Monster Magic in Witchwood Read online

  My mind escaped to think of Ivory and her night, wondering whether or not she’d found anything about the boy, or the police investigation—I shouldn’t even be working the case; it’s for the police. I shook the thought, if she had found anything, she’d have woken me within the instant.

  In the kitchen, Cassandra had prepared two plates at the table with a small rack of toast in the centre. On the stove, the tea kettle whistled, and two pots bubbled.

  “Good news,” she said with a nod. “The milkman came. No more black coffee, and I’ve got some scrambled egg on the go.”

  Perhaps I needed it more than I thought. I’d never pegged myself for a witch who felt so intensely, in fact, it was an asset. I wasn’t receptive to others’ feelings in any clairsentient way, so that couldn’t have affected me. “All smells delicious.”

  She waved me into a seat. “One sugar or two?”

  “One,” I replied, sticking my forefinger in the air.

  It had been almost a week since I’d had a nice milky coffee in the morning. I knew a lot of people preferred their coffee dark and strong, the type to put a kick in your step and a jolt in your veins. I needed a mellow start, like a cushioned hug.

  “What’s all this for?” I asked as approached the table holding a hot tray in a gloved hand.

  “Like I said, just a treat.” She plated rashers of bacon and sausages. “Beans and scrambled egg?”

  “Of course,” I replied. It wasn’t quite a full English, but it had all the basic components; meats, beans, toast, and a helping of egg.

  Before we could begin tucking into the food, a knock came at the front door. We both stared at each other. Neither of us expected any guests.

  The knock came again.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, standing.

  “Oh, no, no,” Cass ushered me back into my seat.

  I heard a familiar jovial voice once she answered the door; Greg’s voice.

  “Just here to cut wood for the planters,” I heard.

  He walked into the kitchen with planks of wood tucked beneath his arm.

  “Morning,” I said with a smile, holding the mug of coffee to my lips.

  Taken aback, he gasped and looked around. “Sorry, didn’t realise you were having breakfast,” he said, blushing. “I’ll—I’ll come back.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “Help yourself to the garden.”

  He chuckled. “Will do.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing those planters.”

  He stood by the back door before turning. “Before I forget, I left milk for you this morning.”

  After sipping the coffee, I look ahead at him and grinned wildly. “Oh, Greg. I thought the milkman had been.”

  He grinned. “There’s been a theft, so he doesn’t have any milk. It should’ve been in the news, but because of that poor boy.”

  Cassandra and I hummed at the thought. She took the chair opposite.

  “It’s all awful,” she said. “But thank you for thinking of us.”

  I smiled across at her. “It definitely put a smile on my face.” And not only because she now had something nice to say about it.

  He blushed a deep pink. “I should get the boxes sorted.” He quickly left, closing the door behind himself.

  An incredibly sweet gesture. I was grateful to have him around. I just didn’t know how I’d be able to thank him. A deep sound came from the back of Cassandra’s throat. She locked eyes with me.

  “Go on,” I said, giving in.

  Placing her cutlery on the edge of her dish, she took a deep breath in through her nose. “As much as I’m not keen on gossips, he’s actually really nice.”

  An immediate ache in the apples of my cheeks sprang from smiling. “A little gossip never hurt,” I replied. “And it’s always nice to have a local on your side too.”

  She shrugged, shifting her weight between shoulders as if to weigh her options. “I mean, unless it’s about you.”

  “But he’d never.”

  “I’m not saying he would, I’m just saying, he’s a nice bloke, but I wouldn’t trust him with anything information about—y’know, witches.”

  I’d been in this business for many years, and not once have I been foolish enough to trust a human with anything important. “I’ve managed so far,” I chuckled, attempting to mask the small annoyance. “I’m sure I can continue.”

  “I know, I know.”

  I continued mopping the tomato sauce from the baked beans with toast, taking a little bacon with my fingers before folding the toast in two. Her cooking was divine. Halfway through chewing, I felt a tickle in the pit of my stomach.

  Pausing. I pressed my hand to the base of my neck.

  “So, today I was thinking—” Cassandra began, noticing the drop on my entire face.

  I stood on my shaking knees. “I—I—I need to—”

  “You okay?”

  My head spun. I stumbled away from the chair, grabbing the counter ahead.

  SEVEN

  Rushing, my feet travelling as fast as they could take me. I clamoured to the living room, falling into the sofa. My fingers stabbed the buttons on the remote. Something inside my gut was telling me to turn the TV on. Perhaps the events of yesterday still coursed through my body.

  The news was on.

  “—not a single sign of him,” the female presenter said.

  I spun my legs around on the sofa to sit properly, while my eyes were fixed on the television screen.

  Cassandra sat beside me, her voice soft as she spoke. I couldn’t focus on what she was saying, nothing went inside.

  “We have a picture of him here,” the man spoke as an image appeared on the screen. “Pictured with his teddy bear. There is a number you can call if you have any information regarding the boy’s whereabouts.”

  Cassandra called my name a couple times before I turned to face her.

  “This is what I was going to bring up,” she said, letting a heavy sigh leave her chest. “I was kinda buttering you up.”

