Beezley and the Witch series Box Set

by Willow Mason

  “There’s something in the backyard,” Beezley said with a huff that indicated he wasn’t going to do anything about it.

  I sighed and moved to the window, seeing a blur of blue and beige darting by.

  The beige colour was a small dog, perhaps a chihuahua. The blue was a silk blouse I couldn’t afford to replace any more than I could my merino cardigan.

  “Stop!” I called, barrelling through the door and giving chase. The dog might be tiny, but it had a good head start. Those short legs were fuelled with buoyant energy.

  Just as I seemed to be gaining, he darted around a corner and I lost a few metres of ground as I slowed to avoid the chairs and tables of a café. The chihuahua had no such worries, weaving underneath the furniture and between legs with no discernible change in speed.

  “Go fetch, lady,” one customer called out, and I growled low in my throat. The dog cut through a hedge and raced across a front lawn. Without thinking, I did the same, earning a startled shout from the owners.

  “Sorry,” I yelled back over my shoulder, fixing my attention back on the dog just in time to jump over a low fence at the back of the property and sliding down a bank to end up splashing into a muddy stream. My feet slipped on the mossy stones of the bottom and I soon ended up falling lengthways.

  The dog paused at the top of the opposite bank—his eyebrows raised as though surprised I’d lost my footing. He stopped there, panting with his tail wagging like a propeller, only running again once I scrambled to my feet and was halfway towards catching him.

  “Please stop,” I called out as the lack of exercise for the past few years took a toll on my lung capacity. Each breath burned its way in before wheezing out. “I can’t afford a new wardrobe, you little thief!”

  The dog danced in a circle, mocking me with his dexterity. One of his ears cocked at a sound only he could hear, and he turned, briefly losing focus.

  I lunged for the blouse, grabbing a loose sleeve and tugging. Instead of relinquishing his prize, the annoying mutt bit down harder, fighting me for half the only decent work outfit I owned.

  The tearing sound that followed made my bank account cry.

  “Let go!” I jerked the destroyed garment out of the raggedy dog’s mouth and stared in open-mouthed horror at the damage. Even if I’d been the world’s finest seamstress, there was no way I could repair the rent fabric. Between the drool and the pulled threads, no one else would even try. “Bad dog!”

  The mutt responsible cowered at the phrase, his big eyes pleading. With a snort, I turned and stumbled down the side of the creek again.

  A fury of barking erupted from the tiny dog, surprising me. How could such a large sound come out of such a small creature?

  He ran towards me, then away, repeating the movements until it became obvious he wanted me to follow.

  “What?” I waved the destroyed blouse in his face. “Unless you’ve got a piggy bank with enough money to replace this, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  I turned my back and continued to retrace my steps. With waterlogged shoes and a stitch sending pain needles into my side, the way back was a lot harder than the trip out had been.

  “Grrrrr.”

  The dog nipped at the back of my heel and I kicked backwards, narrowly missing his head. “Go on home,” I yelled, pointing farther up the creek, though I had no idea where the criminal-damage-inflicting-canine had come from. “Get out of here and leave me alone.”

  I reached the footpath, startling a woman pushing a pram. She increased her speed, shielding her baby’s face with one hand, and I stared down at my outfit, now dripping with mossy creek water with a side-helping of mud.

  “Dirt isn’t contagious,” I called after her, pulling my clinging T-shirt away from my body with a moue of disgust. “And I’m not going anywhere with you,” I added as the chihuahua appeared in front of me in a vain attempt to block my passage. One step right over the pup’s head took care of that and I headed home.

  “I need a raise.”

  Beezley didn’t shift his eyes from the television screen. “The only way you’ll earn more money is if you find us more work.”

  How drumming up business became my sole preserve, I didn’t know, but my favourite Frenchie appeared adamant. Unless someone crawled out of the back of the sofa, he wouldn’t be finding us a new case.

  “Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked, throwing my silk blouse into the rubbish. “It’s a lovely day outside.”

