The Complete Spellbinder Bay Cozy Mystery Boxset

by Sam Short

  As her car rolled out of a swerving bend to the right, Millie glanced in the mirror again. There was George. He was closer this time, and when he appeared to realise how much space he’d made up on Millie’s car while hidden from her in the bend, he slammed on his brakes, causing his front wheel to push out from beneath the bike. The bike wobbled, and Millie gritted her teeth, certain she was going to witness George losing control of his machine. Luckily for him, the front wheel responded to his input on the handlebars, and the bike remained upright, travelling in a straight line once more.

  Millie breathed a sigh of relief. Although George was a vampire, and vampires wouldn’t be hurt by a simple fall from a speeding motorcycle, she didn’t want him to crash. If he wasn’t injured, his bike would have sustained damage, and she knew just how much he cherished his motorcycle.

  When she lost sight of George in the next bend, Millie gave the Triumph a burst of fuel. The car surged forward, putting space between herself and her pursuer. When she’d rounded the next bend, she guided the car to the side of the road and leapt out. She heard the deep roar of George’s motorbike approaching, and stepped out into the road, lifting her hand in traffic cop fashion.

  When George saw her, he applied the brakes and slowed the bike, coming to a stop a foot away from where she stood. He put his feet down and wagged a finger at Millie. “You’ll get yourself killed!” he shouted over the sound of the engine. “Standing in the road like that.”

  Millie raised both eyebrows and stepped forward, enjoying the smell of the bike’s engine fumes. She reached over the small plastic screen which afforded the bike rider some protection from the wind and twisted the key in the ignition. When the engine had spluttered into silence, and George’s grin had grown wide enough to risk pushing his helmet from his head, Millie gave a thin smile. “And you’ll get yourself killed by braking too hard in a tight bend when you realise you’ve got a little too close to the car you were following.”

  George’s grin grew even wider, and his eyes twinkled with mirth. He lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Okay. You got me. I was following you.”

  “May I ask why?” said Millie.

  The vampire’s face took on a serious expression. “It’s time I told you,” he said. “About her. About Emily. It’s time I told you who she is. Emily agrees with me, too. I thought I’d follow you, and speak to you in person rather than over the phone.”

  So that was her name. Emily. The woman who had been a regular pillion passenger on George’s bike while wearing mini-skirts and tight tops, was named Emily. The woman who had moved into George’s home with him, and had been the focus of all his attention for the last few months, was named Emily. Millie bit her lip as she looked at George, preventing herself from saying something she might regret. She had to seem as disinterested as she could manage. “That’s a nice name,” she said. “Emily. I was expecting her name to be something a little more... I don’t know... less innocent. I didn’t expect a mini-skirt wearing floozy to have such a dainty name.”

  “Please don’t speak about her like that,” said George. “She means a lot to me. You’ll understand why, soon enough.”

  “Oh, I guessed she means a lot to you, George,” said Millie. “I mean, you did let her move in with you, and you did neglect our relationship to concentrate on her. I think the fact that she means a lot to you goes without saying.”

  “It’s not what you think,” said George, fiddling with his helmet strap. “I’ve promised you that much.”

  “And I said I believed you,” said Millie, still a little ashamed that she’d read his mind to verify he’d been telling the truth. “It’s not who she is that matters so much, George. It’s how you totally dropped me to concentrate on her that matters.”

  Leaning over the motorbike’s handlebars, George smiled up at Millie, his brown eyes swimming with sincerity. “I had to do what I did,” he said. “How about I take you out somewhere nice for dinner so I can tell you the full story about Emily? How about tonight?”

  Frustration and inquisitiveness vied for control over Millie’s emotions. On one hand — one huge hand, she was frustrated with the vampire. Angry, even. On the other hand, she was very curious about the woman who had been at the centre of George’s life for so long. She gave a neutral smile. “Maybe,” she said. “But not tonight. I’m in the middle of something very important.”

  “Something important?” asked George. He leaned further over the handlebars and gave Millie his nicest smile — the one which lifted his lips higher on the right than it did on the left. “Such as?”

