Curse Two Birds With One Spell: A Wildwood Witch Mystery Book 8 (Paperback)

On the day of my trial, I wore my lucky Pikachu socks.

Yes, I was aware that they weren’t exactly suitable attire for a Head Witch, but I hadn’t had a lot of time to do laundry lately, and frankly, I needed all the luck I could get. Mum might have given me a lecture if she’d known, but Mum wasn’t there. That was kind of the problem. 

Admittedly, with my mother in a coma and my aunt trying to pressure the local witch council into taking away my Head Witch status, a pair of lucky Pikachu socks didn’t feel like enough.

Neither did the sceptre. I held the long, pointed instrument in both hands as I walked through the open door to the witches’ headquarters, but the all-powerful symbol of the Head Witch’s status had as much meaning in my hands as a sword made of rubber. Nothing would convince the people waiting inside the council room a short distance away that I was competent enough to be in charge. Most of them were three times my age and had been sitting on the council since before I was born, and the sole exceptions were the pair of smirking blond witches responsible for challenging me in the first place.

Not good odds.

As I stared into the void—or rather, the council room—Tansy, my red squirrel familiar, curled her fluffy tail around my neck to comfort me. “Come on. Chloe’ll help you.”

I swivelled to the left, where my assistant, Chloe Watts, beckoned me into my office.

Technically, it wasn’t my office any longer, but so far, nobody else had staked their claim, and the steely glint in Chloe’s eyes suggested she’d challenge anyone who tried. 

“I have a plan,” she said.

“I hope it’s a good one.”

With Chloe, that was a given, but I’d racked my brain all night and eventually concluded that there was about as much chance of me escaping with my job as there was of me developing a sudden proclivity for ballroom dancing.

She nodded. “Yes. I can’t postpone the trial, but I can at least slow down the outcome.”

“That implies there’ll definitely be a trial.” Even Chloe couldn’t work miracles. The trial was mere minutes away, and short of the town being invaded by demons, nothing would stop my aunt’s quest to strip me of the sceptre and claim it for herself.

Sweat dampened my palms as I laid the powerful magical instrument that had gained me my title and sealed my fate all in the same instant on my desk. I’d take it with me to the trial, of course, but I was a little worried that my overflowing emotions would cause it to start firing off sparks and set the place ablaze. I guess that would postpone the trial too.

Chloe ran her teeth over her lower lip. “The trial itself is just a formality.”

“Yeah, a formal challenge to my competence as Head Witch. No big deal.” There wasn’t a thing I could do to dispute the charges. Saving everyone from a demon didn’t count as worthy enough to make an exception.

Chloe lowered her gaze. “There have been other incidents when someone has unsuccessfully challenged the Head Witch. A lot, in fact. Jealousy from family members is surprisingly common.”

“Is it usually backed up by someone with the entire council on their side?” 

Yes, Chloe was far more adept than I was at navigating the world of coven politics, but the council thought I was the worst Head Witch to ever exist, and my only supporter now lay unconscious indefinitely. 

Her sister had been waiting for the excuse to wield my many failures against me—including such heinous errors as not being able to remember the names and achievements of every Head Witch to ever exist or answering every letter that crossed my desk the same day—but I’d given her the perfect opportunity when I’d gone to rescue my mother from a rogue Reaper without informing the council, which was supposedly an unforgivable crime. As a result, the council intended to take away the sole weapon that might save us all from a demonic infestation.

That they’d waited until my mother had been put in a coma as a result of being trapped in the afterworld just added insult to injury.

“Stop moping.” Grandma’s ghostly figure appeared, arms crossed, above her desk. “Throwing a tantrum won’t get you anywhere.”

“Can’t you talk to your youngest daughter?” It was a long shot, I freely admitted, but Aunt Shannon sure as hell wouldn’t listen to anyone else.

Grandma gave a hoot of laughter that startled Carmilla, her cat, into waking from her nap on Chloe’s desk. “As if she’d listen.”

You could have at least tried. The most Grandma had done was refuse to let my aunt or anyone else claim the office while I was under investigation, which I might have taken as proof of her support if I didn’t suspect it was more likely that she didn’t want anyone moving her belongings around. She didn’t even like me being in there, but I’d been sure part of her must be angry with my aunt for stealing Mum’s position while she was unconscious.

