The Complete Spellbinder Bay Cozy Mystery Boxset

by Sam Short

  “Call your friend off first!” yelled Millie, pointing at the wolf still locked in vicious combat with George. Contemplating the use of another spell, but not wanting to hit George accidentally, she shouted again. “Call it off, or I won’t stop the burning!”

  “Jason, stop!” yelled Rufus, slapping at the flames which enveloped his arms. “It’s over! Stop!”

  As George delivered a hammer-blow punch to the big wolf’s chest, the creature took a step away from the vampire and quickly transformed into a tall, thin man. He put his hands up in surrender as George approached him with his fangs bared in an angry snarl. “Stop!” he said. “You know it’s against the rules. You can’t attack me while I’m in human form and you’re in vampire form!”

  With a rumbling growl, originating deep in his throat, George put his face inches from the man’s. “Rules?” he said. “You seem to have thrown all the rules out of the window today. You’ve attacked a witch and a human, and you’ve attracted attention from the non-paranormal population. You have no right to talk about rules!”

  After casting a quick spell in Rufus’s direction, which immediately quenched the flames which had spread further across his body, Millie got to her knees beside Judith. With her fingers on the unconscious witch’s throat, she smiled with relief at Sergeant Spencer as he scrambled towards his daughter, blood still dripping from his neck and head. “She’s alive,” she said. “But we need to get her to the moon-pool. It will help her.” She’d witnessed the moon-pool below Spellbinder Hall heal an unconscious mermaid in the past, but Millie was aware that the pool would be of no help to Sergeant Spencer. The pool only helped paranormal folk, not humans. She looked at him with concern. “But you need a hospital. You’re badly cut. Too badly cut for a healing potion to fix.”

  Placing his hand on Judith’s arm, Sergeant Spencer shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want to make sure Judith is okay first. I’ll be fine.” He looked towards Rufus, who moaned in pain as he inspected burnt patches on his skin. “You’ll pay for this,” he said.

  “Like Trevor paid for hitting your daughter last week?” spat Rufus. “Are you going to poison me, too, Sergeant Spencer? What about my friends? Are you going to poison all four of us? If they’re still alive, that is.”

  Millie turned her attention to the other two wolves. Both were still and silent. The one in wolf form remained paralysed by magic, and Millie cast a simple spell which released him. As he transformed into a man, his claws sliding into his hands and feet, and his coarse body hair retreating into his skin, Millie released the other man, too. He coughed and spluttered as the magical tendril of energy slid from around his throat and evaporated in a spiral of black smoke. He stared at Millie with wide eyes, fear scrawled on his face.

  Standing up, Millie took her phone from her pocket. “I’ll phone Fredrick,” she said. “We need to get Judith to the moon-pool as quickly as possible.”

  “And we need to get these wolves to the dungeons,” said George, in his human form once again. “I’m sure Henry will have something to say to them when he gets back.”

  “And I’ll have something to say to him,” said Rufus, nursing a burn on his hand. “I’ll be telling him that it was Sergeant Spencer who killed Trevor Giles.” He looked at Millie. “Helen Giles told me everything you said to her. She told me that Sergeant Spencer gave Trevor the meal that killed him, and she told me that Trevor had hit his daughter last weekend. From where I’m standing, it looks like an open and shut case, and I’m sure that Henry Pinkerton will agree. We wolves simply doled out the punishment that was coming the sergeant’s way. Unluckily for us, you and your pet vampire stopped us before we could extract the full price, although… I have to say, young Judith doesn’t look too good. I’m not sure that the moon-pool will be able to save her.” He gave Sergeant Spencer a toothy smile. “If she doesn’t make it, we’ll call it quits. An eye for an eye and all that.”

  Ignoring the blood that still dripped from his wounds, Sergeant Spencer launched himself from his kneeling position next to Judith. He crossed the room quickly, but not fast enough to outpace George who grabbed him from behind in a bear hug. “No!” he said. “It’s not worth it, Sergeant.” He gave Rufus a withering stare. “He’s not worth it.”

