Witchnapped in Westerham (Paranormal Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by Dionne Lister

  I pulled my phone out of my bag and turned it on. My power was still contained, as far as I was aware, so it should work. In the disaster that was yesterday, I forgot to let at least one of my friends know I was out of the country—not that I had any pets or plants to keep alive. It was nice to be the traveller and not the friend staying home listening to someone else’s stories for a change—Michelle got to go to so many awesome places. I pulled up my messages and found the last one I sent to her and wrote another one.

  Me: Hey, chicky. Just off to London for spring fashion week. Hanging out with my super-fabulous rich friends LOL. Just kidding, well not about the going to London bit. My brother’s sick, and I had savings, so I decided on a last-minute trip. Not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll keep you updated. Don’t be too jealous ;). Cheers xx.

  I would have loved to brag about travelling business class, but I wasn’t ready to answer any of the questions that would initiate. “Ah, crap!” I hadn’t turned on roaming. I quickly turned my phone to airplane mode. I probably owed my telephone company seven hundred dollars for that slip-up.

  “What’s wrong, dear?” Angelica was looking at me, concern on her face.

  “Nothing. I just have to set up roaming on my phone or grab a UK SIM card.”

  “We can do that once we get your things put away at home. If you behave, I’ll buy you a cappuccino.” She graced me with smile, which she’d been stingy with the whole time I’d known her. Was smiling something she normally avoided, or was I special?

  “I think I can manage that. How much longer till we get there?”

  “Another fifteen minutes or so. I’m going to take the shield off your powers now.”

  I scrunched my face, anticipating the worst.

  “It won’t hurt.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what an idiot she was dealing with. So much for smiling Angelica. My scalp tingled momentarily. “Done.”

  Hmm, so she was right. Go figure. Normally when adults told kids it wouldn’t hurt, it was a big fat lie to get them to hold still—think inoculations or Band-Aid removal. Yes, I was fully aware I wasn’t a child, but that was how Angelica made me feel, and in terms of witch experience, I was a newborn.

  We turned off the highway onto a secondary road that wound through low-lying hills. It was single lane each way and narrow, even though there was a reasonable amount of traffic. Fields gave way to hedgerows within one metre of the shoulder. I eagerly waited for breaks in the foliage. Every now and then a whitewashed Tudor mansion or smaller stone cottage flashed into view.

  Soon hedges and fields changed to two-storey houses, some even on the street front, so close to the road that passing buses must have rattled their windows. This had all been built way before cars, when traffic jams consisted of a line of horses and carts.

  “The village was established in the thirteenth century, although there is evidence of some earlier settlement. This is the birthplace of Winston Churchill. Have you heard of him?”

  “Wasn’t he some fat guy who owned a sweet shop?”

  Her eyes widened in definite horror. I laughed. “Just joking. I’m not an idiot. He was your prime minister during the Second World War. He was the one who brought in the eight-hour working day and minimum wage, and he said cool things like ‘The price of greatness is responsibility.’” Hmm, I knew more about him than I thought.

  “You surprise me.”

  I surprised myself. “The benefits of having a history teacher for a father.” Right then, I missed Dad so much. He would have loved to have been here to share this moment with me, and he would have had so much to tell me about Westerham and Churchill in that enthusiastic way of his where his eyes shone and he waved his arms to emphasise everything.

  We passed through the centre of the town; shingles, dark brick, and chimneys abounded. Some of the buildings were over five hundred years old. This was so cool. The Tudor style—white cladding standing out against dark timber—was gorgeous, with one row of conjoined buildings housing an interior design shop, wine bar, and a dress shop. It went by too fast to see more details, but I’d definitely come up here later and have a wander around. I also wanted to catch up with Millicent.

  After zipping through town, we turned right, down an even narrower street, the driver slowing to let a car going the opposite way pass. Cottages lined the street, some I could just see behind vibrant green hedges, some visible in their full character-filled glory over a low fence. Window planter boxes bursting with spring blooms gave a shot of colour.

