The Complete Spellbinder Bay Cozy Mystery Boxset

by Sam Short

  “Is that what happened to him?” said Judith. “He accidentally opened a black-hole and had a terrible accident? Is that why he’s so… different? The poor man.”

  “Gosh, no,” said Graham. “Nobody managed to accidentally open a black-hole. Peter was electrocuted.”

  “By the Hadron Collider?” said Millie, watching Peter Simmons slip a wad of monopoly money into his Batman wallet, while Graham was facing the other way. “The poor man.”

  “No,” said Graham. “It was a toaster.”

  “A toaster?” said Sergeant Spencer. “From another dimension?”

  Graham shook his head. “Nothing so extravagant. He’d finished the first phase of an experiment, and had taken half an hour for lunch,” he said. “It was a toaster in the cafeteria which broke Peter’s brilliant mind. Everybody knows you shouldn’t dislodge stuck toast from a toaster with a metal knife, yet people still insist on doing it, and they get away with it for the most part, without injury. It wasn’t Peter’s lucky day, though — it was a thick wholemeal crust which had become stuck in the machine. Peter really had to wiggle the knife around in the bowels of that toaster. The electric shock stopped his heart, and it was the lack of oxygen supply to his brain before the paramedics managed to revive him, which damaged his great mind.”

  “So, it was nothing to do with the Large Hadron Collider, black-holes or other dimensions?” said Sergeant Spencer.

  “Not directly,” said Graham.

  “Not at all,” said Millie. “It was a kitchen accident.”

  “Cafeteria,” said Graham.

  “Why is Peter here with you, Graham?” asked Sergeant Spencer. “If his mind is no longer as brilliant as it once was, then what help is he to you?”

  “I make Pop-Tarts in the microwave, don’t I, Mister Anon?” said Peter. “I help out, don’t I?”

  “You do, Peter,” said Graham. “And you have an extraordinary collection of scientific equipment in the lab you built in the basement beneath your house, before the toaster incident rendered you incapable of being able to use it.”

  “That’s my stuff!” snapped Peter. “You be careful with it! I like my stuff!”

  Graham put a hand on Peter’s arm. “It is your stuff, yes, and I’ve promised you lots of times that it will be looked after. There’s no need to worry.” He looked at Sergeant Spencer. “He’s very protective about his equipment and his lab — which is where we’ll be taking the skeleton when you allow us to excavate it. I’ll put Peter’s equipment to good use, and when I’ve proved, using science, that it is of extra-terrestrial origin, we’ll transport it to America — where I’ll finally be recognised as the man who proved we are not alone in the vastness of space!”

  “What makes you think you’ll be getting anywhere near that skeleton?” said Sergeant Spencer.

  “I have to!” said Graham. “I must have that skeleton, and if you don’t allow me access to it, I’ll do as I threatened when I first arrived here. I’ll tell the whole world what lays in the sand! I’ll bring the world’s media giants down on Spellbinder Bay! I’ll ruin your town!”

  “Two things,” said Sergeant Spencer. “One — nobody will believe a word you say. Your reputation is ruined in the alien hunting world. Even David Icke thinks you’re a fish short of a shoal. Nobody will take you seriously. Especially when you don’t have a skeleton to back up your claims.”

  Graham’s eyes narrowed, and he formed a fist. “I’ll get that skeleton,” he said. “Even if I have to force my way past you.”

  “Which brings me to the second point, Graham,” said Sergeant Spencer. “You’re on bail. You were released from police custody two weeks ago. You were arrested in London on charges of interfering with an archaeological dig alongside the River Thames. One of the stipulations of your bail was that you do not go near any protected sites in the United Kingdom, and the sand dunes, thanks to the rare flowers which flourish within them, are a protected site.” He smiled at Graham. “I’m giving you a choice. You can either disappear tonight, and never come back. Or I can arrest you for breach of bail, and hand you over to the Metropolitan Police. You’ll be in jail by the weekend if you choose the second option.”

  Graham stared at the big policeman, his face etched with anger. He opened and closed his hands a few times, took a steadying breath, and stood up. “Very well,” he said. “We shall leave immediately.”