  Seeing the glint of intrigue in George’s eyes, Millie gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. “It’s nothing to concern you,” she said. “In fact, it’s a secret. I can’t tell you, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, it is, is it?” said George, his voice playful. “I see.”

  Millie nodded, reaching for her pocket as her phone vibrated against her thigh. “It is, George,” she said, giving him a wink. She glanced at her phone. The number displayed on the screen was not familiar, but she answered it anyway. “Hello?” she said.

  “This is Helen Giles,” came the answer. “I decided to use the phone number on the card you left me, but only after a few minutes of consideration. I might be too late.”

  “Too late for what?” asked Millie, alarm building in her chest.

  “Too late to warn you,” said Helen. “About Rufus... the werewolf who brought Norman home when you were here this morning.”

  “What about him, Helen?” said Millie, her mouth drying.

  “I told you that werewolves have good hearing,” said Helen, speaking quickly. “Rufus overheard what you were saying to Sergeant Spencer’s daughter while you stood watching him from next to your car, outside my house. I heard too, and it’s a good job I got Norman indoors, or he might have heard. Luckily he didn’t, and I got to break the news about his stepfather’s death to him in a more acceptable manner. Not that it mattered. I don’t think he’s very upset.”

  “What about Rufus?” asked Millie. “What’s happened, Helen?”

  “I’m not sure anything has happened yet,” said Helen. “You might still have time. After you’d driven off this morning, Rufus was livid. He kept his temper under control because Norman and his own son and wife were there, but he was angry. Very angry. He’d heard you speaking about Trevor’s death, and he heard you talking about clearing Sergeant Spencer’s name. I told him everything that you and Miss Spencer had told me, and he was furious. I talked him down, though. I made him promise that he wouldn’t do anything rash, and I trusted his word.”

  “So, what’s happened?” said Millie, panic gripping her. “Tell me, Helen.”

  “I got a phone call from one of my friends about five minutes ago,” said Helen. “It seems that Rufus has built himself some sort of posse, and my friend’s husband is part of it. A pack of enraged werewolves is headed for the police station. They’re after Sergeant Spencer, Miss Thorn, and not to ask him questions. They think he killed Trevor. The sergeant is in grave danger.”

  Chapter 28

  “I need your help,” said Millie, pocketing her phone and staring at George. “We need to move fast. Sergeant Spencer is in danger!”

  “What sort of danger?” asked George, twisting the key in the bike’s ignition.

  “It’s a long story,” said Millie, her stomach flipping as she realised it wasn’t only her father who was in danger. Helen Giles had told her that the werewolves were heading for the police station. They’d soon realise that the building was locked up and nobody was there. Then they’d go straight to Sergeant Spencer’s home. His address was no secret — Spellbinder Bay was a small town.

  When the wolves arrived at Sergeant Spencer’s home, they’d find someone else there with him. She turned her back on George and hurried for her car. “Judith is in danger, too,” she said. “We’ve got to get to their house. Quickly.”

  “Wait!” yelled George. “We’ll get there faster if
you jump on the back of my bike.”

  He was right. Without thinking, Millie turned on the spot and hurried to the rear of George’s bike. She ripped open one of the panniers and removed the spare helmet which she knew George stored in there. Ignoring the long blonde hairs that had snagged in the soft inner lining of the helmet, and the smell of a strange perfume, she pulled the helmet on and swung a leg over the seat as George pressed the start button, and the engine burst into life. She tapped George on the shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Go!”

  George wasted no time. With a heavy roar from the engine and a rattle of gravel on expensive chrome, the bike lurched forward. “What’s Sergeant Spencer in danger from?” he yelled, turning his head slightly so Millie could hear him.

  “Werewolves!” shouted Millie. “A few of them. They think Sergeant Spencer killed one of their own.”

  Skilfully guiding the bike around a bend as if it was on a rail, George’s body tensed, and the bike gathered speed. “Hold on!” he warned.

