Twistchapel Witch Cozy Mystery Box Set: Books 1-4 plus Christmas Short Read online

  “What are you doing, by the way?” I asked, keeping an eye on her hand in her purse..

  “Looking for this,” she said, pulling out an old looking revolver and pointing it at me. “When I heard you were the one who found out who Mr. Spinner’s murderer was, I knew I’d have to keep an eye on you. A brat like you would get a big head for solving that one, so you’d probably start poking around more, looking for other crimes to solve so the town would think you were so great. I’ve got to say, I didn’t expect you to start inspecting this one for a long time.”

  This was bad. Worse than getting shot, this would prove Bart right. If I lived, he’d always remind me of the time he taught me a spell I never practiced.

  “Maggie, don’t do something you’ll regret!” shouted Detective Drake, coming around the corner. He had his pistol out, but held it down to the ground instead of at Maggie. I wondered what was taking him so long. He already heard the confession. “Drop the gun.”

  Maggie’s eyes were filled with hatred as she glared at me. “No one else was supposed to get hurt. Just like foolish, little Jenny, the two of you have stuck your noses into business that doesn’t concern you.”

  “It’s over, Maggie,” I said, keep my hands up. “Just put the revolver down and give up.”

  “Know that both of your deaths are on your head, Miss Foster,” spat Maggie, quickly turning away from me.

  “Drake!” I shouted, reaching my hands out to warn him.

  Maggie spun on her heels, revolver pointed at the detective, and pulled the trigger.

  Everything happened all at once.

  The explosion of the gun filled the room. Drake’s eyes widened in shock that the woman actually fired on him, too slow to react.

  Drake couldn’t die. This couldn’t be my fault. I reached out with everything within me to do something, anything, to protect him.

  A flash of purple lightning, barely visible, shot out in front of Drake. It arched and held its position as several other bolts of lightning danced around it, forming a small concave shield. The shield had a small blast of purple as the bullet hit it, slowing it down until it dropped to the floor.

  Maggie, gun out to her side, stared at in shock.

  “Wh-What was that?” she mumbled.

  “Zoey! You did it!” said Bart in astonishment. “I… I can’t believe it! You shouldn’t be able to do that…”

  I ran forward and grabbed the revolver from her hand as Drake patted his chest and looked at his hand.

  “I wasn’t hit?” he wondered aloud.

  “Drake, I’ve got her gun!” I shouted.

  “This is trespassing!” hissed Maggie as Drake rushed her and grabbed her arms. “None of us are even supposed to be here!”

  “The owner, Travis Thompson, already gave us explicit permission to be here,” said Drake slapping his handcuffs on her. “Maggie Davis, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jenny Fairfox.”

  Epilogue

  The next afternoon, I heard a knock on my door.

  “Come in” I said.

  “Hello, Miss Foster,” smiled Jimmy, the first to come in.

  “Hi, Jimmy,” I said. Looking past him, I added, “How are you, Eric?”

  “I’m doing well, Miss Foster, thank you,” said Eric, following Jimmy in.

  “This is gonna be good,” said Bart, hopping up on my desk to get a better look at the two sitting awkwardly down on my couch next to each other.

  “You wanted to see me, too?” asked Charline, waiting in the doorway.

  “Yes, please come in.”

  Charline shuffled forward slightly but stayed in the doorway.

  “Still got the floral wallpaper up, huh?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling my eye twitch involuntarily. “That’s not why I wanted to see the three of you, though. I’ll be saying this to the rest of the team later, but wanted the three of you to be the first to know.”

  “You’re hiring a manager?” interrupted an excited Jimmy.

  “I am,” I nodded. Jimmy sat up straighter, smirking at Eric, who payed him no mind. “I know that I’ve been gone an unfortunate amount of time over past few weeks. I’m starting to think this will be more of a regular occurrence, so the time has come to hire a manager. Or rather, promote one.”

  Jimmy couldn’t contain his excitement and started to shake just a bit.