  “Just like that?” said Millie. “Without an argument?”

  Graham sighed. “How can I argue? The sergeant is right. He can arrest me if he wants to. I’m in breach of my bail, and I do not wish to go to jail. I have important things to do. Important work to finish, and being incarcerated will not help me complete that work. One must choose his battles wisely, and this is a battle I cannot win. If you’d all be so kind as to step out of my campervan, Peter and I will be on our way. We shall not trouble you again.”

  Sergeant Spencer nodded. “You chose wisely,” he said, pushing the narrow door open. “Come on, girls. We’ll wave them off.”

  As the three of them stepped outside and Graham pulled the campervan door closed, displaying a forced smile, Judith looked at her Father, his face illuminated by the full moon. “Do you think that’s the last we’ll see of them?” she asked.

  “I think so,” said Sergeant Spencer, raising his voice as the campervan’s engine rattled into life, forcing a plume of exhaust fumes into the night sky. “And even if it’s not, those bones will be dust soon enough. There will be nothing here for them to see, and any photos they took will be worthless without physical evidence to back them up. Especially photos taken by a man with Graham’s reputation.”

  As the van trundled along the track, it’s rear lights becoming dimmer by the second, Millie smiled at Sergeant Spencer. “What now?” she asked. “The alien hunters may no longer be a concern, but somebody, or something, needs to be punished for killing Tom Temples.”

  “We wait,” said Sergeant Spencer. “We wait until Henry catches up with the demon, and then we wait to find out if it was the demon that killed Tom. My money is on it being the demon. The fingerprints on the shovel don’t match any of those idiot detectorists I met at the hospital, and we have no other leads. I’ll wager that when the demon is found, and forced from the human it’s possessing, that the fingerprints of that unfortunate soul will match the ones on the murder weapon.”

  “Wow, imagine that,” said Judith. “Discovering not only that you’ve been possessed by a demon, but that you murdered a man while you were under its control.”

  ‘That’s not something I’d like to imagine,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I’m sure it would devastate the person who’d been possessed. I doubt they’d ever be the same again. Until the possessed person is caught, though, we have to stay alert. The demon may still come back here, searching for its partner.” He smiled at Millie. “And I’m not sure I trust Graham Spalding completely. He might return. I’d like to stay here tonight. If that’s okay? I’ll sleep in my car, of course. With one eye and one ear open, naturally.”

  Millie stared out over the sand dunes, wondering if a human possessed by an evil entity lurked in the shadows. She smiled at the sergeant. “Of course you can stay here, but not in your car. You can have the sofa, and Judith can have the spare bedroom. You’ll be able to hear any sound through the roof window, and Reuben has great hearing, too. If anything does happen, he’ll hear it first. I’m sure nothing will happen, though. I’m sure we’ll have a peaceful night.”

  Chapter 15

  Millie closed the door behind herself and descended the rock steps which led to the secret cavern below her cottage. Reuben looked up from his perching position on the handle of an old-fashioned broomstick, and gave a low whistle. "Do you feel better, now?" he asked.

  Millie gazed into the cauldron, the swirling greens and bright flashes of light having a soothing effect on her. She smiled at her familiar. "I'm fine now, Reuben," she said, feeling shame rising. "I've apologised to Judith, and now I want to ap
ologise to you. I'm sorry about what happened at dinner. It was silly of me."

  Reuben fluttered to the rim of the cauldron, and cocked his head. He looked up at Millie. "You don't need to apologise to me. Everybody's entitled to a catastrophic neurotic breakdown at some point in their life."

  "I'm not sure I had a catastrophic neurotic breakdown, Reuben," said Millie. "I think I was just venting my emotions."

  "Six of one, half a dozen of the other," said Reuben. "But I'll go with the term emotional venting, if that will help you feel less foolish about the whole episode."

  "It would, actually," said Millie.

  "Emotional venting it is, then," said Reuben. He looked up the stairs at the closed door. "Are Judith and Sergeant Spencer still up there? Are we likely to be disturbed?"

