by H. Y. Hanna
Witch Chocolate Bites
BEWITCHED BY CHOCOLATE Mysteries ~ Book 4
By
H.Y. Hanna
Book Description:
Magical chocolates, missing jewels and murder…
When novice witch Caitlyn Le Fey heads to the outdoor cinema festival at a beautiful Cotswolds manor, the last thing she expects is for the evening to end in murder. But when a dead man is found with fang marks in his neck and her old vampire uncle, Viktor, is arrested, Caitlyn must use all her newfound magic powers to clear his name.
Sleuthing isn't simple, however, with so many strangers arriving at her grandmother's enchanted chocolate shop: there's the secretive village tenant with creepy Goth tastes, the inscrutable new butler at Huntingdon Manor--and a charming Frenchman keen to win Caitlyn's heart. And that's before she has to master the art of making the perfect chocolate soufflé or deal with a Levitation spell gone horribly wrong! Still, at least she has the help of a friendly English mastiff and her naughty kitten, Nibs, not to mention her sassy American cousin and all the village gossips!
Then a wild goose chase leads to an unexpected discovery and Caitlyn realises that she's missed a clue under her nose all along. Can she solve the mystery--and maybe even discover Lord James Fitzroy's real feelings for her? Or will she succumb to a vampire's fatal bite?
WARNING: May contain traces of "Hahaha!"
Books in the BEWITCHED BY CHOCOLATE Mysteries:
Dark, Witch & Creamy (Book 1)
Witch Chocolate Fudge (Book 2)
Witch Summer Night’s Cream (Book 3)
Witch Chocolate Bites (Book 4)
~ more coming soon!
Author’s Note:
This book follows British English spelling and usage.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
“Over here, Caitlyn! This is a great spot!”
Caitlyn Le Fey followed her cousin, Pomona, across the wide green lawn which sloped down from the elegant Georgian façade of Huntingdon Manor. The space was already half-filled with families and couples sitting in small groups and she had to take care not to step on the various picnic blankets and cushions spread out across the grass. It was the opening night of the new Tillyhenge Open-Air Cinema and, from the number of people milling about, it looked like it was going to be a huge hit. This was the first time that such an event had been held in the local area and it seemed to have attracted residents from far and wide—as well as quite a few tourists—to the tiny Cotswolds village of Tillyhenge.
“Wow, look at all the people,” said Pomona, turning her head to scan the area. She laughed. “I can’t believe James was worried that locals wouldn’t be into the idea. Like, who wouldn’t wanna sit in the beautiful grounds of an English country manor on a balmy summer evening, enjoying a picnic and a movie?”
“I think James just didn’t want to step on any toes,” said Caitlyn. “When he inherited the title, a lot of the villagers were worried that he would introduce too many modern concepts. They were scared he’d destroy the heritage and traditions they were used to—you know, it’s like the backbone to life on the estate.”
“Yeah, but his ideas are making things better… like, breathing some life into the place!”
Caitlyn shrugged. “You know how people hate change, especially the older residents. Opening the Manor to the public and allowing tours was already a big step for them, so James wanted to go slowly.” She smiled. “I think it’s why his tenants love him so much—he’s always putting their needs first and consulting them on everything.”
Pomona gave Caitlyn a teasing sidelong glance. “Oooh, we’re getting to know the new Lord Fitzroy very well, aren’t we?”
Caitlyn felt a blush heat her cheeks and was annoyed with herself. “It’s common knowledge that James Fitzroy is a fantastic landlord,” she said quickly.
Pomona plunked the cushions they had brought with them down on the grass and made a face. “I wish we’d thought to bring more cushions. That grass looks a lot harder up close.” She glanced enviously at a couple who were sitting on giant beanbags a few feet away. “Where did they get those from?” She scanned the crowd again, this time noting several couples and families who were also sitting on beanbags. “There’s no way they all brought those from home!”
“I heard that James hired a company which provides beanbags for outdoor events… Look, they’re there,” said Caitlyn, pointing to a booth at the far side of the lawn. “Do you want me to grab us a couple?”
“Yeah, good idea,” said Pomona, spreading out a blanket to face the giant screen erected at the end of the lawn. “I’ll stay here and guard our spot.”
Caitlyn made her way back across the lawn, passing a large poster of the movie being screened that evening. She grimaced as she saw the image of the muscled hero with a ridiculous mane of long, curly hair, brandishing a pistol and facing a tall, pale man in a black cloak, with fangs protruding from his mouth. Caitlyn sighed as she remembered that tonight’s film was about Van Helsing, the legendary vampire hunter. She hadn’t been keen on the movie, to be honest, but Pomona loved anything to do with the paranormal, and had insisted on coming.
Glancing at the groups with young children around her, Caitlyn reflected that a vampire movie seemed an odd choice for a family event. Then she looked at the poster again and realised that it was really a spoof horror movie, with the vampire looking more comical than scary. Still, she found the idea of the film distasteful and even a bit irritating.