  “You’d better hope Judith survives, Rufus,” warned Sergeant Spencer, shrugging George’s arms from him. “I promise you that.”

  George looked at Millie. “Phone Fredrick quickly,” he urged. “We need transport to Spellbinder Bay, and then we need to work out what to do with all those people outside who witnessed what went on here today. I think it’s too big of a problem for a simple concealment spell to deal with. If something isn’t done soon, news will get out, and the world’s press will be on our doorstep. And we don’t want that. And then maybe somebody could tell me what the hell has been going on around here?”

  Chapter 29

  As Fredrick turned the heavy key in the last of the dungeon doors, ignoring the shouts of protest from the werewolf on the other side, he shook his head. “I can’t ever remember a time when four of the dungeons were used simultaneously,” he said, sliding the key into his pocket and turning to face Millie and George, his face bathed in the glow from a flaming wall torch. “And it just had to happen when Henry left me in charge.”

  “I can’t believe any of this has happened,” said George. “We’ve been in this town since the fifties, Fredrick, and I don’t remember anything happening that’s even remotely as violent as what occurred today.”

  Millie sighed. “It will be over soon,” she said. “When Henry gets back he’ll find the killer.”

  George looked at the floor, and then at Millie. “I’ve known Sergeant Spencer since he arrived in Spellbinder Bay, and I respect him… but.”

  “But what?” said Millie, the small hairs on the nape of her neck bristling.

  George frowned. “Just from hearing what you two and Timothy have told me, and piecing things together for myself... don’t you think that there’s an outside chance that Sergeant Spencer, or Judith, may have had something to do with Trevor’s death? I mean, Trevor did die in that cell a few moments after he’d eaten that muffin which Sergeant Spencer gave him, and Timothy is adamant that the sergeant’s hands smelled of the same poison found in the cake. You told me that Edna discovered moon-magic in the poison, too, and —”

  “Judith practices moon magic,” finished Millie. She scowled at George, wishing she could ram a fist into that hard jawbone of his. “Don’t you dare suggest anything like that again, George. Sergeant Spencer is a good man! He’s one of the best men in the town, and I won’t hear you talk about him like that! He’s my—” She bit off her sentence, and gave George a hard stare. “He’s my friend, alright? And so is Judith. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything that has happened since yesterday, but I think we should wait until Henry returns before investigating any further.”

  “I agree, Miss Thorn,” said Fredrick. “Things have taken a turn for the unexpected. I think it’s best for everyone if we press the pause button until Henry returns.” He turned his back and began walking along the narrow tunnel, his long shadow trailing behind him. “Let’s go and check on Miss Spencer. She’s been in the moon-pool for an hour. She’ll have started to heal by now. And then we should focus our attention on increasing the power of the concealment spell. Too many non-paranormal people witnessed too much of our business today. That needs fixing. Quickly. I’ll get one of the witches on it right away.”

  The tunnels which led to the moon-pool cavern became steeper, narrower, and lower as they burrowed deeper into the cliff, and it was with relief that Millie stepped out of the dim torchlight of the tunnels and into the soothing green glow of the cave.

  At the very base of the cliff, the floor of the cavern was soft sand and crushed seashells, and a gentle salty breeze blew along the narrow passage that led onto the golden beach just a few metres away.

  The concealment spell protected the
entrance to the passageway on the beach, emitting magic which persuaded non-paranormal people who ventured too near the fissure in the cliff face to turn around. Millie wondered what a non-paranormal person would make of the cavern if they inadvertently found their way inside it. They’d probably be shocked and mesmerised, in the same way she’d been when she’d first entered the magical place.

  Although she was no longer shocked by it, it was hard not to be mesmerised by the moon-pool. The pool, surrounded by a wall of rocks and stone, was made up from the same green liquid which filled the cauldron in the cavern beneath Millie’s cottage. Not as thin as water, or as thick as oil, the liquid was somewhere in-between the two, and the glow it gave off shimmered in a wide range of greens, its light reflected off the cavern walls as it illuminated beautiful stalactites and stalagmites, giving the cave a calming magical quality.