  "Yes, they’re still here," said Millie. "They're staying for the night. They won't disturb us, though. I told them I needed some time with you, alone. What is it you wanted to show me?"

  Reuben looked away, his eyelids briefly hiding his coal black eyes. He hopped from foot to foot and shook out his feathers. "What I'm going to show you is quite sensitive," he said. "And if it's offensive to you in any way, I hope you know I'm only thinking of your well-being."

  "This is beginning to sound more serious than I thought it would be, Reuben," said Millie. "When you said you had a spell to show me — which would help me, I thought you were going to show me how to make a potion which would shrink my bum, or something as equally insulting."

  Reuben shook his small head. "Do you remember what you said to me before you went to The Fur and Fangs for the pub quiz?" he asked. "You told me that you speak out loud sometimes, to your mother. You told me that you wished she could answer you. You told me you had questions which you wanted her to answer. Questions that the letter she left for you could never answer."

  A creeping tendril of dread probed Millie's insides. "Yes," she said, stepping closer to the cockatiel and placing a hand on one of the cool stones which the waist-high cauldron was built of. "I remember saying that."

  Reuben remained quiet for a few seconds. He lowered his head, and rearranged his wings. "After you’d said that, and you’d gone to the pub," he said. "I remembered something. A spell I'd seen in one of the books down here in the cavern — while Esmeralda was creating potions. I remember Esmeralda saying it was a spell which she’d never seen being cast, and wasn’t certain if it ever had been cast by any witch.” Reuben cocked his head. “It took me a while, but I found it again. I found the spell, and I think it's feasible that it will work for you. If you have the courage to cast it.”

  "What is the spell?" whispered Millie, the small hairs on her arms standing rigid. "What does it do, Reuben?"

  "Loosely translated, it's called the spell of unheard last words," said Reuben. "And as for what it does — it can… it's supposed to… it's for…"

  "What is it for?" said Millie. "Just say it!"

  Reuben's tiny chest expanded as he took a deep breath. "I think it will allow you to speak with your mother," he said, his voice quiet. "It will allow your mother to appear before you, and she'll be able to communicate with you."

  Millie placed her other hand on the rim of the cauldron, and steadied herself, her legs suddenly unstable beneath her. "How?" she said, a tremble in her voice. "How does it work?"

  Reuben's eyes brightened. "Good," he said. "You're interested. I’d hoped you would be."

  Millie shook her head, pressing her feet hard onto the rock floor. Grounding herself. "Just tell me how it works," she said. "Then I'll tell you if I'm interested, or not."

  "The spell requires three ingredients, two of which you have, and the third ingredient being available to you… with a little effort on your behalf," said Reuben. He spread his wings and flew from the cauldron to the rickety oak table placed alongside an umbrella stand stuffed with ornate walking canes.

  He hopped onto the large leather-bound book which lay open on the tabletop, and lowered his head as he read from the page. "The first ingredient is the last words that the person you wish to bring back spoke to you, the important factor being that those words must remain unheard by the intended recipient."

  "The letter," murmured Millie. "The letter from my mother."

  "Yes!" said Reuben. "Those are technically her last words to you, and you are yet to hear them — or read them, in your circumstances."

  "What's the next ingredient?" said Millie, her legs beginning to feel stronger, and her heart beating faster.

  "A tear shed for the person you wish to bring back,” said Reuben, excitement in his words. He nodded in the direction of the envelope placed next to the book. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought the letter down here with me. It has your tears on it, the envelope was still damp when I brought it with me, but it doesn't matter if the tear is wet or dry. It's the sentiment behind it which will power the magic."

  The speed of her breathing matching her heart rate, Millie stepped towards the table and gazed down at the book, the words within it written in ink which was fading with time. "And the last ingredient?" she said. "The one which will require a little effort on my behalf?"

  "A pearl of wisdom," said Reuben, with a look that Millie assumed was an avian version of a frown.

  "What is that?" said Millie. "That's just a thing people say, isn't it? A pearl of wisdom is a wise piece of advice."

  "It has become a phrase which people use," said Reuben. "But it's a phrase based on reality. Pearls of wisdom exist, Millie, and you just need to get one."