  “Who are you and why did you replace the world’s laziest assistant?”

  “Hey. I’m not lazy. I just don’t believe in expending energy where it’s not needed.”

  “Neither do I. The footpath isn’t going to care if we’re not walking on it.”

  “I thought dogs liked going for walks. Don’t you want to spray your special scent everywhere?”

  Beezley gave me another glance, then did an exaggerated double-take. “Even if I did want some exercise, I’m not going out anywhere with you looking like that. Take some pride in your appearance, for goodness’ sake.”

  As I tried to think of a witty rejoinder, Glynda called out from the doorway, “Yoo-hoo. Anyone home?”

  “The door’s wide open,” I muttered. “You can see us standing here.”

  “Just being polite,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over the threshold. “Been chasing down suspects, have we?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, get yourself dressed in something decent by tomorrow. I want you front and centre for the mermaid parade.”

  “The what?” Beezley jerked his head up and stared at the two of us as though we were pranking him. “I’ve never heard of this thing before and now it’s mentioned twice in one morning.”

  “It’s a supernatural thing,” I explained. “If the mermaid sees a shadow, she forecasts a terrible summer, that kind of thing.”

  Beezley’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “This is a joke, right? I didn’t even know mermaids existed.”

  “Well, now you know better,” I said just as Glynda announced, “They don’t,” earning herself a sharp glance from yours truly.

  “What’d you mean? Brianna Hawick’s a mermaid so of course, they exist.”

  Glynda tipped her hand from side to side. “Bri was a witch, then she double-crossed a powerful warlock and now she’s half a fish.”

  “Half fish?” I parroted while my brain tried to fit in the new idea.

  “She would’ve been all fish, but her mother was a high-ranking general in the supernatural council and used all the power of her office to thwart the spell.”

  “Lucinda’s a general?”

  “Not any longer. The council doesn’t appreciate its magic being used for unauthorised purposes any more than we were happy to let a voodoo priestess ransack ours.”

  “Wait, so if they’d had stronger magic on hand Brianna would still be a witch?”

  Glynda shrugged. “Maybe a bit scaly.”

  “And if they’d done nothing at all, she’d be a fish?”

  “You catch on quick. At this rate, I might let you back on library duty one day.”

  “Does Bri have any powers at all above the standard witch ones?”

  “She barely has any of those left.” Glynda bent to give Beezley a pat. “The fish part of her has nothing magical about it, so she’s a witch operating at half-mast at best.”

  “How does she predict the future, then?” I put my hands on my hips. “It takes a lot of power to cast your eye ahead two months.”

  “Forget what I said about the library.” Glynda stepped over and placed a hand against my forehead. “If you’re not running a fever, then I suppose I’ve given your brainpower too much credit. Bri can’t predict the future any more than an octopus can tell you winning soccer teams.”

  “Hey,” Beezley said, sitting up with a stern face. “There’s no need to disparage Paul. He got nearly every match right.”

  “And now he’s sushi.” Glynda shook
her head. “This is a gimmick, that’s all. Something the supernaturals can celebrate while the humans have their Hanukah and Christmas and the pagans are dancing in the fields, welcoming the summer solstice. Every group needs its rituals to cement its bonds, so Brianna the miracle mermaid it is.”

  I’ve heard tales before of children having their belief in Santa snatched out from under them. The loss of a cherished figure. The scorn of everyone who found out long ago.

  Yep. Suddenly I knew how that felt.

  “If she’s half fish, can the warlock who turned her help with Beezley?”

  “That’s a better question,” Glynda said, eyeing the door. “But you won’t get anything out of him, I’m afraid. Remember the statue near the water fountain in Queen Anne Park?”

  Beezley and I both nodded.

  “That’s him. Lucinda turned him into stone halfway during his magic trick on her daughter. Good luck getting him out of that form. His mates certainly couldn’t, and it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

  I immediately had a faceful of French bulldog pleading turned on me, like a thousand-watt bulb.

