Murder Of A Werewolf (A Brimstone Witch Mystery Book 1)

by Fernsby, April

  Murder Of A Werewolf

  A Brimstone Witch Mystery

  (Book 1)

  By

  April Fernsby

  www.aprilfernsby.com

  Copyright 2017 by April Fernsby

  Proofreading done by Paula Proofreader

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, electronically or mechanically without permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the author

  Chapter 1

  Gran peered closer at me across her kitchen table and said, “Cassia, this can’t go on.”

  I shifted in my seat. “What can’t go on?”

  “You know full well. You can’t carry on working so hard. You look as if you’re getting ready to knock on Death’s door. When did you last have a good night’s sleep? You’ve got bags under your eyes. And bags underneath those bags.”

  I sat back on my chair and tried to defend myself. “We’re extremely busy at work. I’ve got the staff appraisals to do. They won’t do themselves.”

  A twinkle came into Gran’s eyes, and she said, “They could. But we’ll talk about that another time. Cassia, I’m not nagging you. I’m worried about you.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m a grown woman. I can take perfectly good care of myself.”

  I felt a familiar ache at the back of my throat, and before I could stop it, my mouth opened in a huge yawn. I tried my best to curtail it, but it was one of those yawns that takes on a life of its own. As soon as the yawn had done its worst, I snapped my mouth shut and ignored the satisfied look in Gran’s eyes.

  She wagged a finger at me. “You can’t kid me, young lady. You might be twenty-nine years old, but you’re still a little girl to me. I know when you’re lying to me. I’ll make us a fresh cup of tea, and then you can tell me the truth. I want to know what’s going on in your life, and,” Gran gave me a particularly piercing stare, “I want to know why you’ve been paying visits to the doctor.”

  I swallowed. “What? The doctor? How do you know about that?”

  Gran heaved herself to her feet. “They still have my number as your contact number. Someone from the surgery phoned me yesterday to let me know you’ve got a prescription ready at the chemist.”

  “Oh. Right.” I’d forgotten to let the doctor’s surgery know about my change of address and telephone number. I’d moved out of Gran’s house over a year ago, but I still hadn’t got around to letting everyone know. I meant to. But I kept forgetting.

  As if reading my thoughts, Gran said, “Don’t you want to let all the relevant authorities know you’re living on your own now? You don’t have to, you know. You’re always welcome to come back here anytime. I’ve left your bedroom just as it is. And there’s plenty of room in this old cottage.” She smiled at me before turning away and heading towards the kettle.

  I felt my face scrunching up. Of course I didn’t want to come back here and live with Gran. What sort of a sensible grown-up woman with a respectable job wants to live with her gran? Not me. I’ve got my own place and a good paying job. I’m far too old to be living with my grandma.

  Gran whistled as she filled the kettle and I looked around the cosy kitchen. I couldn’t help but smile as my eyes alighted on all the knick-knacks that Gran had collected over the years. She liked to collect a souvenir of every place she’d ever visited, no matter how tacky the souvenir was. When I was old enough, she let me pick the souvenirs. Being a child, I went for anything big, shiny and gaudy. I smiled more as my glance went to the vivid red telephone box covered in sequins. I had insisted on Gran buying it when we went to London. It stood proudly on one of the kitchen shelves.

  I was so lost in my thoughts that I jumped when Gran came back to the kitchen table. She pushed a cup towards me and said, “Drink that. I’ve made it extra strong. It’ll put hairs on your chest.”

  “I don’t want hairs on my chest.” I pulled the cup towards me and took a sip. I sighed happily. “I know I’ve said this before, but you make the best tea, Gran. What do you put in it?”

  Gran sat down and tapped the side of her nose. “I put magic in it. Enough about tea. Let’s get back to you. Tell me about your work.”

  I cradled my hands around the cup. “Work is busy. Like I said, I’ve got staff appraisals coming up and – ”

  “Yes,” Gran interrupted. “They sound immensely boring. Do you enjoy your job?”

  I took another drink of the delicious tea before replying, “It’s alright. It’s a job. It’s got good prospects. And a good salary with an excellent pension scheme. And many employee benefits.” I abruptly stopped. I sounded like a job advert.

  “Hmm. What about that boyfriend of yours? Alex? Andrew? Adam? Whatever his name is.”

  “Alastair. Gran, you know his name. You’ve met him twice.”

  “Have I? He can’t have made much of an impression on me.” Gran’s mouth twitched, and she quickly took a drink of tea.

  I held in my sigh. Gran had never taken to Alastair. Not many people did.

  “Alastair is helping me with the staff appraisals. He’s got much more experience than me. He doesn’t want me to get it wrong. He wants me to impress the managers. If I’m lucky, I could get a promotion within the next twenty-four months.”

  “I see. That’s enough about your work. The lady on the phone yesterday told me the doctor’s prescribed strong sleeping tablets for you. Why aren’t you sleeping? Are you worrying about something? You always were a worrier. And why have you got ulcer tablets in your handbag? You’re too young to be getting ulcers. I saw all those painkillers in there too.”

