by Sam Short
As she followed Judith around a slight bend in the path, ducking her head to avoid a painful collision with a low hanging slab of rock, she stared in fascination at the beautiful sight before her.
She stood in a large cavern, the walls shimmering with the same green glow she’d witnessed emanating from the crack. Crystal encrusted stalactites hung from the ceiling, and equally beautiful stalagmites rose from the sand. Flecks of minerals embedded in the ancient rock shimmered in the ambient light, but what lay in the centre of the cavern was the most beautiful thing Millie had ever seen.
Almost perfectly circular in shape, the large pool shimmered with light. A kaleidoscope of greens and blues, the water seemed to have a life of its own. Like a shoal of fish, submerged lights zoomed in erratic shapes just below the surface, and tiny sparkling lights rose like steam from the mirror perfect surface.
"What is it?" said Millie, “it’s amazing.”
"The source of all the magic in spellbinder Bay," said Judith, "and the only hope this poor mermaid has of surviving."
"We need to get her in the pool quickly," said George, laying the mermaid on the soft sand next to the water's edge, and kneeling beside her.
Millie dropped to the sand next to the mermaid's head, and Judith knelt near the fin. Taking the weight between the three of them, they lowered the mermaid over the short rim of the pool and into the water, being sure to keep her face above the surface.
As the water enveloped the mermaid’s body, the kaleidoscope of blues and greens merged seamlessly into other colours, seeming to switch between every colour in the spectrum.
"Millie," said Judith, her eyes reflecting the beauty of the water. "It was your spell which did this to her. The pool will do most of the work, but you need to add some of your magic."
"How?" said Millie. "What do I do?"
"Just do what you did on the beach, said Judith, “but on a less impressive scale. keep both hands in the water and allow a little magic to trickle into the pool."
"Quick," said George. "Time is of the essence."
As her hands cradled the mermaid’s head, her long golden hair silky against her fingers, Millie drew on the strength in her chest. Heat built behind her ribs, and the muscles in her arms warmed gently as her hands became imbibed with magic.
She closed her eyes momentarily, and concentrated on allowing her magic to leach into the pool. She opened her eyes as a soft feminine groan emanated from the pool.
"It's working," said Judith. "She’s moving!”
Sure enough, the mermaid’s head twisted in Millie’s hands, and shimmering droplets of water splashed Judith’s face as the mermaid’s tail gave a small flick.
The mermaid groaned again, and slowly opened her eyelids, her bright emerald eyes focusing on Millie's face. She licked her lips, and closed her eyes again, groaning softly.
"Will she be all right?" asked Millie. "I've never hurt anybody my life, it was an accident! I didn't know my magic could hurt people!"
"Don't worry about that for the moment," said George. "Let's lift her out of the pool. She's had enough magic to heal her, she should be okay within a few hours."
The three of them hoisted the mermaid from the pool, her eyes fluttering open and closed, and her fin making feeble attempts to propel her to safety.
Laying her head in the sand, Millie brushed wet hair from the mermaid’s face. "She's beautiful," she said. "Absolutely beautiful."
"And a rarity," said Judith. "I don't know anybody who has seen a mermaid in real life. Some people say they are just a figment of human’s imagination."
"I've never seen one either," said George, slumping into the sand. "I wonder how long she's been in Spellbinder Bay."
"Long enough to murder Albert Salmon," said Judith. She tentatively lifted the hem of the mermaid’s dress, revealing the iridescent scales of her tail. "And she must have some sort of magic which enables her to walk on land. She had legs when we saw her running away from the lighthouse. Everything reuben said makes sense now. The spot in the sand where he saw the footprints vanish must be where she escaped into the sea."
"Tell me she’ll be okay," said Millie. "I couldn't live with myself if I've caused her any damage. Even if she is a murderer."
George put a hand on Millie’s shoulder, squeezing her gently. "She'll be fine. This pool will cure any paranormal person… if they’re brought here in time."
Millie gazed into the pool, unable to shake a growing memory. No, it wasn’t a memory. It couldn’t be a memory — it was just another episode of déjà vu. The same déjà vu she’d seemed to be experiencing a lot of since arriving in the town. "What is it? Why is it called the moon-pool?" she said, shaking the sensation from her head. She hadn’t been there before – it wasn’t possible.
