by Sam Short
A group of men and women left the pub, laughing as they crossed the road towards a fast food restaurant. To all intents and purposes, the group of revellers seemed normal. “So those people,” said Millie, indicating the group with a nod of her head. “Are they paranormal?”
Sergeant Spencer studied the group. “Two are. I’m not sure about the other four. I have my suspicions about the big guy at the back. I think he’s a wolf, but it’s not polite to ask, and our paths have never crossed in a situation in which he’s been charged with a crime. He’d be obliged to tell me in that instance.”
Millie swallowed. “A wolf?” she shook her head, pushing the images from her mind. “No, never mind. Don’t answer that. I don’t think my brain could take it,“ she said. “And you? Are you… paranormal?”
“No!” said Sergeant Spencer with a smile. “I’m the only normie, as the paranormal kids call us, who isn’t affected by the concealment magic.”
“Concealment magic?” said Millie.
Sergeant Spencer put the car into gear. “That’s for other people to explain to you, Millie. People who can relate to you, people who have been where you are now — scared and confused, that is.” He paused. “How about I introduce you to one? Tonight? She’s around your age, and she’d be happy to stay with you in your new cottage tonight, and help you begin to understand what’s happening. She likes wine, too, and you look like you could use a glass. Or two.”
Millie gave in. She gave in to the fear. She gave in to the undeniable truth of her situation, and she gave in to the obvious sincerity of the big policeman who smiled kindly at her. “Okay,” she said. “If you promise me I’m safe, I believe you. I’ll put my trust in you.”
What else could she do?
“Right!” said Sergeant Spencer, with a grin. “We’ll go to my house, pick Judith and some wine up, and I’ll take you both to Windy-dune Cottage.”
“Your house?” said Millie.
“Yes,” said Sergeant Spencer. “Judith lives with me. She’s my daughter… my adopted daughter. She’s a witch, just like you. She’ll help you understand that Spellbinder Bay is just like any other town. Almost.”
As Millie formed her next question, the voices of shouting men drew her attention. Sergeant Spencer took the car out of gear, grabbed his hat, and opened his door. “Wait here, Millie. Let me deal with this.”
Two men stumbled from the pub doorway, grappling with each other as they screamed obscenities. The larger of the two men, clearly stronger than the thin man he was manhandling, pulled his arm back, ready to throw a punch.
“Don’t you dare, Frank!” shouted Sergeant Spencer, reaching the fighting men. “If that punch connects, you’ll be spending the night in a cell!”
“He started it!” said the big man. “He’s been bumping into people all night. Annoying them! The last straw was when he spilt the round I’d just bought. Thirty quid it cost me, and Billy just laughed!”
“I told you!” slurred the thin man, slumping against a wall as Frank released him from his grip. “I’ve lost my glasses. I can’t see properly.”
“Drank too many glasses of whisky, more like,” snarled Frank. “If you can’t handle your booze, you shouldn’t be drinking. You’ve only been in this town for a few months, and you’ve already managed to get banned from two pubs!”
“Calm down, fellas,” ordered Sergeant Spencer, stepping between them. He looked at the thin man, who was in the process of slowly sliding down the wall. “Look at the state of you, Billy Mckenna. You can’t stand up, and you stink of whisky. Vile stuff that it is.”
Frank looked down at his clothing. “And look what you’ve done to my shirt, Billy. I’m covered with hair!”
“My dog,” mumbled Billy.
“It needs a bath,” said Frank, brushing hair from his clothes. “It stinks! Like you!”
“It’s your fault,” said Billy. “You grabbed me. I didn’t rub myself on you!”
“That’s enough,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I’ve got more important things to be doing than stopping grown men fighting. Frank, get back inside the pub. Billy, go home. You’ve had too much to drink.”
Frank rubbed at his jeans, sniffed his hands, and pushed the pub door open. “And make sure you give your dog a bath. It stinks!” he shouted, as he ventured back inside the building.
Sergeant Spencer stared down at Billy. “Come on, on your feet. Time to go home.”
