Spell's Bells
A Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery, Book 3
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
Spell’s Bells
A Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery, Book 3
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
To Fabio – your glistening pecs are a daily inspiration.
Chapter 1
I stood on the wraparound front porch of my large Victorian house, sweeping away the dirt. I gave myself bonus points for moving the two Adirondack chairs instead of simply sweeping around them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Gareth asked.
“What does it look like?” I stopped sweeping and leaned against the broom. “Fiona doesn’t come until tomorrow.” Fiona was the owner of the fairy cleaning service, The Magic Touch.
Gareth tried to wrest the broom from my hand, but since he was a ghost, he only managed to glide through the wooden handle.
“This is your brand new broom for flying, not sweeping,” he said. Although I’d managed to successfully complete the first phase of broom training and get my daytime license, I had no intention of using it.
I examined the bright blue broom in my hand. Although I wanted one in Tiffany blue to match my wand, Broomstix didn’t offer brooms in that color.
“It does the job just fine,” I said and continued sweeping. “You know perfectly well I have no intention of flying on it.” Ever. Despite the aid of an anti-anxiety potion, I had no desire to voluntarily ride a wooden stick hundreds of feet above the ground.
Gareth rolled his eyes. “I hope you never encounter a broomstick emergency.”
“As far as I’m concerned, the only broomstick emergency will involve dust or cobwebs.” I swept the remaining debris off the porch and into the garden below.
“Some witch you are,” Gareth said.
I ignored his comment and retreated into the house. I needed to feed Gareth’s cat, Magpie, before he chewed off his own leg. I wouldn’t put it past him.
“What’s the best way to welcome a banshee into one’s home? Do I need an offering of some kind? Maybe pig’s blood?” If that was the case, I’d have to send my owl to the store pronto.
“A simple ‘do come in’ will suffice,” Gareth replied.
Town council member and resident banshee Maeve McCullen was due to arrive at any moment. I’d invited her to the house to discuss my ability to see the ghost of Gareth, my dead vampire roommate. It was apparently unusual in Spellbound for a witch to communicate with the dead. Since banshees have a strong connection to death, we thought Maeve would be a good person to confide in.
The sound of wind chimes drifted through the kitchen and I froze with Magpie’s dish in my hand. The hairless cat meowed at me from his position on the counter. He wasn’t about to let an agent of death come between him and his tuna. I set the dish on the floor and hurried to the door with Gareth hot on my heels.
“Do I look presentable?” he asked.
“You’re dead,” I reminded him. “You’re basically transparent.”
“No need to be harsh,” he said.
I opened the door to greet Maeve.
“Gareth,” she exclaimed and leaned forward to literally air kiss him. “Death really suits you, darling.”
“That’s what they said when I first became a vampire,” he replied.
“Every bit as true today,” she said, fluffing her strawberry blond ringlets.
“Please come in,” I said. As we began to walk toward the living room, Magpie shot out of nowhere and launched himself at Maeve’s leg. He curled around her ankle and purred ferociously.
“Oh, you lovely creature.” Maeve bent down and lifted him.
“Be careful,” I warned.
Maeve held the ghastly cat an inch from her face. I covered my eyes, fearful that he’d strike at any moment, using claws or those ridiculously sharp teeth of his.
“Oh, Magpie. Your tongue is like sandpaper,” she said with a tinkling laugh.
I peeked through my fingers to see Magpie licking her nose. What the…? “He really likes you,” I said.
Maeve looked at me. “You sound surprised.”
“Other than Gareth, I didn’t think he liked anyone.”
“I told you,” Gareth said smugly. “He’s very particular.”
Maeve placed the cat gently on the floor. “Be kind to your new owner, feline. She’s the one who keeps you reeking in tuna.”
Magpie rubbed against her ankle, then hissed at me for good measure before trotting away.
“Can I offer you a drink?” I asked. “I have lemon fizz or maybe something stronger like a pomegranate pounder?”
She smiled. “Sounds like you’re getting into the swing of things here.”
“Slowly,” I said.
“Why don’t we sit in the living room where it’s more comfortable?” Gareth said. It was odd for him to be able to act as host since, typically, I was the only one who could see him.
“I love what you’ve done in here,” Maeve said, spinning around to admire the newer paint and window dressings. “No offense, darling, but Emma’s taste is much more my style.”
“None taken,” Gareth mumbled. Oh boy. Now he’d sulk for the next twenty minutes. Didn’t Maeve know better?
I planted myself on the settee and Maeve sat in the wingback chair adjacent to me.
“So you’d like to know more about this unique situation, is that right?” Maeve gestured to Gareth, who hovered by the oversized fireplace.
