Forget Me Knot Read online

  Forget Me Knot

  Wayfair Witches Book Ten

  by A.A. Albright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  Text Copyright © A.A. Albright 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

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  Table of Contents

  1. Not-So-Busy Bees

  2. Nobody Dies in Riddler’s Cove

  3. Going Batty

  4. The Date of my Dreams

  5. A Familiar Arrival

  6. The Most Important Meal of the Day

  7. The Personification of Evil

  8. A Total Nag

  9. Electric Feels

  10. Every Man Needs a Cave of his Own

  11. A Scrying Shame

  12. The Jam Sandwich Appreciation Society

  13. It’s All About the Rhythm, Baby

  14. The Man of My Dreams

  15. Vive la (Pre) Résistance!

  16. Stop and Smell the Roses

  17. Truly, Madly, Dippily

  18. Break On Through to the Witchy Side

  19. Forget My Face

  20. The Rusty Warlock

  21. Forget Me Never

  22. Magical Kisses

  23. Dreamwalker

  24. Knights on White Horses

  25. Snow Will

  26. Two Months Later

  1. Not-So-Busy Bees

  It was a lovely morning in Riddler’s Cove. The forget-me-nots were in full, blue, beautiful bloom. Birds were chirruping in the trees, bunnies were hopping through the fields, and every single person we met on our beat had a warm and friendly smile for us.

  ‘Good morning, good morning!’ cried out the postman as he set his broom down next to a postbox, tipping his hat to Gretel and me as we passed.

  As greetings went, his was a wonderful one, and one with which I most definitely agreed. This was an especially nice morning, after all – the kind of morning that deserved to get double the recognition.

  ‘Good morning, good morning,’ I greeted him back, lifting the visor of my helmet so I could give him a smile.

  Gretel, my partner, tried to lift her visor too, but it got stuck halfway and she struggled to close it again, giving the postman a hasty greeting as we went on our way.

  I resisted the urge to link my arm through hers as we continued on our beat. Just because we had only a few minutes to go until lunchtime, and nothing bad ever happened in Riddler’s Cove anyway, didn’t mean we should take our jobs less seriously. We couldn’t go skipping down the road, arm in arm, like this was all fun and games. I mean, we were Peacemakers – bound to protect this supernatural enclave from danger. The fact that there hadn’t been any danger for a long, long time … well, that just told me our vigilance was paying off.

  ‘It’s funny,’ said Gretel as we neared the Witches’ Graveyard. ‘But even though I’m sweating in my uniform, I have this ridiculous urge to bundle up in a scarf or do a warmth spell.’

  I thought back to when I was getting ready that morning. I had reached for my scarf and gloves, even though the sun was shining outside. Maybe it was an Irish thing – we were so used to miserable weather that when a prolonged sunny spell came along, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves.

  ‘I hear ya on the woollies,’ I said. ‘I almost grabbed my own this morning. But I do not hear ya on the warmth spell, for obvious reasons.’

  Gretel had now managed to manoeuvre her visor into a permanently up position, and I could see the guilt on her face. ‘I wasn’t having a dig, Wanda. It’s just that you’re the only Peacemaker who’s unempowered. I sometimes forget.’ Somewhere in the midst of her awkward and unnecessary apology, her eyes widened, and she stared at my left hand. ‘Is that …?’

  I gave her a big smile and looked down at the bright, shining ring. There were diamonds upon diamonds on that baby. I’d never been into bling, and this was probably the most blingtastic ring on the planet. It was also so heavy that my hand was getting a little bit tired. But I couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when I thought about what it represented.

  ‘Yip, it’s an engagement ring all right,’ I said. ‘You know what Will is like. He doesn’t do anything by halves.’

  Gretel whistled. ‘You’re telling me! So when’s the big day? Has he been initiated into your coven yet?’

  It was a natural question, really. In witch society, the man almost always joined the woman’s coven when they married. But things were different for me. Without magic, I had never been able to go through my formal coven initiation ceremony. I lived with my coven, but I wasn’t a proper member, not like the rest of the Wayfairs, which meant that Will couldn’t simply marry in – he’d have to go through the initiation rites. I got the feeling Will would much rather I became a Berry – his was one of the few covens where the roles were almost always reversed – but I’d avoided talking about it just yet.

  I was about to reply to Gretel, when my attention was diverted by a passing bee. It looked a tad sluggish and confused, staring at the flowers all around but not settling on any. I noticed, then, that many of the bees and butterflies were behaving just as oddly. There was nectar and pollen for the taking, but they were just hovering around, looking like they’d rather be back in bed. It was spring, though. Almost summer. Their behaviour made about as much sense as my yearning for winter woollies.

