Broomsticks And Bones Read online

  Millie nodded, giving the sergeant a smile. “Yes,” she said. “I know all about those.”

  “Well, those aren’t things which happen exclusively to women,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I can almost guarantee that George is experiencing exactly the same emotions as you. Us men might try and pretend we’re aloof when it comes to the opposite sex, but believe me, we turn to jelly inside when we see the person we like, too — just like you members of the fairer sex do.”

  “You think I should tell him?” asked Millie. “Just like that?”

  “Wait for the right moment, of course,” said Sergeant Spencer. “But yes. That would be my advice.”

  “What about the nurse, though?” said Millie. “I know we’re not together or anything, so what he does is his business, but if he does like me, why is he going out for drinks and motorbike rides with another woman?”

  Sergeant Spencer sat back in his seat. “I’ve known George Brown since I moved to this town. And I’m aware that he’s lived here since the nineteen-fifties — never ageing, and with that annoyingly handsome head of his — easily able to attract women.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel much better,” said Millie. “You telling me that he’s had plenty of girlfriends.”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Sergeant Spencer, with a grin. “I said he was easily able to attract women. What I’m trying to say, is that in all the time I’ve been in Spellbinder Bay, I’ve never known him to be in a relationship with anyone, and as far as I know, he was never in one before I moved here.” He leaned forward again. “What I’m saying, Millie. Is that I’d be very surprised if George has suddenly become interested in two women at the same time.”

  “You and the blonde bombshell nurse,” added Reuben. “I feel that Sergeant Spencer could have been clearer about that.”

  “I understood what he meant, Reuben,” said Millie. She looked at the policeman. “Then who is she? If not somebody he’s romantically interested in? A friend?”

  “I can’t answer that,” said Sergeant Spencer. “Only George can. You should ask him. He and Judith should be here soon.”

  Spinning in her seat, Millie looked up at the clock. “I didn’t realise the time! Do you both promise that if I use magic to cook the rest of the meal, you won’t tell them?”

  “You can demand that I don’t,” said Reuben. “And I’d be forced to comply. I’m your familiar. That’s the way it rolls. I hope you’ll take my word instead, though.” He bowed his head. “I promise I won’t.”

  “I promise, too,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I won’t say a word.”

  “Thank you,” said Millie, getting to her feet as two potatoes and a peeling knife rose gently into the air above the kitchen counter. “Are you sure you won’t stay for some? There’s plenty of turkey.”

  “No,” said Sergeant Spencer. “Enjoy your meal with your friends, Millie. I’m going to have another look around in the sand dunes. To see if there’s anything I missed. I may check on the demon’s bones, too. To see how the rapid decomposition is coming along. I’ll be glad when those bones are dust.”

  Millie frowned. “Thank you for that talk. It took my mind off other things. I’d almost forgotten about demons and murdered metal detectorists,” she said. “Alien hunters in camping vans, too.”

  Sergeant Spencer stood up. “I’m glad I could help you,” he said. “I once made the mistake of not telling a woman what I really thought of her. By the time I’d plucked up the courage to tell her, it was too late. She’d gone. And as for the other things — try and put them out of your mind for tonight. After hearing what those idiots from The Spellbinder Sand Diggers had to say, I’m now certain that Tom was killed by the second demon. Henry thinks he has a lead on it, so everything should be back to normal sooner, rather than later.”

  George closed his eyes as he bit into a roast potato. “Wow!” he said. “These are really good! They’re so crunchy. Just how they should be.”

  Judith spooned a second blob of cranberry sauce onto her plate and reached for the gravy boat. “He’s right, Millie. It’s a wonderful meal, thank you.”

  Millie looked out into the darkness. “I wish your dad had eaten with us,” she said. “I feel sorry for him, sitting out there in his car. Alone.”

  “You took a plate out to him,” said Judith. “Anyway, he wants to be out there. He’s worried that the other demon might come back, and he told me he’s not taking his eyes off those two men in the campervan. He received an email from the FBI about Mister Anon.”