“Whatever you can tell me,” I said. “None of the witches in the coven can see ghosts. Is that a trait of my coven?” Although we knew my coven was different, the details were scarce.
Maeve crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knee. “I wish I could help, but I’m afraid my knowledge of covens is rather limited. I think you might be better off speaking to an older witch, one with more worldly experience.”
“Like Lady Weatherby?” Lady J.R. Weatherby was the head of the Spellbound coven and the only witch I’d met so far that I was genuinely afraid of.
Maeve swatted the air. “Oh no, darling. I mean an older witch. Like Agnes.”
“Good thinking,” Gareth said. “I’d forgotten about her.”
“That’s because she’s been in the Spellbound Care Home for ages,” Maeve said. “She’s a former head of the coven and very sharp. I’m sure she can o
ffer you more insight than I can.”
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s helpful.” I wondered why no one in the coven had mentioned Agnes as a possible resource before. The mystery surrounding my origin was well known in Spellbound.
“Word to the wise, though,” Maeve said. “You don’t want to show up empty-handed. Sneak in a little contraband like sweets and alcohol and she’ll be much more agreeable.”
I made a mental note of her suggestion. If Agnes was as intimidating as Lady Weatherby, I was all for making her agreeable by whatever means necessary.
“You, my good man, are another story,” Maeve said, focusing on Gareth. “I’d be happy to take you under my wing. I imagine you have many questions.”
Gareth’s relief was palpable. “Yes, I do. So many. Is it possible for me to make physical contact? I mean, I know I won’t ever be in the flesh again, but can I at least move objects? I’d love to be able to slam a door once in a while, just to make a point.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
Maeve twirled a strawberry blonde curl around her finger. “I can make a few recommendations. There are books on the subject.” She hesitated. “My primary recommendation, though, is to enlist the aid of one of the Grey sisters. Any one of the three would make an excellent tutor.”
Gareth made a choking noise. “You expect me to spend time alone with a Grey sister?”
Maeve shrugged. “You’re already dead. What’s the harm?”
I looked from Maeve to Gareth. “What’s a Grey sister?”
“Three sisters who live in the northeastern hills of Spellbound,” Maeve explained. “They rarely come into town.”
“They share one eye and one tooth between them,” Gareth said, shuddering.
“They’re often mistaken for witches,” Maeve added, “but they’re more akin to goddesses.”
“Wrinkled, ugly goddesses,” Gareth complained. “Why couldn’t I have Markos as a tutor?” Markos was the town minotaur and widely known for his impressive physical attributes.
“So you think one of these blind, toothless old women will agree to Yoda him?” I asked.
Maeve frowned. “What does Yoda mean?”
It was bizarre to live in a world where a Yoda reference required explanation. “Never mind.”
“I’ll speak to the Grey sisters on your behalf,” Maeve said. “Do you have a preference?”
Gareth groaned. “The one least likely to eat Emma.”
“Um, yes. That sounds reasonable to me.”
Maeve stood to go. “I’ll be in touch, darling. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Gareth attempted to slump against the fireplace and disappeared inside the wall. “No worries,” his muffled voice said. “I can’t even do anything you would do.”
Maeve was barely out of the house when Darcy Minor rode up the driveway on her magical bicycle. Darcy was the eldest of the youngest generation of Minors—one of six harpies that lived next door.
“Good. You’re home,” she said, striding up the walkway. “I need to speak with you urgently.”
Me? No one ever needed to speak with me urgently.
“How can I help you, Darcy?”
She stomped up the porch steps and adjusted her frilly blouse. In a pencil skirt with perfectly coiffed hair, she was the fanciest harpy in town.
“Have you spoken to the Winged Wonder recently?” she demanded.
I could only assume she meant Daniel. “Not for a few days. Why?”
She crossed her arms. “He must be stopped. The angel is out of control.”
My pulse quickened. “What do you mean?” Daniel Starr was a fallen angel with a long history of womanizing. Some stories claimed that he was the real reason for the town curse. He’d scorned an enchantress who then cursed the entire town—a curse that prevented the supernatural residents from crossing the Spellbound border. Daniel was, in fact, the reason I was here in the first place. He’d accidentally flown me across the boundary line, neither one of us aware of the fact that I was a witch.
She threw up her hands. “Every time I turn around, he’s trying to do good. It’s becoming a real problem.”
“You’re angry because Daniel is trying to be a positive force in Spellbound?”
“It’s more than that. You know how I’m in charge of school fundraisers?”
Well, I knew she was the self-appointed martyr of Spellbound. “Sure,” I said.
“Daniel’s trying to horn in on my turf,” she huffed. “He seems to think that turning over a new leaf means getting underfoot. Big mistake.” She lifted her shoe. “These heels will crush him.”
