A Spell in the Country

by Heide Goody

  Water gripped her like an icy cloak. Norma twisted and righted herself, feet brushing through snagging weeds. She fought for the surface, weighed down by sodden clothing. She breached the surface once and immediately sank again. Coming up a second time she thrust out the parasol she still gripped and jabbed its base into the bank like a piton.

  She coughed and spluttered and tried to gain some purchase.

  A hand grabbed the parasol. “Tried to drown me?” shrieked Agatha. She took hold of the parasol with both hands and wrenched it from Norma’s grasp. Norma flailed for something to hold onto. She grabbed the front bumper of the car and tried to pull herself up. Agatha raised the parasol to stab at Norma’s hands.

  “You’re not going anywhere!”

  “You are,” said Norma. “Veikti!”

  The parasol shot upwards, taking Agatha with it. Perhaps if she’d had the wherewithal to let go in the first second, she might have survived the fall, but Agatha instinctively hung on as it flew straight up. Her yell of surprise tailed off like a screaming firework.

  Bracing herself against the burning car, Norma crawled up the bank and flopped onto the roadside. She rolled onto her back and looked up. A shadow passed over the clouds, hundreds of feet above.

  “Nustoti!” she shouted.

  The shadow fell. Partway down, the parasol popped open. If Agatha hadn’t burned most it away, the umbrella might have slowed her fall.

  But probably not.

  Natasha stepped over Jizzimus’s remains towards the witches, one unconscious and the other three in the mighty grips of imps.

  With no warning, the goat-imp vanished from existence with no more fanfare than a popping soap bubble.

  “Agatha,” said Natasha.

  The tiger head rolled to Natasha’s feet, and immediately latched into her ankle. Its jaw was immensely powerful. Bones splintered and blood gushed but Natasha remained standing. She blasted the disembodied cat head with witchfire until it was a blackened husk; healed her ankle back into alignment with an audible crackling of bones.

  She turned to Jenny, her smile gone. “I’m disappointed, Jenny. A traitor to your own kind.”

  She nodded to Malunguibus. With slow and measured malice he ground his foot into the witch on the floor and squeezed the life out of the one in his hand.

  Even in the dark, Caroline knew that the figure approaching from her left was not Norma. Norma Looney moved like a Sherman tank. This person moved like a fox. Or a devil.

  Caroline tried to shift herself round to see the woman better but the pain in her arm had intensified with time, not eased. She looked at her injured arm. Blood ran freely down from the back of her hand. Her fingers were a swollen and mashed mess of flesh. A couple of them looked ready to fall off.

  “Where is she?” The red-haired witch stalked across the field, witchfire coating her hands like gloves.

  “Who?” groaned Caroline.

  “Norma Looney. She was here.”

  “And you are?”

  “An old friend.”

  “Ah,” said Caroline, understanding. She moved without thinking and hissed in pain.

  Lesley-Ann Faulkner’s nostrils twitched and the witchfire died a little. Caroline gave her a fearful look.

  “She’s gone off somewhere. I’d go look for her if I were you.”

  “But she’ll be back, won’t she?” smiled Lesley-Ann. She couldn’t take her eyes off Caroline’s wounded hand.

  “Norma tells me you’re eighty or ninety something.”

  “Did she?” Lesley-Ann crouched beside Caroline and sniffed.

  “That’s right,” said Caroline, dropping a nervous tremble into her voice. “And I just wanted to com – compliment you on your beauty regime.”

  “That’s nice.”

  The wicked witch lifted Caroline’s hand. Caroline grunted in genuine pain. Lesley-Ann bowed her head, licked the blood from the back of Caroline’s hand and then, quick as a pouncing cat, put Caroline’s finger in her mouth and bit down hard.

  Caroline screamed, long, loud and pure and Lesley-Ann ground her teeth into the joint and ripped a fleshy mouthful away. Lesley-Ann stood and stepped back. She looked very pleased with herself. She dabbed at her bloody lips with her fingertips.

  Lesley-Ann Faulkner swallowed.

  “That’s what I love about desire,” said Caroline.

  The wicked witch looked at her, uncomprehending.

  “You refused to see an illusory tractor, but give you a helpless witch covered in yummy, sticky blood and—” Caroline looked pointedly at her own hand on the ground. There was no blood, no missing finger, just her hand, whole and unharmed.

  “Oh, little trickster,” said Lesley-Ann, half-amused, half-incensed.

  “But it does make me wonder what you really ate just then. Ösgön!”

  Lesley-Ann Faulkner opened her mouth to say something but no sound came. There was something stuck in her throat, growing. Her eyes widened.

  Like the goat-imp before him, Clappoxian winked into nothingness. The weight on Jenny vanished. She rolled to her feet.

  Natasha, sour-faced and tired, reached out. The shears flew into her hand. “This ends.”

  Jenny nodded. “Nustoti!”

  The strimmer, blades whirling, fell from the ceiling into Jenny’s hands. She thrust it directly at Natasha’s throat. Natasha grabbed at the shaft to hold it off but Jenny had youth and fury on her side. She shoved with all of her might, backing Natasha up against the wall.