  “You heard Glynda,” I said. “It’s not going to happen.” I twiddled my fingers, letting the crimson glow shine. “If I threw my magic his way, he’d probably be concrete dust and the park would be wrecked.”

  “How’re your lessons coming along?” Glynda took a step towards the door, showing a marked disregard for my answer. “It sounds like you’re stuck.”

  Just a bit. I could use magic to do spectacular things but only if something with drama bigness was required. So far, those events had been few and far between. A blessing, considering the mess we’d be in if they happened more often but still…

  Sometimes a girl likes to show off.

  “Well, be there on time tomorrow and up front,” Glynda said from the doorway. “I’ve got a surprise for you after the ceremony.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what, but she was already halfway down the path.

  “Witches are weird,” Beezley announced, plonking himself back in front of the TV and scratching behind his ear. “I can’t believe you all turn out to see a fish swim in the harbour. Big whoop.”

  “You’re coming too,” I stated, heading for the shower. “So get prepared to embrace the weirdness. When she turns up near the shoreline, you’ll be clapping along with the rest of us.”

  Chapter Two

  The next day, the sun was bright enough for me to slather on the sunscreen prior to venturing outside the car. As soon as I did, an Easterly breeze cut me to the bone. Our beach might not be pretty with its collection of rotting garbage and small stones which competed with Lego for their effect on the soles of my feet, but was it a great place to swim?

  Also, no.

  “What’s that smell?” Beezley asked in a voice full of low-grade horror. “Is your mermaid rotting to death?”

  “Oh, don’t.” My stomach was already turning over without such thoughts to give it added oomph. “Isn’t one of your new skills tracking down a scent? Go show me how it’s done.”

  “There’s no way on earth I want to track down that odour.” Beezley gagged and I couldn’t blame him.

  When the seaweed got caught out at high tide and trapped a load of small sea creatures in its slimy arms, it wasn’t pleasant. Finding out the smell was exactly what he thought it was wouldn’t provide any comfort or joy.

  “I remember a colleague telling me years back that he’d bought a boat, and I felt envious.” Beezley shook himself from head to toe. “If I’d known he faced these appalling conditions every time he set sail, I’d have felt pity instead.”

  “Come on.” I set off over the crunching stones for the head of the bay. “We need to get a good position or Glynda will have another excuse to yell at me.”

  “Like she needs an excuse.”

  “Now, now.” My voice skipped into a falsetto. “You don’t understand how hard it is to be the supreme. I work from dawn to midnight and never get a word of thanks.”

  “Trying to get demoted again, are we?” Harriet said, clumping up beside me. “What level are you at now? Rock bottom?”

  “Nowhere to go but up.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. Oh, joy.” Harriet’s voice dropped into a lower register. “Bags I don’t have to sit next to her.”

  I followed her gaze and groaned to see Prue picking her way across the stones. “I thought you were friends.”

  “Not with the gaping wound of an empty seat on the tier three witch level, we’re not. Prue has a single focus and seems to have forgotten the rest of us have feelings.”

  “Oh, look.” I pointed to the edge of the carpark. “She brought Barnaby with her.”

  Judging from the scowl on his face, the poor cat was as happy to see the beach as I was to see his mistress.

  “How long’s this going to take?” Beezley asked, flopping down on a small patch of sand and rolling onto his back.

  “An hour or so.” I laid down a blanket and sat, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was. “Just wait, it’ll be fun.”

  “If this is the witch equivalent of Christmas, then you really should’ve done more research. One of these things comes complete with presents and decorations and a neighbourhood barbeque in the sun. And one of them… Well.”

  “Sorry we couldn’t arrange for the beach to be in a better location.”

  “Like Nelson, you mean. Or the Gold Coast.”

  I lifted one buttock and redistributed my weight, so its twin took the brunt of the stony beach for a while. “Once the mermaid gets here, it’ll be better. Last year, she put on a swimming display that would equal anything Cirque de Soleil could stage.”