  What would the PIB house look like? I hoped it was old but not haunted. Speaking of which, poor Mr Papadakis. I wondered how he died, and if I could have prevented it if I’d known what my camera was trying to tell me. If it turned out I was having premonition-type experiences, what was I supposed to do with them? Why have them if I wasn’t supposed to do anything? Bummer. I really needed to talk to someone, but I wasn’t ready to talk to Angelica. Maybe Millicent could help?

  The blinker clicked its lulling rhythm, and we turned left into a gravel driveway that ran under a canopy of branches. We pulled up at the end, in front of a stunning three-storey Tudor home. I got out of the car and stared. The ground floor was red brick with black-framed timber windows, then the first floor was white cladding with uneven dark timber crisscrossed through it, then the top floor comprised of the cutest dormer windows surrounded by reddish shingles. I took my phone out of my pocket and snapped a few shots.

  “Is there Wi-Fi here?” I asked Angelica who was already at the front door, sans bags. I guessed there was no premise to keep up here, so she’d ditched them. Half her luck. I turned to grab my bag, but the driver waved me away. “I’ll take care of these, Miss.”

  “Oh, thanks. Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” He gave a single nod. So reserved.

  Angelica called out from inside. “Yes, we have it. I’ll give you the password later. Surely you can live without your device for five minutes?”

  I bit my tongue. I didn’t need to remind her that I’d hardly used it since I’d met her; in fact, I wasn’t that attached to my phone. I did love Instagram, but I hardly communicated with anyone. I preferred to see people in the flesh rather than have marathon messaging sessions, and my Facebook was full of people who had to share what they had for dinner, their latest trip to the hospital, or what amazing thing their four-year-old just did. I needed new Facebook friends. Surely there were more interesting people out there?

  I walked through the thickly framed front door into a high-ceilinged vestibule, my footsteps clicking on the polished timber floors. A staircase sat against the far wall, its glossy timber banister curling around as it ascended past framed portraits. Stone-framed doorways led to the left and right.

  Angelica came down the staircase and stopped halfway down. “Well, are you coming up? I want to show you your room.”

  “Ah, yes, sure.” She was quick. I hadn’t even seen where she’d gone. Maybe she “popped” up there magically? I followed her to the top floor where she showed me to a bedroom with exposed beams and a dormer window.

  The floor creaked as I entered, and I detected the distinct odour of eucalyptus furniture polish. Whitewashed bedside tables with sixties-style lamps stood on either side of the mahogany bedhead. It was a queen-size bed, thank goodness. A thick, white quilt embroidered with delicate lavender flowers adorned the bed. Nice.

  “There’s a shower on this floor, and a towel on your bed. Why don’t you shower and meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes?”

  “Okay.” Angelica left. I looked around for my bag. It wasn’t here yet. A small vibration disturbed the air, and it appeared at the end of my bed. I jumped. For the love of all that’s holy. I put my hand to my chest. Jeepers. Wasn’t it dangerous to just move stuff somewhere you couldn’t see? What if I’d been sitting there? That wasn’t very sensible. Yet another question to ask Angelica.

  I grabbed the stuff I needed and went to find cleanliness. The sooner I showered, the sooner
I could help find James.

  I’d dressed in black jeans, black long-sleeve T-shirt, hiking boots and my thick black jumper. I had a beanie in my pocket, just in case. When I made it to the ground floor, I called out tentatively. “Angelica? Hello?”

  Her cultured voice rang out from the hallway to my right. “In here, dear.”

  I found a door that led into a large living room that was divided into two separate areas by furniture placement. Light filtered in through the lattice-patterned windows, the sun forming criss-crosses on the windowsill and floor. The ceiling was lower than I expected, maybe a foot lower than at home, although it made it feel cosy. Two blue Persian rugs lay on the floor—one at either end of the room. I couldn’t love this room any more than I did. It was perfect.

  Two three-seat oxblood-red leather Chesterfield couches faced each other in one area, and in the other, two armchairs faced the crackling fire. Two people sat on one of the Chesterfields, their backs to me.