  “So, with great pleasure, I’d like to offer the position of manager to-”

  “I don’t accept,” said Charline.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “I don’t accept the position,” said Charline. “I have enough going on at the cashier position, that I’m afraid I won’t be able to increase my duties, regardless of pay. I hope you understand.”

  “She is just the worst,” mumbled Bart.

  “Um, okay,” I said, nodding slowly. “Well, uh, thank you for… that. However, I’d like to offer the position of manager to… Eric.”

  “WHAT?!” screamed Jimmy.

  Charline, Eric, and I stared blankly at Jimmy.

  “This was even better than I expected,” squealed Bart, rubbing his paws together.

  “I mean… what a great idea!” said Jimmy, trying to smile. No one in the room was buying that.

  “Thank you, Miss Foster,” smiled Eric. “I’d be happy to accept.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “We’ll discuss pay and responsibilities later. You all are free to go.”

  “I’ve also got several lists I will share with you,” said Charline to Eric as they made their way out. “You would not believe how often Miss Foster wastes time. You simply wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Uh, sure,” said Eric, laughing nervously.

  “Oh, Jimmy,” I said as he made his way out, shoulders slumped.

  “Yes, Miss Foster,” he mumbled.

  “Since Eric is moving up to be manager, I’d like to make you the produce department head,” I said. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “How does that sound?”

  “D-Department head?” he said, standing up a little straighter. “I-I’d love to!”

  “Excellent,” I said. “Be sure to talk to Eric if you need any training.”

  “O-Okay,” he said, conflicted about the news and closing my door.

  “That was awesome,” smiled Bart.

  “It was definitely a surprising reaction,” I laughed.

  Suddenly Jenny Fairfox’s ghost appeared a few feet away from me, causing me to jump back in my chair.

  “Oh, hey, Jenny,” I said, trying to compose myself. “It’s been a while. I was starting to wonder if we’d see you again.”

  “Thank you, Zoey Foster, for bringing my killer to justice,” said the ghost.

  “You can talk!” I said.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “I can have peace, because of you and your cat friend.”

  “Anytime,” said Bart, bowing his head.

  “You are truly a great witch, Zoey Foster. I wish you nothing but success moving forward,” said the ghost, bowing to us.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “It is very lucky that we bumped into each other the day you were chasing the warlock,” smiled the ghost.

  “Warlock?!” said Bart and I together. What was she talking about?

  “Yes,” said Jenny, tilting her head in confusion. “I assumed that’s why you were chasing him. The man with the ponytail.”

  “Mr. Ponytail is a warlock?” I gasped, looking back to Bart.

  “That would explain the weird vibe…” mumbled Bart. “Zoey, you really need to be careful if you see him again. Warlocks are bad news.”

  “I must depart now,” said Jenny, beginning to fade away. “Best wishes to you two.”

  “Wait, do you know anything else about the warlock?” I asked.

  The ghost of Jenny Fairfox disappeared a final time without another word.

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Busy, aren’t we?” said Bart. “Who could this be, now?”

&
nbsp; “Come in,” I said. My mind was reeling. There was a warlock in town?

  Drake Robinson opened the door and smiled at me.

  “Sorry to bother you while you’re working,” he said.

  “No! No problem at all! I bother you at work way more often,” I giggled.

  “That’s true,” he smiled. “I wanted to see how you were doing after the whole, getting-a-gun-pulled-on-you thing.”

  “I’m doing fine, thanks,” I said. “How about you, though? You were the one actually shot at.”

  “I’m totally fine, which is honestly the weirdest part.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The forensics team came by later and recovered the bullet that Maggie shot. It was horribly burnt from all angles.”

  “That could’ve been from the gun, right?” I guessed.

  “Not like that,” he said, shaking his head. “Also, they said the bullet never actually went through anything. It just stopped moving.”

  “That does sound strange,” I said, glancing down at Bart. “Any leads on what could have happened?”

