Blackmail and Broomsticks (Willowmere mysteries #4)

Chapter 1

Something felt wrong when I woke up. The sunshine streamed through a gap in my curtains, creating a dazzling path across the floor and my bed.

That in itself wouldn’t be too bad. Sleeping until ten, which I guessed it to be, was a luxury any perimenopausal woman, no, make that any woman juggling household, job, and family, would welcome.

I barely remembered when I last had the opportunity, despite being recently divorced and the mother of a university student.

The truly ominous sign that got to me was the silence. Tension rose in my body as I heaved myself out of bed. My bedroom showed no sign of a sleek black cat. Cosmo Merlin de Beaufort, my familiar and mentor in the art of witchcraft, should have been here, cracking a metaphorical whip over me.

Since I’d inherited him, the house which included the private lending library downstairs, and witchy powers from my Aunt Violet last fall, he’d been dictating my timetable.

I’d become used to the touch of his paw or the impact of his full body weight when he jumped up next to me in the morning, on those rare occasions when he’d slept in one of his own cat beds.

They were strategically placed in different parts of the house, although he usually ended up claiming his share of my bed.

Where was he?

“Cosmo,” I called out as I dashed out of the room, trying to insert my arms into my bathrobe on the move. I almost had one arm in when I stepped onto the dangling bathrobe belt and tumbled forward, into the hallway.

For a heartbeat, my mind went blank. Then I felt a spell forming in my mind, like an echo. My fall slowed, I slammed down my hands and caught myself.

“Nice work, Bex.” Cosmo sauntered up to me from the kitchen and rubbed his head on my leg.

“It was,” I agreed, pleased with my fast reaction. The clumsiness was nothing new, but the subconscious resort to spells to save my skin (or self-esteem) was a work in progress. Then I remembered why I’d rushed around so fast that I’d tripped. “Where have you been?”

He stared at me with a wide-eyed gaze rivaling an ingénue. “Right here, of course.”

“I see that, but --” I broke off and scanned him from his whiskers to the tip of his tail.

Was his fur less glossy, his voice less silky and superior?

I had no idea how old he was, but allusions to his illustrious past and eras no living human could remember made me wonder how many of his nine lives he’d already finished.

I stroked his silky head. He turned tail and strolled into the kitchen, where I expected him to demand his breakfast. True to his aristocratic roots, Cosmo had a refined palate.

But, in another first that gave me yet more reason to pause, he hopped onto the chair next to mine. “You could do with coffee, and pancakes, and bacon.”

My mouth watered. “I will, as soon as you tell me what’s going on with you. I worry if you don’t act like yourself.”

“I always act like myself.” His tail swished.

More prying would be useless. I started the coffee maker and opened the fridge to take out the ingredients for my pancakes, waiting to hear his breakfast order while I whisked together eggs, milk, and flour. It didn’t come.

While my pancakes sizzled in the pan, I noticed the empty tuna can in a corner. Last night, it had been half full. “Did you help yourself?” I asked Cosmo.

His whiskers twitched. “It was either that or wake you up to feed me.”

“That’s a first. Maybe I should call the vet.” I reached for my phone.

“There’s no need. Don’t let your pancakes burn.”

I switched off the stove, grabbed the pan handle and slid the fluffy, golden pancakes onto a plate. Instead of bacon, I’d decided on blueberries. I eyeballed what would have been a feast if it wasn’t for the worry over my familiar.

He sighed. “Bex, I promise you, I’m fine. I wanted to surprise you.”

I sat down and cut off a piece of my first pancake.

He sighed again. “Why do humans complicate everything?”

“Humans in general or me, specifically?”

“Both. For months, you complain about me dragging you out of bed for your lessons, and today, when I let you sleep in on the one day the library stays closed in the morning, you’re not happy either.”

I wiped my mouth and kissed him on the forehead. “Poor you. I apologize.”

“Accepted. I’d also accept a few morsels of chicken.”

“You already had the tuna.”

“That was hours ago.” He sounded hurt.

I decided to finish my breakfast in peace and while the pancakes were still warm, before filling his bowl. That done, another thought popped up in my mind. “Why did you expect me to figure out you’d decided to surprise me?”

“Because of the date.”

Puzzled, I checked the calendar. It wasn’t my birthday, nor Cosmo’s gotcha day (in either of the two incarnations he’d lived through with Aunt Violet), and it also wasn’t a holiday. “I give up.”

“It’s been six months since your ascendance into witchdom, and also, yesterday you completed all your basic spellwork.”

Six months! It seemed a lot longer, in retrospect.

I’d lost my aunt, recovered from a divorce, found out about my new powers (although mastering – or was it mistressing them – was a different matter), learned to run the lending library, accepted to be bossed around by a talking cat, and solved several murder cases together with him and my girlfriends, while keeping my daughter oblivious of my new state of being, for her own sake.

Not bad for an almost 49-year-old woman starting over.

“I did all that,” I marveled.

“As expected.”

My bubble burst, until he continued. “What you should really be proud of is that you did all that while rediscovering the magic you were born with.” He tapped on the can with chicken.

“Now that’s worth celebrating. And once we all have a full belly, you may make a wish.

