Bat Out of Spell

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I can’t either.” I was blasé as I shuffled past the trees, taking a moment to gesture toward the sky and give Swoops a pointed look. “I made you corned beef hash. You need to take to the skies and make sure someone doesn’t sneak up on me while I’m collecting berries and insults.”

  Swoops made a dramatic face. I should be taking a nap.

  “And I should be anywhere but where I am,” I shot back. “Get off your duff and take to the sky. I don’t want to get caught out here talking to a bunch of trees … and you.”

  Whatever. Swoops did as instructed, although I didn’t miss the disdainful look he lobbed in my direction before taking flight. He’d find a way to pay me back for bossing him around. He always did.

  Once he was airborne, I got to work collecting the cackleberries. I got the idea to use them when I couldn’t get over the fact that Mitzi appeared to be lying even while purporting to tell the truth. I had no doubt that Buddy and Blair went to college together. That would be stupid for her to lie about and it could easily be verified. Even if I had to place a call to the home office to get it done thanks to our spotty internet, I could most definitely find the information. So she wasn’t lying about that.

  She was lying about something, though. I simply had to figure out what. The only foolproof way I knew to outsmart liars was to force them to tell the truth. And how do you do that? Truth serum, of course. Unfortunately for me, the crop of cackleberries was weak this year, so I needed almost everything on the bushes to make a full batch. I couldn’t risk making a half batch in case I needed doses for other people … including the mistress who just happened to go on vacation with my victim. I still couldn’t figure out why anyone would think that was a good idea. I might need truth serum for the lot before I was done.

  “There were big goings on at the resort today,” Earl announced. He was the one tree that didn’t make me want to grab a chainsaw. He kept the sarcasm to a minimum and was always amiable.

  “Yeah. A woman died.” I began stripping berries and adding them to the small container I’d brought. “She was bashed over the head with a rock.”

  “Really?” Agatha made a tutting sound. “Things like that didn’t happen in my day.”

  “They did, but it was simply easier to fudge evidence back then,” I countered. “Her death hasn’t technically been ruled a homicide, but I know she was murdered. There’s no way that was an accident.”

  “Well, if you know better than law enforcement you must be in the right,” Agatha drawled.

  Ugh. Seriously. Why didn’t I think to bring matches … or a box of those emerald ash borer bugs? That would shut her up. “I’m just saying that it’s very unlikely that woman died by accidental means. Someone wanted her dead … and now she’s dead.”

  “That’s an interesting theory.”

  I froze when I heard the new voice, swiveling slowly so I could focus on the individual who had managed to sneak up when I wasn’t looking. So much for my bat spy in the sky. I was so going to make him pay.

  “Hello, Augie.” I did my best to appear as if kneeling in the woods while plucking berries and talking to trees he couldn’t hear was the most normal thing in the world. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Yes, it is fancy,” Augie agreed, his expression dark as he scanned the small clearing. “Can I ask what you’re doing out here?”

  Well, crud on a stick. I was going to have to come up with another lie. It was simply one of those days. “Picking berries.” I held up my container for emphasis.

  “You can’t eat those,” Augie pointed out. “They’re not for pies or anything. In fact, they’re extremely bitter.”

  Oh, so now he was the berry police. That just figured. “I’m not making a pie.”

  “What are you making?”

  “Lotion.” That seemed like a safe enough answer. In fact … yes. I was known for being kooky and going organic when necessary. Sure, I ate a mixture of potatoes and ground meat product out of cans, but I was still organically minded. “I want to make my own lotion.” I warmed to the lie. “These berries are supposed to be great at smoothing skin.”

  “Uh-huh.” Augie didn’t look convinced. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Myself.”

  “Do you often walk around the woods talking to yourself?”

  If it was one thing I hated it was being put on the spot. It was time to the turn the tables. “And what are you doing out here?” I challenged, wiping my hands on my pants as I stood. “Shouldn’t you be protecting the resort guests in the wake of this morning’s murder?”

