Doom and Broom (Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Annabel Chase

  Doom and Broom

  A Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery, Book 2

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Afterword

  Doom and Broom

  A Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery, Book 2

  By Annabel Chase

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  Copyright © 2017 Red Palm Press LLC

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Alchemy

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  “Today begins a new chapter for our newest student,” Professor Holmes said. “I know we will all enjoy watching her pass this milestone.”

  Only if they enjoyed vomit.

  We stood in the middle of a field on the outskirts of town—five remedial witches and the kindly Professor Holmes from the Arabella St. Simon’s Academy, or the ASS Academy as I called it. The sky was a clear blue, so there was little chance of getting lost in a cloud. I stared at the broomstick in Begonia’s hand, a sense of dread creeping through me. I wouldn't be eligible for my own broom until I passed the first phase of the class, not that I was in a hurry to have one. The only thing I intended to do with a broom was sweep.

  Hesitantly, I raised my hand. “Professor? I don’t have to ride alone today, right?”

  “Not to worry, Miss Hart,” he said. “You will have ample warning when the day arrives for your solo.”

  Begonia gripped my arm with far too much enthusiasm. “And then you get to go to Broomstix for your very own broom.”

  My stomach turned over at the thought.

  “Now which one of you would like to take Miss Hart on her very first flight?” The professor’s gaze swept across the other witches.

  Technically, it wouldn’t be my first flight, just my first flight on a broomstick. The honor of taking me on my first flight went to Daniel, the fallen angel who was the reason I was stuck in this town in the first place. When he flew me inside the town border, neither of us had any clue I wouldn’t be able to get out again thanks to the curse that kept all supernatural residents trapped in Spellbound. It was a bad time to discover I was actually a witch.

  Millie’s hand shot up first. “I volunteer.”

  Professor Holmes smiled at her. “That’s the kind of helpful attitude I like to see, Millie.”

  Millie whispered to me, “If I’m up there with you, I won’t be in the danger zone.”

  Helpful, indeed.

  “But I would rather you ride solo,” the professor continued. “Begonia will partner with Miss Hart today.”

  Although Millie tried to mask her disappointment, she wasn’t very good at it.

  Professor Holmes addressed the group. "Now young witches, most of you will remember the basic tenets of broom flying from last term. Grip, balance, and focus."

  Four heads bobbed in agreement. I listened intently, trying to absorb every word.

  "Millie, I’d like you to go first and demonstrate,” Professor Holmes said. "As I recall, you were our star pupil in this class. That’s why I prefer for you to fly solo.”

  Millie stepped forward with her broom, smiling broadly. I didn't blame her for the self-satisfied grin. I'd be beaming like a maniac too if someone told me I was a star pupil of any witch training classes. So far, I was more like the village idiot.

  Millie mounted her broom, two hands gripping the top end of the handle and her bottom shoved back toward the bristles.

  “Do you need a running start or something?" I asked. How else did they get the brooms in the air?

  The others giggled.

  "No, silly," Begonia said. "You use a spell.”

  "Does everyone use the same spell?" I asked.

  "There are standard spells one can use," Professor Holmes said. "But, as with any spell, a witch is free to personalize it. Embrace it as her own."

  I liked the emphasis on individuality in the coven. There didn't seem to be the idea that every witch was the same. It was nice.

  "Carry on, Millie," Professor Holmes said.

  Millie straightened her shoulders, as much as one could straighten shoulders when hunched over a broomstick. She muttered a phrase under her breath.

  Professor Holmes clapped his hands twice. "Louder, so we can all hear you. This is a learning exercise, remember?“

  Millie cleared her throat. "If I want to touch the sky/then I need to get up high."

  The broom began to rise. Millie's expression was serene. She clearly didn’t suffer from the fear and anxiety that were my emotional staples.

  "How does the spell work without her wand?" I asked.

  Millie's broom stuttered to a halt. She turned to glare at me.

  "You need to stop interrupting," Begonia whispered. "It breaks her concentration."

  Oops. "Sorry," I said softly.

  Professor Holmes sighed. "Emma's question is a good one. We should answer it first. In the case of broom flying, the broomstick itself acts as your wand. Each stick is imbued with magic. The witch simply activates this magic by focusing her will and using an incantation.”

  That made sense.

  Millie glanced over her shoulder at us. "Can I go now?" she huffed.

  Professor Holmes gave a crisp nod.

  Millie repeated the spell, focusing her will. I watched as the broom rose higher and higher. When she was high enough to clear the trees, she lurched forward. The longer she was up there, the faster she rode. I could see why she was the star pupil—Millie was a natural. The crucial element seemed to be that she enjoyed it. With her hair streaming behind her and the sun shining on her face, she was in her element. I felt a pang of envy. Why couldn’t I embrace flying with the same fervor?

  "Well done, Millie," Professor Holmes called.