  Millie had learned that the cauldron in her cavern was connected to the moon-pool via ley-lines which crisscrossed Spellbinder Bay, the most prominent intersection of the lines being directly beneath Spellbinder Hall, where the pool was situated.

  The cauldron beneath Millie’s cottage worked not only as a vessel to produce potions and spells in, but also as a means of gathering some of the magical energy which flowed through Millie’s veins — the same magical energy which had coursed through the veins of all the witches with whom she’d shared a bloodline — the only bloodline of witches permitted to reside in Windy-dune cottage — the only witches who the secret cavern beneath the cottage would reveal itself to.

  The magic which the cauldron collected from Millie would be sent along invisible lines of energy, to the moon-pool itself, and then released into the cliff below Spellbinder Hall where it would work its way upwards until it reached the hall and was put to work.

  Whereas the bulk of the magic collected by the moon-pool was captured from moonlight which fell on the cliff face, and used to power such necessities as the concealment spell, Millie’s magic was used for a different purpose.

  It had taken Millie a while to accept that her presence in Windy-dune Cottage was the reason that the gate to Chaos— a portal which led from the world Millie inhabited to a world of evil and demons, remained locked. Although some evil managed to cross between worlds on rare occasions, it was Millie’s innate magic which prevented armies of demons and monsters from entering the world she lived in and cherished.

  It was an unnerving responsibility, but Millie had become used to it, and barely thought about it anymore.

  Approaching the edge of the moon-pool, Millie put a hand on Sergeant Spencer’s shoulder. “How is she,” she asked.

  “She’s getting better,” said the policeman, the wounds on his head and neck covered by bandages, and judging by the scent of antiseptic and herbs which rose from him, a healing potion, too. “Her wounds have closed, but Edna says that Judith needs to recharge her magic. She tried so hard to repel those werewolves, but there were too many of them. Her magic wasn’t strong enough.”

  “She’ll be right as rain soon enough,” commented Edna Brockett, standing at the opposite edge of the pool, alongside Fredrick and George, her face dancing with green light. “She’s a strong young witch.”

  “I agree,” said Fredrick. “During my time here in Spellbinder Bay, I’ve seen the moon-pool perform miracles. Young Miss Spencer will be perfectly healthy again very soon.”

  Millie got to her knees beside Sergeant Spencer and gazed at Judith. Floating in the pool, her hair a fan of gold which swayed with the movement of the liquid, she looked at peace. Mysterious shadows flitted below the surface, their form occasionally becoming tantalisingly recognisable, and their movements creating currents in the liquid which made Judith rise and drop gently as the magic healed her.

  Millie turned to look at her father, concerned that even in the glow of the pool, his face was a pasty white. “How are you?” she asked. “You took some nasty injuries.”

  Sergeant Spencer placed a hand on Millie’s shoulder, making her long to embrace him in a hug and tell him that she loved him. He smiled at her and removed his hand. “Without you and George arriving when you did,” he said, “I think Judith and I would both be dead. You’re a powerful witch, Millie. That much is obvious by the way you handled those wolves. I’ll forever owe you my life.”

  Millie swallowed a sob which rose unexpectedly in her throat. He owed her his life? No, he didn’t! He’d gifted her the life she was living! It was because of him that she’d been born. His blood flowed through her body along with that of her mother. He owed her nothing. She reached for the big man’s hand, the warmth of his skin a welcome sensation. “I’d do anything for you,” she said. “For you and Judith. You don’t owe me your life. I’m just relieved that you’re both alive.”

  Squeezing Millie’s hand, Sergeant Spencer closed his eyes for a moment and gave a soft sigh. “Me too,” he said, lifting his free hand to his forehead and massaging his temple.

  Noticing more colour leaving his face, Millie looked at the sergeant with concern. “What is it?” she asked. “You don’t look well.”

  Looking as if he were about to smile, but gritting his teeth instead, Sergeant Spencer’s face contorted as if he was in pain. “It’s just a headache,” he murmured. “I’ll be okay soon.”