“I’ve lost my glasses. I told you,” said Billy. “I can’t see.”
“Right. In the car,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I’ll take you.”
“I’ve had a stressful day,” slurred Billy, pushing himself to his feet. “I drank too much. I’m sorry if I spilt Frank’s drinks.”
“I’m sure you can reimburse him,” said Sergeant Spencer. “When you’ve sobered up.”
Billy wobbled behind Sergeant Spencer, and swayed on the pavement as the policeman opened the car’s back door.
“Get in,” said the policeman. He winked at Millie. “Not a word about what we’ve been talking about, and you’d better hold your nose. Frank was right. He stinks of dirty dogs.”
The journey to Billy’s home was short, and Millie was thankful for that small blessing. The stench of alcohol breath mixed with wet dog emanating from the back seat of the car, was not something she could have stomached for much longer.
“See,” said Sergeant Spencer, as he climbed back into the car after helping Billy to his front door. “It’s a normal small town — men falling off lighthouses, drunkards, and fighting.”
Millie wound her window down and sucked in a breath of nostril cleansing air. “Well if this is normal, I’ve had enough of normal for today. You mentioned something about wine?”
Chapter 10
Millie had liked Judith as soon as she’d met her. Her face hid no secrets that Millie could discern, and her smile was infectious. Before they’d even arrived at Windy-dune Cottage, Millie’s spirits had lifted as Judith’s easy manner and warm personality forced her to feel at ease for the first time that day. Her sparkling blue eyes and golden blonde hair matched her fun sense of humour, and despite the day’s events, Millie found herself looking forward to spending some time with her.
“Enjoy your night, girls,” said Sergeant Spencer, as he stopped the car outside the cottage, and Millie and Judith climbed out. “And, Millie. I will need to speak to you tomorrow — about what happened at the lighthouse.”
“Okay, Dad,” said Judith, nudging Millie with an elbow, and winking. “But give it until the afternoon, huh? We’ve got three bottles of wine to finish off. I suspect we’ll be having a lie-in.”
As the police car disappeared into the night, Millie turned to face the cottage. Her cottage. Apparently. If it was her cottage, why did she feel so much like a trespasser?
“Are you going to invite me in, then?” said Judith. “I’m dying to find out how much it’s changed since Esmeralda died.”
Millie shrugged. “Of course. Let’s go.”
As Millie opened the door and stepped inside, she immediately relaxed. The sensation of safeness which enveloped her when she flicked the light on and stared at her surroundings, made her smile. She felt at home.
“It’s gorgeous!” said Judith, brushing past Millie and investigating the decor. “The kitchen looks amazing! I bet the bedrooms are beautiful?”
Millie glanced at the doorway next to the fireplace. “I haven’t even seen a bedroom,” she said. “I didn’t get much time here earlier before George arrived and whisked me away to the lighthouse.”
“We’ll explore properly in a minute,” said Judith, opening and closing kitchen cupboards. “I need a corkscrew and two glasses. Where do you keep them?”
“I don’t even know if there are any here,” said Millie, gazing at Reuben. Was the little bird ignoring her? Was it even possible for a bird to ignore a person? “Hello, Reuben,” she said. “I’m sorry I left you on your own all day.”
The cockatiel sat facing
the wall, his back to Millie, and one eye peering over his shoulder. He made a sound like a snort and forcefully span his head to his front. “Whatever,” he said.
“Come on, Reuben,” said Judith, over the sound of a cork popping. “Have some manners and show some respect. Millie is your witch now, treat her as such.”
“I don’t like her!” said Reuben. “I’ve been locked in this cage all day and she hasn’t fed me!”
“She’s been busy,” said Judith, pouring wine. She offered Millie a glass. “He’ll be okay when he gets used to you.”
Millie took the glass and swallowed half of it quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Is the bird talking?” she said, her mouth already dry again. She swallowed more wine. “Is that bird talking?”
“Oh!” said Judith. “You two haven’t been properly introduced?”