Maybe it’s because the supernatural isn’t make-believe for me anymore—it’s personal now, she thought ruefully. When she’d arrived in Tillyhenge two months ago and learned that she was descended from a long line of witches, Caitlyn suddenly found herself plunged into a strange new world, filled with magic and spells, myths and enchantments. Now, all the jokes and stereotypes about witches and vampires didn’t seem so funny. In fact, she often found herself getting annoyed at the so-called “facts” about magic and the paranormal in the popular media—which were usually completely wrong.
As if echoing her thoughts, she heard a grumpy voice she recognised:
“What utter rubbish! This poster is an insult—an insult, do you hear me? It must be removed! Vampires do not sleep in coffins—nor do we lack reflections in mirrors. How do you suppose I shave in the mornings? And those fangs are far too long to be—”
Viktor!
Caitlyn hurried towards a small crowd gathering around a thin, balding old man, who was dressed in a black suit that looked like a relic from the last century. He was standing next to another poster of the movie, glowering at a teenage boy in a reflective vest, who’d obviously been hired to act as an usher for the evening.
“
Look, Granddad, what would you know ’bout vampires?” the boy asked impatiently.
“How dare you!” The old man bristled. “I’ll have you know I am a vampire myself!”
The boy snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”
“No, you are not!” said Viktor, outraged. “I have met the Queen of Sheba. She is a very handsome lady.”
“Yeah right!” The boy burst out laughing and the crowd roared as well. “She’s not even real—oh wait, I bet you’re goin’ to tell me now that vampires are real?” He grinned.
“Well, of course they are real. I just told you—I am one,” said Viktor in an irate tone.
The crowd laughed even harder.
“Yeah? Well, go on then. Let’s see you do somethin’ vampire-y,” said the boy with an even bigger grin. He leaned over and tilted his head, presenting his neck. “Go on, then—bite me an’ suck my blood!”
“I do not suck blood!” spluttered Viktor. “What do you think I am? A mosquito?”
“Hey, you said you’re a vampire.”
Viktor drew himself up to his full height. “I am indeed—but that does not mean I drink blood. Only a very small number of us vampires belong to the Order Vampyrus—most of us prefer to consume insects, fruits and nectar…” He paused, then added, “Although I did know a vampire who enjoyed small frogs, and lizards. Not unsurprising, really, since his other form was a Mexican leaf-nosed bat. Very nice gentleman, as I recall. Liked a bit of salt and a wedge of lime with his lizards.”
“Uh-huh,” said the boy, trying to keep a straight face. He grinned at the crowd behind Viktor’s back and made a twirling motion with his finger around the side of his head, mouthing: “Totally loopy.”
“I, myself, am a fruitarian,” added Viktor with great dignity.
“A what?”
“A fruitarian. I eat only fruits.”
The boy chortled. “Yeah? You mean you suck out their juices an’ make ’em undead like you?”
“Undead? I am certainly not undead! Do I look undead to you?” Viktor jutted his head out on his scrawny neck and eyeballed the teenager, who took a hasty step back.
“Okay, look, you’ve been a good laugh, Granddad, but you’re gettin’ in people’s way so if you don’t move along—”
“I shall not move until you remove this monstrosity!” declared Viktor, jabbing a finger at the poster.
“Hey, cut it out, okay?” said the boy, starting to sound really annoyed. “If you don’t stop bein’ a pain, I’m goin’ to call the police—”
Yikes. Hastily, Caitlyn started pushing her way through the crowd towards them. “Wait! He’s not—”
“Is there a problem?”
Just as Caitlyn reached Viktor, a tall, dark-haired man stepped into the circle. He didn’t have to push—the crowd parted respectfully around him. He had handsome aristocratic features and a lithe muscular build, emphasised by dark jeans encasing his long legs and a crisp cotton shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. But more than his good looks, it was his air of quiet command that gave him such a strong presence.
Caitlyn’s heart gave its customary jolt as she looked up into Lord James Fitzroy’s keen grey eyes and she felt her pulse fluttering. She was embarrassed by her schoolgirl reaction to James every time she saw him (it was almost three months since they’d first met; surely she should have got over it by now?) but she couldn’t seem to help herself. No matter how many times she saw him, meeting James again always seemed to turn her into a shy, tongue-tied, blushing mess.
“Is there a problem?” James asked again, looking at the teenage usher.
The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Grandpa Fruitarian here seems to think that he’s a vampire and—”
“I do not ‘seem to think’,” said Viktor indignantly. “I know. I was born a vampire—and I am one of the last of my kind.”
The crowd tittered again and James looked at loss for words.
“Ah, here you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said Caitlyn with false brightness. She stepped forwards and grabbed Viktor’s arm, while giving everybody a breezy smile. “Sorry! A little misunderstanding, but we’re just leaving—”
“Caitlyn? Do you know this gentleman?” James asked.
“Er…” Caitlyn wondered wildly what to say. Somehow, she didn’t think “Yes, he’s my vampire uncle” would go down very well. “Um… er… sort of. This is my… uh… friend, Viktor,” she mumbled.