  "What are they?" said Millie. "Are they pearls? Like the name suggests?"

  "They are, and I did some research on them," said Reuben, nodding towards the rows of books which populated three shelves hewn into the rock wall of the cavern. "Pearls of wisdom grow in oysters which can only be found in the deepest parts of an ocean directly influenced by a magical beacon." He looked up at Millie. "Places like that are rare, but we happen to live in one. Spellbinder Hall is a magical beacon which transmits the concealment spell over the town, and you only need to look out of a window upstairs to see the ocean."

  Using her tongue to moisten her dry lips, Millie ran a finger below a line of writing on the page before her. "It says they can only be harvested under a full moon, from the depths of the ocean," she said.

  "It's a full moon tonight, Millie," said Reuben, a twinkle in his eye.

  "Do the words depths of the ocean mean anything to you?" said Millie, her heart sinking. "How am I supposed to get to the depths of the ocean, Reuben? In a submarine? Have you got a submarine stashed away which you’re not telling me about? A little yellow one, perhaps?"

  "Very funny," said Reuben. "No, I don't have a submarine, but I do have a plan."

  "Let me hear it," said Millie, anxiety tightening its hand around her throat.

  "I had thought of the obvious thing," said Reuben. "I thought we could ask Lillieth. A mermaid would have no problem in retrieving a pearl of wisdom for us."

  "But Lillieth isn't here, Reuben!" said Millie. "She's travelling the oceans, and mermaids are rare. I can't just run down to the seashore and ask the next passing mermaid to fetch me a pearl of wisdom!"

  "You're right. Lillieth isn't here," said Reuben, swivelling his head, and staring at a spot behind Millie. "But there is something of hers here. Something that will help you."

  Millie turned around, following the cockatiel's gaze. "That won't work," she said, stepping towards the shimmering white dress, and running a finger over the soft silk. "The magic in the dress gives mermaids legs, it doesn't give humans fins."

  "I wouldn't have suggested any of this to you," said Reuben, "if I hadn't done my research. You’re right, that dress won't work on humans — they have no magic within them, but according to everything I can find in the old books, the magic in that dress should be reversible, when worn by somebody of a paranormal persuasion." He flew to Millie's shoulder. “You think you’ve fixed that dress, Millie, and if you have, and you put it on — I'm nin
ety-seven percent certain that you'll gain all the powers of a mermaid. You'll be able to harvest a pearl of wisdom, and you'll be able to speak to your mother."

  "I don't believe it," said Millie, shaking her head. "I can't believe it."

  “”You won’t believe it. But you could try to,” said Reuben. "You could step into the sea, and put the dress on. It's a full moon tonight, and the sea is calm. The books say that the oysters which contain pearls of wisdom will glow blue beneath a full moon, and will be highly visible. If the dress works, you'll be able to swim in the sea as confidently as Lillieth can walk on land, when she's wearing it."

  "And if it doesn't work?" said Millie.

  "Then you either wait for Lillieth to return, and wait for another full moon. Or you read the letter your mother left for you, but then her words will no longer be unheard, and the spell will be lost to you,” said Reuben. “You’ll never speak with her.”

  "And if I get the pearl?" said Millie. "How does the spell work?"

  "That's the part that's worrying me more than thinking about you travelling into the depths of the ocean," said Reuben.

  "Why?" said Millie. “What’s so scary?”

  "Because to cast the spell, the letter must be burned. That's why this spell has rarely been cast by anybody in the past," said Reuben. "Unheard last words are normally spoken, and spoken words can't be captured and burned. The last words to you from your mother are in that envelope, but if we burn that letter, and the spell doesn't work…"

  Millie closed her eyes. Henry Pinkerton had informed her that he knew who her father was, but receiving the information from him would not be the same as receiving it from her mother. And anyway, Millie was sure the envelope didn't just contain a name — it would contain more than that.

  She hoped it would contain an explanation as to why her mother had lied to her about her father, and about the fact that she'd been a witch. She opened her eyes. "If the spell doesn't work," she said. "My mother's last words will be lost to me forever."