Twistchapel Witch Cozy Mystery Box Set: Books 1-4 plus Christmas Short

by Alexandria Westbay

  "Jimmy has taken my promotion hard," admitted Eric. "I’ve been a bit soft on him during these first few weeks, but he isn't taking me up on any of my training offers. I'm going to have to insist that he works with me some to get sales up."

  "Good," I nodded. "That's what I would recommend. I know that he is very competitive with you, but I think he will come to see that we’re all on the same team."

  "I doubt it," said Bart, passively licking his paw on the couch next to Eric. "That kid is too ambitious for his own good.”

  "I’ll make sure we’re all on the same page, Miss Foster" nodded Eric.

  "Excellent," I smiled.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  "One second Eric," I said, leaning towards the door. "Come in."

  The door opened and in walked Detective Drake Robinson. He wore his usual darkly colored long T-shirt and jeans. His badge was absent from around his neck, which I took to mean he wasn’t on duty.

  "Hey Zoey, am I interrupting anything?" he asked with a gorgeous smile. Drake was the new detective in town, and I had helped him solve a few murders. Over the course of working together, we had developed a close, and almost playful, relationship.

  "No, Detective, we were just finishing up," said Eric as he stood up.

  "Oh, you don't need to leave, Eric," I said.

  "No, I think I told you everything that I had prepared," smiled Eric. "It's best if I get back out there and make sure everything is going smoothly."

  "Look at that," said Bart. "Somebody that actually cares about your store. You could learn a thing or two from him Zoey."

  I shot a quick glare at Bart before continuing to smile up at Drake and Eric.

  "Detective," nodded Eric as he moved past him.

  Drake shut the door and took Eric’s seat on the couch.

  "He's a good kid," said Drake.

  "Yes, one of my best hires ever," I nodded.

  "So, how have you been?" asked Drake.

  "Busy with work," I said. "We’ve moved some people around, and I’ve been making sure Eric has everything under control. It’s been good, though. How about you?"

  "Also very busy," nodded Drake, smiling. He really has a great smile.

  "Any new… murder investigations?" I asked, trying to be nonchalant and failing.

  "Haha, no, not recently," he laughed. "Unfortunately - or rather I guess I should say fortunately - there’s just been a long stream of petty crimes. Nothing too major, it’s simply a lot of small things, which doesn't diminish the amount of paperwork to fill out."

  "That's too bad," I said. I thought about it for a minute and realized how that sounded. "Or… I mean, too good? I don't know."

  "What is wrong with you?" asked Bart.

  "Listen, I wanted to apologize about not setting a time for our second date and keeping to it," began Drake.

  "Honestly don’t worry about it. I know you're busy." I said

  “I wanted to make sure that you know that I-”

  Knock. Knock.

  “Busy today,” mumbled Bart.

  “Yes?” I asked, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.

  The door opened to show Charline.

  “Miss Foster, I apologize about not stopping Detective Robinson before he made it into your office,” she said.

  “You can just call me Drake,” smiled Drake.

  “I-It’s quite alright,” I said. “He’s welcome to come straight to me.”

  “There’s another matter I should really talk to you about,” continued Charline, glancing distastefully at Drake. “It concerns something that Detective Robinson probably shouldn’t be here to hear.”

  I sighed. What was she going to waste my time with now?

  “Anything you need to say can be said in front of Detective Drake,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” asked Charline, leaning forward as her eye twitched.

  “Is… is she winking at you?” asked Bart. “That is horrifying.”

  “I’m sure,” I said firmly.

  “Alright,” she shrugged. “Well, your other boyfriend is here, and would like to see you.”

  “Other boyfriend?!” said Drake, Bart, and myself in unison.

  Chapter 2

  “Yes, your other boyfriend,” nodded Charline. “Remember? You told Mr. Thompson that you chased this guy in the cemetery.”

  Oh. Right.

  I had previously bumped into Mr. Thompson, an owner of an old furniture company, while chasing a mysterious man with a ponytail that kept showing up, giving off Other vibes. I lied and just said I was chasing my boyfriend, since explaining it would’ve been too difficult. Mr. Thompson mentioned it in front of Charline, and again I was stuck.

  But if she’s saying that he was here…

  A man wearing a black suit appeared behind Charline and gave a small wave. His blonde hair up in a ponytail. clashed with his all black attire, and his cheesy smile didn’t put anyone in the room at ease.

  “Z-Zoey…” said Bart, hopping up onto my desk and trying to put himself between the new visitor and myself. “This must be the warlock Jenny was talking about.”

  Oh yeah. I forgot that the ghost we had previously helped, Jenny, confirmed that Mr. Ponytail was actually a warlock.

  Small detail.

  “Howdy,” said Mr. Ponytail. He paused and glanced behind me to the floral covered wall. “Huh. Interesting wallpaper choice.”

  “Have fun,” murmured Charline as she walked away.

  I tensed up, unsure of what to do. There was no reason to freak out, right?

  Drake looked back and forth between me and Mr. Ponytail, his mouth hanging slightly open. He cleared his throat and got to his feet, take a step towards the newcomer.