I can’t promise I can help you fulfil it, but I’ll consider it carefully, so choose wisely. ”

Excitement rippled through me. To be (or at least become) a good witch, there were strict boundaries, according to Cosmo.

I couldn’t personally benefit in a material sense, or shower people of my choosing with riches, and he’d even scolded me for causing a clump of chestnuts to hit the head of someone who’d needled me, in my early training days.

Saving myself from injuries or protecting others was permissible.

I’d reluctantly come to accept the wisdom of this, because a witch allowed to do whatever she wanted was a scary thought, even if we were talking about such a nice, mild-mannered person like me. This made the idea of having one wish granted exhilarating.

Should I ask him for a self-cleaning house just for once? The yard needed tidying too, a task that loomed large on my to-do list.

My aunt had left me enough money to get by. That allowed me to reinvest the subscription fees for the lending library and purchase new books, plus toys, and craft materials for the children’s corner. Hiring a gardener would take a big chunk out of that pot.

The yard also supplied me with many of the basic ingredients for the herbal teas that I concocted from my aunt’s recipes. Some included a touch of magic to ease pain, relieve stress, or help with menopause symptoms. The same went for the cookies I baked on a regular basis.

I still pondered my options when we entered the former garage.

I’d recently transformed it into a workshop.

In my pre-witch days, I’d restored furniture and assisted my husband with home-stagings in our joint business (using the magic Cosmo had alluded at.

Back then, in my ignorance, I simply took it for a skill).

That came to an end when I caught him in the stock room taking stock of the assets his personal assistant, now fiancée, offered.

Only lately had I begun to restore a Chesterfield sofa and a late 19th century desk for my own pleasure again.

“You’re frowning,” Cosmo said. He jumped onto the sofa and washed his paws. “Are you thinking about your ex again? He hasn’t messaged you again?”

“No, and in case you’re wondering, I don’t regret at all having swapped him for you.”

“Of course not. I’m an upgrade.”

“You are the ultimate upgrade.” I picked up my jeweler’s loupe and inspected the stitchwork at the back of the sofa.

It had called out to me at Bert’s Antiques' Barn, where I’d first fallen in love with the art of restoration when I was young and discovered a knack for matching objects with people or places.

Once finished, this sofa would transform the reading nook in the library.

Underneath it, I spotted dust and brown animal hair. I grabbed my old-fashioned broom, crouched, and pushed it underneath the sofa. A squeaking mouse ran out. Cosmo purred.

“Don’t pounce,” I said.

He continued purring. The mouse stood still. It stopped trembling, and then, to my utter amazement, it flitted to the door, and I let it out.

“She was lost,” Cosmo said.

“You told the mouse how to get out?”

“Of course. Unless you want a family of mice living in your workshop? She’s pregnant, and they tend to have a large litter.” He gazed at me. “You know I don’t hunt innocent creatures.”

“Which I appreciate.”

I still held the broomstick. My skin prickled. “You said I’ve mastered the basic spells. That means I’m ready for advanced witchcraft, right?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it advanced. Progressing is more like it.”

“Can I fly on this broomstick? Just this once, as my wish?”

He covered his eye with his paw. “I blame pop culture for that ridiculous idea.”

“But can I?” I had used levitation spells before, to move light objects. Technically, if I could cause a ball to float in the air, with Cosmo’s assistance I should be able to do the same with a broomstick. And I’d slowed my fall earlier without breaking a sweat.

He shook his head at me, in the same exasperated manner my daughter Alex had shown when she was a teenager and I’d done something cringy.

“Please?” I asked.

“Where would you go?” He pointed his tail straight at the ceiling, which, in all fairness, topped out at ten feet.

“Outside?” I suggested, although I already knew I was fighting a losing battle.

“Which would involve calculating your body mass, wind speed and direction, and how to prevent you from being spotted. It’s not as if witches flying around Willowmere on a broomstick, with a black cat steering, are an everyday occurrence.”

“Wish not granted then, I assume.” I must have sounded seriously deflated, because the next thing I heard was, “Hop onto your vacuum cleaner.”

My upright Hoover was a far cry from my dream of soaring in the air like the heroine in the movie “Bewitched”. I felt ridiculous straddling it. Nothing happened.

“Switch it on,” Cosmo said.

When I pressed the button, it sprang to life and shot forward so fast, I nearly crashed into the wall. What it didn’t do was leave the ground. I jumped off and hit the off button at the same time before I hurt myself. “What on earth was that?”

“A demonstration of what is currently possible for you and what isn’t.” He softened the blow. “Maybe one day we’ll get to the stage where I can let you whizz around in your apartment for a short spin. For now, your wish has to be slightly more – down to earth.”

He rubbed his head against my leg. “How about you take a raincheck? You can think about your wish while you’re gone.”

“That’s very generous of you.” I returned my attention to the sofa. One of the reasons I was inspecting every inch was my upcoming trip to Cannon Hill. Whatever material I needed, I hoped to find in the city. “It’s also very sweet that you’re okay with spending the night on your own.”

He’d originally pleaded to come along but relented when I pointed out that I hadn’t had a real girls’ night out with my best friends Ange, Harper, and Reina, aka the crazy coven, in years.

We’d spent a lot of time together since my return, but never done an overnighter, free from jobs, families, and familiars, for once with nary a felon in sight. I couldn’t wait for the fun to begin.