They would indeed. They were at least three inches high and very spiky. I wasn’t sure how she walked in them without keeling over. Must be magic.
“What’s he doing?” I knew his general plan was to stop moping and make a difference in our small world. He wanted to redeem himself for past transgressions. I didn’t know the specifics regarding his reprehensible behavior. The Daniel I’d gotten to know since my arrival was very different from the one everyone in Spellbound seemed to know.
“He’s organizing the bake sale,” she said, near hysterics. “Everyone knows I’m in charge of the bake sale.”
Beside me, Gareth rolled his eyes. “Her need for control is so over the top.”
“Says the vampire who criticizes the way I wear my socks,” I said.
“Either pull them up to your knees or don’t wear knee socks at all,” he said in exasperation.
Darcy squinted at me. “Are you talking to me?”
“No, sorry.” I returned my attention to her. “So why have you come to me with this? Talk to Daniel.”
“It’s my understanding that the two of you have formed some weird and wonderful friendship. I was hoping you could have a word with him. Find some other way to satisfy his philanthropic needs.”
Weird and wonderful. That was one way to describe our relationship.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Darcy’s pinched expression relaxed slightly. “Thank you. I mean, some of the high school girls are ecstatic to have a hot angel hanging around, but most of us think it’s creepy.”
I saw her point. “Do you need any help with the bake sale? I’m starting a magical baking class at the academy this week. I might be able to contribute.”
“And poison the whole high school?” Gareth scoffed. “Don’t even consider it.”
“I’m not going to poison anyone,” I said.
Darcy’s eyes widened. “I should hope not.”
I heard Sedgwick shrieking before I actually saw him.
“Duck,” I yelled at Darcy.
We both crouched down at the same time to avoid getting knocked over by an owl.
I didn’t even realize you were out, I said. Sedgwick was my familiar and we communicated telepathically.
I went out for a snack to my favorite place in the forest, he explained. You need to come quickly. Grab your broom.
“Sedgwick,” I said aloud. “You know how I feel about riding on a broom.”
It’s an emergency, he shouted. Sophie’s being arrested as we speak.
“What?” Sophie was one of the remedial witches in my class and a good friend.
Just come, Sedgwick insisted.
“I’m sorry, Darcy. I promise I’ll speak to Daniel, but I need to go.”
“Do you need a ride on my bicycle?” Darcy asked.
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll take Sigmund.” Sigmund was my beloved 1988 green Volvo that I thought was forever lost at the bottom of Swan Lake. Daniel recently surprised me by retrieving the car from the lake and having it reengineered to run on magical energy instead of gasoline. It was the single sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.
“Hold down the fort,” I told Gareth and rushed past Darcy to the car.
Follow my lead, Sedgwick said.
I drove Sigmund on the road until we reached the edge of the forest. I parked the car and continued to follow the spotted owl into
the woods.
“I don’t see anyone,” I said, running along a well-worn path.
Suddenly, I stopped running.
“What on earth…?”
In front of me was a glass coffin on a raised platform. More importantly, it wasn’t empty.
This is why Sophie was arrested, Sedgwick said.
I ignored the yellow caution tape around the coffin and went to look inside. A dwarf lay in the coffin, his eyes closed and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
No. It’s the Endless Sleep spell.
“Is that like a coma?”
I don’t know what a coma is.
I peered at the dwarf inside. Although I’d met a few dwarfs during my brief time in Spellbound, he wasn’t one of them.
“How could anyone think Sophie is responsible for this? She’s the sweetest, clumsiest witch in all of Spellbound.”
You’ll have to ask Sheriff Hugo. I only saw him leading her away.
Ugh. I didn’t want to speak with Sheriff Hugo. I was on the centaur’s short list of Most Annoying Residents. I managed to get under his hide early on and never left.
Hop in that rolling piece of metal you call transportation, Sedgwick said. You need to get to the sheriff’s office before he does anything stupid.
If he’d already arrested Sophie, then it was too late.
Chapter 2
Sheriff Hugo glanced up from the newspaper when I walked into his office and I caught the flash of annoyance. To be fair, he didn’t try to disguise it.
“Sheriff Hugo,” I greeted him.
“Miss Hart.” His gaze flickered to the corridor that presumably led to the holding cells. “I assume you’re here about Miss Gale.”
“I am.” I tempered my tone, not wanting to push the wrong button. “You can’t possibly believe that Sophie is responsible for the Endless Sleep spell. You know she’s a remedial witch.”
He tossed down the paper he was reading. “And it’s a complicated spell. Yes, Miss Hart. Despite your best efforts to make me look like one, I am not an idiot.”
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