by Willow Mason
I glanced across to Marlon, who nodded. In the few minutes since he’d appeared beside the table, his face had turned serene.
Beezley’s was frenetic.
“Fine.” I slapped my hands together as though washing them. “Transform my friend and I’ll give up the spells willingly.”
The siren song faded, replaced by a funereal dirge that made me want to weep. Sure, they were useless most of the time, but I’d been in love with the occult spells long before they entered my body. For years in the library, I’d listened to their tunes, the main source of contentment in my world.
When they departed, I might as well go deaf.
Marlon stepped forward, throwing me a wink as Aloysius went behind him to remove the chain from his neck. His eyes were bright, and he stepped forward with confidence. This wasn’t the dejected prisoner from the neighbouring cell.
I trusted he wouldn’t do us harm.
“Wait. We want to see.”
The animus healer gave a snort of impatience as Brianna and her mother shoved their way through to the table. Delia trailed them, her fat cheeks flushed from the effort.
“Is everybody settled?” Marlon called out in a sarcastic tone, earning himself a sharp glance from my father. “Let’s begin.”
Beezley’s rear end trembled with excitement as he faced the healer and let the man encase him in a bubble of glowing green light. My doubts faded in the face of such beauty, such pure goodness. The air crackled with the scent of freshly mown grass and the courageous buds of spring.
Nothing evil could come coated in such glory. Even my beauteous crimson magic fell silence in awe at the display.
The transformation was more spectacular than Delia’s or Brianna’s. Beezley barked once—sharp and piercing—then his body expanded upwards, scaling six feet tall.
I’d seen pictures in his house, of course. A nosy through the police files while scouting information for a case also led me to a photograph of Adam Beezley as a young PC.
Nothing came close to seeing him appear in the flesh. His eyes crinkled with joy as the bubble of green light broke and drifted away.
“Is this real?” Beezley patted himself all over, then jumped down from the table. He danced a few steps before rushing around the table to hug Marlon. “Thank you. A thousand times thank you.”
The happiness was contagious. Where the guests had been tense, now they relaxed and laughed along with the newly transformed human. Delia walked over and gave him a pinch as though unable to believe the change.
I stepped back, all too aware my part of the bargain was coming next.
The spells sent out a warning cry, but I couldn’t rate them above the health and happiness of my friend. With tears forming, I turned to my father and sent the spells catapulting towards him.
Their loss made me stagger, and I grasped a chair to keep from tumbling over. Aloysius smirked at me across the table and I didn’t have the energy to return the gesture.
“Wasn’t that exciting?” he called out, spreading his arms wide as though he’d been responsible for any of the magic.
Marlon stepped away from him and reached out to snatch up the sticker that had been holding my chain secure. He turned it over in his hands and nearly wept for joy.
“Now we get to leave,” I stated as firmly as I could.
Aloysius shrugged, then waved a hand across the dressed table. “If you’re sure you don’t want to stay for lunch. We’re having dessert.”
I gagged thinking about it and shook my head. “Nope. We’re going while the going’s good.”
“Great to meet you finally,” my father said, wriggling his back against his chair. I could hear the faintest echo of the spells circling around his body and wanted to weep. “Feel free to stay a stranger.”
“Yeah, it’s been great, Dad. Everything I ever dreamed of.” Beezley turned in a circle, admiring himself until I clicked my fingers. “Time to go.”
“Would you be able to give me a lift?” Marlon asked, skating around the table to join me. “I think it’s time I bid this place adieu.”
What about Binky? I couldn’t say the thought aloud but still read the answer in his eyes. Something had happened. His entire mood felt bright and airy.
“I thought you’d be staying on with us,” Aloysius said with a crinkled brow. “Don’t forget—”
“No. I’m leaving.” Marlon straightened his shoulders. “Unless you’re going to stop me.”
“Can we drop by the station on the way home?” Beezley asked, finally joining me. “I want to see if there’s any chance to get my job back.”
“Sure.” I nodded to my father and Aloysius before heading towards the place I’d last seen the car.
“Just a minute. You forgot something!”
Aloysius came racing around to Beezley, blowing a cloud of dust into his face.
“Get away from him!” Marlon shouted. “The bargain’s done and any arrangement we had is over. Leave us alone.”
“Come here, boy,” my father said with a lazy wave of his fingers. Aloysius trotted up to him as obedient as any pup. “I’m sick of the sight of them. Who knew having children around could make a person feel old? I want to take these new powers for a spin and see if they’re everything I remember.”
“Fine. Go.” Aloysius gestured for us to move on and I didn’t need a second signal. When I raced to the position the car had been, I thought for a second we’d been tricked, then I saw it parked farther down the street.
Brianna, her mother, and Delia all ran past on the opposite footpath. From the expressions on their faces, whatever enjoyment the town had held for them had reached its expiry date.
When we were safely in the car, I turned to Marlon. “What’s going on?”
“This belongs to Binky,” he said, showing me the medallion sticker I’d used to fasten the broken chain. “If Porangi could find it, then he must be somewhere with easy access.”