  “What about?” I asked.

  She tipped her head. “The missing boy.”

  It had been on my mind more than I’d care to admit. I certainly wasn’t heartless, but I knew my place in the world. “Okay.”

  “I don’t think we should leave it in the hands of the local authorities.”

  I had half a mind to agree with her, it was the half of my mind not possessed by the witch’s code of ethics; never interfere with humans. “Well—” I shook my head, but it quickly turned into a nod.

  “Unfortunately, there’s been no sign of the boy, and sources close to the family say they’re incredibly worried. As far as we’re aware, the boy’s mother had been visited by paramedics in worry she’d have a heart attack.”

  “What?” Cass scoffed. “We were there when that happened.”

  “I didn’t think they had any close friends.” My teeth clenched, causing my jaw to become rigid. I was invested, and I really didn’t want to be.

  “Do you think someone sold that information to the news?”

  Not something I wanted to think any human was capable of doing to another human, but I knew people did it. “I think we should go see them,” I said.

  “Yes,” she responded immediately, smacking her hand on a cushion. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  The thought didn’t come lightly, it wasn’t a decision I was making to intervene with the snap of my fingers. There were signs everywhere, from my body being drained of energy, to the sickness in my stomach, and that led all the way back to the news.

  “When?” Cass continued. “When are we going?”

  “Right away,” I said. “After I’m dressed.”

  I didn’t rush to leave my seat; I stayed for another moment, watching the breaking news bar at the bottom of the screen.

  Cass was ready in what seemed like the blink of an eye. She took a seat beside me, hitting the cushion again to grab my attention. “Not ready?”

  It had
been almost twenty minutes since deciding we’d pay the family a visit, even if nothing more than to offer our sympathies for what they were going through.

  I finally stood on my stable legs. “Do you feel it in your gut?” I asked, massaging the tension spot between my eyes.

  She moved her hands to her stomach, pressing slightly. “A tickle.”

  “Yes,” I said, narrowing my eyes in on her, “a tickle.”

  “It’s like the way I feel about you letting Greg stay inside the house when there’s nobody else here,” she said, almost beneath the sound of the television.

  I didn’t quite want to get into this once again, not after we’d already discussed how I felt about having him around. “That’s more likely nerves,” I replied, looking away. “Or the way you were raised.”

  She had no retort. Cassandra lived without humans in her life, I assumed, given the wealth her family had, I was sure she’d never had to interact with humans much at all.

  “All I’m saying is, I’m going to have Jinx keep an eye on him while we’re out of the house,” she said.

  Her sleepy cat slumbered into the living room at the mention of her name, fluffy fur already shedding behind her.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll be ready in just a minute.”

  I left into the hallway, stopping near my bedroom door as I looked out, trying to catch a glimpse of Greg through the frosted glass kitchen door. He was busy, most likely hunched over the garden with his tools, digging in the dirt. I don’t know how Cassandra could think there was anything wrong with him.

  “It’s just nerves,” I grumbled to myself as I headed into my room.

  A nice blue blouse paired with some light denim jeans. I wore my beige jacket and wrapped a thin chiffon purple scarf around my neck. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to appear to the family, I could look more witch-like, but I chose not to.

  “Human,” I said as if I was to look any different than the average human.

  Watching myself in the mirror at the dressing table, I combed my hair out. I could’ve done with a cut, and a little dye, I was sure I had some grey hairs coming through.

  A finger tapped at the door. “Think I can use some of the milk for Jinx?” Cassandra asked, her voice muffled ever-so-slightly.

  “Sure.” I snapped a finger and my hair was up and clipped in place. “Let’s go,” I told my reflection in the mirror.

  Cassandra came from the kitchen as I stood by the front door.

  “I’ve already told Jinx to keep an eye on him,” she said, pushing from her tiptoes to stand straight. A pop came from her body. “I’ve been needing to crack my back all day,” she groaned. “I might need to see someone about it.”

  “Whenever you like,” I said, there was no use in having a witch whose body was seizing on her. “I should tell Greg we’re nipping out.”

  She shook her head. “No, he’ll be more willing to snoop then.”

  It was highly unlikely, but we wouldn’t be gone long, and Jinx was officially on duty.

  EIGHT

  Mercy Avenue seemed busier than it had been yesterday. With the growing camera crews and reporters standing at the end of the streets, the show was just beginning, and soon every major TV channel throughout the United Kingdom would have a reporter outside the family home.

  “Are we just going to tell them we’re witches and we might be able to help?” Cass asked, pulling my focus from the people around the fence.

  “Oh, no. Definitely not,” I said, raising my head high and looking forward. “We are spiritualists, and our senses are finely tuned.”

  She smirked, nodding at my suggestion. “Okay, do we have fake names?”

  Given that this was happening on our doorstep, a territory I’d not delved into. I shook my head. “Just occupations,” I said. “Usually, I’m all for using a fake name and persona, but I think we should play it cool for the time being.”

  Making our way through the crowd, we noticed familiar faces of the mothers and their leader, standing in the group, talking loudly. They were all sceptical, calling it a cry for attention. If I was investigating, I’d have questioned their motives too.