  Gripping the leather of George’s jacket tighter in her hands, Millie pressed herself harder against the vampire’s back and forced her feet against the pegs. Wind noise gathered in her ears and hedges blurred past on both sides as the engine screamed and the front wheel of the bike lifted for a moment as the machine accelerated.

  Leaning with George as he dropped the bike into a corner, the rider’s foot-pegs screeching as they dragged along the road surface, Millie forced herself to be calm. She couldn’t waste much-needed adrenaline on being worried about a motorbike crash — she required it in bucket loads to help her through the potential fight which lay ahead.

  As the narrow lanes widened into urban streets, George slowed the bike, flicking it left and right as he dodged cars and navigated tight turns. Within five minutes of Millie sliding a leg over the seat of the bike, George took a final right turn into the road in which Sergeant Spencer and Judith lived together.

  Millie’s heart dropped as she spotted a red pickup truck outside the cheerily painted house at the far end of the street. “They’re already here!” she warned. “Hurry, George!”

  Waving a man out of the way as he walked into the street, George gave the bike a final burst of fuel and covered the short distance in seconds.

  Before the bike had even come to a halt, Millie leapt off, managing to keep her balance as her feet slammed into hard tarmac. As she ripped the helmet from her head, fear grabbed her in a steel grip. The sounds coming from her father’s house could have been coming from a horror movie soundtrack being played through a powerful sound system, but the truth was far more terrifying.

  The savage, guttural roars were the sounds made by real-life werewolves, and the screams and shouts for help were being made by the two people the werewolves were attacking.

  Drawn by the awful sounds, a crowd of people had gathered outside the house, and more residents stepped out of their homes as the sounds grew in intensity. Some of them held phones to their ears, and others appeared shaken and scared, their faces white as they stared in horror at the house from which the awful sounds emanated.

  As George hurriedly placed the bike on its stand and tossed his helmet aside, some of the people turned their attention away from the disturbance unfolding in Sergeant Spencer’s house and onto the new arrivals. One of the onlookers, a young woman with short blue hair, stared at George for a second or two and then let out an ear piercing scream. She raised an arm and pointed, screaming again, and then turned her back and began running along the pavement. “He changed into something!” she yelled as she ran. “His eyes turned black, and he grew fangs! I saw it!”

  As more people turned to look at George, he looked down at Millie, his eyes coal black and his long fangs menacing. “Don’t worry about them,” he said. “The concealment spell will sort it out later.”

  “Oh, I don’t care who sees what!” said Millie, running towards the garden gate which hung limply from its smashed hinges. “I only care about what’s going on inside that house.”

  “I’m going in first,” said George, leaping into action. Using the strength and agility his vampire form afforded him, he bounded along the pathway, easily overtaking Millie, and disappeared through the splintered front door. A loud crashing sound came from Millie’s right, and she instinctively ducked as one of the bay windows situated at the front of the house was obliterated by what she recognised as a surge of magical energy. That was a good sign. At least Judith was using her magic to fight back. At least Judith was alive.

  Hearing onlookers in the street scream as another flash of magical energy flew from the smashed window and soared skywards, Millie quickened her pace as another animalistic roar vibrated in the air.

  Reaching the door, she heard a shout from George, and to her relief, another from Sergeant Spencer. The knowledge that her father was still alive, yet required her help, pushed her forward, her magic growing hotter and angrier behind her breast bone.

  Entering the house, Millie held out a hand before her, charging it with magical energy which coursed through her arm. She moved quickly through the hallway, passing pictures that lay smashed on the floor, and noticing with horror the deep gouges in the walls. Only the sharp claws of a werewolf could have done such damage, and Millie prayed that the same claws had not yet made contact with either Judith or her father.

  The sight which greeted her when she burst into the open plan living and dining area, confused her for a moment. A wall of fur formed a semi-circle around a corner, and claws swung viciously through the air, accompanied by guttural growls and savage roars of rage.