Speaking of whom…
“There he goes.” I pointed to the far side of the street where Porangi was trying to bite Brianna’s ankles. As he scored a hit, I smiled. “Bet she wishes she could go back to having a fish tail.”
The keys sat in the ignition when I opened the door, and I clapped my hands, a move resulting in an explosion of yapping. When he’d recovered his breath, Porangi streaked across the road, landing in my lap and licking at my face and neck while I tried to get the door closed.
“Okay. One dog down and one tortoise to go.” I pushed Porangi into the back seat where Marlon happily embraced him. “If you can get any sense out of him, I’m quite happy to drive to his directions.”
“Where’s Binky?” Marlon held up the sticker, which Porangi gave a thorough lick. When I aimed the car down the main road, the chihuahua barked at a turnoff on my right. I took it, smiling at the thought I was still following a dog’s instructions.
“Down there, do you think?”
Marlon had pointed at a semi-basement window with a steep staircase leading to the front door. I pulled the car over while he jumped out, giving an emotive squeak at what he saw.
“You’re a good dog,” I told Porangi, meeting his eyes in the rear-view mirror. I turned my head to repeat the same phrase to Beezley, before remembering it wouldn’t be appropriate any longer.
“Does anyone have aspirin?” he asked, holding his head as though the skull was breaking. “I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Try the glovebox. It’s your car,” I reminded him. “Where do you think you’d stash drugs if you had them?”
Marlon gestured for me to come, so I left the vehicle with the engine running. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked, jumping down the steps. “Binky’s heavier than I remember.”
We manhandled the tortoise up the flight, with Porangi joining us with yaps of encouragement for the last bit. With Binky settled in the back, I jumped in the front. “If everyone’s ready, I suggest we head back to Fernwood ASAP. Travelling sucks.”
There was a chorus of agreement from all except Beezley, who cradled his head. Poor thing. After waiting for this transformation for so long, it had left him ill.
I’d feel sorrier for him if I hadn’t given up my precious spells to see him that way. Even if he had a body-change hangover to wrestle with for a day or two, it would be transitory. My magic had gone forever.
We were halfway home when Beezley jerked upright. I turned to ask if he was alright when he grabbed the steering wheel.
The car careened across lanes, a death knell if someone else had been coming. I tried to beat Beezley back, but he was stronger. He elbowed me in the side, and I doubled over, gasping as the car came to a stop.
“What on earth are you doing?” I shouted, finally managing to peel his fingers off the wheel. “You could’ve killed us!”
Beezley stared at me with no sign of recognition. “Who are you and why are you driving my car?”
Chapter Twelve
Shock stole my breath for a minute, and I stared at Beezley in horror. It was hard enough to reconcile the grumpy Frenchie I was used to with this tall, lean man. Having him deny all knowledge of me was far worse.
“I’m your partner,” I said in a soft voice, scared he’d gone sailing off the cliffs of madness. “Don’t you remember?”
Well, that question was dumb considering he obviously didn’t. I threw a pleading glance into the back seat, but Marlon appeared just as gobsmacked as me.
“This is nonsense. I’m a detective sergeant so I don’t have a partner and you’re certainly not one of my colleagues.” Beezley snatched the keys from the ignition and clenched them in his fist. “What’s going on?”
A good question. One I looked to the animus healer to explain. “Should he be like this?”
“It’ll be the spell Aloysius blew into his face,” Marlon said as he stroked Binky’s hard shell. “That man wouldn’t know fair play if it blew a whistle in his ear.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked, turning back to Beezley.
“I…” He ran a hand through his hair and stared out the window. The confusion suffusing his face worried me. “There’s a case I’m working on. It feels like a serial killer, but all the deaths are recorded as natural or accidental.”
“Fenella Wainswright, Angus McClare, Rosemary Weiss, and Mandy Tilliman.”
Beezley jerked away so hard the back of his head struck the passenger window. “How did you know their names?” he whispered.
“We solved the case and caught the killer.” I stared into the back seat. “You’ve left the police department and we’re working together as private investigators.”
“No. That’s impossible. I—” He broke off and stared at his hands. “Have you drugged me?”
“We haven’t done anything to you, boy, that you didn’t beg us to.” Marlon’s voice was a growl, deep in his throat.
Beezley cast a wary glance his way, then apparently decided I was the sane one. “If you know me, what’s my favourite meal?”
“Fake chocolate dog treats,” I snapped, grabbing the keys back and hunching my shoulder when he tried to take them again. “You got into too much trouble with the real thing.”
“Don’t drive anywhere until we’ve got this sorted!”
I gave him a sidelong glance. “We’re not going to sort this tonight, in a car on the side of the highway. I’m going to drive us home so we can have a reasonable discussion in the comfort of our lounge.”
“Our lounge?”
“I told you, we’re partners.” With a quick check of the mirrors, I pulled back onto the road, circling the car around to face the right direction. The smell of burnt rubber still hung in the air, making my nose hairs recoil. “We’ve been living together for the past few months.”
Beezley opened his mouth, presumably to mount another protest, but I held my hand up.