  “Abigail hasn’t declared it a murder yet.”

  “Oh, come on!” I made an exaggerated face. “There’s no way that woman fell and hit her head the way Buddy wants us to believe. You can’t possibly be leaning that way.”

  “I don’t know which way I’m leaning.” Augie tilted his head to the side, distraction evident. “Are you alone out here?”

  “Do you see anyone else?”

  “No, but I heard your voice. It sounded as if you were having a conversation with someone. In fact, that’s the reason I’m out here. Two of the guests swear up and down they heard people talking in the woods. They were obviously agitated after what happened to Blair Whitney, but I decided to check.”

  “Yes, I can’t blame them for that.” I cursed my bad luck and prepared to paint myself as the crazy sort who talks to thin air until Swoops dropped down three branches and made his presence known by hooting. He was providing me with a very convenient escape hatch. “If you must know, I was talking to Swoops.”

  “Swoops?” Augie furrowed his brow. “Who is … oh.” His gaze landed on my preening bat and he clucked his tongue. “You brought your little … friend … here with you. I should’ve realized.”

  Yes, Swoops and I are quite the pair around town. We are as notorious as Zola and her skunk, Kenna and her pink armadillo, and Evian and her fat little frog. Everyone talks about us and we pretend we don’t care. As long as they never suspect the truth, everything is fine. It doesn’t matter how eccentric everyone believes us to be.

  “I don’t go anywhere without Swoops.” I faked a smile for the annoying creature as he pranced along a tree branch and shifted closer to Augie. “He’s like family.”

  “He’s something.” Augie stared hard at my familiar. “You know, most people don’t have pet bats. That’s not a thing. Why don’t you get a cat or something?”

  I pictured the hairless cat with his annoying pearls of wisdom and shuddered. “I don’t want a cat. This island is crawling with cats. I like my bat.”

  Swoops made a big show of blowing me kisses when Augie turned his head in my direction. When Augie quickly shifted back to see what Swoops was doing – the creature’s claws making noise against the tree branch causing him to alert on the sound – the bat pretended to perch there gazing adoringly at him. The effect was distressing.

  “He’s definitely tame,” Augie noted after a beat. “For a bat, I mean.”

  “Yes, he’s a real people pleaser.”

  “And he doesn’t have rabies, right?”

  Swoops looked offended at the statement, but I shot him a warning look when it seemed as if he might try to snatch some of Augie’s hair. “He doesn’t have rabies.”

  “Well, that’s good.” Augie cast another dubious look around the clearing and then exhaled heavily. “I guess I can tell the guests that a murderer isn’t running around the woods. Just a deranged former nun with a pet bat. That should make them feel better.”

  “I’m not a former nun.”

  “You were going to nun school.” Augie just couldn’t let that little tidbit go. He’d been fixated on it for thirteen years. It was beyond annoying. “That’s pretty much the same thing as being a nun.”

  Not even close. “Whatever.” I tugged on my limited patience and forced a smile. “If that’s all, I have work to do.”

  “Are you going to keep talking to your bat?”

  “Probably.�
�

  “Okay then.” Augie looked reticent as he edged toward the path back to the resort. “Be careful out here, Skye. If you’re right, there very well might be a murderer hanging around these woods. I would hate for something to happen to you.”

  He almost sounded sincere. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Just … be careful. If you come across someone you don’t recognize or trust, take off. Don’t be you and pick a fight. I’m serious.”

  “So am I. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “It would be nice if that were true.” Augie trudged toward the path. “By the way, I know you sweet talked Dylan out of guest records. You’d better hope I don’t catch you with them because I could press charges for theft if I wanted to do it.”

  Ugh. Of course he’d bring that up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I blinded him with a sweet smile. “Have a nice day.”

  “I intend to.”