  “The FBI?” said Millie, loading her fork with gravy covered turkey meat. “Why do they have information about Mister Anon?”

  Judith shrugged, and spooned some cauliflower onto the small plate in front of Reuben. “I’m not sure. Neither is Dad, yet. When he put the campervan registration through the system, the information he received informed him that the owner was of interest to American law enforcement agencies, particularly the FBI. Dad contacted them and they sent him a brief email telling him they’d compile all the information they had on whoever Mister Anon really is, and send it on to him. He’s still waiting for that second email.”

  “Can we forget about all that stuff for tonight?” said George. “Murders, demons and alien hunters, I mean. Maybe we should talk about other things?”

  Reuben pecked at a slice of turkey. “Yeah, like who that blonde bimbo Millie and Judith saw you with on the back of your bike is, George. The one dressed like a cheap street hooker, and not a woman taking her safety as a pillion passenger very seriously.”

  “What did you say about her?” said George, his face hardening. “Watch your mouth, birdbrain, or I may be forced to do something I might regret.”

  “Calm it, bloodsucker!” squawked Reuben. “Don’t threaten me at my own dinner table! I can’t help it if you’ve got a liking for bimbos!”

  The table shook as George’s fist came down on it. “I mean it, Reuben!” he warned, his eyes flickering between black and hazel.

  “George!” said Millie. “Don’t speak to him like that. He was only repeating what he heard me and Judith saying.” She stared at Reuben. “But I didn’t use the word bimbo. I said bombshell. The difference is vast. But you must admit, George — when we saw you this morning, whoever she is, certainly wasn’t dressed for motorbike riding.”

  George sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m very defensive about her, that’s all.”

  “Oh, you are, are you?” said Millie, pouring herself some iced-water. “You’re very defensive about her, are you?”

  George chewed the food in his mouth slowly, and fixed Millie with a hard gaze. “Is there anything wrong with that?” he said. “Me being defensive about a young lady? Or is there something I should know about? Something which would make it wrong for me to care about her? Is there somebody else that I should be reserving my care for? Somebody who just can’t tell me that that’s the case?”

  “You care about her, as well as being defensive about her?” said Millie, spearing a slice of turkey with her fork, the metal prongs screeching on her plate. “That’s nice for you. And her. I suppose she’s the nurse you spoke about, is she? The nurse you went for a drink with.”

  The vein above George’s right eye throbbed, and he licked his lips. “Yes, she’s the nurse. Are you trying to tell me something, Millie, or are you just being childish?”

  “Oh,” said Millie, mashing a chunk of cauliflower, the handle of her fork beginning to bend. “I’m being childish, am I?”

  Judith gave a polite cough. “Did you use semolina on these potatoes to get them so crunchy, Millie?”

  “No, Judith,” said Millie. “Thank you for your interest, but I did not use semolina on the potatoes to get them so crispy. I used magic to cook the whole meal. And I’m glad I didn’t waste time slaving over a hot stove. Some people don’t deserve it!”

  “Well, they’re very nice potatoes, Millie,” said Judith, pushing a garden pea around her plate. “Aren’t they, George?”
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  George placed his knife and fork side by side on his plate, and pushed the chair back as he got to his feet. “I’ve had better potatoes,” he said. “And better company. I think I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for the meal, Millie. It was adequate.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Millie. “Would you like me to put some in a doggy bag for you?”

  “I don’t have a —” began George. He nodded slowly, and sucked in a deep breath. “Oh. I see, Millie. Very clever. I won’t be feeding her scraps from this table, though. She deserves far better than a mediocre meal cooked with magic, by a bitchy witch.”

  “Don’t slam the door on your way out, George,” said Millie, refusing to look the vampire in his eyes. “And I trust we won’t be seeing you at the pub quiz next week? Judith and I are The Dazzling Duo. You cramped our style.”

  “Maybe I’ll be there,” said George stomping the full length of the open plan cottage, and grabbing his helmet and jacket from a hook near the front door. “And maybe I’ll have a new pub quiz partner!”

