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

by Alexandria Westbay

  “Mrs. Susan Cutter!” I said, grabbing the librarian into a hug. She hugged me back a little, then quickly took a step back to break it up. The woman’s was small and thin, with her gray hair up in a bun. She didn’t look a day over 120.

  “It has been ages since I’ve seen you,” smiled Susan. It wasn’t a very pleasant smile. “You look all grown up now. Looks like you might even be getting a little gray in your hair!”

  My eye twitched involuntarily.

  “Woah…” said Bart, a grin spreading across his face.

  “Well, I hope I’d be able to age just as well as you have,” I said.

  “I love that outfit,” she said. “You really fill it out.”

  My eye twitched again. Enough of that.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked. “Slow day at the library?”

  “I was taking a late lunch,” she said. “This might be hard for you to believe, but the normal lunch hour is actually a busy time for us. Some people like to read.”

  “Dang, Zoey,” said Bart. “You should’ve told me how well you two get along. I would’ve brought some popcorn.

  “Good to hear things are going well,” I said, ignoring her last comment. “I heard you were were an unfortunate victim of a crime and wanted to come by and see how you were doing.”

  “You thought I couldn’t handled a little spray paint?” she laughed. “I’m going just fine, thank you.”

  “Why didn’t you want to press charges after you caught them on tape?” I asked.

  Susan raised an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”

  “I-uh…” I stuttered, looking at Bart for help.

  “You gotta stop sharing information that you shouldn’t know,” said Bart, shaking his head.

  “Oh, I bet I know,” said Susan, pursing her lips. “I’ve heard you’ve been seen out and about with Detective Drake. Quite unprofessional of him to be bringing in a civilian to help him out on something so small.”

  “Look, I was just coming by to see if I could help figure anything out,” I shrugged. Since she wasn’t pushing charges, she clearly cared about at least one of the kids for some reason. I decided to shift to focusing on them instead of her. “The kids clearly wrote an inappropriate word on your building, and I wanted to try and figure out what was causing them to lash out. Maybe find a way to keep them out of trouble moving forward.”

  Susan hesitated. “That’s… that’s very kind of you to try and look after those teens like that. I suppose I was being a little to harsh on you and your relationship with the detective. He seems like a nice enough fellow.”

  “He is,” I nodded.

  Susan looked at the wall and back to me. “What do you mean by inappropriate, by the way?”

  “The word,” I said, pointing at it again. “It’s a bad one. If that’s what they felt they needed to spray paint, they must be going through something and needed a way to let out some steam.”

  “No… It’s not an inappropriate word. It says ‘Puck,’” said Susan, looking at me in disgust. “Such a shame that’s where your mind wanders to…”

  I looked a little closer and saw there was a line connecting that I didn’t see at first.

  “It does say ‘Puck.’ How strange. Those kids must really love hockey if they want to write that all over town.”

  “Hockey?” scoffed Susan. “I doubt it. I was under the impression they were being very sneaky about naming their group.”

  “How is naming their group ‘Puck’ sneaky?”

  “They were showcasing how well read they were,” she shrugged, walking into the library. I followed after her. “It’s really such a shame that they turn to crime after clearly being so smart. That’s why I didn’t want to press charges, actually.”

  I braced myself. I didn’t want to ask her, but it was probably important to the case. I had to think of Jake, not myself.

  “Funny thing, I’m not familiar with the reference,” I said through gritted teeth. “What is it from?”

  “Oh?” said Susan, holding the door open for me and forming a small smile. “Have you ever read Shakespeare?”

  “Just Macbeth,” I said, walking in. There were a few people scattered around inside, strolling through the giant bookshelves, reading on comfy outdated chairs, and someone using a computer that looked like it came from the 80s.

  “Ah, one of the classics,” said Susan, walking up to the front desk and setting her purse down. “Puck is a reference to a character in Shakespeare’s great A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “Do you have it here?” I asked. Finally, something that might help me out.

  “Of course,” she nodded, typing rapidly into another old looking computer at her desk. “The call number is 822.33 S if you’d like to go pick it up.”

  “You have no idea how to find that, do you?” asked Bart.

  “Perfect, I’ll be right back,” I smiled.

  Silly Bart. Of course I had no idea how to find it.

  I spent the next ten minutes roaming around the aisles, trying to figure out where the to find it. Finally, I found the correct shelf and picked the book up.

  “This thing is over 200 pages!” I gasped.

  “That’s long to you?” asked Bart.

  “I was hoping to just skim through it and find references to Puck, but I can’t stand here all night reading this,” I whispered.

  “You know this is a library, right? You can just check it out.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  I took the book up to the front and smiled at Susan. “Found it!”

  “I was about to go send a search party after you,” smiled Susan. “Are you planning on stealing that one, too?”

  “Of course I’m not stealing-”

  “I’d ask you for your library card, but I’m sure you don’t have it with you.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “I’ll just type your name up and you can be on your way,” she said.

  “Perfect, thanks.”

  After a few clicks, Susan’s eyes widened and I could’ve sworn I caught a hint of a smile.