  “Can we help you?” asked Drake, arms crossed. He must have picked up on the energy I was sending out.

  “I don’t believe we’ve officially met, Detective Drake Robinson,” said Mr. Ponytail, offering his hand.

  Drake glanced down at the hand and back up into Mr. Ponytail’s eyes. “That’s not very fair. You seem to already know my name. What’s yours?”

  “My apologies,” smiled Mr. Ponytail, dropping his hand back to his side. “I always make a point of learning as much as I can about people. My name is Warren Locke.”

  “Warren Locke?” scoffed Bart. “A warlock named Warren Locke? Does this guy think this is funny?”

  Warren winked at Bart.

  Drake, who didn’t know about Bart, must have thought Warren winked at me. A vein in the detective’s neck bulged and he took another step towards Warren, now just inches from his face.

  “So, Warren,” said Drake, his voice deepening to almost a growl. “How can we help you?”

  “Unfortunately, Detective, I don’t need your help,” said Warren, tilting his head around to look at me. “I need her help. I need to speak privately with her.”

  “That ain’t happening,” said Drake.

  “Drake,” I said softly. “It actually would probably be good for me to talk with Warren. There are a few things I needed to ask him about.”

  Drake took a step back and looked back at me.

  “Really?” he said. He looked surprised or hurt. Maybe both.

  “I’ll explain later,” I said. I had no idea how I would do that, but I’m sure I could come up with some sort of excuse. “I know it looks awkward, but Charline doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “Well… if that’s what you want,” he said somberly. He stepped around Warren and grabbed the door to close it on his way out. Before doing so, he paused.

  “Let’s go out Thursday night, Zoey,” said Drake. “Are you free?”

  “Uh, Thursday as in tomorrow? Y-Yes,” I said, slipping out a smile. “That would be great.”

  “I’ll text you the details,” smiled Drake, before looking back at Warren. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again, real soon.”

  Warren nodded. “Looking forward t-”

  Drake close the door before Warren could
finish.

  “Charming,” mumbled Warren, glancing back to me. “He seemed moody.”

  “Sit down,” I said.

  “Do you really think being alone with a warlock is a good idea?” hissed Bart as Warren took a seat on the couch.

  “He can hear and see you,” I reminded the familiar.

  “I don’t care,” shrugged Bart. “I’ve dealt with warlocks before. They’re always arrogant, and almost always bad news.”

  “Ah, but see, I am only bringing good news,” said Warren, leaning back. “I have a client who could really use your talents, Miss Foster.”

  “Does he need a ham for Thanksgiving?” I asked.

  “Clever,” smirked the warlock. “No, although that’s very tempting. There’s been a murder.”

  “A murder?” I raised an eyebrow. “Then why doesn’t Drake know about it? He just told me there hasn’t been a murder for quite a while.”

  “I’m afraid it is beyond his jurisdiction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The victim is paranormal, the death is paranormal, and the killer, most likely, is paranormal.”

  “That would do it,” muttered Bart.

  “Slow down,” I said, leaning forward. I said it more for myself than for Warren. I was getting excited at the prospect of helping to solve another crime, but there were too many variables going on here. I needed to really think about this one before getting involved. “First of all, what do you mean when you say your ‘client?’”

  “I don’t know why we’re bothering to talk to this guy,” complained Bart. “He’s giving off quite the evil vibe to me.”

  “I’m not evil,” said Warren. “I’m not exactly ‘good’ either, I suppose. There isn’t much money to be made when you conform so simply to labels or sides.”

  “So, you’re like a mercenary?” I asked.

  “I prefer the term: opportunist,” he clarified. “That’s just what I bring to you. An opportunity. An opportunity to do the right thing, and help catch a murderer of an innocent being.”

  “This guy is worse than evil,” said Bart with a shake of his head. “He’s… a salesperson.”

  “You could say that,” nodded Warren. “I sell my services to those that are in need. I’ve helped those in the Other get to Earth, I’ve helped the parents find their missing babies, and I’ve helped boring humans rise to political power.”

  “So people come to you, and then you outsource the work to people like Zoey?” asked Bart.

  “I don’t always. I would say the majority of the time I don’t. I know my own abilities, though, and this particular case requires someone who is better suited for sleuthing.”

  “How do you know who I am?” I asked.

  “As I told Detective Drake, I like to know things about people I might cross paths with.”

  “You were in the police station when we first went to talk to Drake a while ago,” I said.

  “Correct. My sources told me that the owner of Foster’s Market was walking around with a familiar that took the shape of a cat, of all things.”

  “Why’s this such a big deal all of a sudden?” asked Bart.

  “I was also told that you employed a werewolf, and were trying to set him free.”

  “How did you know Thomas was a werewolf?” I asked. Back then, I had only known for no more than a day or two before going to meet with Drake. How could he have gotten this information so quickly?

  “Do you think Derek doesn’t have other werewolves that he reports to?” asked Warren. “Everyone’s willing to share a bit of information. For a price. Anyway, I knew you’d eventually try to talk with the detective again, and I wanted to get a look of you. I saw your delightful Bartholomew walking beside you, and knew the rumors were true.”

