Witchbotched in Westerham Read online

  Witchbotched in Westerham

  Paranormal Investigation Bureau Book 9

  Dionne Lister

  Copyright © 2019 by Dionne Lister

  ISBN 978-0-9946025-4-1

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover art by Robert Baird

  Editing by Hot Tree Editing

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or school assignment.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  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

  Also by Dionne Lister

  About the Author

  Dedication

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  To Mum for always being there and encouraging me. xx

  Chapter 1

  The howling morning wind shrieked gleefully as it tore past me and Will as we made our way along the dirt path. I would’ve shivered in the near-zero temperature had we not just walked two miles. It wasn’t exactly the best time of year to be visiting the White Cliffs of Dover—unless you loved the cold—but with all the craziness of PIB work, and Millicent ready to give birth any day, we weren’t going to pass on a few hours to sightsee when the opportunity materialised. This place had been on my things-to-visit list, and Will was helping me tick them off one by one. Okay, so this was only about number three I’d covered since I’d gotten to the UK eight months ago, but it was better than nothing.

  Will took my hand and led me closer to the cliff edge but stopped a respectable distance away, which could be measured in metres or a scale of “If Lily tripped and fell, how far would she fly and not go over the edge.” I was estimating it was about eight metres. Even then, I was careful not to move too much, except to remove my camera’s lens cap with gloved fingers and put it in my pocket. It may seem like overkill, but I’d hurt myself in way more innocuous circumstances, and with Regula Pythonissam after me, I’d come to expect the unexpected—Dana or one of her cronies could show up at any moment and push me over the edge, and then overkill would be less about exaggeration and more about me dying. Not cool.

  I disentangled my fingers from Will’s, turned the camera on, and raised it to my face. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.” The gale snatched my words and scattered them into the fields beyond, but Will must have heard because he replied.

  “It definitely is.”

  I smiled when only the water, gradating from crystal-blue to dark, white-capped turquoise, showed through the lens. Seeing the past—including dead bodies—was an all-too-frequent event that still had the power to ruin my day. Having special witch talents wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  After clicking off some shots, Will and I kept walking towards the South Foreland Lighthouse and the quaint little café—Mrs Knott’s Tea Room. Another woman passed us, heading the way we’d come from, all rugged up with a scarf wrapped around her face so only her eyes were showing. I gave her a wave and smile, but she ignored me. Hmm, okay. Talk about unfriendly. I shook my head—nope, I wasn’t going to let a bit of unfriendliness ruin my day.

  Will squeezed my hand. “You know the South Foreland Lighthouse was the first one to use an electric light?”

  Good old Will, distracting me before I could get cranky about being snubbed. After all, the woman was just a stranger I would never know. Maybe she’d just had a fight with her husband, or maybe her best friend had just died, and she wasn’t in the mood to communicate with anyone. I squeezed his hand back. “I didn’t know that. What other titbits of information do you have to impart?”

  “Well—” A chilling scream cut him off. We stopped and spun towards the cliff. Another couple stood there staring at the cliff edge. Will dropped my hand and ran to them. I was a bit slower—it wasn’t like there were snakes or anything around here. What could the emergency have been?

  “Is everyone all right?” Will asked the couple. They looked to be fortyish and fit. I could imagine them doing rock climbing or marathons.

  The man had put his arm around his partner, her face paler than you’d expect someone’s to be in the middle of an English winter. She kept staring at that one spot at the edge of the cliff. The man answered, his voice a pleasant Irish brogue. “We were walkin’ along, and this woman comes from over there.” He pointed back the way we’d come. “She just walks all determined-like to the edge and then just keeps on going.”

  The woman nodded, then shook her head, as if to say, wasn’t that just crazy and horrifying. I tended to agree. Will looked at me, then back at the man. “Did she have a red scarf covering her mouth and nose?”

  “Aye, that she did.” Oh no. So, she had been having a terrible day. And me saying hello hadn’t helped—not that it had made anything worse, but if only I could have stopped her and made her talk to me. Maybe I could’ve said something to make her feel better or stop her jumping. Oh God, she was likely lying smashed on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff or maybe floating face down in the water. I put my hand on my stomach to settle its protests and observed the other woman, who still looked whiter than white. No wonder. How horrible to watch someone do that… just give up and walk into oblivion.

  Will pulled his phone out. “I’ll call emergency services.” We all nodded, no one saying a word. The wind buffeted us with an extra-forceful blast, as if acknowledging the horrible circumstances. How many people did jump off here every year? We had a place in Sydney called The Gap. It was a cliff on our gorgeous harbour, in one of our most exclusive suburbs, but the beauty of the place wasn’t enough to convince people not to jump. My shoulders sagged under the weight of sadness. I wondered who the woman had been, and why she had jumped.