  “Oh my. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to let you borrow this,” she said. She didn’t look that sorry.

  “Why is that?”

  “It turns out you still owe us $5.37 due to a late fee.”

  “A late fee? I can’t even remember the last time I checked out a book!”

  “According to our systems, it was about 9 years ago,” said Susan. “Until that is payed, we aren’t going to be able to let you go with another one of our books.”

  “Fine,” I sighed, taking out my credit card.

  “We only accept cash right now, our machine is down,” said Susan, frowning.

  “Okay…” I said, taking out a $10 bill and handing it to her.

  “I actually don’t have change for this at the moment…”

  “Just… Just keep the rest,” I said, eye twitching again.

  “If that’s what you want,” she smiled. She picked up the book and swiped the barcode. “You’re all set now, Zoey. This’ll be do back in three weeks.”

  “Great, thanks for your help, Susan,” I said, taking the book and turning to leave. Hopefully I’d be able to find some answers in it.

  “Come back and see us before the end of the decade!” waved Susan as I walked away.

  “You two seem close,” said Bart.

  “Shut it,” I grunted.

  Chapter 9

  “What was the deal with you and the librarian?” asked Bart as I flipped through the book.

  “It’s a long story that goes back years,” I said, scanning each page for any instance of the word ‘Puck.’ It was night time now, and I’d been trying to find clues for a few hours now. I hoped I missed something, because I was coming up dry on any leads from the book.

  “But she said you haven’t been to the library in nearly 10 years.”

  “Okay, so it goes back a lot of years.”

  Bart walked over and laid down on top of my
book, blocking me from seeing the pages. I tried to push him off, but my hand would just go through him.

  “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s the librarian’s beef with you,” purred Bart. “I haven’t been able to get watch any reality TV for the past week, so I’ll have to get my drama fix from your life.

  “Ugh,” I grunted, trying desperately to push him off the book. It was no use. I really needed to get him to teach me how to cast spells on immaterial creatures…

  “Fine,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “It’s isn’t that exciting. When I was younger, my mother would take me to the library with her nearly every day. She’d spend hours there, reading nearly every book in the library over the years. I never really liked reading, so I would use the time to try and play games with any other kids I could find.”

  “I don’t really see where the problem is,” shrugged Bart.

  “One day, me and another girl were running around the children’s section. I guess we were being a little too loud, because Susan came over, telling us to stop. She asked why we weren’t reading. I said because books were stupid. She said they weren’t, so I said she was stupid.”

  “So you were always a wordsmith?” said Bart sarcastically.

  “Hey, I was like, maybe nine years old. Cut me some slack,” I shrugged. “Anyway, Susan apparently didn’t like that, and held a grudge against me.”

  “That seems pretty excessive to still be mad at you for all this time…”

  “I think it was that, plus my mom was stealing books.”

  “Your mom was stealing books? From the library?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “By the time she was banned from the book store, she had stolen a couple of hundred books.”

  “What?!”

  “She would sell them on the internet, I think,” I shrugged. “We never really talked about it.”

  “How strange,” said Bart, shaking his head. “Well, I guess that would explain why she doesn’t really like you. What’s the story with your mom, by the way? You’ve never really explained to me where she is, other than that she’s a witch.”

  “That’s a much longer story for another time,” I said, grabbing the book underneath him and yanking it away.

  “Fair enough,” he said, taking a few steps away to the corner of the table. “Finding anything good?”

  “Not really,” I said with a shake of my head. I was never good at reading Shakespeare’s writing. Everything was either flowery or seemed like a pun that I didn’t get. “There’s nothing in here that’s really helping me narrow it down. It says his name was Robin Goodfellow, and acted as a jester. He helped break up a couple, but I don’t think that’s really applicable here. Shakespeare refers to him as a sprite, not a pixie. Maybe Puck was just a coincidence, and they do actually mean hockey.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure to throw this out as a lead,” said Bart. “Shakespeare meant well, but he changed quite a bit around.”

  “Wait… you’re saying Shakespeare knew about the paranormal?”

  “Oh yeah, big time,” he nodded. “The werewolves of England at the time loved his early stuff, and started showing him around. They thought it would help increase his creativity and give him more to work with. Seemed like it worked.”

  “So some of the stuff in his work is true?”

  “In a sense. Like I said, he changed stuff around. If he wrote stuff that was too accurate, there might have been some unfriendly visitors wanting him to change it. It wouldn’t surprise me if Puck was actually a pixie, but he said sprite to help obscure Puck’s true identity.”

  “That doesn’t exactly help me,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and looking up at the ceiling. Had I finally found a case I wasn’t going to be able to solve? I had an unbeaten track record so far, but it was just a matter of time until I would miss one. Maybe this was it. “There are too many possibilities for me to narrow this down. I’m afraid I won’t be able to help Jake in time.”

  “Don’t say that. You’ve got a real knack for this sort of thing, Zoey,” said Bart, trying to be comforting. “I’m sure the answer is right in front of you. What are your options? Maybe narrowing it down further like that would help.”

