Spell Booked (Retired Witches Mysteries Series Book 1) (18 page)

The werewolves gathered at an old tavern that had once been owned by a heroic blockade runner during the Civil War. He’d retired here, so the legend said. Late one night, he was called from his sleep by a knock on the door.

It was a werewolf that had changed during the full moon. He’d come into Wilmington on board a ship from Greece and had killed everyone on that lost ship.

He asked the tavern owner for sanctuary. Of course it was a mistake for the gallant hero to let the wolf in. By the next full moon, he too had become a werewolf.

The tavern was renamed Wolf’s Head, and werewolves had come to hang out there ever since.

“You’d think they could keep the place up a bit,” Olivia observed as we found a spot in the parking lot between potholes.

“Are you sure we should go in there?” Dorothy asked. “My mother—my
adopted
mother—told me never to come into this part of town.”

Elsie smiled. “We’re witches, dear. We have nothing to fear from these wolves, especially since it isn’t time for them to change for a few days. Nothing to worry about.”

“Can you recall what the name of the new werewolf representative is?” I asked after I’d locked the car. “I know they got someone to take Harold’s place. I can’t think of his name.”

“Wasn’t it Jerry something?” Elsie asked.

“No.” Olivia shook her head. “It was John something, wasn’t it? I kind of remember because he was really good-looking—for a wolf anyway.”

“If you’re talking about me”—a man’s deep voice startled us—“I’m John Mayhew. We don’t get many witches visiting us here. Why don’t you come inside for a drink?”

From ghoulies and ghosties, and long leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night, good Lord protect us!

John Mayhew was tall, dark and handsome, wolf or not. He stood at least a head above all of us. His broad chest was covered by a white T-shirt that said “Wolves Do It in the Full Moon.” He wore his tight jeans low on his narrow hips.

“Oh, what a
wonderful
idea.” Olivia giggled. “I’m Olivia Dunst, and these are my friends, Elsie and Molly.”

John, it seemed, only had dark eyes for Dorothy. “And what’s your name, little one?”

“Oh. That’s Olivia’s daughter, Dorothy,” Elsie introduced them.

“Hush,” Olivia muttered. “I’m too young to have a daughter.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dorothy shook hands eagerly with John. “I’m a witch-in-training. I work at the downtown library. I’ve never met a werewolf before.”

John kissed her hand but observed the parking lot a little furtively. “Such matters are better discussed inside. Come with me, Dorothy, witch-in-training. I think you’ll be surprised how
charming
werewolves can be.”

“He’s making a play for my daughter.” Olivia shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”

“Quiet,” Elsie said. “Maybe she can keep us from getting in trouble here.”

We went into the old tavern with John. The heavy door was made of large pieces of oak that had been spliced together. The floors were black with age and spilled beer. The seats were rough and crudely made, as was the huge bar.

The door closed behind us, and we were enveloped by the dark. There were no windows, and the light from the ceiling was dim.

“What will you have, ladies?” John got behind the bar. “I think we have a little wine. It’s red, of course. We like to
pretend
sometimes.”

“You don’t kill people when you turn?” Dorothy hopped up on a bar stool.

“Not anymore, little girl. That’s a thing of the past. Too much bad publicity can ruin a haven.”

“We’re not really here to drink,” I told him. “We’re here to talk to you about Larry Tyler. He’s been arrested for murder. The chances are pretty good that he’ll still be in custody when the moon rises.”

Several other werewolves joined us at the bar. They weren’t handsome or charismatic. They looked tough and a little on the mean side. They might
not
have been thinking about killing us, but they were definitely sniffing around on us, like nice steaks.

“That’s Larry’s problem.” One man had a huge scar that ran from chin to hairline. “Why should we care?”

“Because if he turns in jail, everyone in Wilmington will know that there are werewolves here,” Elsie said in a clear, concise voice. “I’m sure you don’t want
that
to happen.”

“You’re right, of course,” John agreed. “I don’t know what we can do about it. None of us have money or property to use as bail. I’m afraid Larry will have to stay where he is.”

I started to offer to help with the problem, but before I could speak, Elsie added her own take on it.

“What about a jailbreak?” She grinned. “We’re witches. We have magic.”

