I Put a Spell on You
Read I Put a Spell on You Online
Authors: Kerry Barrett
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Romantic Comedy, #Witches & Wizards
When Harmony McLeod – Harry, for short – discovers one of her employees dead in the reception of the exclusive spa she owns and runs, she is shocked, upset and more than a little spooked. You see, Harry is a witch, and her speciality is the ‘spiritual counselling’ that she offers her clients alongside the massages and yoga – in other words, she gives them spells to help deal with specific problems. So when she senses dark magic in the air at the crime scene, she suspects sabotage from another witch.
But who would want to kill her receptionist, hurt Harry and destroy her business? Surely not her cousin and fellow witch Esme? She and Harry may have had their differences, but they’re still family. And her colleague Xander has been a rock for her since her last breakup, and works so hard at the spa. He’s keen to learn magic skills to help out, and if he had some grievance then Harry would know – wouldn’t she? But as more unexplained events continue to unfold, Harry starts to suspect even her closest friends. It’s lucky that DI Louise Baxter is willing to go the extra mile to try and help solve the mystery – and the fact that she’s easy on the eyes hasn’t escaped Harry either…
Also available by Kerry Barrett
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
I Put a Spell on You
Kerry Barrett
KERRY BARRETT
was a bookworm from a very early age, devouring Enid Blyton and Noel Streatfeild, before moving on to
Sweet Valley High
and 1980s bonkbusters. She did a degree in English Literature, then trained as a journalist, writing about everything from pub grub to
EastEnders
. Her first novel,
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
, took six years to finish and was mostly written in longhand on her commute to work, giving her a very good reason to buy beautiful notebooks. Kerry lives in London with her husband and two sons, and Noel Streatfeild’s
Ballet Shoes
is still her favourite novel.
Big thanks as always to Darren, Tom and Sam for their support. Thank you to Jo for providing me with excellent information about police procedures. The advice was hers, but any mistakes are all mine. Thanks to the team at Carina – Lucy, Victoria and Helen – for all their help, and thank you to everyone who read
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
. A special mention must go to Star Poling, whose husband Phil bought her the chance to name a character in the book in an auction to raise money for my friend’s little boy, Ted, and who chose to be killed off in the very first line. Find out more about Ted’s fund at
http://treatmentforted.com
.
For Mum and Dad
Contents
She was dead. There was no question about that. She was slumped in her chair, head slightly to one side, blonde curly hair in front of her face, and her eyes open and glassy.
“Oh shit,” I said. “Shit.”
I walked towards her, not sure what to do.
“Star?” I said, though I knew she wouldn’t answer. “Star? Wake up.”
She didn’t move.
A chill came over me and I started to shake.
“Star?” I said again. Nothing. I took a breath and picked up her wrist, feeling for a pulse. Her skin was cool and smooth and there was no sign of life. Carefully I put her hand down, feeling close to tears but knowing I had to keep it together.
“Star, I’m going to phone for an ambulance,” I said, wondering why I was talking to her. “It’s going to be okay.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialled 999. The operator was so nice, telling me to how to check for a pulse properly this time. She kept me talking until a paramedic arrived, just one, in a car.
“What’s her name?” he asked, going quickly to Star’s side, lifting her wrist and looking at his watch.
“Star,” I said. “I think she’s…she’s not breathing…”
He gave me a sympathetic look and a quick nod. Then he gently let Star’s wrist go.
“Do you know if she was taking any medication?” he asked.
“She’s got a heart condition,” I said. I pointed to Star’s bag, which was tucked under her desk. “I expect her pills are in there.”
“Could you find them for me, love?” he said. He was busy listening to Star’s chest and taking her pulse again.
I scooped up Star’s bag, found two bottles of pills and handed them over, just as an ambulance pulled up outside, along with a police car. The paramedic looked at the labels then showed them to his colleagues who had just arrived. They all exchanged a glance.
“I’m very sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do.”
I felt dizzy and let one of the paramedics steer me towards a chair.
“I expect the police will have some questions,” he said, handing me a bottle of water.
I watched the Christmas lights twinkling gently in the window and thought how out of place they looked now the festivities were over and Star was dead. I felt I should start taking them down but I didn’t want to move.
It was like a strange nightmare as the room, which had been empty apart from Star sitting working at her desk when I headed to my office earlier, filled up with people – the three paramedics, two – very young-looking – policemen in uniform, and an older female detective – about my age – in a silvery grey suit. I sat still and watched, not sure what to do.
One of the policemen took a step towards me.
“Miss McLeod?” he said.
“Ms,” I snapped.
“We’ve got some questions,” he said carefully.