A look of surprise, mingled with relief, crossed James’s face. “This is Viktor?”
“Yes, why?”
“When you mentioned him before, I’d assumed that he was… er… younger,” said James, clearing his throat.
It was Caitlyn’s turn to look at him in surprise. She could only remember mentioning Viktor to James once before: when he had berated her for exploring the stone circle alone while a murder suspect was on the loose and she had blurted out that she had been protected by her friend, “Viktor”. Instead of reassuring him, though, it had seemed to annoy James, especially when she had refused to tell him more about her mysterious male friend. In fact, Caitlyn had even fleetingly wondered if James had been jealous.
Viktor bristled at James’s words. “Younger? Younger? Do you think youth is everything?” He held up two scrawny fists. “I am more than a match for you, young man! Bring out a sword and we’ll have a duel! Then we’ll see what you’re really made of—”
“Uh… Viktor has a great sense of humour,” Caitlyn cut in hastily with a weak smile as James stared at the old man in bewilderment. She gripped Viktor’s arm. “Anyway, we’ve got to be going. Sorry for any misunderstanding! See you around!” she called over her shoulder as she hustled the old vampire away, leaving James, the teenage usher, and the rest of the crowd gaping after them.
Caitlyn didn’t release Viktor until they were a good distance away and well out of earshot of most people.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Protecting you, of course,” said Viktor huffily. “As your guardian uncle, it is my duty to watch over you and make sure that you come to no harm.”
“What harm could come to me here?” asked Caitlyn, exasperated.
Viktor wagged a finger in her face. “Ah, you never know. Evil lurks in many places and—” His gaze slid over her shoulder and he drew his breath in sharply. “Aha! I found you at last!” he hissed and darted past her.
“Wha—?” Caitlyn turned to see the old vampire hovering over a row of tangled, prickly bushes. Plump red fruit were dangling in large numbers from several stems.
“Mm… wild raspberries!” Viktor smacked his lips and rubbed his hands with glee.
Caitlyn started to say something but was interrupted by the loudspeaker announcing that the film was about to begin soon. She realised that she hadn’t even got the beanbags yet. Pomona would be getting worried, wondering what had happened to her! She glanced at Viktor again but the old vampire was already engrossed in plucking berries from the bushes and stuffing them into his mouth, so she shrugged and left him to it. Hopefully, the raspberries would keep him busy and out of trouble for the rest of the evening.
CHAPTER TWO
As Caitlyn joined the end of the dwindling queue in front of the beanbag booth, she wondered anxiously if they might run out by the time it came to her turn. Luckily, however, she managed to grab the last two. The beanbags were much bigger and bulkier than she had expected, however, and she decided to take the route around the edge of the lawn rather than fight her way through the crowd encamped across the centre.
The lawn was surrounded by neatly clipped hedges, interspersed with occasional flowerbeds, and as she passed one of these, she saw a group of children crouched around an enormous dog the size of a small pony. It was Bran, James Fitzroy’s English mastiff. He was lying with his legs stretched out in front of him and sitting between his front paws was a little black kitten. Caitlyn broke into a smile at the sight of them.
“Hello Bran,” she
said softly, bending down to pat the dog.
“Mew!” cried the kitten indignantly.
Caitlyn laughed and patted the kitten as well. “Yes, and hello to you too, Nibs. I hope you’re staying out of trouble.”
“He tried to climb up my leg,” said one little girl.
Caitlyn made a face. “Ouch! I hope Nibs didn’t scratch you.”
“He’s only a baby cat so his claws aren’t very sharp yet,” said another little girl with a freckled face and pigtails. She scooped up the kitten and cuddled him against her. “I love you, Nibs—I wish you were mine!”
Caitlyn smiled, recognising six-year-old Molly Jenkins who lived in the village. She started to reply but, before she could say anything, they were interrupted by a volley of high-pitched barking. The children backed away and Caitlyn turned in surprise to see a small brown-and-white terrier come shooting out of the bushes nearby. It rushed up to Bran, teeth bared and hackles raised.
“YAP-YAP-YAP-YAP-YAP!”
The mastiff looked at the terrier in surprise. He gave a friendly thump of his tail, his wrinkled face pulled back in a placid smile, but this just seemed to provoke the terrier even more. The smaller dog snarled and lunged at Bran, nipping at his feet. Bran jerked his paw away, looking bewildered, and gave a soft whine. He wagged his tail again, but the terrier ignored Bran’s friendly overtures. Instead, it growled and launched itself at the mastiff once more.
“Hey!” cried Caitlyn, trying to step in. “Hey, hey! Leave poor Bran alone…” She bent down to try and grab the terrier by its collar but she had barely caught hold of it when a sharp voice said:
“What are you doing to my dog?”
A middle-aged woman stomped into their midst and yanked Caitlyn’s hand off the terrier’s collar. She was wearing a big straw hat and a baggy floral cotton dress, with green wellington boots poking out from beneath, and looked like the stereotype of the British country matron.
She glared at Caitlyn and snapped, “What were you doing to Rocco?”