  “Maybe you’ll get out of my cottage before I throw you out!” snapped Millie, her back to the front door, and a tear brimming in her eye.

  “Maybe I will,” said George, opening the door and allowing a fragrant gust of night air into the cottage. “Goodbye, Judith. I enjoyed your company. The other two, not so much.”

  “The feeling is mutual!” squawked Reuben. He lifted his head. “Are you really leaving, George? Can I have the potatoes you left on your plate, please?”

  As the door slammed shut behind George, Millie looked at Judith. “I’m sorry I ruined the meal,” she said, getting to her feet, warm tears on her cheeks. “I’m going to my bedroom. Please help yourself to pudding. It’s a raspberry cheesecake. It’s in the fridge.”

  “Millie,” said Judith, getting to her feet. “Let me—”

  “I’m sorry, Judith,” said Millie, heading for the door to the right of the fireplace, which would take her to the bedrooms. “I know I’m being irrational, but I just need some time alone.”

  As George’s motorbike engine burst into life outside. Millie curled up on her bed, the framed photograph of her mother laying on the pillow beside her. “I wish you were here, Mum,” she said. “I need a cuddle, and I have nobody else to ask for one.” She reached for the sealed envelope on the bedside table, and held it tight against her chest. “What does it say in this letter, Mum?” she said, closing her eyes. “What does it say?”

  Chapter 14

  “Millie? Millie? Wake up,” said the small voice next to her ear.

  “Reuben?” said Millie, blinking to clear her vision. “What time is it? How long have I been asleep? Is it morning? What time is it?”

  The cockatiel hopped from the pillow, onto Millie’s chest, and stared her in the eye. “You’ve only been asleep for twenty minutes. It’s only nine o’clock at night. Judith said I should leave you to sleep when her father told her the news, but I disagreed. I told her you would want to know what was happening, too, after all, they’re parked on your land.”

  “What are you talking about, Reuben?” said Millie, wiping a tear stain from the glass which protected the photograph of her mother.

  “Sergeant Spencer had an email,” said Reuben. “From the FBI. He’s going to confront Mister Anon right away. I told him and Judith to wait for you. I told them you’d like to know what was happening.”

  “You’re right, Reuben,” said Millie, propping herself up on an elbow. “I would like to know what’s happening.”

  “Well, let’s get going,” said Reuben. “Sergeant Spencer is chomping at the bit. He can’t wait to knock on the campervan door and confront Mister Anon.”

  Millie rubbed her eyes and sat up. The envelope containing the letter from her mother lay on the mattress beneath her, and she picked it up, straightening a crease from it, and sighing as her fingertips brushed the damp spot on the corner which her tears had made. “I’m sorry about what happened at dinner,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me. I feel foolish. George must hate me.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, but I know what came over you,” said Reuben. “It’s that letter in your hand, Millie. I saw the way you acted earlier tonight, when Sergeant Spencer spoke to you about George. You looked at him in a way I’ve never seen you look at anyone before. You looked at him like a child would look at their parent. You soaked up every word he spoke to you.”

  Millie placed the letter on her bedside table, and swung her legs off the bed. “Don’t be silly, Reuben,” she said. “I didn’t look at him like that, and if I did, it sounds a bit creepy. He must think I’m weird.”

  “He didn’t notice. It wasn’t that obvious,” said Reuben. “I noticed because it’s my duty as your familiar to make sure you’re okay, Millie, and right now… I don’t think you are. And in my opinion, it’s all down to that letter. That letter holds the key to who you are, Millie. It contains your mother’s last words to you, and it contains the identity of the man who is your father. It’s affecting you. And not in a good way. Henry and I are the only other people, and I use that term loosely, who know about the letter. You don’t really have anybody to talk to about it. No wonder you went off at George.”

  Letting out a long breath, Millie shook her head. “You’re not my psychologist, okay, Reuben! I know why I went off at George, as you so eloquently put it!”

  “Then, why did you?” said Reuben.

  “Because he… because I,” stammered Millie. “Because he made me mad, Reuben. Okay!”