He asked me all about Star, about her heart condition – which I didn’t know much about except she joked about her ‘dodgy ticker’ – whether she was married, or had kids. When I said she was divorced, the policeman excused himself for a second to speak to his colleagues, then sat down again.
“We’re sending someone to speak to her parents,” he said. “Were you the last person to see her?”
I nodded.
“She was here alone,” I said, feeling guilt wash over me. “She should have been home by now, but she wanted to talk to me and I was too busy. I think she was waiting to see me before she left.”
I looked over at where Star still sat.
It felt like I was there for hours, answering questions and wondering what would happen next.
Eventually, one of the paramedics came up behind the policeman and spoke quietly to him. Too quietly for most people to hear. But not me.
“There’s nothing more to do,” he said, nodding in Star’s direction. “We’re going, and we’ve arranged for her to be taken to the morgue.”
“Oh no,” I said to myself. I wasn’t used to being in situations I couldn’t control and I felt horribly helpless and out of sorts.
The policeman asked me some more questions. He was very capable, I thought, looking at him, for someone so young.
“We’re going to have to seal off the area,” he explained. “Just until we know what’s happened. I don’t think there’s any crime been committed but we have to make sure.”
I was relieved. Criminal activities weren’t good for business. Then I felt bad for being relieved. Crime or no crime, Star was still dead.
More people had arrived.
“Undertakers,” the policeman murmured to me.
I watched as they brought in a stretcher and carefully lifted Star onto it. One of them shook out a blanket and, as he pulled it over her face, I caught sight of her expression. It was fixed in a kind of horrified grimace. She looked terrified. So terrified, in fact, that I gasped out loud.
“I know it’s a shock,” the policeman said with a sympathetic pat to my arm. “We’re pretty much done here but I’m going to leave someone outside tonight. I’ll get you a lift home.”
I moved away so he couldn’t touch me again.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m fine.” I really wanted to be on my own to take stock of the situation. I needed time to think about why Star’s face would have been so scared.
The undertakers picked up the stretcher with its sad burden and we all stood, respectfully silent as they took Star outside. Then the policeman who’d asked me all the questions picked up my bag.
“Do you live nearby?” he said.
“Five minutes,” I said, trying to make it sound even closer. “Really, I’m fine to walk.”
He looked unsure. He glanced at his colleague then back at me. I gave him a fierce look and he handed me my bag.
“I’ll get someone to call you tomorrow,” he said. “Check you’re OK.”
I gave him a half-smile, then I slumped onto one of the sofas in the waiting area, exhausted and emotional. I couldn’t quite understand what had happened. Star was so young, only a couple of years older than me. And the expression on her face – that scared – terrified – expression had really unsettled me.
The police had huddled by the door, talking to another officer who’d just arrived, while they started taping off the entrance and, now the room was quieter, I realised what else was unsettling me. It was magic. Everywhere.
I’m a witch, you see. Always have been. And I’m a really good one. That’s why I could hear the police when they were talking too quietly for anyone else to eavesdrop on them. It’s why I could ‘persuade’ the officer to let me walk home alone and it’s why I could see there was magic in the room.
Witchcraft isn’t just a hobby for me – it’s my career. I run a website called inharmony.com (Harmony is my name though everyone calls me Harry) which is a bit like Mumsnet but for witches. And I run this spa, which is also called In Harmony. Star is my receptionist. Or she was.
I walked over to Star’s desk. Magic hung in the air. You can’t see it, magic, but it tends to hang around for a while after it’s happened. Good magic – our sort – often just shimmers a bit. Black magic is heavier, more like an unpleasant atmosphere. Not everyone can see it, but I believe everyone can feel it – it’s just we know what it is and you don’t.
Star wasn’t a witch, so I had no idea why there would be magic hanging about her desk. Except, she’d been trying to talk to me all day. I’d not seen her for a while – I’d been away on holiday at the start of December and then the spa had been closed over the Christmas break and today was our first day back at work. Like I’d said to the police officer, Star had been desperate to grab five minutes with me. But I’d had back-to-back clients and I hadn’t had a minute. I knew she had been waiting for me to finish this evening so we could talk.
I had an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Uneasiness, perhaps, or maybe just guilt that I hadn’t been there for Star when she wanted me. I glanced over my shoulder to see if the police officers were watching me, but their attention was all on each other, then I opened the filing cabinet next to Star’s desk, where she kept all our HR records, and started to flick through… Her surname was Poling but I couldn’t find anything under P. Filing had never been Star’s strong suit. Frustrated, I waggled my fingers. Silvery shimmers flew from the tips and the files ruffled in an invisible breeze. Then, slowly, one file rose up above the others in the cupboard. ‘Star Poling’ it said along the top.