  “Lily!” Before I could react, Millicent jumped up off the sofa, hurried over, and enveloped me in a hug. I hugged her back.

  “Are you okay, Mill?” I leaned back to check her out. Her skin was pale, but that wasn’t unusual—she was English, and they’d just been through winter. Her blonde hair sat straight and glossy to her shoulders, but her eyes were red-rimmed. She had on a pink cashmere sweater. She was always so demure and dressed the part—at least from what I’d seen from Skype and photos. “Any news?”

  She shook her head. “But I’m so glad you’re here. You can help us find him. I know you can.” I hoped she was right. “I heard your powers came in.” She smiled, and wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes.

  “Apparently, but I have no idea what I can do or how to do it. I’m not sure if it’s polite to ask, but what can you do?”

  “Aside from the normal conjuring cups of tea and things, and travelling, I can communicate with animals, but in pictures rather than words, and I can see in the dark.”

  Huh. That last one sounded more like a superhero ability. Also, didn’t we have torches for that? Not knocking her abilities, mind you, but I hoped mine were more useful than seeing in the dark. “If you can communicate with animals, were you able to get any information out of your dogs when they came back without James?”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Pepper showed me a white hand that had a snake tattoo and a thick gold masculine ring with a square emerald stone in the centre. He didn’t see the attacker’s face, as he wore a balaclava. Patty bit another person on the leg, and she indicated it tasted like garlic—I cook bolognaise with garlic, no onion mind you, as the dogs are allergic, and she showed me the bolognaise sauce in her mind, and then I had to show her the different ingredients until she pawed at the garlic.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.” I wasn’t even being sarcastic, although I wasn’t sure it was a genuine clue. Did the dog understand, or had she just decided to raise her paw at that time for no particular reason?

  “And Patty brought back a piece of fabric that she’d ripped from the guy’s trousers.”

  Angelica stood from the sofa and approached us. “We have that in an evidence bag at PIB headquarters.”

  “So how am I supposed to help? I don’t know anything about detective work or how to use my witch skills. I feel like I’m just going to get in the way.” I huffed out a frustrated breath.

  Millicent looked to Angelica with raised brows, but Angelica gave nothing away, poker face that she was. Maybe she’d overdosed on Botox recently? She smirked at me. That dirty, rotten…

  “I thought you’d blocked my thoughts.”

  Angelica shrugged. “It wears off after twelve hours or so.”

  “Do you do this to everyone, or are my thoughts incredibly fascinating?”

  “I can’t read everyone’s mind all the time—that would be like trying to listen to every conversation at a party at once. Besides, most witches can block their thoughts.”

  I folded my arms. “When can you teach me?”

  Angelica pursed her lips, probably considering my question. “I’m not sure. We need to take things slowly and make sure we protect you from yourself.” Way to inspire confidence.

  “Can’t you just tell me what to do, and if I think I can’t handle it, I’ll wait to learn more before I try?” Surely I couldn’t be that bad. I was usually a fast learner, and I knew my limits.

  Angelica shook her head. “If you get this spell wrong, you could squeeze your brain too tight and give yourself a migraine, or even permanent brain damage.”

  That didn’t sound good. I was about to acquiesce when Millicent said, “Oh, come on, Angelica. It’s not that hard. You’re scaring the poor girl.”

  “Very well, then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “You don’t have to. I mean, if it’s that dangerous, maybe I should wait.”

  Millicent gave me an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought you were incapable. You are descended from the Ashworths. They were one of the strongest witch families around before their line almost died out. You and your brother are the last of the witchy Ashworths.”

  I had cousins on my father’s side—they lived in Italy—but none on my mother’s. My mother had had a brother and sister, but they’d both died in their teens. She hadn’t liked to talk about what had happened, so I never pried.

  “Well, let’s get my education started. I wouldn’t want to let the Ashworth name down.” Butterflies flitted about inside my stomach. My brave face was all for show. What if I was crap? What if the skill was dependent upon my belief in magic? I was new to all this, and I wasn’t 100 per cent onboard with the believing thing.