  Witchfire blackened and melted the shaft where Natasha held it.

  “You’re a wicked witch. Like us.” Natasha’s sudden fear gave Jenny strength.

  With a shove, Jenny thrust the hedge-strimmer forward and decapitated Natasha du Plessis. The ancient witch’s head dropped to the floor at Jenny’s feet.

  Malunguibus vanished.

  Dee dropped to the floor with an “Oh, flip!” Sabrina, free from the imp’s foot, breathed deeply and coughed.

  Jenny looked at the remains of Elizabeth Báthory. “I’m not a wicked witch,” she told it. “I’m a fricking awesome witch.”

  “Hell, yeah,” mumbled Kay, opening her eyes.

  Norma found Caroline where she’d left her. Or at least it was where she thought she’d left her.

  “Was that oak tree there before?” said Norma.

  “Well, it could hardly have appeared by magic,” said Caroline.

  Norma looked at it a little more closely: at the rags of bloody material wrapped around it. “And why does it appear to be wearing a dress, Miss Black?”

  Sabrina picked up Natasha’s head.

  “What are you going to do with that, sweetness?” asked Dee.

  “Ur, I’m going to take it outside and find a hammer. Then I’m going to take the pieces and burn them. Then I am going to take the ashes and scatter them. And then I am going to curse the ashes.”

  “Good,” said Dee. “That sounds ….thorough. And that’s to stop her coming back from the dead, is it?”

  “Ur, she’s already definitely dead,” said Sabrina. “But it will make me considerably happier.”

  Dee walked outside. She walked slowly. She’d cast all the healing remedies she knew over her friends and herself, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still some aches and pains and the certainty that she’d feel like a tenderised steak in the morning.

  Out on the front lawns, Kay was casting rainbow glows over the swirling masses of bees and sending them off to their natural homes. Zoffner the Astute stood beside her, not actually helping but generally sending out positive waves into the aether. With an exhausted mew, Beetlebane dropped out of the sky and into Kay’s arms.

  A big black Bentley turned into the driveway. Norma stepped out and went round to the passenger door to help Caroline. Norma had apparently been for a swim, fully clothed. Caroline had her arm in a makeshift sling and looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. Zoffner ran over and gave his love an unrestrained hug.

  “G
et off me, man. I’m all wet,” said Norma.

  “Everything all right, poppets?” called Dee.

  “Terrific,” grunted Caroline. “Madison and Shazam have the girls at Pilgrim Hospital. The wicked bitches?”

  “Dead or fled.”

  “Bowman?”

  “Crispy fried,” said Kay.

  “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

  “But there’s still this one,” said Jenny, coming round the corner of the house, hauling George by the scruff of his neck. The barman-cum-gardener-cum-accessory-to-mass-murder came pleading and sobbing.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. They made me do it and I never enjoyed it.”

  Jenny tossed him down onto the gravel drive and filled her hands with witchfire.

  Caroline tried and failed to conceal her surprise. “Jenny’s a … a, you know.”

  “She’s our friend,” said Kay.

  “And she’s kind,” babbled George. “I’m willing to learn the error of my ways. I was just following orders. You’ve opened my eyes to what I’ve done and if you give me a chance I will show you I—”

  Jenny recoiled in disgust. “How many?” she said.

  “How many?” said George.

  She pointed across the fields. “I’ve seen them. The girls. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Centuries’ worth of murder. How many?”

  “But I wasn’t responsible for it. Not for it all.”

  “I know what to do,” said Sabrina. She put her hands momentarily to the grisly head beneath her arm. She came away with two slivers of amber at her fingertips.

  “What’s going on?” said George.

  “I’m opening your eyes.”

  She waved her hands and the amber contacts floated across and, with no resistance, inserted themselves over George’s eyes.

  “What? What’s going on?”

  George glanced about him, sucking in a breath as he did so.

  “Who are they?” he said and pointed at nothing at all in the middle distance. “What are they?”

  “Ghosts,” said Jenny. “Yours.”

  George whirled around, trying to find a view that he could cope with. He became more and more agitated as he realised that there wasn’t one. He clawed at his eyes but the lenses wouldn’t come free.

  “I think maybe you want to go a long way away, George,” said Jenny. “It could be that the women don’t follow.”

  George ran for it. He ran down the drive at a full sprint, a terrified sob coming from him.

  “Well, girls,” said Effie Fray, “I think you’ve done an outstanding job.”

  “How long have you been standing there?” said Dee.

  “Long enough. You’ve demonstrated teamwork and many inventive uses for your skills. I would like to make sure you all get your certificates of competence, even though the future of the training facility is somewhat uncertain, given the possible withdrawal of our main patron.”

  “Possible?” said Sabrina, jiggling the head beneath her arm.

  Caroline couldn’t help but laugh, not stopping even when Effie gave her a look of haughty disapproval.

  “Yes, Caroline? Something amuses you?”

  Caroline tried to compose herself, but Dee chipped in.

  “I think we can all imagine a world where you keep the witch school going here.”

  “Maybe a spa business as well?” suggested Kay.

  “All you need to do,” said Dee, ticking off on her fingers, “is find a need, open your mind to marketing opportunities, watch your operating expenses and face the future.”