  “Is the fish monster big enough for me to see from the shore or should I prep my imagination?”

  Harriet raised her eyebrows at me, and I shrugged. No, I didn’t know what had got into him. Something small and permanently grouchy judging by what came out of his mouth.

  “Bri is easy to spot. Considering this gig is the only paid work she has all year, it’s in her best interest to make it spectacular.” Harriet took a seat beside me, leaving Prue to hang back, standing awkwardly.

  As I shifted my weight from one cheek back to the other, I thought it might be a wiser choice. I checked my watch and frowned, leaning forward to scan the horizon. “She should be visible by now.”

  “What a pity.” Beezley stood and shook himself, scattering a fine mist of sand over anyone unlucky enough to be within radius. “We’ve missed her. Might as well head on home.”

  “Nobody’s missed anything,” Glynda said from behind us, making me jump. She was clothed in a regal dress of myriad shades of blue, covering her in skin-tight glamour from her neck down to her sandaled feet. “Brianna is due to turn up at any moment.”

  “Has anybody got a charged phone?” Prue asked, twisting her lips. “My battery’s down to ten percent and I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “You should’ve charged it before you came here, then,” Harriet said in a small voice, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got a charger in my car if you want to head back to the park.” She held up her keys, not taking her eyes from the ocean.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make do.”

  Glynda stared in bafflement at the two young witches. “It’s nice to see everyone getting into the mermaid spirit. Did both of you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  “Is that her?” Beezley said, pawing my thigh and jerking his nose to the right-hand side of the harbour.

  I shielded my face with my hand and peered at the low waves. Apart from sea foam whipped up by the winds, I couldn’t see anything.

  “Do you think she stopped in at a bar on her way here?” Mrs Eggsby asked, joining our group uninvited. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “It would be the first time on a forecast day she did,” Glynda snapped in reply. “Brianna’s never been a minute late in the past.”

  “But she does like a drink.” As a member of the
coven elite, Mrs Eggsby had the courage to say what nobody else would dare to. “There’s a pub just down the coast who insist the phrase drink like a fish was invented specifically because of her.”

  Glynda strode a few paces away, pulling her phone out and glaring at the sea as she pressed it to her ear. The wind stole away everything she said before I could hear it, but from her expression, the news she’d received wasn’t good.

  “We’ll give her another few minutes,” the supreme announced. “Once she’s run half an hour overdue, I think we’ll call it a day.”

  “Fantastic celebration you got me off the couch for,” Beezley grumbled. “An hour spent getting sand in my face and freezing my nether regions so we can head back home again is such a treat.”

  Glynda raised one perfectly tweezered eyebrow and stared at the dog in wonder. “Perhaps you should stop at the vet on the way home. I’m sure there’s some medication could do miracles for your mood.”

  I laughed at the suggestion. “A sedative perhaps? If you slept for a week, you might wake up in a better humour.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my mood,” Beezley announced before trotting away in disgust.

  “Taking him to the vet mightn’t be such a bad idea,” Harriet whispered. “There could be something bothering him he’s too embarrassed to ask you about.”

  “You mean he might’ve got his period?” I snickered.

  “Dogs go through hormonal changes, just the same as humans do, but he’ll be less prepared for them.” Harriet shifted on the rug before giving up and standing. “And I know you were joking, but you mightn’t be completely wrong. I’m sure there’s a canine version of puberty.”

  “How old is he in dog years?” Prue asked, earning herself a scathing glance from Barnaby. “What?”

  “You mean cat years. They’re at a ratio of seven to one since you humans age so slowly.”

  I pursed my lips as I stared after my boss and friend. “I just assumed he ended up the same age of dog as he was a man.”

  Glynda shook her head. “Then you assumed wrong. He hasn’t even grown into his paws yet. Harriet could be spot on. He’s certainly acting like a moody teenager.”