“Then what do you suggest I do?” I enquired.

“Go in there and try not to mess up too badly.”

“Thanks.” As usual, she was a pinnacle of support and encouragement. Not that I’d expected otherwise. 

“I’m sorry,” said Chloe when Grandma vanished as swiftly as she’d arrived. “Part of the problem is that we do need an interim coven leader while your mother is absent, and nobody else volunteered.”

“And they all voted for the person who stole from the coven’s finances?” How Aunt Shannon had managed to put together a committee of other council members to declare me incompetent as a leader when she’d gone as far as to peddle illegal potions online for cash a few months ago stank like foul play.

Tansy sat upright on my shoulder. “She’s blackmailing them, I’m sure.”

“Not implausible.” How to prove it, though? I had five minutes—no, two—to think of a way out, and my mind was as blank as the paperwork I’d neglected over the past few days while we’d been dealing with the current crisis.

“I’ll look into it,” Chloe said. “You’d better go. You don’t want to be late.”

I might have argued that I had a minute, but my timekeeping skills weren’t the greatest on a good day, let alone in the middle of a crisis. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I’d even done the previous evening. I might have done more to prepare, but I’d been in too much shock. The whiplash of Mum’s injury followed by my aunt’s challenge had left me as discombobulated as a squirrel on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Not that Tansy would have appreciated that analogy.

I picked up the sceptre, its heavy weight settling in my hands. Don’t screw this up, Robin. My ability to control my temper was erratic at the best of times, and my magic reacted to my mood, which was a double recipe for catastrophe when so much depended on my keeping my head in this meeting. No pressure.

My familiar stayed with me until we reached the council room doorway, then she hopped off my shoulder.

“Give them hell, Robin,” she said.

I managed a nod before I stepped over the threshold alone. No squirrels inside the council meeting room. I’d broken that rule before, but there was no sense in giving my aunt more ammunition to level at me. I surreptitiously glanced down to check that my Pikachu socks weren’t showing under my long black cloak and then approached the table. 

Aunt Shannon already sat in the seat that was supposed to belong to my mother—another blatant insult—with her daughter Vanessa at her side. My cousin was Aunt Shannon’s clone, down to the smirk on her face. I sometimes wondered if she’d ever had a single independent thought in all her life.

Of the other council members, I didn’t know any of them particularly well. Wisteria Atkins was the eldest and was morbidly terrified of ghosts, demons, Reapers, and everything associated with them. I could see how Aunt Shannon might have scared her into joining forces, but the others I wasn’t so sure about. Belinda Jewell was an elderly witch who wore the same pink headband to every meeting and who generally spent all her time knitting instead of paying attention. To my surprise, though, she was the only person who smiled at me when I took my seat.

The other two—Janine Crow and Laurel Waters—didn’t meet my eyes, but they’d noticeably moved their chairs closer to Aunt Shannon’s end of the table.

Chloe sat next to me, her notebook and pen at the ready. She might have been my assistant, but her primary role was to take notes and document the meeting. It was nice to imagine that she and Mum had concocted a scheme to challenge Aunt Shannon before the Reaper’s betrayal, but I couldn’t count on a last-minute rescue. 

I had to do this myself.

“Welcome, everyone.” I assumed I was meant to start the meeting with the usual meaningless pleasantries, but my aunt cut me off right away. 

“As interim coven leader, it’s my job to start this meeting,” she said. “With the Head Witch under investigation, she forfeits her authority.”

I wish you’d forfeit your tongue. My fingers itched to point the sceptre at her, but I laid it down beside the table and sent a silent plea to my magic to stay under control no matter how much my aunt poked at my temper. Showering sparks all over the room would not help my case in the least. 

“Then by all means, go ahead,” I said. “Say your piece.”

“We’re here to witness the trial of the current Head Witch,” Aunt Shannon began. “As presented by the interim coven leader.”

Belinda cleared her throat. “Ah… when were you voted in as interim coven leader? I must have missed it.”

I stared at her in disbelief. So did Aunt Shannon. Belinda hadn’t put down her knitting, but her words were clear enough. 

My aunt made a swift recovery. “To become interim leader requires the support of more than half of the members of the council. Incidentally, that same number of supporters is required to present a challenge to the Head Witch.”