  Will hung up and put the phone in his pocket. “They’re on their way. Now we all wait.”

  And that ended our relaxing stroll for today. It was as if trouble found me wherever I went. Hmm, it wasn’t as if it did—it actually did. At least this was a straightforward suicide. Argh, that sounded so insensitive, but you know what I meant. I wouldn’t be asked to take photos or chase a criminal down. We could, hopefully, leave this behind when we went home, although it was depressing that my memories of Dover would be forever linked with this woman… this event.

  As we waited, I stared out to the English Channel and spared a thought for the woman’s relatives. Later today, their whole world would be forever changed, a little darker. I knew how that felt, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, well, except maybe Dana Piranha. Thoughts of the horrible snake queen—yes, you totally could be a piranha and snake at the same time—led me to thoughts of my parents. We weren’t any closer to finding out what had happened to them, with all the crimes we’d had to work on lately. And now that Millicent was about to have the baby, we’d been keeping to ourselves, trying to lay low, especially after the snake group had tried to kidnap her with a catch spell on her house.

  Eventually the police and rescue team showed up. We answered their questions, and Will took one of the policeman’s cards. Then we were free to go. By the time we walked back to the car at the visitor’s centre, then drove the hour and a quarter home, it was twelve thirty. Will, being the dear he was, stopped at Costa for me to pick us up some lunch, which we took home to enjoy—being Saturday, Costa was full.

  We walked into Angelica’s house to high-pitched buzzing, then Olivia saying, “Oh my God, no!” Laughter followed, so it couldn’t be too bad, whatever it was.

  I called out, “Hello. We’re back.”

  The buzzing stopped, and Liv said, “We’re in the living room.”

  I shrugged off my coat and hung it on the hook in the small foyer. Will laughed, his coat popping into existence next to mine. “That’s not very witchy of you, Lily.”

  “I like to remember where I came from.”

  He smirked. “More likely you forgot what you were. You really should get into witchier habits.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’ll happen one day.” Not automatically using my magic was okay in day-to-day life, but when I was consulting with the PIB, it was dangerous. Forgetting to put up a return-to-sender spell could be lethal. I really had to increase my effort, plus, using magic for lots of little things would make my magic stronger.

  The buzzing started again. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected—possibly a giant mosquito—but it wasn’t this. Beren stood to one side of the living room, a small controller in his hand. Liv stood still, back ramrod straight, on the other side of the room, near the crackling fire. A red leather-bound hardback book sat precariously on her head.

  Flying across the room towards Liv was a miniature helicopter. It zipped crookedly, then hovered bef
ore shooting forward again. The tip of Beren’s tongue stuck out of his mouth as he concentrated. Liv said, “Argh! Careful.” The helicopter almost hit her face. I clenched my jaw in anticipation of a bloody collision, but Liv was braver than me and didn’t move. She scrunched her eyes shut, and the toy darted straight up, hovered, then slipped forward and slowly lowered to the book.

  “I did it!” Beren grinned. The helicopter blades stopped spinning, and the mosquito noise stopped.

  “Nice work!” Will held up his hand, and they high-fived. Boys.

  I looked at Liv, who was still too thin after her horrible ordeal with Owen the Oracle’s spell—which was more like a curse—had left her on her deathbed with a metabolism faster than a cat’s lap of the house after it had done its business in the cat litter. At least she was back to eating normally, and on Monday, she was going back to work for the first time since she’d been arrested for something she wasn’t responsible for. Kent Police had given her a written apology, and she’d been paid for the time she’d been off, plus they gave her extra time for stress leave—and so they bloody well should have.

  Liv slid the book off her head and handed the toy to Beren. She looked at me. “What can I say? We were bored.”

  “Is that the thing my brother gave you for Christmas?” We’d had an awesome Christmas lunch at his place and then gone to Liv’s parents afterwards. They still didn’t know we were witches, which was lucky considering all the problems we’d had after Liv had gotten sick from that spell. So many people had to be mindwiped, and it took Angelica days to write the reports to present to the PIB directors. I still didn’t know who any of them were, as it was the toppiest of top-secret information, or should that be secretest? Neither one was a word, but it needed something for emphasis.

  Beren grinned. “It sure is. Best present ever.” Olivia folded her arms and frowned. “Ah, second-best present….”

  Liv raised a brow. “That’s more like it.”

  Will slapped Beren on the back. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

  “And who knows?” I smirked. “You’ll probably beat Will to figuring it out.”

  Beren laughed. “Ooh, burned, brother.” It was his turn to slap Will on the back.

  My stomach grumbled. I looked down and patted it. “Okay, I hear you.” I looked back up, and everyone was watching me, bemused expressions in place. I grinned. “What? Don’t act like you’ve never seen me have a conversation with my stomach before. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit in front of the fire and enjoy my coffee and double-chocolate muffin.”

