had a feeling, given her lack of cash, she would refuse point-blank.
Clarissa’s Nissan, reported stolen once they’d arrived home, had been recovered somewhere on the outskirts of Durscombe. Clarissa had a theory that Miranda had been trying to get back to The Groundskeeper’s Cottage and the Hawkerne Hall family mausoleum, but without petrol they couldn’t go and check.
It didn’t matter really. The Pointy Woman had evaded full justice and was somewhere in the wind. But given her fragile health, they were counting on the fact that they’d never see her again.
They could hope, anyway.
Toby slid the envelope onto the table at Clarissa’s side and nudged it towards her with his nose. Busy scouring the internet for jobs, she barely lifted her eyes from the screen. “Cheers, my darling,” she said.
“It’ll cost you,” Toby reminded her.
“Right.” Clarissa handed over a toast corner. It was a crust. They were now officially out of bread.
“Open it,” he said with his mouth full.
She rolled her eyes and reached for the envelope, expecting another bill. But this envelope felt different. Luxurious, high-quality stationery, with a London postmark.
“What’s this?” Clarissa slit the envelope open with her thumbnail and carefully pulled the sheet of thick creamy paper out. A smaller rectangle of paper fell to the floor as she unfolded the letter. She checked the signature first. “It’s from the editor of The Celestine Times!”
Toby wagged his behind, excited for her. “Read it out!”
“Alright.” Clarissa adjusted her spectacles with shaking hands. “Dear Ms Page…
Further to your recent correspondence, we are delighted to enclose a cheque for the sum of £500 in the first instance to option the serial rights to your Winifred Breazeazy concept. We envisage the story unfolding over four weeks and aim to publish before Christmas. We have every confidence that our readers will enjoy your writing immensely.
Given your flair for investigative journalism, we further wish to extend an invitation to you. Would you consider applying for the permanent position of Special Correspondent (South-West Region) that has recently become vacant at this title?
We fully understand you may be reluctant to contemplate such a posting at a time when you are building your freelance portfolio, however it would be remiss of us not to discuss with you in the first instance.
Feel free to contact us by telephone.
Sincerely yours
Ro
wena J Gubbens
Chief Editor, The Celestine Times, Celestial Street, London
Clarissa rocked back on her chair and stared at Toby, her mouth open, her eyes shining. “Oh, my life,” she whispered. “We’ve been invited to apply for a job on the best witch newspaper of all.”
She reached out to stroke his head. “The best!” she repeated, her voice stronger now. She leapt to her feet and shrieked, “The best witch newspaper of all! They want me!” She jumped up and down, laughing and crying at the same time. Toby, forgetting his poorly paw, danced around her.
When he winced, she stopped and bent down to kiss his head. “We should go and tell Mrs Crouch! She’ll be thrilled! And phone Catesby! Oh crikey! This is so exciting!”
“Will we have to move?” Toby asked. He didn’t want to leave Silverwinds.
“Not at all.” Clarissa checked the letter. “It says South-West. I should imagine they want me to base myself here.”
“That’s good news!” Toby sighed with relief and sat neatly in front of her. “You know what this means?”
“No,” Clarissa took her seat and regarded her dog with great solemnity. “What does it mean?”
“It means an end to sammich austerity.”
Clarissa hid a smile. “I think you’re right.” She mock-frowned, her eyes playful. “What flavour sammich would we have to celebrate, do you think?”
Toby pricked up his ears, ever hopeful. “Ham.”
“Ham?” Clarissa checked.
“Ham,” Toby confirmed.
“Is that your favourite?”
“It’s my favourite favourite.”
Clarissa grinned and reached for him. “Then it’s a done deal, my beloved spellbound hound. Ham sammich it is!”
Book Four, Master of Puppies will be out in late Spring/early Summer 2020.
If you enjoyed Bark Side of the Moon and you’d like to see more Spellbound Hound, please leave me a review on Amazon or Goodreads.
Reviews help spread the word about my work, which is great for me because I find new readers!
It’s also a win-win for my dogs because they get a healthy dog treat for every review that’s left (but no sammiches, Betsy needs to watch her weight and Finley can’t cope with wheat! What a fusspot).
And why not join my mailing list to find out more about what I’m up to and what is coming out next?
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just let me know you’ve reviewed one of my books when you apply.
“I’ve been watching you.”
When Toby answers the front door, one drizzly September morning, the last dogperson he expects to see is his old friend, Pippin.
She tells Toby that since his escape from the Sunshine Valley Pet Sanctuary, she’s been keeping an eye on him.
And now she needs his help.
All over Sunshine Valley, puppies are being stolen. Not just pedigree puppies, but every kind, every colour, every breed, every size. When one brave owner attempts to apprehend the thief, they meet a miserable demise.