  Understanding that the wall of fur was created by the backs of four muscular wolves, and that George, Sergeant Spencer, and Judith were on the other side, fighting to keep the monsters at bay, Millie gritted her teeth and concentrated on her magic.

  Almost tripping on an overturned coffee table, she moved closer to the wolves. The muscles in her forearms trembling, she gave an angry shout and released a spell from her fingertips.

  Responding to her shout, two of the wolves span to face her, their teeth slick with saliva and their eyes an angry yellow. Their heads brushing the ceiling, they both took a step towards Millie just as her spell thudded into the chest of the largest of them. Spittle flying from its mouth, it gave a roar which reverberated in the small room and brought its clawed paws to its throat as the spell Millie had cast took form.

  Thick bands of magical energy twisted around the creature’s throat and its cries became panicked as the magic tightened, threatening to choke the beast to death. As the wolf dropped to its knees, it suddenly transformed, and wriggling on the floor, begging for help, was a tubby naked man, his eyes wide with fear as he struggled to breathe.

  While Millie had been concentrating her magic on one wolf, the other wolf which had turned to face her had almost reached her, and swiped a massive paw through the air, the razor-sharp claws barely missing Millie’s face.

  Stepping backwards, she lifted one arm in instinctive defence while releasing a spell from the other hand. The spell flew from her fingers, smashed into the wolf’s torso, and spread quickly across its muscular body, daubing the creature in a purple glow. The wolf stopped moving, frozen in magical stasis, and fell with a thud to the floor where it remained paralysed by magic.

  As Millie turned her attention to the last two wolves, she shrieked with horror. It seemed that the wolves had gained the upper hand. Judith lay on her back, unmoving, and with blood flowing from a deep gash on her head. George wrestled with one of the wolves, the two creatures an equal match for one other, and both of them snarling and roaring as vampiric fangs met fur, and wolf claws shredded hard flesh. Not too worried about George, knowing he would heal quickly, Millie concentrated on the last wolf, which was bent double as it opened its jaws wide and prepared to deliver a bite to Sergeant Spencer. A bite which would surely kill him.

  Bleeding profusely from the head and neck, Sergeant Spencer lay on his back, using both hands in an
attempt to fight off his attacker. Even as the wolf’s teeth neared the policeman’s throat, his eyes swimming with terror, Sergeant Spencer was only focused on one thing. One person. “Judith!” he shouted, delivering an ineffectual punch to the wolf’s snout. “What have they done to you?”

  Knowing she had only moments to act before the wolf delivered a killing bite, Millie focused. She ignored the rancid stench of werewolf breath and the blood which had splattered the walls and continued to flow from both Judith and her father, and she ignored the vicious fight which George was locked in. Instead, she focused only on the build-up of angry magic which throbbed in her chest, begging to be released. Anger controlling her, Millie clamped her teeth together in a grimace of rage and thrust her hand towards the beast attacking her father, releasing her magic in a burst of magic so powerful it rocked her backwards on her feet.

  The flash of bright orange which accompanied the burst of energy lit the room in a brilliant light, and the wolf her magic was aimed at paused momentarily before the magic hit it with overwhelming force.

  Never sure of what form any of her spells would take, Millie knew this one was different. This spell wasn’t going to form tendrils which held her enemy in bonds of magic, neither was it going to paralyse her opponent. The spell she’d just cast was meant to hurt. It had been delivered with a rage Millie had never before experienced, and she didn’t care if the wolf lived or died. She only cared about the man sprawled on the floor. Her father.

  Moving at speed, the spell slammed into the muscular flank of the wolf, causing it to emit a howl so loud that the air in the room throbbed. Standing suddenly upright, the wolf howled again as smoke rose from its thigh, and hot fingers of flame licked at its fur.

  The wolf trembled in pain and screeched as fire spread across its body, the stench of burning hair filling the room. Moving away from Sergeant Spencer, the creature lowered itself to its knees, and in an instant had transformed into a human. With flames still hot on his flesh, the man, who Millie recognised as Rufus, screamed in agony. “Stop it!” he begged.