“Save your questions for when we get home and if you touch this wheel again, you’re walking.”
I texted Harriet on the drive back, ignoring the warnings of how illegal it was and what fines could be imposed by a detective sergeant with fifteen years’ service under his belt. She rushed up to the car as I pulled alongside the house, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“Is that really you, Beezley?”
He didn’t answer, instead waving her away from the car so he could exit unmolested. When a pat of his pockets didn’t turn up a house key, I moved ahead to let him in, hoping he wouldn’t then lock me out.
“Wow,” Harriet said, joining me. “He seems even grumpier as a human than he was as a dog.”
“He doesn’t remember anything about being changed,” I told her, feeling a morose tingle rush through my body. “It’s as though his entire time spent as a dog was wiped out.”
“Who’s the other guy?” Harriet watched in amusement as Marlon extracted his tortoise from the back seat of the car, placing her on the footpath. “I hope he’s not planning on walking her home.”
In the panic of Beezley’s sudden memory loss, I’d neglected to ask Marlon where he would stay. I couldn’t invite him to surf our couch until the homeowner remembered who I was.
“Marlon?” I waved him over and introduced him to Harriet, then left them talking as I followed Beezley inside. Porangi gave a strangled yap full of FOMO and raced past me to jump onto the couch.
“Is this your dog?”
“Yes.” I didn’t bother to add anything more. There were far more urgent matters to discuss. “If you look at your bank records, you’ll see a regular payment for my services.”
“Which are?” He arched an eyebrow, appearing so like his dog self I smiled.
“Very good value for money.”
He sighed and walked into the kitchen, returning a second later in complete confusion. “There’s hardly any food in the fridge.”
“We tend to eat takeaways. The life of two private investigators is busy, busy, busy.”
Harriet poked her nose through the front door. “I’m taking Marlon and his friend home. They live in Christchurch, so we won’t be able to drive there this late.”
“I can take him home tomorrow.”
Beezley bristled. “In my car?”
“I have one of my own,” I said, ignoring the undercurrent in his voice.
“Are you two going to be okay?” Harriet whispered, her brow creasing with concern. “Is this down to the neural network?”
“It started well before we reached Fernwood. Marlon thinks a familiar cursed him with a memory loss spell.”
She squeezed my upper arm. “I’ll need those library books back, so I’ll drop by early tomorrow.”
I nodded in thanks. Even though I knew I had every right to be staying with Beezley, convincing him of that fact might be difficult.
As if she’d read my thoughts, Harriet whispered, “If you need a place to stay tonight, the couch is free.”
It took some effort to muster a smile, but I managed. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
When the door closed, leaving me and Beezley alone, that surety vanished. How was I meant to explain to a man who wouldn’t know about witches that an evil one had turned him into a dog? I picked up my phone and scrolled through the images. There was nothing about the grumpy French bulldog face or short body to show it housed the brain of a detective sergeant.
“Who was the serial killer?”
The unexpected question startled me, and it took me a few seconds to process the answer. “Wilson Banner.”
Beezley gaped. “He was a friend.” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly distressed. “I mean, he was annoying and always popped up when I least… His sister was one of the victims!”
“Yes. His first.” I perched on the edge of the couch, my feet pointing towards the door. “Wilson took me in, too. I thought he was a bumbling fool but instead he was the mastermind behind a killing spree.”
“Tell me all about it. I want to know. Wait!” Beezley held up a finger. “Where’s his police
file? Let me read that first.”
If I’d been driving the road signs would warn of danger ahead. Falling rocks, maybe? “There isn’t a police file. The investigation was never an official police case.”
“But that’s impossible. How can you catch a killer if there’s no…?” As his voice trailed away, Beezley’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about vigilante justice?”
“Wilson disappeared.”
“Then it’s even more imperative to get the police on his tail. If we don’t know where he’s gone, he could strike at any time.”
“No, I mean—” Porangi exploded into a frenzy of barking, interrupting my sentence, and I had to agree. This wouldn’t get us anywhere. “How about we move on?”
“You said we were private investigators?” After I nodded, he continued, “Where’s our website? How do new clients get in contact with us?”
“We’re using word of mouth, mostly. There’s a card in the community centre.”
“A… Card?”
“On the noticeboard. Your old DI brings us occasional work, too.”
“DI Jonson? What cases has he brought us?”
I shifted my weight on the couch, making it creak. “It’s more like grunt work. Interviewing witnesses to minor incidents and stuff like that.”
“That’s not enough to earn a living.”
“A friend of mine also refers cases. They keep us busy. In fact, we just finished one for her.” In the confusion of being captured and meeting my disassociated father, the original cause of us being in The Briary had been lost. “We found a missing person.”
“We did?” He ran a hand through his hair again, leaving the whole mess standing on end. “We’re good at it, then?”
“Good enough.”
Beezley turned on his heel and strode into the kitchen again. His frown told me he wasn’t handling the situation well. My phone buzzed, and I checked it—Glynda. “Harriet told me. Do you need a hand?”
I texted back a quick yes, then put the phone away.