  The click of heels on stone filled the cavern, and Millie looked away from the policeman as Timothy appeared in the darkness of the tunnel mouth leading from the hall. He looked around the cave and smiled. “Our problem with the witnesses will be fixed very shortly,” he announced. “Mrs Herbert has managed to adjust the power of the concealment spell. The memories of any paranormal incidents will be completely wiped from the minds of any non-paranormal person who witnessed them. Mrs Herbert has informed me that the spell may inflict headaches on those affected by it, but the intensity of the memories that were created by what occurred today at Sergeant Spencer’s home required aggressive methods to wipe them.”

  “I’ll personally thank Mrs Herbert myself,” said Fredrick. “She’s a gifted witch. I’ve often said that her insistence on teaching mathematics wastes her talents.”

  “I did offer my assistance,” said Edna, crossing her arms. “I could have done everything that Mrs Herbert did, Fredrick. I could quite easily have adjusted the power of the concealment spell myself. Probably a little quicker than Mrs Herbert managed.”

  “Your vast knowledge of magic was required down here in the moon-pool cavern,” said Fredrick, diplomatically. “You had the important task of ensuring Miss Spencer began her healing process.” He gave Edna a knowing smile. “You had the most difficult of the two tasks. I thought I’d made the correct decision in which job I allocated which person.”

  Uncrossing her arms, Edna shifted her weight from foot to foot and nodded. “Yes, yes,” she said. “You did, Fredrick. I’m not sure that Mrs Herbert would have coped with the urgency of the situation involving Miss Spencer’s health emergency. You did the right thing by giving me the most difficult task.”

  “Good,” said Fredrick. He let out a long breath. “It seems that between us we’ve managed to prevent some dire situations from becoming irreparable.”

  Suddenly, Sergeant Spencer gave a strangled cry, and Millie turned to face him, letting out a gasp of shock as the big man’s face crumpled in pain and he slid to the floor, holding his head in both hands and moaning. “Help,” he mumbled. “There’s something wrong with my head.”

  Quickly leaning over the stricken man, Millie placed a hand on his chest and looked into his eyes, worried that they had become so bloodshot. “What is it?’ she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” moaned Sergeant Spencer. “I’ve never felt pain like it.”

  “I think I might know what’s wrong,” said Edna, rushing around the pool and kneeling beside the policeman. “And it’s not good!”

  “What is it?” demanded Millie, as Sergeant Spencer moaned again, his eyes rolling in his head. “What’s wrong with him?”


  “It’s the concealment spell,” said Edna. “It’s been changed, and without Henry here to ensure the magic doesn’t affect Sergeant Spencer, all his memories are being wiped. He’s in so much pain because the magic has thirty years of memories to erase. It’s not the same as erasing a few memories from the people who witnessed what happened today. The concealment spell works on those people daily — it’s always in the background, making sure they’re unaware of the paranormal world around them.

  “Sergeant Spencer is different, though. His mind is brimming with long-held memories. Memories which form his identity.” She looked at Millie, horror on her face. “I’m afraid that the spell is going to erase everything that Sergeant Spencer knows about the paranormal world, and when I say everything, I mean everything. He won’t even remember Judith is his daughter if we don’t do something. Judith is a witch. She’s a paranormal person — the spell will remove every trace of her from his mind. Sergeant Spencer will not be the man any of us know when the spell has finished with him. We’ll all be strangers to him, and the spell will never allow him to form new memories of any paranormal person. He’ll be lost to us all.” She sniffed as she wiped a tear from below her eye. “His poor daughter!”

  “What can we do to stop it?” demanded Millie, a sickness rising in her throat. “What can we do, Edna?”

  “Nothing,” said Edna. “Only Henry Pinkerton can stop it. He’s not only the human face of the magic within Spellbinder Hall, but he’s also the conscience. He makes the decisions that magic simply can’t make. Without Henry guiding the concealment spell, Sergeant Spencer would never have been allowed to get close to Judith and all the paranormal people he calls friends. Henry guided the magic, but now the magic has changed. Mrs Herbert has altered it, and without Henry here to steer the spell, the magic will treat all non-paranormal people in the same way. It will make no exceptions for Sergeant Spencer.”