  “Wait…” I said. This couldn’t be happening. Was it possible? “Is… is Bart’s real name Bartholomew?”

  “I told you talking with this warlock was a bad idea,” hissed Bart.

  “I guess the cat’s out of the bag?” smirked Warren. I had to stifle a giggle.

  “Enough!” shouted Bart. “He’s just trying to get on your good side, Zoey.”

  I’m sure he was, but I was okay with that. However, this was starting to eat up much more of time than I expected it to, and I didn’t want Charline’s imagination going wild with the two of us in here for so long.

  “Are you not going to tell me anything more about the case other than that everyone involved is apparently paranormal?” I asked.

  “My lips are sealed, unfortunately,” nodded Warren. “One of the benefits with going with me over other options is my strict client confidentiality.”

  “I’m going to have to pass then,” I said.

  “Finally,” sighed Bart. “You’re making the right decision. I was starting to worry you were actually considering working with a warlock.”

  “May I ask why you are passing?” said Warren. “I know I can’t give you much detail right now, but based on how you work, I just know this would be a fantastic opportunity for you.”

  “Besides the fact that I don’t trust you, I’m pretty sure I’m not involved with this at all. The last two cases I worked on involved me directly.”

  “While it doesn’t effect you in the short term, there are certain potential… long term… consequences, for you and those around you.”

  “And those are?”

  “I can’t discuss that unless you verbally commit,” he shrugged.

  “Well, you’ll have to find somebody else then,” I said, standing up. “I’ve got a business to run, so if we have nothing else to discuss, I’d appreciate it if you left.”

  “Very well. I guess I’ll have to tell the vampires they’ll have to keep looking for someone to help, then,” he said, slapping his knees and getting to his feet.

  “Vampires?” I gasped.

  They were real? Why was I still surprised when I learned these thing?

  “Yes. They are my clients for this particular job.”

  “Are they friendly?” I asked. “Would I be working with them?”

  “Well, now. You sound interested to me,” smirked Warren.

  Chapter 3

  That night, Bart and I found ourselves on the outskirts of the northern part of Twistchapel. We were about a mile away from where we parked, and stood among a bunch of trees. Warren’s instructions had been oddly specific to get to such a random point.

  “I don’t understand why we’re out here,” whined Bart.

  “Vampires, Bartholomew,” I said, arms crossed in front of me. I had agreed to meet with Warren and his vampire client, which meant we needed to talk at night. I hadn’t necessarily thought that through all the way, but this was too exciting to pass up. I’d never met a vampire before.

  “Don’t call me that. Working with a warlock is always a bad idea,” said Bart. “They are very sneaky people.”

  “Haven’t you said not all warlocks are evil?”

  “I have, but most are. Even the ones that aren’t still aren’t ‘good.’ These are guys that make deals with spirits, sometimes demons,” he explained. “They aren’t the good guys.”

  “Yeah, I guess I got that vibe,” I conceded, looking around. I was starting to suspect that Warren was messing with us. Had he sent us out into the middle of the woods at night just to waste our time? Was he trying to prank us?

  “Since we’re waiting, I might as well tell you I’ve decided on the next spell for you to learn,” said Bart.

  “Great! What is it?”

  “It’s called beacon magic.”

  “Bacon magic?!” I exclaimed. Now we were getting somewhere!

  “No… beacon magic.”

  Oh. That was a lot less exciting.

  “What’s that?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.

  “You can actively create a magical bond with anyone that you’ve met, and they will know where you are,” he said.

  “Anyone?” I asked.

  Bart nodded.
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  “So, I could let Bridgette or Drake always know where I am?”

  “Not quite,” said Bart, shaking his head. “You can choose to bond with them, but they won’t notice anything. Only those that have a connection to the Other will be able to sense where you are.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. It would probably have been really weird for Bridgette to randomly know where I was all the time. “Am I stuck with just the person I bond with?”

  “Nope. You can change through as many people as you’d like.”

  “Good to know,” I said. I glanced down at my phone to check the time. It was nearly half an hour after our agreed meet time. I’d wait a few more minutes, but if Warren doesn’t show up, I’m out of here. “How does the beacon magic work?”

  “You essentially picture the person in your mind, and constantly try to get their attention. Different spell casters do it in different ways. You could try to be subtle about it, but normally just shouting ‘Hey!’ over and over gets the job done,” said Bart. “You’ll have to keep repeating the action in the back of your mind for the entire time that you want to hold the connection.”

  “That sounds like it could get annoying for the receiving person and the one actually doing the spell.”

  “Oh, it is,” said Bart, looking up at the night sky. “Trust me… it is.”

  I glanced at my phone. Still no sign of Warren. Might as well get some practice in.

  “Okay, Bart. How do we…” I stopped talking.

  A burst of cold air hit my body as all the wind around me died down. My body felt petrified and my mouth became dry. What was happening?

  I felt warm breath against the back of my neck.

  Slowly, I turned my head.

  Less than a foot away from my face was a pale, human like face. Its eyes were completely filled with black. Two long fangs protruded from its mouth, which was spread out in an open smile.

  I promptly screamed.

  “Zoey!” shouted Bart, rushing up to try and get in between me and the vampire.