  “I’ll join you.” Will sat on the other armchair in front of the fire.

  “Where’s ours?” asked Liv.

  “Sorry,” I said around a mouthful of divine chocolate goodness. “I didn’t know you’d both be here. Do you want some of mine?” I held out the muffin. I was loath to lose some, but she did need to get more calories into her, and I’d do anything for my friends, even go without my favourite food.

  Liv smiled. “Nah, I was just joshing you. Beren, best boyfriend ever, actually came over early and cooked us a scrummy omelette and french toast.”

  “Oh my God, yum!” I turned to Will. “You really need to up your game. He’s so far in front, it’s not funny.”

  He rolled his eyes. “So, saving your life doesn’t rate?”

  I put on my best blasé tone and waved one hand dismissively. “That was ages ago. Besides, I returned the favour. What else you got?” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

  He gave me his best Crankypants glare but spoiled it when the corner of his lips twitched. Giving up, he smiled. How could I resist those dimples? I grinned. “Well played, Lily. Well played.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  Will’s phone rang. Our smiles disappeared. We gave each other a knowing look. His phone ringing was rarely a good thing and usually involved work. He answered it. “Morning, Ma’am.” He listened for a while. “Okay, yes. See you soon.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “Sorry, but I have to go into work.”

  I sighed. “At least we got to spend the morning together.” Not that it had been all rainbows and kittens. That poor woman….

  He swallowed his last mouthful of coffee and stood, holding his arms out. “Come here.”

  I placed my muffin on the table next to my chair and stood, then wrapped my arms around him. I tilted my face up to his, and we kissed. Mmm, I’d never get sick of his soft lips.

  Beren cleared his throat. “Ahem. Get a room.”

  Will broke the kiss and lifted his head to look at Beren over my shoulder. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—Ma’am wants you to come in too.” His grin was all dimples and triumph.

  “Seriously? It was supposed to be my day off.”

  “Say your goodbyes, Best Boyfriend Ever, and let’s skedaddle.” Will smirked. He gave me one last kiss. “See you later, gorgeous.”

  “Bye.” I waved sadly as he stepped through his doorway. After Beren bade Liv goodbye, I sat back down, and she joined me.

  “So, now what?” Her gaze travelled to the window and the clouds that had only just come in. We were supposed to get rain today, and it looked like it wasn’t far away. It didn’t make for wanting to do anything that involved going outside.

  I would have suggested the gym, but she needed to eat more, not burn more, and the movies were out after last time turned into a trip to Hades. Hmm… I made a bubble of silence. “Hey, how about we go through my mum’s diaries and pick something to investigate? It’s the only way we’re going to move forward, and with everything that’s been going on and then Christmas, I haven’t done anything about it.” I was probably avoiding it a bit too because seeing them through the camera, so real yet untouchable, killed me. But I’d never find out what had happened to them or get the snake group off my back until I delved deeper. Not to mention that James and his baby were in danger until we shut Regula Pythonissam down.

  “That works.” Liv smiled.

  “Great. I’ll be back soon.” I drained my coffee cup and magicked it to the bin and the other half of my muffin into the fridge. Then I stood and made a doorway to the PIB. I’d get Ma’am to magic the diaries from the spell-protected vault she kept them in. I didn’t even know where it was. Super top secret for all our benefits. At this stage, they were our strongest lead, although the snake group had no idea that I could see past events with my talent, and they probably had no inkling that my mother’s diaries contained clues to her past with Regula Pythonissam.

  The security guard who answered the reception-room door at the PIB was a new recruit—I’d met him a week ago. He was about thirty years old and ginormous—at least six foot seven from my estimation and built like a brick outhouse. His neck tattoo and shaved head made him look like someone you wanted to avoid and definitely not upset, but he was actually soft-spoken and super nice. Unfortunately, Gus hadn’t returned from stress leave. He blamed himself for his boss’s death, and nothing we said could convince him otherwise. We were considering an intervention because Gus was definitely not to blame, and we all missed having him around, despite his ability to turn any conversation to secretions.

  “Hey, Clyde. How’s things?”

  “Just fine, Miss Bianchi. And how are you?”

  “Pretty good, thanks. I’m here to see Ma’am. Is she around?”

  “I’ll check.” He punched a few things into his tablet, then looked across at me—yes, my eye level was just about where he was holding the tablet. I felt like a child standing next to him. “Yes. She has a meeting in ten minutes, though, so you’d best hurry. She’s in her office. Would you like an escort?”

  “No thanks. I’m good. Have a great day.” I smiled.

  “You too.” He returned the smile, pivoted, and walked the other way down the hall.