Olivia peered around at the growing number of werewolves in the tavern. “Elsie, maybe that’s not the
best
way to handle this.”

“That’s true,” John said. “But why would a few witches and their pet ghost want to help us?”

Elsie adjusted her hat. “Because Larry is a
personal
friend. We know what happens to werewolves who turn publicly.”

The werewolves exchanged glances. Olivia and Dorothy huddled as close to me as they could. One or both of them were standing on my foot. I was too scared to move and find out. I didn’t know one could “feel” the weight of a ghost. Maybe it was because she was so frightened.

“You know, I think there’s a better answer,” I said. “A jailbreak isn’t as easy as it sounds. There are high-tech surveillance devices. You can’t simply waltz in there and take Larry out.”

“It sounds like it’s either that or we shred old Larry,” a third wolf growled.

This was getting out of hand. There had to be some way to talk some sense into everyone there. I didn’t want to come right out and tell them that our magic didn’t always work. That could be another road to disaster.

“Couldn’t Joe help us?” Elsie smiled at me. “Her husband is a police detective. In fact, he’s the one who arrested Larry. He was misguided.”

“This keeps getting better and better,” Olivia whispered. “
Do
something, Molly.”

“I’m trying.” The werewolves were staring at me. I could see they weren’t happy about what Joe had done. Not that I was involved with it, but that thought might not have crossed their minds.

“Is that true?” John asked.

“My husband did his job. We think Larry was set up by another witch who actually committed the murder,” I explained. “Larry was an innocent bystander.”

“Who is Larry supposed to have murdered?” the werewolf with the scar asked.

I swallowed hard. “He’s charged with killing a friend of ours.”

“For goodness’ sake, Molly, just come out with it,” Olivia added. “He’s accused of killing
me
. I don’t know who did it, but I feel sure it wasn’t Larry.”

Elsie nodded. “Werewolves don’t
need
knives to rip out a throat.”

The group of werewolves jostled each other, as though a silent communication had passed between them. And then they looked at us like we were lunch.

“Why don’t
you
clean this up?” John asked. “It seems that you ladies are at the heart of it. Find the killer for the police, and they’ll release Larry before the full moon.”

“It’s not that easy,” I started to explain.

“You’re witches,” the scarred werewolf pointed out. “Do a spell or something.”

“Yeah,” another werewolf agreed. “Larry’s a good friend of mine. I’d hate for
anything
to happen to him.”

The implied threat made Elsie nervously giggle. I knew we had to find a way to get out the door. I didn’t have a clue what to say or how to explain our position without making the situation worse.

I glanced at the door, wishing our powers were strong enough to spirit us away. “I think we should go.”

Dorothy smiled. “I haven’t been a witch for very long. I’m not sure how to find the killer yet. But we’re working on it. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. You’ll be the
first
to know.”

John smiled at her. The other werewolves did the same. It was as though her innocence made it safe for the rest of us. At least I hoped it was going to work that way.

The heavy door to the tavern squeaked open, and Richard Brannigan stood there for a moment, framed by the light. “Ladies. Pardon my interruption. I forgot to have you sign a document. Excuse us, gentlemen.”

“Let us know how the magic goes,” John said. “There are a few days before the moon comes up. We could still plan that jailbreak—with your husband’s help.”

“We’ll do that.” I smiled and put a hand on Dorothy’s and Elsie’s arms. “Thank you for hearing us out.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Elsie called out.

“Next time, leave the ghost at home,” John responded. “Ghosts hanging around give a place a bad reputation.”

“Will do.” Dorothy smiled and fled quickly out the door and into the sunlight.

Once we were outside, there was a collective sigh of relief.

“That was
not
the best idea,” Olivia said.

“I thought it was fun.” Elsie giggled.

“I think I’d rather be a witch than a werewolf.” Dorothy squinted at Mr. Brannigan. “What paper did you forget to have me sign?”

He cleared his throat and fidgeted a little. “Actually, the council of witches directed me here. They were a little worried that there might be an
incident
. Werewolves and witches have gotten along amicably for more than a hundred years. No one wants that to change.”

“You mean you were lying?” Elsie asked.