  I doubted Millie could hear him. She continued to zip around in the air until, finally, Professor Holmes sent her owl to intercept her. Now I understood why the owls attended broom practice. My spotted owl, Sedgwick, was with me. He was different from the other owls, which we discovered when I met him at Paws and Claws, the animal rescue center. Sedgwick was my familiar—it was a witch thing, apparently. The other witches in Spellbound had cats as companions and spiritual advisors, whereas I had a cantankerous owl. Lucky me.

  Millie came gliding down to the ground like a pro and we all clapped heartily. I hoped my ride was as smooth as hers.

  Laurel, the youngest witch in our class, was next to ride, followed by Sophie. I’d assumed Sophie would be the problem pupil during broomstick training. She was clumsy on a good day. To my surprise, she took to the sky with ease. Maybe it was just her wand that gave
her trouble. Since she didn't need a wand to ride a broom, she performed much better.

  My stomach clenched when I realized it was our turn.

  “Should I sit in front of Begonia or behind her?" I asked. I recalled amusement park rides where the bigger person had to sit in a certain position relative to the smaller one. Maybe it was like that.

  "You should probably start by sitting in front of your partner," Professor Holmes said. "That way she can keep you from slipping off."

  Slipping off? Those are not the words I wanted to hear before riding a broom hundreds of feet in the air.

  Begonia gently touched my shoulder. "Don't worry, Emma. Witches rarely slip off their broomstick."

  The use of the word ‘rarely’ implied that they sometimes did. It didn't make me feel much better.

  "Don't be nervous,” Begonia said. "I'll be right there with you."

  At least I trusted Begonia. Trust was important when someone was escorting you high in the air. Trust didn't stop me from vomiting, however.

  Begonia straddled the back of the broom and gestured for me to sit in front of her. I swallowed hard.

  "In case it becomes an issue," I said, "I would like a wake instead of a funeral. Lots of drinking and good food. And don't have it at Underkoffler's." Piotr Underkoffler was a creepy vampire as well as the owner of a funeral home in town. I didn’t want to be left alone with him for a second, even as a corpse.

  "Understood," Professor Holmes said. I detected a hint of a smile on his lips.

  I threw one leg over the top of the broom and tried to settle on the narrow handle. I didn't see how this could possibly be comfortable. As a child, I’d struggled with any bicycle seat that wasn't in the shape of a banana.

  "Remember," Professor Holmes said. "Grip, balance, and focus."

  I paid close attention to the position of my hands on the broomstick. My knuckles were already white and we hadn’t left the ground. I didn't know how to control balance, especially when I wasn't the only one on the broom. Begonia was going to act as our rudder. Her role was to steer and keep us afloat. My role was not to die.

  "Do you want to try the spell?" Begonia asked.

  "Maybe you should do it this time," I said. "I'll do the next one."

  Begonia’s voice was confident and clear. "Take us off the grassy ground/to where birdsong is the only sound."

  I wondered if spells like this ever got misinterpreted. What if the magic assumed that she wanted to be sitting in a treetop near an eagles’ nest? I preferred my spells to be more specific. Then again, maybe that was the lawyer in me talking. My spells would be something along the lines of where the birdsong is the only sound, including but not limited to, the empty sky at least fifty feet from the ground or within a twenty-foot radius of cirrus clouds.”

  The broom rose slowly and steadily. I felt my stomach dip and I was glad I’d opted to forgo breakfast beforehand. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  "Your eyes are open, right?" Begonia asked. "That's a requirement."

  "Wide open," I lied. There was no way I was opening my eyes right now. My stomach was relaying all of the information my body needed to know. My eyes would be no help whatsoever.

  "It can be tricky with two people," Begonia said. "We all start out riding tandem, but we switch to solo as soon as we qualify."

  So what was she trying to tell me? She was not as good on a broom now that I was here? I was hoping for a more confident statement.

  The broom wobbled slightly and I gripped the handle harder, my nails digging into my skin. I was pretty sure I’d drawn blood. Not that I cared. I was more concerned with not falling off the broom and plummeting to the earth.

  "Look," she exclaimed. "The harpies are out."

  The harpies are out? What did that mean? Now I had to look or she would know that my eyes were closed. Slowly, I opened one eye just enough so that I could see. In the distance, I noticed three sets of wings. I couldn't determine whether they were ugly bird women or something else.

  "Is it the Minor sisters?" I asked. The Minors lived in the house next door. They were a fearsome bunch, especially the grandmother, Octavia. Her tongue doubled as a skewer.

  "Yes, can't you tell?"

  Um, no. I’d only seen the harpies in their human forms. "Do they take their harpy forms often?"

  "I've seen them appear a few times," Begonia said. "I think they like the fresh air."