  “Embrace the foof,” said Caroline.

  “You might have noticed that it’s not my building,” sniffed Effie. “And the police will be all over the place when these girls tell their story. I’d never get away with just moving in.”

  “The story that these girls need to tell will be based upon everybody’s best interest,” said Caroline, with a brief practice flexing of her hand.

  “The far wing of the house is currently on fire,” said Effie.

  Norma cracked her knuckles. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Listen to the universe, groovy lady,” said Zoffner.

  Effie relented. “Well, it certainly seems like a foofy enough idea to me.”

  A hand tugged at Jenny’s leg. Jizzimus was balancing against her as he attempted to screw his leg back on.

  “Some assembly required, guv.”

  She swept him up and hugged the tiny horror like he was hers and hers alone. His arm fell off and she had to stop hugging him to pick it up.

  “Dunno whether to stick myself together wiv super glue or stitch myself up and get some quality scars, boss. Bitches love scars.”

  “So,” said Effie, in the diffident British tones of one trying to adapt to the unusual, “you’d be our resident wicked witch, Jenny?”

  Jenny gave her an amiable shrug.

  “What a world it would be,” said Effie, “if witches, both good and … well, all witches could come together in peace.”

  “What a world indeed,” said Norma with wry scepticism.

  “And this,” Effie waved her hands to vaguely indicate the invisible imp on her shoulder, “would be your imp?”

  “His name’s Jizzimus,” said Jenny.

  Effie smiled and reached out to delicately shake his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Jizzimus.”

  “That’s not … um. That’s not his hand,” said Jenny.

  “Hilarious,” said Jizzimus.

  Acknowledgements

  We are indebted to members of THE Book Club (TBC) for kindly donating their names to this novel. We were unable to use names from all of our willing volunteers, but our thanks to everyone and the following are the ones that we used:

  Jenny Knott

  Dee Finch

  Caroline Black

  Norma Looney

  Natasha du Plessis

  Kay Wun

  Sabrina Holder-Eckford

  Sharon Jaye

  George Slingsby

  A special thank you to Ellen Devonport who came up with the book’s title.

  Finally, we thank all of our readers for their continued support, we really couldn't do it without you.

  Clovenhoof by Heide Goody & Iain Grant

  Charged with gross incompetence, Satan is fired from his job as Prince of Hell and exiled to that most terrible of places: English suburbia. Forced to live as a human under the name of Jeremy Clovenhoof, the dark lord not only has to contend with the fact that no one recognises him or gives him the credit he deserves but also has to put up with the bookish wargamer next door and the voracious man-eater upstairs.

  Heaven, Hell and the city of Birmingham collide in a story that features murder, heavy metal, cannibalism, armed robbers, devious old ladies, Satanists who live with their mums, gentlemen of limited stature, dead vicars, petty archangels, flamethrowers, sex dolls, a blood-soaked school assembly and way too much alcohol.

  Clovenhoof is outrageous and irreverent (and laugh out loud funny!) but it is also filled with huge warmth and humanity. Written by first-time collaborators Heide Goody and Iain Grant, Clovenhoof will have you rooting for the bad guy like never before.

  F. Paul Wilson: "Clovenhoof is a delight. A funny, often hilarious romp with a dethroned Satan as he tries to adjust to modern suburbia. The breezy, ironic prose sets a perfect tone. If you need some laughs, here's the remedy."

  US: http://www.amazon.com/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/

  UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/

  Disenchanted by Heide Goody & Iain Grant

  Ella Hannaford has a small business to run, an overworked father to look after and a future stepmother who wants a perfect wedding.

  Can she avoid a girly night out with her clueless stepsister? Can she side-step lovesick suitors at every turn? Not if it’s up to that team of foul-mouthed dwarfs who want to forcibly drag her into her happily ever after.

  Gingerbread cottages, dodgy
European gangsters, gun-toting grannies, wisecracking wolves, stubborn fairy godmothers, ogres, beanstalks and flying carpets abound in a tale about what happens when you refuse to accept your Happy Ending.

  US: https://www.amazon.com/Disenchanted-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B06X6DHK11

  UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Disenchanted-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B06X6DHK11

  Oddjobs by Heide Goody & Iain Grant

  It’s the end of the world as we know it, but someone still needs to do the paperwork.

  Incomprehensible horrors from beyond are going to devour our world but that’s no excuse to get all emotional about it. Morag Murray works for the secret government organisation responsible for making sure the apocalypse goes as smoothly and as quietly as possible.

  In her first week on the job, Morag has to hunt down a man-eating starfish, solve a supernatural murder and, if she’s got time, prevent her own inevitable death.

  The first book in a new comedy series by the creators of ‘Clovenhoof’, Oddjobs is a sideswipe at the world of work and a fantastical adventure featuring amphibian wannabe gangstas, mad old cat ladies, ancient gods, apocalyptic scrabble, fish porn, telepathic curry and, possibly, the end of the world before the weekend.

  US: https://www.amazon.com/Oddjobs-Heide-Goody/dp/0993365531

  UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Oddjobs-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B01GVT13XQ