The thief is more than a match for the police. But spellbound hound, Toby, is an entirely different proposition.
With Clarissa and Pippin’s help, can Toby save the day? Can he locate the puppies and return them to their grieving owners? Or will the intrepid trio have bitten off more than they can chew?
At the end of the day, who is the Master of Puppies?
Master of Puppies is Book 4 of the Spellbound Hound Magic and Mystery Series, and a standalone. From the bestselling author of the Wonky Inn books, you’ll find this cozy animal mystery is chock full of the quirky characters you’ve come to love.
Cute pups, cunning witches, wily wizards, chaos and sammiches abound in this heart-warming ‘tail’ of love and loyalty.
Join my mailing list to be first to hear about my new releases.
The Wonkiest Witch: Wonky Inn Book 1
Alfhild Daemonne has inherited an inn.
And a dead body.
Estranged from her witch mother, and having committed to little in her thirty years, Alf surprises herself when she decides to start a new life.
She heads deep into the English countryside intent on making a success of the once popular inn. However, discovering the murder throws her a curve ball. Especially when she suspects dark magick.
Additionally, a less than warm welcome from several locals, persuades her that a variety of folk – of both the mortal and magickal persuasions – have it in for her.
The dilapidated inn presents a huge challenge for Alf. Uncertain who to trust, she considers calling time on the venture.
Should she pack her bags and head back to London?
Don’t be daft.
Alf’s magickal powers may be as wonky as the inn, but she’s dead set on finding the murderer.
Once a witch always a witch, and this one is fighting back.
A clean and cozy witch mystery.
Take the opportunity to immerse yourself in this fantastic new witch mystery series, from the author of the award-winning novel, Crone.
Grab Book 1 of the Wonky Inn series, The Wonkiest Witch, on Amazon now.
The Wonkiest Witch: Wonky Inn Book 1
The Ghosts of Wonky Inn: Wonky Inn Book 2
Weird Wedding at Wonky Inn: Wonky Inn Book 3
The Witch Who Killed Christmas: Wonky Inn Christmas Special
Fearful Fortunes and Terrible Tarot: Wonky Inn Book 4
The Mystery of the Marsh Malaise: Wonky Inn Book 5
The Mysterious Mr Wylie: Wonky Inn Book 6
The Great Witchy Cake Off: Wonky Inn Book 7
Vengeful Vampire at Wonky Inn: Wonky Inn Book 8
Witching in a Winter Wonkyland: A Wonky Inn Christmas Cozy Special
Midnight Garden: The Extra Ordinary World Novella Series Book 1 (2019)
Beyond the Veil
Crone
A Concerto for the Dead and Dying
(short story, 2018)
Deadly Encounters: A collection of short stories
Keepers of the Flame: A love story
Non-Fiction
Losing my best Friend
Thoughtful support for those affected by dog bereavement or pet loss
Follow Jeannie Wycherley
Find out more at on the website
www.jeanniewycherley.co.uk
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The Municipality of Lost Souls by Jeannie Wycherley
Described as a cross between Daphne Du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn, and TV’s The Walking Dead, but with ghosts instead of zombies, The Municipality of Lost Souls tells the story of Amelia Fliss and her cousin Agatha Wick.
In the otherwise quiet municipality of Durscombe, the inhabitants of the small seaside town harbour a deadly secret.
Amelia Fliss, wife of a wealthy merchant, is the lone voice who speaks out against the deadly practice of the wrecking and plundering of ships on the rocks in Lyme bay, but no-one appears to be listening to her.
As evil and malcontent spread like cholera throughout the community, and the locals point fingers and vow to take vengeance against outsiders, the dead take it upon themselves to end a barbaric tradition the living seem to lack the will to stop.
Set in Devon in the UK during the 1860s, The Municipality of Lost Souls is a Victorian Gothic ghost story, with characters who will leave their mark on you forever.
If you have previously enjoyed Crone or Beyond the Veil, you really don’t want to miss this novel.
Sign up for my newsletter or join my Facebook group today.
Crone
A twisted tale of murder, magic and salvation.
Heather Keynes’ teenage son died in a tra
gic car accident.
Or so she thinks.
However, deep in the countryside, an ancient evil has awoken … intent on hunting local residents.
No-one is safe.
When Heather takes a closer look at a series of coincidental deaths, she is drawn reluctantly into the company of an odd group of elderly Guardians. Who are they, and what is their connection to the Great Oak?
Why do they believe only Heather can put an end to centuries of horror?
Most important of all, who is the mysterious old woman in the forest and what is it that feeds her anger?
Bark Side of the Moon: A Paranormal Animal Cozy Mystery (Spellbound Hound Magic and Mystery Book 3) Page 19