  “Because you think he’s interested in another woman, and not you?” said Reuben. “Or because you hoped that you’d get the chance to tell him how you felt about him, and that would lead to you having somebody in your life who you could share your most personal emotions with. Somebody to cuddle, perhaps? I heard what you whispered when you spoke out loud to your mother, Millie. My hearing is better than a dog’s, and when I heard what you said, I felt sad. That letter holds the answers to a lot of your problems, Millie. And it’s also the cause of your problems.”

  Millie gritted her teeth. Grabbing the envelope, she took a corner between finger and thumb, and began to rip it along the upper seam. “Then I’ll open it, if that will make you happy, Reuben!”

  Reuben threw himself airborne and flew at Millie’s hand. Pinching the envelope in his beak, he dragged it from her grasp and flew to the top of the wardrobe, where he landed, and gazed down at his witch. “No,” he said. “That’s not what I think the answer is. I think I have a better solution, but you’ll need to trust me. Will you trust me, Millie?”

  Confusion and anger threatening to spill over into words, aimed at Reuben, which she didn’t mean, Millie took three deep breaths. She looked up at the cockatiel. “I trust you, Reuben. I know you want what’s best for me.”

  “Then go with Sergeant Spencer and Judith to speak to Mister Anon. It will help you get yourself grounded again. When you’ve done that, come down to the coven cavern. There’s something I want to show you,” said Reuben.

  “The spell you began telling me about this morning?” said Millie, with a frown.

  Reuben nodded. “Yes, the spell.”

  “Tell me now,” said Millie. “What spell is it, Reuben. What does it do?”

  “You need to calm down a little first,” said Reuben. “Please go with Sergeant Spencer and Judith. They’re waiting for you. When you come back inside, you’ll be calmer. Then we can talk, okay?”

  Millie looked up at the bird, exasperation beginning to bore a hole in her sanity. She gave him a nod. “Okay,” she said, leaving the bedroom and making her way through the cottage, frowning as she passed the archway which divided the kitchen from the living room. Judith had tidied away the remnants of dinner, but the shame Millie felt about how she’d behaved in front of her guests still lingered in the air.

  She headed outside into the cool night air, where Sergeant Spencer and Judith stood leaning against the police car, speaking in hushed t
ones. When Judith saw Millie approaching, she stepped towards her, pulling her into the shadows alongside the cottage. “Are you okay?” she said, her voice low. “I was worried about you. Reuben was, too.”

  Millie nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was very childish of me. I feel better after a rest. I’m so sorry I ruined your meal. George and Reuben’s, too.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about Reuben,” said Judith. “He tucked into the cheesecake after you’d gone to bed, and as for George — I think he deserved it. He’s been flirting with you since you moved to this town. If he is involved with that blonde woman, then he should have been honest with you before now. He’s been leading you along.”

  Millie glanced towards Sergeant Spencer. “Does your dad know what happened?”

  Placing a comforting hand on Millie’s arm, Judith shook her head. “No. He asked why George had left early, and I told him he had to be somewhere else. He didn’t really take much notice. He was too busy watching ASSHAT in their campervan. They’re playing Monopoly at the moment, and Dad can’t wait to confront them with the information he got from the FBI. He says they’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, and they won’t be bothering us again, after he’s spoken to them.”

  “What information does he have about them?” said Millie.

  “I’m not sure,” said Judith, walking towards her father. “Why don’t we go and find out?”

  Sergeant Spencer grinned as the girls approached. He put his hat on his head, and took his phone from his pocket. “Ready to learn the truth about Mister Anon, girls?” he said, gravel crunching under his boots as he stomped towards the campervan. With the two witches close behind him, the policeman paused at the campervan door, raised a fist and hammered on the thin metal. “Let me in,” he shouted. “I want to speak to you about something, Mister Anon.”

  “What is it?” came the reply. “Have you come to tell me that you’ve finished your painfully slow forensic sweep of the sand dunes, and I’m now welcome to begin my investigation into the skeleton of the extra-terrestrial creature which awaits my expert scrutiny?”