  It was like the werewolves and turning. The harpies embraced their natural state. Both groups tended to live in human form in Spellbound, but there was this whole other side to them. Seeing the harpies airborne now, I understood them a little bit better. On the ground, they were intimidating. In the air, however, I was in awe of them.

  “Where’s Sedgwick?” Begonia asked. “He should be up here. Mine is at nine o’clock.”

  I made the mistake of turning to look. The quick movement coupled with a glimpse of the ground below sent shockwaves through my system. I did the one thing I really, really hoped to avoid.

  Bull’s-eye, Sedgwick said, making his appearance. You couldn’t have done that better if you’d tried.

  I kept my eyes closed this time. I didn’t need to look to know what I’d done.

  “Professor?” I croaked.

  And a few chunks on Millie, too. Sedgwick whistled. She does not look happy about it.

  After an abrupt end to class, Begonia and I went directly to Mix-n-Match to find an anti-anxiety potion.

  “Why not the apothecary?” I asked.

  “Too many members of the coven lurking there,” Begonia whispered. “We don’t want to draw attention to your issue.”

  “Don’t witches run both places?” I queried.

  “Mix-n-Match is co-owned by a fairy,” she explained. “We don’t tend to hang out there as much.”

  The shop window was decorated with colorful bottles that looked like they were filled with either genies or perfume.

  “I can see the fairy influence,” I said, as we entered the shop.

  “Oh good,” Begonia said. “Paisley’s working today. She’s one of us.”

  “Hey Begonia,” Paisley said. “I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks.”

  “I’ve been super busy with school and my new friend. This is Emma Hart.”

  Paisley’s eyes lit up at the sight of me. “The new witch.” She seemed mildly awestruck and I felt a little like Harry Potter during his first trip to Diagon Alley. I suppose if you’re trapped in the same town for the rest of your extended or immortal life, a new resident is a big deal.

  “That’s me,” I said.

  Another young woman stepped out from behind the counter. She didn’t sport any wings, so I ruled out fairy. Must be another witch.

  “And how is remedial witchcraft, Begonia?” she asked.

  I took an instant dislike to her, probably because of her snotty tone and the way she emphasized ‘remedial.’

  “Classes have gotten a lot livelier since Emma arrived,” Begonia said. Thankfully, she opted not to mention today’s mishap.

  “I don’t doubt it.” The other witch came closer to inspect me. She looked about my age with an aquiline nose, thin eyebrows, and a long, slender neck that was more reminiscent of a giraffe than a graceful swan. “They haven’t figured out which coven you really belong to yet, have they?”

  “Jemima, don’t be awful,” Paisley said. “You know perfectly well her coven is here with us now.”

  Jemima sniffed. “I hear your familiar is an owl.” She pronounced the word ‘owl’ with such derision, I half expected a parliament of owls to swoop in and peck out her eyes.

  I glanced toward the door and sighed. No such luck. “Yes,” I said. “Sedgwick is my familiar and he’s wonderful.” Actually, he was a moody thorn in my side, but I’d never admit it to the judgmental witch in front of me.

  “We’re here for a potion, Jemima,” Begonia said. “Why don’t you let Paisley help us and go back to regrowing your eyebrows?”

  Jemima’s
mouth formed a thin line. “That was one time, Begonia Spence, and you know it. My eyebrows are fine now.” Her finger flew to touch the arched shape of her thin eyebrow. Reassurance.

  “If you say so,” Begonia said airily and Jemima stomped off to the back of the shop.

  “Is she always like that?” I asked, once the witch was out of earshot.

  Paisley bit back a laugh. “Pretty much. What can I help you find?”

  “Emma is learning how to fly on a broomstick,” Begonia explained. “She needs something to calm her stomach.”

  “And my nerves,” I added.

  Paisley studied me. “You’re afraid of heights?”

  “Very.”

  “Well, that’s a first for a witch.” She began examining the bottles on the shelf. “I didn’t mean that to sound judgmental. I’m just surprised.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. I knew I presented the coven with a lot of questions, like which coven I was descended from and what my abilities were. We were still figuring it all out. So far, we knew my mother had been a witch but little else. She drowned when I was three. I had no clue whether she knew she was a witch. I could speak telepathically with my owl but not a cat, like the witches of this coven. And I was deathly afraid of heights.

  “So you need something to settle your stomach and also to prevent you from having a panic attack on the broom?” Paisley pulled three bottles from the shelf and placed them on the counter. “It can be trial and error with potions, I’m afraid. You’ll need to test each one for a couple of days and see how your body reacts.”

  I looked at the colorful liquids floating in the bottles. “Which one do you recommend I try first?”

  Paisley touched the top of the bottle with orange liquid. “This one tastes the worst but is usually the most effective.”

  Not much different from the human world then. “And it will help with both issues?”

  “Well, it’s an anti-anxiety potion, so it should help with the fear of heights, which should then reduce the likelihood of nausea and vomiting.”