“I asked her to feed me, and she left me here while she ran off with that bloodsucker!” said Reuben, peering over his shoulder, an accusatory eye on Millie. “She left me on my own! Behind bars! Esmeralda never locked me in my cage! I don’t like you, Millie Thorn. You’re not my real witch!”
“Don’t you dare say that!” snapped Judith. “That’s very rude. She is your real witch!”
“He’s talking,” mumbled Millie, snatching Judith’s glass from her hand and chugging half of the contents. “He is, isn’t he? He’s speaking. Really speaking.”
“Nobody told me you hadn’t met your familiar,” said Judith, filling Millie’s empty wine glass and claiming it for her own. “I’d have made a point of introducing you properly if I’d known.” She walked to the cage, bent down, and opened the door. “Millie, this is Reuben. He’s what we call your familiar. Just think of him as a companion and an advisor. Of sorts. Don’t take too much of his advice to heart, though.”
“Erm… hello, Reuben,” said Millie. “I’m sorry I left you on your own for the day… things have been a little… weird for me.”
“I’m not speaking to her,” said Rueben, closing his eyes and pressing his chin into his plumage. “Tell her I’ve been lonely and hungry, and that I have feelings too. Tell her my life is important to me! Tell her, Judith! Tell her right this second!”
“Grow up, Reuben,” said Judith. “Tell her yourself.”
“I heard what you said, Reuben,” said Millie, the alcohol helping the situation seem less insane than it had a minute before. “And I’m sorry. Would you like something to eat? I can give you some fresh seeds? You haven’t touched the ones in your bowl.”
“Tell her I explained to her this morning that I don’t like seeds!” said Reuben, swivelling on his perch to face Millie. He fixed an eye on her. “Tell her that since Esmeralda… left, and George has been looking after me — that he’s been making me eat seeds. He thinks it’s funny. I think he’s a bloodsucking bastard! Tell her, Judith! Tell her that a vampire has been toying with my emotions!”
Millie sighed. “I didn’t know you could really talk, this morning,” she said. “I just thought you were very well trained. I’m sorry. I don’t know what you like to eat. What would you like, Reuben?”
“Tell her I like Pizza, Judith,” said Reuben, lifting his chin. “Tell her I like thin crust pizza. Tell her I specifically like to eat thin crust mighty-meaty pizza from Pepino’s pizza and kebab parlour in town, whose food is both tasty and affordable, plus they will deliver for free within a three-mile radius. Tell her this cottage is within that radius, Judith. Tell her I’m more affable on a full stomach. I think it’s a blood sugar thing. You don’t need to tell her that last part, though — it was simply an observation on my behalf.”
Millie sipped her wine, and smiled. “Judith, would you please tell Reuben that I’m very fond of pizza, too. I haven’t eaten all day, and I’m starving. Perhaps I’ll order some. If it’s safe for birds to eat pizza, of course.”
“Oh, it’s safe for this bird to eat pizza,” said Judith. “He’s magical. A little junk food won’t hurt him.”
“Pizza it is then,” said Millie.
“I’ll phone it in,” said Judith, taking her phone from her pocket. “And while we wait, how about we have a good look around the cottage while Reuben gathers his thoughts, and finds some manners?”
The two bedrooms couldn’t have been more perfect if Millie had decorated them herself, and the roof window theme in the living room continued throughout the cottage, with one in each bedroom, and another above the large jacuzzi style bath in the modern bathroom. Millie had imagined herself laying in hot water, surrounded by bubbles while gazing at the stars, and had shuddered in pleasure. “I don’t understand,” she said, studying the colourful canvas which hung above the headboard of the huge oak bed in the main bedroom. “Why do I feel so calm about all this? Why do I feel so… safe? After everything that’s happened today, I’d have thought I’d be feeling a little more frightened, not imaging bubble baths beneath a view of the moon, and appreciating modern art.”
“Come on,” said Judith. “Let’s go back to the living room, pour some more wine, and I’ll begin trying to help you understand a few things. There’s far too much about Spellbinder Bay for me to explain in one night, but I can make a start.”
Millie nodded. “That sounds like what I need.”