  “I don’t know. The bullet dropped just a foot in front of me. I should’ve gotten hit for sure.”

  “Maybe it was a miracle?” I offered.

  “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

  “Really? You don’t think a little bit of magic could’ve helped you?”

  Drake laughed. “Good one. Whatever it was, I could use that kind of luck more often.”

  “Well, I’d say that was a pretty successful first date, wouldn’t you?” I smiled.

  “Wasn’t the worst I’ve had,” he smirked. “Besides the, you know, almost dying thing. Who knows what’s in store for date number two?”

  “I can only guess,” I laughed.

  I wasn’t sure how things would work with Drake on a normal date, one where we weren’t actively looking for a killer. Granted, I don’t know if normal was really in my vocabulary anymore. I wondered if these cases would keep finding me, and if my powers would grow to a point where I wouldn’t be able to hide who I really was to those around me.

  Either way, I was looking forward to the future.

  The End.

  The Vexing Vampire

  Twistchapel Cozy Mystery #3

  by Alexandria Westbay

  Chapter 1

  “I don’t think it’s a weird request,” I said, making my rounds at Foster’s Market. I opened up the grocery store a few years back, before I knew I was a witch.

  “I’m not going to chase mice around!” said Bart, my familiar. “I’m not a real cat!”

  “Why take the form of one, then?” I asked. Most familiars took the form of humans. Invisible, of course, so that people not tuned to the Other couldn’t see them. Bart, while keeping with the invisibility, decided on taking the form of a Siberian cat.

  “They match my inner person,” he said, licking a paw.

  “Whatever that means,” I scoffed.

  Walking past another aisle, we finally found my new manager, Eric Muller. He was pulling cracker boxes forward to help the shelves look full.

  “Hey there, Eric,” I smiled.

  “Morning, Miss Foster,” he smiled back.

  “Got time to give me a report on how things are going?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said, dusting off his hands. “I’ll go ahead and wait for you in your office.”

  “Perfect, thank you so much,” I said, leaving him and heading to the back of the store. I wanted to check on one more person before having that meeting with Eric.

  I arrived to the back to find my meat cutter hard at work, taking out slabs of meat with a giant cleaver.

  “Hello Thomas, how are you today?” I asked my butcher, Thomas Rollin. He was the best meat cutter in all of Twistchapel, and I had snagged him up when his own shop was going under. He also happened to be a werewolf.

  “I’m doing very well, Zoey, thank you,” he smiled, looking around. After making sure the coast was clear, he leaned in. “By the way, Derek mentioned that he’d like to talk with you.”

  “Oh, really? Do you know what about?”

  A month or two earlier, Thomas had been wrongfully suspected of murder. His werewolf mentor, Derek, was the one who told me about Thomas also being a werewolf, and ultimately helped me discover who the real murderer was. I hadn’t seen or heard from Derek since then, and assumed he had moved on to another town.

  “I don’t know, I’m afraid,” said Thomas. “We’ve finished up my training, but are going to meet for a round of bowling down at the alley this Friday night to celebrate. He wants you to come by then, if you’re free. He says it’s very important.”

  “Okay, I think I can do that,” I said. “I’ll double check my calendar and let you know.”

  “Pssh, we both know you don’t have anything to do on a Friday night,” scoffed Bart.

  I gave him a look. He was right, though.

  I said goodbye to Thomas and made for my office. It was about time to meet with Eric and hear about how things are going.

  Walking down the main aisle to my office in the front, a customer gave me a small wave and blocked my path.

  “Zoey!” she exclaimed, opening her arms. “It’s been too long!”

  “Jill!” I said, going in for the hug. “How have you been?”

  Jill Arnold had been one of my suspects for a murder, and I had hardly seen her since. She had moved to Twistchapel just a few months earlier and was hoping to open a local business.

  “I’ve been doing very well, although a bit tired,” she laughed, gesturing at her face. There were bags under her eyes, but I didn’t think they were terribly noticeable. “Been working all day and night on my beauty salon.”