Judith dipped her hand into the pool, and moved it slowly left and right, making gentle ripples across the surface. "It's the source of all the power in Spellbinder Bay," she said. "It's directly beneath Spellbinder Hall, and the magic flows up through the cracks and fissures in the cliff. Spellbinder Hall acts as a sort of transmitting beacon, protecting Spellbinder Bay beneath a dome of concealment magic. It's the reason that your horse spell was so powerful, Millie. You were so close to the source of all your powers."
"It's called the moon-pool because it's powered by the moon," explained George. "The cliff face collects moonlight and filters it into the pool where it’s transformed into magic."
"How?" said Millie.
"Do I look like a scientist?" said George, with a twinkle in his eye. "I don't know. It just does what it says on the tin — it's a pool, and it's something to do with the moon."
"There's things like this all over the world," said Judith. "Not necessarily pools. The pool is just the way the magic in Spellbinder Bay manifests itself. It could just as easily have been an old monument — like Stonehenge."
"Or an old tree," said George. "One paranormal town I went to in America draws its magic from an ancient redwood tree. The tree is huge, and it transmits its magic for miles around — it doesn’t need a beacon like Spellbinder Hall — it acts as its own beacon."
Judith withdrew her hand from the pool, her skin shimmering green for a few seconds. She gazed at the mermaid. "It explains how she escaped from the lighthouse before you got inside, Millie," she said. "She probably pushed Albert, and when she saw you — jumped from the balcony into the sea. It would have been easy for her. No wonder you found nobody in the lighthouse. She was long gone before you even got through the door.”
"But what would a mermaid have against an old man in a lighthouse?” pondered Millie. "She looks so gentle, I can't imagine her wanting to kill somebody."
"Who knows?" said Judith. "Albert lives right next to the sea — he could have done lots of things to offend her."
"We'll find out soon enough," said George. "As soon as she wakes up, we’ll take her to Spellbinder Hall. Henry will have questions for her."
The mermaid gave a soft groan, and Millie took one of the woman’s soft hands in hers, smiling as the mermaid’s eyelids fluttered open. "Are you okay?" she said.
The mermaid licked her lips, and swivelled her eyes as she checked out her surroundings. "Where you bring me?" she said in broken English, her accent a thick mix of what Millie guessed was French and Irish. "The white animal in sea. It hurt me."
Millie squeezed the mermaid’s hand tighter. "That was my fault — I'm so sorry. It was an accident."
Judith peered down at the woman. "What you did at the lighthouse was bad!"
Focusing on Judith, the mermaid narrowed her eyes. "What I did at the lighthouse was good!" she snapped. "Was very good! I stopped cruel man! And I will do it again!"
George stood up and shook sand from his hands. "Oh no you won't," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Do you know what happens to paranormal people who commit crimes in Spellbinder Bay?"
The mermaid tried to sit up, but crumpled back into the sand. "I did no crime. I not care what happens!"
>
"We'll see about that," said George, bending at the waist and fixing the mermaid with an intense stare. "But I can tell you one thing for certain — you will care what happens to you if you’re found to be guilty of murder.”
Chapter 20
"Her name's Lillieth," said Timothy, leading Millie, Judith and Sergeant Spencer into the bowels of Spellbinder Hall. "She's been in a deep sleep since you brought her here last night. She woke up about an hour ago, but she’s still very upset."
"Has she admitted anything?" asked Sergeant Spencer. “Is she the person… or mermaid, who killed Albert Salmon?”
Timothy shook his head as he negotiated the narrow set of stairs carved out of rock. "She's too upset about her legs to answer any questions about Albert," he said.
Millie’s stomach flipped. What had her magic done to the poor mermaid? "Have I damaged her?" she said, "has my magic permanently hurt her?”
"I don't know," said Timothy. "I'm a werewolf, magic is not my forte. Lillieth seems to think so, though — she says she's lost the ability to transform her fin into legs."