  Seven

  It took me thirty minutes to collect all the berries. Witches were the only ones interested in what they could offer, so I wasn’t worried about people complaining about my efforts. My fellow witchy sisters were another story. Of course, we were always fighting anyway, so there was no point in worrying about that. If it wasn’t one thing it was another … and it was always their fault. For the record, I’m an absolute delight.

  Swoops settled in his hammock the second we returned to the house, snoring within minutes. He didn’t seem bothered in the least about our close call with Augie. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Augie probably figured I was a loon who spent afternoons in the woods talking to her pet bat. That was actually better than the alternative – that I was an elemental witch who talked to sarcastic and judgmental trees next to a brook that could make flora and fauna drunk – so I would simply have to deal with it.

  After mixing the batch of truth serum I turned in for the night. I didn’t remember the hole in the kitchen door until the next morning when I woke to what looked like a hairless monkey staring into my eyes.

  “Son of a … !” I scrambled to dislodge the beast, which I knew to be a cat, yet hated all the same. I considered myself an animal lover under normal circumstances, but cats are supposed to have hair. I don’t care that Tut is a special breed and would be treated as a king or god in certain societies. I seriously couldn’t stand him. “Do you knock?”

  “I don’t have opposable thumbs.” Unlike Swoops, Tut could speak out loud. There were times he spoke in front of humans, refusing to care that he risked blowing our cover.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t knock,” I grumbled, running a hand through my snarled hair and glaring at him. “You have a head. Use that to beat on the door.”

  “That seems a waste of time.” Tut swished his tail as he glanced around my messy bedroom. I wasn’t much of a housekeeper, and hiring a maid was out of the question given the fact that I lived with a bat and a skunk came and went with the wind. “What are you cooking for breakfast?”

  He had to be joking. “Nothing for you.”

  Corned beef hash.

  I couldn’t see Swoops, but he was close. Obviously he’d been listening. He’d never admit it – he was supposed to be a brave familiar, after all – but he was terrified of the hairless sphinx. He wasn’t the only one.

  “You had corned beef hash yesterday,” I snapped. “You’re getting fat. You’re having berries for breakfast.”

  Corned beef hash. Swoops sounded mournful.

  “I said no!”

  “You’re a very unpleasant human.” Tut set about washing himself in a very rude place. “You should try being nicer. You might be surprised how your outlook on life changes when you adjust your attitude.”

  “I’m fine being known as the witchy one in town.” I meant it. “What are you doing here? I hate it when you sneak into my house and wake me by staring.”

  “Why do you think I do it?” Tut switched to washing his flank. “You’re so easy to rile that I get my jollies.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I leaned to the left and peered into the hallway, making a face when I realized Swoops was hanging from the door frame. “Did you clean up the living room?”

  Corned beef hash.

  I held up a hand. “I’m done talking to you. Corned beef hash is off the menu until you clean up the mess you let Clover make. You’re supposed to protect my inner sanctum, not allow attitudinal skunks free rein to wander around with my underwear.”

  “Oh, did Clover do that?” Tut stopped washing. “I thought maybe your housekeeping skills had deteriorated even further. That’s a relief.”

  “Yes, I know you would’ve lost sleep over it.” I trudged to the door. “Speaking of free rein, you run around town most hours of the day. You wouldn’t know where I can find Mitzi Montgomery this morning, would you?”

  “Why?”

  “I need to talk to her.”

  “About what?”

  “It’s none of your concern.”

  Tut merely stared at me, unblinking, and waited for me to crumble.

  “I’m serious.” I tried to be stern. If I didn’t let these crazy familiars know who was boss they’d start to take over my life. No one wanted that. “I need to know where she is and you don’t need to know why.”

  “Then I don’t need to help you,” Tut shot back.

  Ugh. I knew he’d react that way. I should have been expecting it. “Fine. I’ll include you in breakfast if you tell me.”

  Corned beef hash.

  I ignored Swoops and kept my eyes on Tut. “I don’t want to have to look for her. I have an important mission today.”