His face turned red. “This is in
no
way indicative of my normal practice. But where the council sends me, I go.”

Dorothy hugged him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much. I thought we were going to be eaten today.”

“I was happy to be of assistance.” He cleaned his glasses on a pristine white cloth he pulled from his pocket.

“But this still leaves us with the problem of Larry becoming a wolf in jail.” I peeked back at the werewolf bar. “We won’t get any help from them.”

“Perhaps I could be of assistance in this matter as well,” Mr. Brannigan offered. “I’m quite familiar with cases like this. I’m sure I could get Larry out of jail with very little fuss.”

“Let’s get
us
out of here first,” Olivia said. “Those werewolves could change their minds.”

We agreed with her and got in the car to drive back to the shop.

Before we could get there, Elsie suggested that we still couldn’t trust Mr. Brannigan. “We don’t know who he is.”

“We won’t ask him in,” Dorothy said. “That worked last time, right?”

“Yes,” Elsie agreed. “But do we want to trust him with our plan to free Larry?”

Dorothy and I stared at her.

“Is there a plan?” Dorothy asked.

“Of course,” Elsie said.

“What is it?” I sided with Dorothy. “You aren’t still talking about breaking Larry out of jail, are you?”

“We could do it—with Dorothy’s magic. We could pretend we were visiting Joe and do the spell right there in the jailhouse. Come on, Molly. It would be fun.”

It didn’t sound like fun to me. The spell would be hard, and Dorothy’s magic was unpredictable, as was our own. We could free Larry, or we might turn the jail—and everyone in it—inside out. I wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“We need a better plan, girls,” Olivia said. “I wish ghosts could do things. I could get in and out with Larry easy. And why did that sexy werewolf say that about me? I’m beginning to feel a little hurt by the attitudes toward ghosts in this city.”

We met Mr. Brannigan back at the shop.

After a long discussion about whether we could trust him, we decided to do a small binding spell on him that would keep him from using his magic while he was there. Our spells protecting the shop from outside magic were strong. There seemed to be no reason why we couldn’t sit down, have tea and talk about our situation.

It was even possible that by listening to his ideas, we could understand what the council was thinking. We didn’t have to trust him to spy on them.

Mr. Brannigan seemed pleased with the idea. He walked in carefully, sniffing the air as though he could smell everything in the shop. He had a little of the hobgoblin look about him. Maybe he could.

“This is very nice.” He checked out some of the books on the shelves. “You have some very rare magic books.”

Elsie was filling the teakettle. “We’ve been collecting them for fifty years ourselves.”

“Not to mention our mothers’ collections,” Olivia added. “I wish I could have a cup of that lavender tea. It smells wonderful.”

Mr. Brannigan studied her through his tiny spectacles. “Ghosts can’t smell. They have no olfactory senses. You must be imagining it.”

That riled Olivia. “I am
not
imagining it. I know what lavender tea smells like.”

“I didn’t tell her what kind I was making either,” Elsie said.

“Never mind.” He shrugged away the thought. “She probably glimpsed the tea or is simply used to what you make. Do you have any horehound? That’s my favorite.”

“That stuff is really
nasty
.” Elsie shivered thinking about it. “But we have it, if you want some.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

He boosted himself into one of the chairs. I brought out two extra chairs from the supply closet. It dawned on me that Olivia didn’t need one anymore. I was glad that I’d made that mistake, however, when she thanked me, with tears in her eyes, for not forgetting her. It seemed old habits die hard.

We gathered around the small table when the tea was served. Mr. Brannigan opened his binder, casting uncomfortable glances at us, until we looked away. He shuffled his papers and cleared his throat when he felt his secrets were safe.

He studied his documents before looking up at us. “Larry Tyler will change into a wolf in a few days. We don’t have time to allow the mundane courts to work on this. We don’t want to take a chance that he could be denied bail either.”

Elsie sipped her tea. “We
knew
that already.”

“Yes.” He straightened his shoulders beneath his expensive suit. “Because of the situation—and the fact that witches are involved in the problem—the witches’ court has granted me the right to use a spell that will make sure Larry goes free. At least temporarily. He will have to prove that he wasn’t involved with Olivia Dunst’s death. Otherwise,
our
system will take care of him.”