The thought that her magic had hurt another living creature filled Millie with shame. She wasn't sure she could look Lillieth in the eyes, let alone watch her being interrogated by Henry Pinkerton and Sergeant Spencer. "What have I done?" she said. “I shouldn’t have attempted magic — I was drunk, and I’d just witnessed a fight between a werewolf and a vampire. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Timothy glanced over his shoulder. “Would you say that fight was fair, Millie? I’m not so sure. I really think George must have employed some sort of trick to beat me — I had it in the bag.”
“Quiet, Timothy,” hissed Judith. She took Millie’s hand. ”It's okay. If it was your magic which caused the problems, then your magic will be able to undo them. That's how it works… most of the time.“
"I'm not sure I ever want to try magic again," said Millie. "In fact, I’m not sure I even want to stay in Spellbinder Bay. Last night scared me — not the vampire and werewolf fight, a person could get used to that sort of thing, but learning that I possess a power which can hurt somebody else, scares me. I'm not sure I can live like that. I’m not sure I can live here.”
Reuben shifted on Millie’s shoulder. “Don’t say that, Millie. I don’t want you to leave. I’m beginning to like you.”
“Thank you… I think,” said Millie, running a finger over the bird’s chest. “But I have to make the decision that’s right for me.”
"There’s plenty of time for those sorts of conversations later, Millie," said Timothy, leading the group through a narrow archway at the base of the stairs — the walls and floor of rock indicating they were deep within the cliff itself. "But for now, we've got a murder suspect to interrogate." He stopped outside a wooden door set deep in the rock, the thick timbers reinforced with bars of blackened metal. He knocked twice. "She's in here," he said.
The door opened with a creak. Henry Pinkerton stood on the other side, his glasses high on his nose, and a stern expression on his face. "Thank you all for coming," he said. "I've asked Sergeant Spencer here for obvious reasons, and Millie should be here as it was she who captured the suspect."
"Damn right it was," squawked Reuben, from his position on Millie's shoulder. "My witch doesn't mess about."
"We’d have caught her a lot sooner if you’d mentioned that her footprints had vanished right next to the ocean, Reuben," said Sergeant Spencer. "You made it sound like they’d just vanished in the middle of the beach. We had no idea that she might have jumped into the water.”
"In a moment of crisis," lectured Reuben. "The quick passage of information is vital. The footprints had stopped in the sand, and the suspect was nowhere to be seen, would my telling you that they'd disappeared right next to the water's edge have changed anything?"
"Probably," said Judith, “but it doesn’t matter now.” She looked at Henry. "You've explained why Millie and my dad are here," she said. "I’m feeling a bit left out… why am I here?"
Henry's face opened into a smile. "You know why, my dear. Around these parts, you’re considered as Sergeant Spencer’s sidekick — his deputy, if you will."
Reuben hopped onto Millie's head. His claws tangling in her hair. "And me?" he said. "I feel left out now. Why was I asked to come?"
"I didn't ask that you should be here," said Henry. "In fact, I can't think of any valid reason why a simple cockatiel could help in the investigation of a murder."
Millie swivelled her eyes upwards. "I wanted you here, Reuben," she said. "I don't like thinking of you locked away in a cottage all day on your own."
"As long as you leave the TV on," the little cockatiel said, "I'm as happy as a pig in the proverbial. Don't think you must drag me around with you everywhere you go. I'm a home-bird." He hopped back onto Millie's shoulder. "And I wasn't always a simple cockatiel as you so eloquently put it, Henry," he said. "I was a wise old owl once. Not that I'm complaining, I think I prefer being a cockatiel — I was always very tired during the day as an owl, and I was often frustratingly on the lookout for small furry creatures to chase down. It was no way to live."
Millie held out a hand, and Reuben fluttered onto it. "You were an owl?" she asked. "What happened to the owl?”
"I'll tell you what happened to the owl," snapped Reuben, grinding his beak. "Some witch, who became an author in the normal world, thought it would be clever to blow the lid on some of our customs. She decided to include owls in her books about wizards and magic. They became a thing in the fictional world of magic, and Esmeralda wasn't one for things.