  Millicent sat on one of the Chesterfields, and Angelica and I sat on the other. I took a deep breath and looked at my mentor, her back straight and a no-nonsense expression on her face. Was this really happening? This was so freaking crazy, yet here I was.

  “You may not get it the first few times, but don’t worry. Like anything, magic takes practice. And I expect you to practice, but only when Millicent or I are present. I’ll remind you that it can be dangerous when you don’t know what you’re doing. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Good. Now, close your eyes. You won’t always have to, but it will help you focus by cutting out any distractions. I want you to imagine an invisible bubble around your brain. Think about it until you know the bubble inside and out. Make sure to leave a small gap between the bubble and your brain, or you’ll do yourself an injury, and, in order for it to work properly, the barrier mustn’t have any holes. Concentrate.”

  I was concentrating, imagining an invisible bubble. Hang on, if it was invisible, how could I tell if it had holes?

  “Okay, smarty pants, make it blue.”

  “I just think you should have thought about it before you went about teaching people, Ma’am.”

  “I rarely teach, but when I do, the student is normally smart enough to keep up.”

  Angelica 1, me 0.

  “If you’re done being the clown, check your blue bubble has no holes, and then I want you to repeat after me. These thoughts are mine; I do not wish to share. Protect them well, little bubble, with a barrier a little bluer than air.”

  The words didn’t sound as magical in my Australian accent. When I uttered the last word, a tingle warmed my scalp, and I heard one strike of what sounded like a very cute bell. The pure, high note lasted for barely two seconds. I opened my eyes and looked around, although I didn’t know what I imagined would have changed, the bubble being in my skull and invisible to the human eye.

  Angelica smiled and nodded. “Very well done, Lily! You did it.”

  I looked at Millicent. “Did it work?”

  She shrugged, a very demure lift of her petite shoulders. “I’m not sure. I can’t read minds… well, not human ones.”

  “You’ll just have to take my word for it. A novel concept, wouldn�
��t you agree?” Angelica tilted her head and gave me a look that had probably felled lesser people.

  No sense letting her wallow in her anger. “What do we do now? Are there other things I need to learn? Also, what if I get one of the words wrong. Does something bad happen?” My memory could be crap. Maybe I’d need to write all these spells down, but in an emergency, it wasn’t like I’d have time to find them in my bag, pull them out and read them. Looked like studying would be in my near future.

  “It depends. If you get a word wrong and there isn’t a spell with that word, probably nothing will happen, or, if it’s close enough to the word you changed, it may work. But if you change the words and accidentally make a different spell, there could be terrible consequences. When you’re experienced, you can create your own spells, although testing a spell out for the first time is dangerous. One never knows what might happen.” Angelica laughed. Wow, it took the thought of catastrophe to cheer her up. This was all a bit too serious.

  “I know I need a lot of training, but I’d really like to find James.” I glanced at Millicent. Her shoulders tensed. How was she holding it together? I resisted the urge to jump out of my seat, shake someone, and shout, “Why aren’t we doing something?” James needed us now. If I thought about it much longer without doing anything to find him, I would lose it, like ear-piercing scream and ripping my hair out of my head, crazy-town lose it. “I mean, the longer we take to find him, the worse it is for him. Right?” I didn’t want to say what we were all probably thinking—the longer we took to find him, the greater the chance he’d be the D word. I wouldn’t entertain that thought, but unease slithered across my scalp. I shivered. “Have you got any leads at all?”

  Millicent looked at the ground and sighed.

  “You must have something!” I stood.

  Angelica raised her head so her nose was in the air, and she pursed her lips, all the while staring me down. “Of course we do. We have clues from the dogs. We have a cast of tyre tracks from near where he was taken, the blood from the dogs, and we’re currently looking at all the cases he’s worked since he joined PIB. Your family line produced intelligent, strong witches—your brother is exceptionally gifted at what he does. We were hoping you would have inherited power that could help us. Your mother could read the future, after all.”