Belinda blinked. “Now? With the coven leader in a coma and a demon on the loose?”

I gave her a brief look of gratitude, though I didn’t dare say anything aloud in case my aunt took advantage. Belinda was right, though, and it was screamingly obvious that Aunt Shannon hadn’t wanted to delay the trial in case my mother woke up first and took back her position. Oh, she didn’t say that directly, but we all knew it was true. 

Nobody else jumped to my defence aside from Belinda, but a tendril of hope unfurled in my chest all the same.

“Yes, now,” said Aunt Shannon, though her smile was less wide. “We have everything we need. To start off with, I will offer the reasons for the challenge to the Head Witch’s authority, aided by any questions that might be offered by my supporters. Then, the Head Witch will make her own defence, and her allies will add in their own input… if she has any allies present, of course.”

My hands clenched under the table. She had me backed into a corner, and she knew it.

“Afterward,” she continued, “we will discuss the matter amongst ourselves without the Head Witch being present. Then the verdict will be delivered.” 

This isn’t right. Yes, everything she was doing was perfectly legal, drawing on existing rules straight from the coven handbook, but that didn’t make it right. 

I plastered on a smile. “Fine. Begin.”

“So… the challenge,” said Aunt Shannon, her smirk back in place. “The primary challenge is that the Head Witch acted inappropriately to her station by failing to inform the rest of the council that a dangerous demon was on the loose in Wildwood Heath. She then made an alliance with a Reaper who turned out to be a criminal and allowed the coven leader to be taken captive then attempted to stage a rescue mission alone. Again, without informing the council.” 

That’s hardly fair. I might have pointed out that Mum had called the Reaper in the first place, that neither of us had known Linnea would turn out to be a traitor—but Mum was in a coma and unable to defend herself or me.

As for Aunt Shannon, it couldn’t have been more obvious that she was having the time of her life listing all my inadequacies for the world to hear. I wanted to punch her in the nose. Unfortunately, that would have fallen into the category of an inappropriate response in a coven meeting. Instead, I clenched my fists and occupied myself with the mental image of a bucket of animal dung upending itself on her head.

It didn’t quite work. Anger buzzed in my veins, and the loud birdsong outside the window indicated the local wildlife had picked up on the magic fizzing from my skin, but I managed to hold back an outburst by sheer force of will. Mercifully, the sceptre gave no response to my emotions. Maybe it’d picked up on my silent pleas after all.

When I was allowed to speak, I rose upright. I hadn’t practised giving a statement, but it wasn’t hard to remember the events I had to recount. Every minute was seared into my brain. The false Reaper’s betrayal. The demon’s attack. Mum’s disappearance. And, yes, the part when I’d decided not to tell the council before I went after her. If I had, Mum might not have survived.

“I’m sure that if any of your family members had been taken hostage, you’d have reacted the same,” I said to finish my account. “As it is, I was able to save her before she lost her life. The demon responsible for the attack…”

“…is gone, I believe,” Aunt Shannon said, her tone so cheerful she practically sang the words. “If you’ve finished with your account, it’s time for me and my supporters to ask any outstanding questions.”

“Of course.” I gave a strained smile. “Go ahead.”

“It never occurred to you to ask for backup?” she began. “Rather than pursuing the false Reaper alone? Surely, that would have given your mother a better chance of survival.”

“I had my brother. He’s the head of the police and has dealt with demons before.” Kind of. In truth, nobody had been prepared for a Reaper to turn against us, and I doubted any of the people in this room would have fared any better than I had.

“The Head Witch must always ask the coven for support before the police,” said Wisteria in her hoarse voice.

Would you have offered any support? Wisteria was terrified of ghosts. I bit back my urge to point out the obvious, but surely, everyone in the room knew she wouldn’t have gone into the afterworld to help get my mother out. Neither would anyone else in this room, come to that. 

Aunt Shannon tutted. “Sad to say, it’s a noticeable pattern. Since the new Head Witch was appointed, we’ve seen a definite decline in standards and procedures.”

If I’d been a squirrel, my tail would have been standing on end in indignation. Standards and procedures? I thought most of those standards were nonsensical bureaucracy designed to stop anything actually getting done, and they were about as effective in a crisis as a small bucket on a sinking ship. Would she rather the whole town had been taken over by demons?