  I opened my mouth to ask her when she’d looked in my bag. Tears sprang unexpectedly to my eyes, and I burst into tears.

  Gran was at my side in a flash. She moved the cup from my hands and put her arms around me. “There, there, Cassia. Let it all out. You go ahead and have a good cry. I don’t mind you using my sleeve as a tissue.”

  I don’t know what came over me, but once I started to cry, I just couldn’t stop. I didn’t know a person could cry for so long. Poor Gran, her sleeve was sopping wet by the time I eventually stopped. She could have wrung it out.

  I wiped my wet cheeks and attempted a smile. “Sorry, Gran. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Gran gave me a searching look. In a soft voice, she said, “You do know what’s wrong. You’ve known for a while. You’ve been hiding your true feelings; you’ve been trying to dampen them down with work and medications. That never works.”

  I nodded. Gran was right. I’d been miserable for a long time. Something wasn’t right in my life. I felt like I was living the wrong life. And I didn’t know how to make things better.

  Gran pulled her chair closer and
sat back down. She put her hand on top of mine. “Cassia, I should have told you the truth years ago. It was entirely my fault that I didn’t. I wanted you to have a normal life and to make your own path in life. But I can see where that has taken you. I can’t stand by and let you continue as you are. You’re heading towards an early grave, and I won’t have that.”

  “What do you mean by the truth? Gran? You’re starting to scare me. Have I got some genetic disease? Some family problem that’s going to cut me off in my prime? Is that why I feel so awful all the time? And why I can’t sleep? What’s wrong with me?”

  Gran squeezed my hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you. But you’re not living the life you’re supposed to. You’re not being true to yourself. You’re denying who you are.”

  I tried to look away from Gran’s loving gaze. Part of me wanted to end this conversation and run out of the door. I had those staff appraisals to do, and they wouldn’t do themselves.

  In a voice barely above a whisper, I said, “Gran, what’s wrong with me?”

  Gran smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Cassia Winter, you’re a witch. Just like me.”

  Chapter 2

  I pushed my chair back and sprang to my feet. I pointed a shaky finger at Gran’s cup and cried out, “What have you put in your tea? Have you been messing about with some funny herbs? I told you not to buy anything off the internet!”

  Without waiting for an answer, I stormed over to the kitchen window, planted my hands on my hips and glared out at Gran’s garden. I said, “Okay, tell me where the dodgy herbs are, and I’ll get rid of them straight away. Or are you growing them somewhere out of view? Have you got a secret polytunnel set up somewhere? Perhaps in the attic? Or down in the – ” I stopped short. I nearly said the forbidden word.

  I turned accusing eyes on Gran. “Well? What have you got to say about making that ridiculous statement? A witch! Ha! Don’t you think I’d know if I were a witch?”

  Gran was watching me calmly from her seated position. Her cat, Oliver, was nestled on her knee. His glossy black fur caught the soft light in the room, and I had the overwhelming urge to stroke his soft back. Oliver had always had that effect on me. It was almost like he was … bewitched? No. That’s ridiculous.

  Gran tickled Oliver behind his ears and then looked at me. She said, “You can rant and rave all you like. It’s true. You know it’s true, Cassia. And as for growing funny herbs, why would I want to do that? What do you take me for? Some underground drugs baron? A kingpin? Is that what they call it? Do you think I’m secretly selling batches of drugs to my neighbours?” She smiled down at Oliver. “Although, some of the miserable blighters could do with cheering up.”

  I put my hands behind my back and began to pace the kitchen. “No, I don’t think you’re a drugs dealer. But why would you say that about us being witches? It’s ridiculous. I’d know. Wouldn’t I?” I stopped pacing. ‘Gran, wouldn’t I know if I were a witch?”

  Gran gave me a kind look. “You do know. Deep down you know. You’ve always been different from other people. You can easily pick up on what others are feeling; you’re a sensitive soul. Do you still experience that? It used to happen often when you were little. And you used to tell me about it.”

  I shrugged and returned to my seat. “Everyone can sense the atmosphere in a room or what people are feeling. It’s nothing special.”

  “It is special.” Gran looked me straight in the eyes. “Do you still get those feelings?”

  I tried to look away from her piercing stare, but it was impossible. “Now and again. I haven’t had as many incidents in the last few months.”

  Gran nodded. “I see. And when did your health problems start? Around the same time?”

  I thought about that and then gave Gran a slow nod. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  Oliver turned his green eyes my way. Was that pity in his eyes? Cheeky cat. I didn’t need his pity.

  Gran went on, “Cassia, you’re suppressing your natural abilities and talents. Your body knows that, and it’s rebelling. Deep, deep down you know I’m right. Just think about that for a moment.”

  Oliver let out a little meow as if agreeing with Gran.