  “Is it open yet?”

  “Not quite,” she sighed. “Every time I think I’m close to having it perfect, another three things pop up. You know how it goes.”

  “Well keep me posted on how it’s going,” I said.

  “Will do. We should definitely catch up some time soon!” she said, going back to her cart.

  “Why do humans always say that, but then they never actually meet?” asked Bart as we continued down the aisle. “Both parties say they want to, but then a time and place is never set.”

  “It’s just a polite thing to do,” I shrugged, turning around the corner to head to the registers and my office.

  “I just don’t- Ugh!” grunted Bart, throwing a paw over his face. “Does she have to work all the time?”

  “The customers like her,” I tried to say convincingly. I was equally trying to convince myself.

  Charline Baker was leaning against the register, waiting for customers to help. She was one of my two main cashiers - the other being my friend, Bridgette Simpson - and was sometimes difficult to work with. She was very particular, and didn’t seem to completely understand the dynamic of the store. She also never let me get by my office without trying to chat my ear off. I really shouldn’t have put my office so close to checkout.

  “Morning, Miss Foster,” said Charline as she noticed me.

  “Hello, Charline,” I said. Best to try and keep it short.

  “Eric’s in there, you know,” she said.

  “That’s great,” I nodded, trying to hurry to the door. “We’ve got a meeting scheduled for right now, actually.”

  “I’ve put in a good word for you,” said Charline.

  “Have you now.”

  “Does this lady forget that you’re the owner?” said Bart.

  “I have,” said Charline, nodding curtly. “You’ve been at work much more often than in the past.”

  “Doing my best,” I said, hand waiting on the doorknob.

  “It’s so nice having a manger around that actually takes the time to get feedback from their employees,” continued Charline. “I used to feel so mismanaged.”

  “I’m sorry you felt that wa-”

  “Then Eric gets promoted, and I won’t lie to you, Miss Foster, but I was
apprehensive at first. I thought, there’s no way this young one is going to be able to steer this great ship anywhere but into a giant rock.”

  “What an odd analogy,” mumbled Bart.

  “He’s proven me wrong though, he has,” nodded Charline. “He is wise beyond his years.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, Charline,” I said, turning the doorknob.

  “And I’ll tell you another thing,” she continued. I let go of the doorknob. “The other employees seem mighty happy with him. He’s been checking in on everyone, making sure they’re doing well.”

  “Perfect,” I said, looking at her.

  She stared back at me without saying anything for a moment.

  “Are you gonna keep taking up my time and looking at me, or are you going to go in?” asked Charline. “I thought you had a meeting?”

  “This woman is unbearable,” groaned Bart.

  “Thanks for your time, Charline,” I said.

  I opened my door to find Eric already sitting down on the couch, waiting for me.

  "Hi Eric," I said, closing the door. "Sorry I kept you waiting. I was talking to a customer and then Charline…"

  "Don’t worry about it, Charline talked to me for a while, too," he laughed.

  "She does that quite a bit, doesn’t she?"

  "She definitely does."

  "So, how are things going?" I asked.

  "So far so good," said Eric. "Thomas has really taken to reporting to me, and he’s doing a really great job. Sales are up in the meat department."

  "That’s good to hear!"

  "Our bakery sales are doing well, and they are preparing a big cake and cookie project for the upcoming holidays."

  “Great, I was hoping they were going to do something like that."

  "Our daily sales are down a little bit from last year at this time, but I'm working with them to figure out what could be the cause of that."

  "How about the produce department? Your old stomping grounds," I laughed.

  "They have been… struggling," said Eric uncomfortably.

  "Oh? Do you think it's because you're not the one in charge anymore?" When I promoted Eric to manager a month earlier, that meant that the produce department was going to be losing their department head. I promoted one of the other produce clerks, Jimmy Ralin, to take over as department head in his stead. Jimmy was always trying to impress me, so I assumed he’d be doing a good job.