“I thought the challenge to my leadership was about my actions on that specific day,” I said pointedly. “There were extenuating circumstances. A demon possessed several citizens of Wildwood Heath, and a rogue Reaper attacked the town. Some might say this is a time when our coven needs to work closely together, not split into factions.”

“This is a time for strong leadership,” Aunt Shannon corrected. “Not lies and excuses.”

And you’ve never lied for your own benefit? With every word she said, my temper rose higher. This was a waste of time on all levels, but the real kick in the face was that she’d done far worse than I had, and everyone had seemingly forgotten. Mum… God, I wished she was here. She might have made a habit of nitpicking at my inadequacies, but she at least didn’t have a convenient case of amnesia when it came to her younger sister. I knew I was far from beyond reproach, but this was ridiculous.

Really, it came down to one immutable fact. In the end, I was never going to be good enough for these people. Never.

“Now for the verdict,” she concluded. “As stated, we’ll discuss the subject amongst ourselves as a council, and we’ll deliver our decision in an hour. How does that sound?”

I bit back my instinctive Screw you. “Perfectly acceptable.”

No miracles presented themselves. Chloe rose to her feet and followed me out of the room with her head bowed.

“I thought,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, “you had a plan.”

“I do.”

“Does it involve them taking the sceptre away?” I hissed. “And letting her take Mum’s title?”

The latter, she couldn’t have stopped, and Mum had shown no signs of waking up so far. Being trapped in the afterworld wasn’t the kind of affliction you could cure with regular magic. I’d even asked Maura—the sole Reaper I’d met who hadn’t turned out to be a massive traitor—but she’d shaken her head and told me that there was nothing she could do either.

Linnea herself was in jail, or so I thought. She’d been arrested by the Wardens, but they might have handed her over to the Reaper Council. I didn’t know. Thanks to my aunt’s scheming, I’d been unable to check to make sure she’d been put somewhere she couldn’t harm anyone else.

“They won’t,” Chloe said. “They might be able to remove your Head Witch title, but if the sceptre chooses you again, they won’t be able to do anything to challenge the decision.”

“That’s your plan?” My tone was sharper than I’d intended, but I’d assumed her plan involved my aunt not having a chance to even try to claim the sceptre.

Chloe flinched. “The sceptre chose you. There’s no reason it wouldn’t do so again.”

“There are plenty of reasons.” Sceptres could change their minds—metaphorically speaking—and while my aunt was at the bottom of my list of options, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she found a way to exclude all other possible candidates.

Mostly, I felt a fool for forgetting that the sceptre had been her target from the start. At first, she’d seemingly accepted her defeat, but that she’d been preparing a coup all along shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Upon entering my office, Chloe turned to me. “Robin, your aunt knows the sceptre will choose you again if she gives it the option. She won’t be able to take it away permanently. That’s our loophole.”

“That’s not a loophole.” Hardly. The sceptre had nobody else to choose, which was why it’d picked the family screw-up above all other options. Who was to say it wouldn’t pick my aunt if she locked me out of the room? “What if she has me arrested or just locked in another room when the sceptre picks its next wielder? Can you guarantee it won’t go with the only available choice?”

Her mouth parted. “I…”

She doesn’t know. The tendril of hope in my chest withered and died. “You know what happens if she wins.”

We’d all die. I wasn’t even exaggerating. Two demons wanted me dead, one of which had fled town while possessing Leona, former assistant to the Henbane Coven’s leader. My aunt’s coup would paint a neon target on the town, which she must surely know, but her own ambitions won out over common sense. 

Chloe turned her attention to the desk, upon which a neat stack of books sat. “I’m certain the sceptre will pick you, but I can take another look at the rule book and check for any more loopholes to delay your aunt’s takeover attempt.” 

I managed a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Would I be able to rely on mere bureaucracy to drag out the matter and buy some time? Perhaps, but that time might not be long enough no matter what. I wasn’t in any way ready to face the demons, but my aunt had added a new layer of urgency to the quest the sceptre had given me. There was no hunting demons while I was trapped here, playing my aunt’s silly games.

I have to get her off my back. Somehow.