Reuben had left his cage, and had perched on a coffee table, pecking at the TV remote control when Judith and Millie entered the living room. “I can’t get it to turn on!” he complained. “Esmeralda’s TV was far simpler to operate! In fact, I liked the whole place a lot more when Esmeralda lived here. The cottage feels empty now. It’s bare.”
“I think the term is minimalistic,” said Judith. She looked at Millie. “Esmeralda was a hoarder. You could barely move in here without knocking over a cauldron.”
“It felt lived in,” said Reuben, glaring at Judith as she slid the remote away from him. “Esmeralda made the cottage feel cosy. I’m not a fan of the way you’ve done things around here, Millie. Really, I’m not.”
Millie poured another wine and slumped into the sofa. “I didn’t do anything,” she said. “I only arrived here this morning. You can’t blame me. My suitcase is still next to the door, for heaven’s sake. I do have to admit that I like the cottage, though.”
“Of course you do,” said Reuben. “Why wouldn’t you? It designed itself around your energy. It could have been worse, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?” said Millie. “It designed itself around my energy?”
Judith sat down next to Millie. “Reuben, would you let me explain things to Millie, please?”
Reuben sighed. “If you must. I know my place. I’ll just be over here, pretending you think my input is of any value whatsoever.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to speak your mind, Reuben,” said Judith, “if Millie chooses to stay in Spellbinder Bay.”
“What did he mean?“ said Millie. “About the cottage?”
Judith sipped her wine. “I’m going to give you the short version, okay? Spellbinder Bay in a nutshell.”
“Any version will do,” said Millie. “I’m finding everything very surreal — particularly the fact that after everything I’ve seen today, I’m sitting here with a speaking bird, and not whimpering in a corner somewhere — in a state of catatonic shock.”
Judith smiled. “It’s because of the energy surrounding you, Millie,” she said. “It’s helping you adjust. Without it, you probably would have gone into shock today. Your whole world has been turned upside down, and I’m guessing you still don’t quite believe what you’ve seen and been told today, although somehow you know it’s all true, right?”
“Right,” confirmed Millie. She couldn’t have explained how she was feeling any better herself.
“Well,” said Judith. “You’re surrounded by the energy of people who came before you. Witches who belonged to the same coven you belong to. Witches who died, but whose energy remains in the very essence of this cottage. That energy grounds you. It makes you calm, and it’s what shape
d the cottage to match your personality before you arrived.”
“It’s why I’m not more upset about Esmeralda’s death,” said Reuben. “Her energy is here. I can still feel her in the cottage.”
“Okay,” said Millie.
“And it’s the energy which is making you accept things like we’ve just told you, at face value, without questioning them too much. It’s helping you accept the truth.”
Millie looked around her. “So you’re saying that this cottage moulded itself into a place I would like? A place based on my personal likes and dislikes, which it gleaned from an energy I emit?”
“She said it better than you did, Judith,” laughed Reuben, flapping his wings.
Judith laughed, too. “She did, Reuben. Yes, Millie, that’s about it. You see, this cottage, and Spellbinder Hall are both built on pieces of land beneath which many ley-lines intersect. Windy-dune Cottage has less magic than Spellbinder Hall, but it’s powerful enough to make you feel safe and at home.”
“What is Spellbinder Hall?” said Millie. “That place terrified me. The thing that Edna made appear in the fireplace terrified me.”
“You’d have been a lot more frightened if you hadn’t been under the influence of magic,” said Judith. “I was with dad when Henry phoned him. Henry told him what Edna had done. It was unforgivable, but Edna is an old fashioned witch. She believes in throwing people in at the deep end and seeing if they can swim.”
“That thing though,” said Millie, recalling the face which Edna had summoned. Was summoned the correct word? It seemed like it should be. “That… face. What was that?”
“Spellbinder Hall is a school,” said Judith. “For people like us. Paranormal people. It’s not just a school, though. It’s also a precaution. It’s a locked gate which prevents things like you saw making their way into the world. It’s a barrier between chaos and order, between good and evil.”