  “Yes, I know. You’re investigating a murder that may not be a murder.” Tut was nonchalant. “I know where she’ll be in an hour. I’m sure it would be a good location for whatever you have planned. But I won’t tell you without something in exchange.”

  “You’re going to say ‘corned beef hash,’ aren’t you?” I was resigned.

  Tut shook his wizened head. “I want pancakes … with blueberries.”

  And corned beef hash.

  “Fine.” I was barely awake and my day already sucked. “Pancakes it is.”

  Corned beef hash.

  “I will make you live in a can of corned beef hash if you don’t shut up, Swoops. I mean it! I’m the boss.”

  Apparently I was the only one who believed that.

  AFTER FEEDING THE bat and the cat blueberry pancakes and corned beef hash I made my way to the park by the library. It seemed Mitzi was in the midst of another craft bonanza and was adding painting to her list of skills. At least that’s what Tut told me, and sure enough, he was right.

  I found her on a large expanse of grass, completely alone, a brush in her hand. She had an easel set up, a half-painted canvas resting on it. It looked as if she was painting a landscape, although I’d seen three-year-olds with more talent.

  “Hey, Mitzi.”

  She jumped at the sound of my voice, whipping around and allowing a fearful expression to wash over her features until she regained control. “W-what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you. I even brought a peace offering.” I handed her a mug of coffee from the shop around the corner – I asked the girl behind the counter to fix Mitzi’s drink of choice – and smiled as she tentatively accepted it. “It’s a triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato.” I had no idea what any of that meant, but I’d memorized it before leaving the coffee shop. “I wanted to apologize for the way I shook you down yesterday.”

  “You did?” Mitzi’s perfectly-plucked eyebrow winged up. “I can’t remember you ever apologizing to me. I mean … like, ever.”

  “I admit when I’m wrong.” I’m rarely wrong so I can say that with a straight face. “I was wrong to be so aggressive with you yesterday. You have to understand, I was shaken up. I tripped over the body myself and I had trouble settling.” I had practiced the lie in the mirror five times until I’d f
inally managed to find a way to deliver it without looking as if I was smelling something akin to rancid pickle farts. “I was upset, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  I watched Mitzi closely for signs she suspected I was lying, but she seemed to relax quickly. “Oh, well, that’s okay.” She sipped her coffee and smiled. “I can see how that would’ve been upsetting for you. I would’ve cried if it happened to me.” Another sip. One more and I would be good to start drilling her for information. The truth serum worked almost instantaneously. “Thank you for apologizing.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I shifted closer to the easel and stared at the canvas. “This is good work. It looks as if you’ve been practicing.” And the lies kept rolling off my tongue with ease. “I didn’t know you were interested in painting.”

  “Oh, I’ve always been interested in visual arts.” There it was. The final sip. “I like to be able to put my feelings and emotions on canvas so others can recognize what I was feeling at any particular moment. It’s the inner artist in me. She’s … ravenous.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I was quickly losing interest. “It sounds fascinating. So, tell me the whole truth about Buddy and Blair.”

  Mitzi froze in place, blinking rapidly. She clearly didn’t expect the change in my demeanor. Now that she was under the thrall of the truth serum, she didn’t have any choice but to answer. “I … what?”

  “Have another drink,” I instructed.

  Mitzi did as I ordered, her hands shaking as she tried to maintain control of her emotions.

  “Now tell me about Buddy and Blair,” I repeated. I wasn’t in the mood to waste an entire afternoon talking about artistic feelings with Mitzi Montgomery. I wanted answers and then space. “You were hiding something yesterday. I want to know what it is.”

  “I wasn’t … I mean … I didn’t mean to … I … .” Mitzi’s eyes filled with alarm when she realized that the lies she was prepared to tell wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t speak unless it was to tell the truth. She would be forced to undergo brief bouts of pain if she tried. It was one of the serum’s little quirks.