  “So, how will we get in?” Cass asked, tugging my arm.

  My vision was pulled in the direction of the front door and a police officer who stood with his back abnormally straight. Looking around I spotted a police car parked on the road, alongside several other cars crammed into the spaces around it.

  “Poor family,” I grumbled. “Could you imagine how hectic their life is?”

  “Incredibly.”

  I placed a hand on the gate, the white picket dream fence many built their idyllic homes inside. I unlatched the sliding bolt as the police officer glared, his body shifting to face me.

  “Hello?” he called over.

  And all eyes were on me—on us. We stood still, startled in the headlights of attention. I smiled at him and raised my hands above my head in a large languid wave. “I’m here to see the family.” I guess I was going with a persona after all.

  “A friend of the family?” he asked.

  I scoffed, feigning the notion I was a random woman approaching the family home. “Absolutely,” I said, my voice projecting louder like I amateur dramatics performer and the speakers had blown.

  He scrunched his face and squeezed his eyes. “Let me—”

  The front door opened, cutting us both off. Chatter collected from behind, people were about to get a glimpse into the home. Cameras flashed and reporters stood poised with their microphones, ready to speak.

  The man at the door waved us over. “Come in,” he said with a smile.

  “You know these women?” the officer asked as we hurried up the path.

  He nodded. “Yes, come in.”

  The man had rosy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. He’d been crying, he must’ve been the father of the boy. He welcomed us into his home, slamming the door behind, leaving the police officer to resume his solid stance.

  “Thank you for inviting us inside,” I said, loosening the scarf from around my neck.

  “It’s fine.” He pressed his lips together in a forced smile. “Nobody has been to visit.”

  Cass gestured to the outside. “What about—”

  “I think Officer Peter has been keeping reporters out,” he replied with a shrug. “Oh,” he held out a hand, “I’m Ryan.”

  “Nora.”

  “Cassandra, well, Cass.”

  A set of stairs led up from the doorway. The walls were lightly coloured, but in the dim light, I wasn’t sure if they were eggshell or stark white. Everything was pristine, even the bare wood flooring. It didn’t look like a place where any child had lived before.

  A muffled voice called out. “Who is it?”

  Ryan walked us through the living room on the right and into the kitchen where a woman stood at a counter with a green glass wine bottle in hand. It was another stark contrast to the complete white surroundings. She glanced at the two of us before placing the bottle on the counter with a whack.

  “J—J—Jennifer,” she said, extending a shaky hand.

  We introduced ourselves once again, offering friendly smiles and condolences.

  “We’re spiritualists,” I said.

  Jennifer gasped. “Do you think—”

  “No, no, no,” Cassandra said. “Reading the world around ourselves, seeking answers to the questions, personal questions.”

  Her breathing slowed as her husband grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing gently. Her eyes welled with tears.

  “I consider myself a new age investigator,” I said, trying to bring the façade into reality. “And we’re happy to help you look for your son using some of our techniques.”

  The tears fell in two thick cascades. “We need our son back,” she said.

  Ryan cooed and hushed, rocking her back and forth in his arms. She dipped her head to rest against his chest and he placed his chin on her.

  I spotted another two
empty bottles of wine on the counter. Around the kitchen, there were many bottles, but not a single cup or plate, or even silverware in sight.

  “You just moved here?” I asked, recalling something Greg had mentioned.

  He nodded. “From the Peak District.”

  “Thought it’d be better,” she grumbled.

  “Better?” Cass quizzed.

  He ignored the question, offering a blank smile. “We’re still waiting on furniture,” he said. “The move has been one hassle after another.”

  Jennifer pulled away from her husband, bursting out into tears. “He—he—he has—night terrors,” she said between sobs. “Who will—who—will—look after him?”

  He continued in his attempts to coo her. “We’ll find him,” he said, before locking eyes with me. “Won’t we?” he asked. I must’ve looked worried.

  “And the police?” I asked.

  A sharp tack sounded as he gnashed his teeth together.

  “Anything?” Cass continued.

  “They asked us to look through the forest with their team, but I want to stay here in case he comes home,” he said, combing his fingers through his wife’s hair.

  There was definitely no rule book when it came to losing a child. Nobody could tell you how to react or what you had to do in these situations.

  “Can we look around?” I asked, glancing around the kitchen. “To see if there’s anything out of the ordinary.”

  Jennifer’s eye bulged at the question, her head nodding vehemently. “Please, please,” she said, throwing a hand out from her chest, begging us to scour her home. “I hope you find something.”

  NINE

  Knowing the family were still waiting on furniture and hadn’t the time to paint or paste wallpaper, my thoughts were a little more lenient toward the family. They’d just moved across the country, from the north all the way to the sleepy south.

  On the ground floor of the house, was the living room with a small white bean bag in the corner; I hadn’t noticed it, but that could’ve been due to it camouflaging into the walls. The kitchen where Jennifer sobbed and clenched her wine bottle was equally bare, other than the litter. They were both distraught, but he was a rock, shock absorbing all her sadness. There was a small toilet, tiled in white, there seemed to be a theme, and my sore eyes didn’t like any of it.