“She liked to be different, so when she heard about the books, and their popularity, it didn't take her long to decide she wanted me in the body of another animal." Reuben closed his eyes. "I had a lucky escape, actually. She wanted me in the body of a tortoise, luckily, I was watching a David Attenborough programme on the television, and a segment on cockatiels just happened to be on as Esmeralda was considering the merits of finding a suitable tortoise to house my spirit.
“Panicked, I suggested a cockatiel, and sold the idea to Esmeralda by explaining that I'd be able to speak in public without arousing too much suspicion. She went along with it, and I’ve never looked at a mouse in a threatening manner since.”
A terrible thought crossed Millie's mind. "You weren't in one of those owls in the glass cases in the corridor upstairs, were you? If you were, that's pretty gruesome — to have those poor creatures on display after they were no longer of use.”
Reuben shook his head. "Gosh, no. Esmeralda was a kind woman. She released the owl she'd used back into the wild — with a spell on it — allowing it to live a long and healthy life with no memory of ever being possessed by a familiar. Those owls upstairs are a hundred years old. They’re nothing to do with Esmeralda.”
Henry cleared his throat. "If I may interrupt," he said, "it's very nice to hear you two getting on so well, and it's always good that a familiar and his or her witch find out about each other's histories, but we have a mermaid chained in the corner of the room, awaiting interrogation. Shall we proceed?"
He gave Millie a probing look. "I hear through the grapevine that it was an impressive spell you cast last night on the beach. You shouldn't feel guilty that it damaged the mermaid — it was an accident, Millie. You meant her no malice."
"That doesn't make me feel any better about it," said Millie, following Judith into the room as Henry beckoned them inside. "I feel awful that —" Her words faltered as guilt wrapped its unforgiving fingers around her heart, and squeezed hard. Poor Lillieth.
The windowless room resembled the dungeons of castles Millie had visited as a child, and the only light came from the half-used candle balanced on an imperfection in the rock wall. Staring at her from the only piece of furniture in the room — a long slab of wood bolted to the wall to form a bed — was Lillieth, her hair dishevelled, and her accusing eyes focused firmly on Millie's face.
"Why are you keeping like her this?"
said Millie. "This is awful. Her wrists are chained to the wall, what could she possibly do to hurt anybody, she can't even walk — she has no legs — thanks to me."
"I understand that it looks bad," said Henry, having the courtesy to drop his eyes to the floor. "But this is how we are forced to treat paranormal prisoners in Spellbinder Bay. They either possess great strength, magic, or sometimes both. The room must be windowless and with little furniture — to prevent escape, and makeshift weapons being manufactured.
“The doorway is protected by a magical force field, and of course the prisoner must be chained. When George brought here last night, Lillieth was still too dazed to be questioned, otherwise I'd have used the stone of integrity on her right away, and either proved her guilt, or found her innocent."
"And if she was found innocent, we would have released her immediately," said Timothy.
"And if she isn't innocent?" said Millie, taking a step closer to Lillieth. "What happens to her then? George alluded last night to the fact that something terrible would happen to her, and you said the same after you’d used the stone of integrity on me, Henry. What exactly is it that happens to paranormal people who have committed a crime in Spellbinder Bay?”
Henry slipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew the pouch containing the magic stone. "One step at a time, Millie Thorn. Let us first find out if the poor woman in the corner is indeed Albert Salmon’s murderer."
Millie gave Lillieth a small smile, but the mermaid looked away. "You took legs from me," she said.
"I'm sorry," said Millie. "Really. I am. It was an accident."
Reuben fluttered from Millie's shoulder and landed on the bed next to Lillieth. "She's beautiful," he said, studying her with a tilted head.
Lillieth's eyes twinkled in the candlelight, and she gave Reuben a kind smile. "Animals always kinder than land people," she whispered. "Thank you, little bird. You beautiful, also."
Henry approached the bed, withdrawing the stone of integrity from the pouch. He gazed down at the mermaid. "Lillieth," he said. "You couldn't say much last night, and you've refused to say much this morning. You're suspected of a terrible crime, and George — the man who carried you here last night, tells me you confessed — he tells me you said the man was evil and you'd do it again."