  I bowed my head and looked at the table. There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t dread, but it was something I was trying to hide. It was like I knew something was true but I didn’t dare admit it to myself for fear of the consequences. I put my hands on my stomach and closed my eyes. I concentrated on the feeling. There was a sudden fluttering as if a tiny butterfly had woken up and was flapping its wings. A tiny warmth shot through my stomach.

  I smiled. I didn’t know what this feeling was, but it felt wonderful.

  I was brought out of my trance by Gran saying, “There it is, Cassia. That’s the feeling you’re looking for. You’re letting the truth in. I can tell by your face that it’s only a small feeling, but we can live with that for now. Tell me how Stanley’s doing?”

  The butterfly in my stomach froze. “Stanley? Why are you asking about him?”

  Gran stroked Oliver’s back. “Oliver here hasn’t seen his brother for a few months. You usually bring him with you when you come for a visit.”

  This time, Oliver fixed me with an accusatory glance. How could a cat have so many expressions?

  “Erm. Stanley’s fine. Gran, do you want a fresh cup of tea?” I made to stand up.

  “Cassia, stay right where you are. What’s wrong with Stanley? Tell us the truth, there’s no point lying.”

  I sighed heavily. Oliver and Stanley have been with Gran for years, and she let me take Stanley with me when I moved out. Oliver and Stanley – yes, Gran is a huge Laurel and Hardy fan. I looked again at Oliver’s thick, black fur. Stanley had looked like that when we first moved out. He didn’t look like that now.

  Gran tapped her hand on the table. “I’m waiting.”

  Oliver flicked his tail in the air to show he was waiting too.

  I looked away from their expectant faces and addressed my comments to the kitchen door. “He’s a bit different. I think he’s going through a phase.”

  “Explain yourself. And look at us. There’s no point talking to the door. It won’t listen.”

  I put a smile on my face before looking back at Gran and Oliver. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but Stanley’s been off his food for a while. I took him to the vets, but he couldn’t find anything wrong. And his fur has turned a bit grey.”

  “A bit grey?” Gran arched an eyebrow.

  “Well, a lot grey. He’s still got bits of black fur, but it’s mainly grey.” Guilt washed over me as I thought about Stanley. “And he’s lost weight. Honestly, Gran, I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I am worried about him, and I’m trying my best to make him right.”

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  I hated it when Gran was in my head. She had this annoying ability to know when I was hiding something. A thought shot into my head - it’s because she’s a witch! I pushed that stupid thought right out.

  Oliver let out an impatient howl. He was being a real pain in the rear end today.

  I said, “Stanley’s been going to funerals.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Funerals. He keeps going to funerals.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because the people who are at the funerals keep finding him in the church.” I hesitated a moment. “They find him sitting on the coffin. He’s got a name tag, so they know he belongs to me. When they find him on the coffin, they try to move him, but Stanley lashes out at them. Which is weird because he’s not a violent cat.” I saw a hint of a smile on Gran’s face. “It’s not funny. It’s embarrassing. People in funeral attire are constantly turning up at my door with Stanley in their arms. Most of them think it’s sweet that an unknown cat would pay their respects to their deceased relative, but a few have been furious and threatened to report me to the police.”

  Gran shook her head. “He’s showin
g classic symptoms.”

  “Of what? Being a mad cat?”

  “He’s not fulfilling his destiny. He’s your familiar. All witches have a familiar. Stanley’s not doing what he’s supposed to be doing, and now he’s turned all morbid. He’s more interested in the dead than the living.”

  I was about to disagree with Gran, but then I thought about all the dead mice Stanley kept bringing into the house. He’d lay them in a row on the kitchen floor and stare sadly at them. But morbid? Did cats become morbid?

  I gulped. “Gran, is this all my fault? Have I done this to Stanley?”

  Gran shook her head. “None of this is your fault. I should have told you the truth earlier. I wanted to protect you. But look where that’s got me. You’re heading for an early meeting with the Grim Reaper, and your cat is close behind you.” She lifted Oliver’s furry chin and said to him, “It’s time, don’t you think so?”

  Oliver gave her a slow nod.

  Unease settled on me. “Time for what?” I looked at my watch. “Oh? Is that the time. I really must be going.”

  Gran said, “You’re not going anywhere. Not until you know the full truth about yourself. This is a life and death situation. Your life and death.” She pushed herself to her feet. She winced in pain.

  Alarm bells rang in my head, and I was over to Gran’s side in a flash. Gran was never in pain. Never ever. She was always in full health. I’d never even known her to have a cold.

  I put my hand on Gran’s arm. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

  “Just a twinge. It’s nothing. Stop fussing. Cassia, we’re going into the cellar.”

  The cellar - the forbidden word. My forbidden word, not Gran’s.

  My hand dropped from Gran’s arm. “No.”

  “We have to.”

  “No. No!” I turned away from Gran and ran towards the kitchen door. “I’m not going into the cellar, and you can’t make me!”

  Chapter 3

  As I put my hand on the kitchen door handle, a loud hiss sounded out and made me jump. I looked down at where the noise had come from.