  “Okay,” I nodded. “The way I see it, we’ve got five options: A random pixie, Sara, Tim, Rob, or Henry. It can’t be Jake, since we know Jimmy’s his brother.”

  “What about the librarian?”

  “Pixies are about fun and causing trouble. Susan is horrible and very by the book,” I said. “She’s about as far away from a pixie as you could get. I wish we could just banish her to another realm, but I don’t think we’re that lucky.”

  “Fair enough,” purred Bart.

  “If it is a random pixie that isn’t around at all, we’re in trouble,” I said. “Unless it shows itself near the teenagers when we show up, then there’s nothing we can do about it. Jake and his friends will be in trouble and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Sara Clarkson was very outspoken, and I think there’s at least a bit of truth to what Drake said about the other boys possibly escalating the risk in order to impress her. That wouldn’t really explain the pixie part, though, as that would just be normal teenage boy behavior.”

  “Jake was very defensive of her when you asked him if she was the one provoking them to commit crimes,” noted Bart. “Maybe she has him under a charm to defend her?”

  “Maybe,” I nodded. “But again, he could just have a thing for her naturally.”

  “True,” conceded Bart.

  “Tim Sullivan and Rob Goodfell didn’t give me much to work with. Tim was involved with taunting Drake, just like the others, while Rob was quiet the whole time. My guess is Tim is just a follower, which I doubt the pixie would do. Rob was probably quiet because he was the only one that had any sense, and knew not to mess with a police officer. Maybe he realized that something weird was going on, causing him to break the law, and was scared just like Jake.”

  “The others kids have surely realized what’s going on, too,” agreed Bart. “Well, not the pixie thing, but that something weird is going on.”

  “Henry Murphy, the kid that was the goalie, was really aggressive with Drake, but then shut down completely after he gave up his name and didn’t really talk,” I said. “He also wanted Drake to chase and catch them, which seems like a playful, sprite-like thing to do.”

  “Getting quiet is suspicious,” said Bart. “But I think they wanted Drake to chase them because they knew there was no way he would catch them. He really needs to learn how to skate if he wants to keep confronting people on ice…”

  “Drake probably should,” I grinned. “Henry could’ve gotten quiet because he finally gave up his name, or maybe because he recognized I was a witch?”

  “He would’ve known you were a witch before giving up his name, though,” said Bart, tail slowly dancing behind him. “You didn’t do anything witch-y after they gave their names up.”

  “You’re right,” I nodded slowly. “He would’ve already known because he would’ve seen you next to me… but then if the pixie was scared to get noticed, he wouldn’t have probably talked at all…”

  Thinking about it, that fit the description of one of the other kids.

  “That’s what I would’ve done if I didn’t want to be seen,” shrugged Bart. “A pixie seeing a familiar would have no idea how strong their witch is. For all it knew, you could’ve banished it on the spot.”

  “And if you were trying to hide, you wouldn’t just change your appearance or how you behaved, but also your name…”

  “Your name? I guess. I don’t really see what that has to do with-”

  “Wait a second…” I said, flipping a few pages back.

  There it was. Bart was right, it was right in front of me after all. Puck was clever, but he wasn’t outsmarting me on this one.

  “What, did you find something?” asked Bart, looking down at the book.

  “I know who Puck is,” I nodded. “H
e’s part of the group.”

  “You do? Which one is he?”

  Buzz. Buzz.

  “Hold on, I should get this,” I said, reaching over from my phone.

  “Ugh, but I wanna know!” whined Bart.

  “Hello?” I asked as I picked up the phone.

  “Zoey, it’s Bridgette,” she said on the other side. “The teenagers are on the move, and they’re all carrying a bunch of cans of spray paint!”

  “Where are they heading?” I asked, getting up.

  “They’re being super loud, saying they are going to tag the police station!”

  “The police station!?!” I shouted. “They’re going to spray graffiti on the police station?”

  “You’re joking…” mumbled Bart.

  “You should really get over here fast if you’re going to try to stop them,” recommended Bridgette.

  “I’m on my way, be there in just a couple of minutes!” I said. “Try to stay out of sight until I get there, they might try to attack you if you get in their way.”

  I hung up and grabbed my keys.

  “Are you going to call Drake?” asked Bart.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve got to stop them before anyone knows.”

  “Has Allen found a scroll to banish pixies yet?”

  “He hasn’t contacted me at all,” I said, closing and locking my door. “We might have to figure this out a different way.”

  “Guess we’re going to check out your arm strength, huh?”

  Chapter 10

  I pulled up to the police station, where I saw Bridgette’s car parked alone on the other side of the street. It was dark out, and the streets were empty. The police station’s lights were on, but only a couple of cops worked the night shift in Twistchapel. Snow flurries occasionally fell, but they weren’t quite coating the ground. Bridgette waved over at me with a big smile from he seat.

  “Should we go talk to her?” asked Bart as I parked the car.

  “Yeah, we should hear whatever she knows first,” I nodded, getting out of the car. The two of us snuck over to her car, where I hopped into the passengers seat.