  I shook my head and turned back to Gretel. ‘We em … we haven’t gotten around to discussing that just yet,’ I told her. ‘I’m sure we’ll talk about it soon. He only proposed last night. It was all very …’

  My voice trailed off, as one of the confused bees smacked into something that had not been there a moment earlier.

  Gretel frowned, looking at the shed. It was small, wooden, and looked like it should be in someone’s back garden. Instead, it was in the Witches’ Graveyard, on the west side of the hill, where the graves were shaded by hawthorn trees as they looked down at the ocean.

  ‘Tell me I’m seeing things,’ I said. ‘And if you can’t tell me that, then tell me that the shed has always been there and it’s only me who thinks otherwise.’

  Gretel shook her head. ‘No can do, I’m afraid. If you’re seeing things, then so am I. And Wanda, we walk past this graveyard twice a day, every day. I think that even with our stupid helmets on, we would have noticed if there was a shed there before.’

  We pushed open the rickety gate and made our way into the graveyard. The shed was sitting next to a headstone which read: Here Lies Maureen O’Mara. There was a smaller headstone next to hers, which said nothing but: Dudley. It was common practice for witches to have their familiars buried next to them, but for some reason the sight of that little headstone made me grow all teary.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Gretel.

  ‘Mm hm,’ I told her. It was a big fat lie. I was not okay. If anything, I wanted to stay and have a long and heartfelt conversation with whoever occupied that grave. It was a strong and confusing feeling. But then again, there was another confusing thing in the graveyard – yay! – so I turned my attention to that, instead. ‘Let’s go check the shed out. See what’s inside. Bet you a jam doughnut that we’ll find a lawnmower and some gardening tools.’

  Gretel shuddered. ‘Sure. And I bet you two jam doughnuts that we’re about to interrupt a group of giant spiders or rats in their plot to take over the world.’


  ‘Nah,’ I said, trying to keep my expression confident. ‘There couldn’t be a gang of giant rats or spiders in there. It’d fit two or three, at most.’

  Warily, I pulled open the door. There was one spider visible, but it was tiny, and it didn’t let out even the briefest Machiavellian laugh. I’m always open to being wrong, but I was fairly sure that this spider wasn’t about to take over the world. It seemed far too interested in chowing down on the desiccated fly it had trapped in its web. Yummy.

  But while the spider might be chowing down on a fly, it looked like I might be about to chow down on a couple of jam doughnuts. There was a lawnmower in the shed. It was rusty and dented and looked like it sorely needed to be put out of its misery.

  There were some more tools piled next to it, and other bits and pieces – old paint tins and broken garden furniture – strewn about the place. But there was one corner of the shed that had absolutely nothing in it. That corner, for some reason, drew all of my attention.

  I scratched my head, staring at the space. I felt like if I could just look at it long enough, something would appear. I wasn’t sure what, but something.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ I said. ‘It feels …’

  ‘Feels what?’ Gretel wrinkled her nose. ‘Like a hotel for creepy crawlies? That’s how it feels to me, I can tell you.’ She stepped out of the shed and pulled out her notebook. ‘Okay, so I’ll reluctantly accept that there are no four- or eight-legged creatures up to no good in the shed. In which case, it has to be wizards, doesn’t it? I mean … witches don’t need lawnmowers, do they?’

  I looked around. She was right in one respect. Witches generally didn’t use petrol-driven mowers like this one. But wizards didn’t, either, unless it was for show. They had far better gadgets than a rusty petrol mower at their disposal. But the contents of the shed didn’t really matter much, did they? What mattered was who the heck had made it appear here, and why.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I said, in a non-committal murmur.

  ‘We should tell Will about this,’ she suggested.

  I looked at the floor, feeling slightly nervous at the thought of telling him about this shed. I didn’t know why I felt nervous – I just did. ‘I don’t know about that,’ I said. ‘I mean, he’s the Minister for Magical Law. He has far bigger crimes to worry about than some old shed, doesn’t he?’ And it was as good an excuse as any for my reluctance, I supposed.

  She sighed and pocketed her notebook. ‘Well, I suppose you’re right, but I still think you ought to at least mention it to him. I mean, Will Berry is the most powerful witch in the world. If he can’t figure this out, nobody can.’

  As soon as she uttered those last few words, the shed disappeared.

  2. Nobody Dies in Riddler’s Cove

  ‘Good afternoon, good afternoon!’ said Ronan, as we entered Three Witches Brew a few minutes later. ‘And what can I get for the best two Peacemakers in Riddler’s Cove?’

  Gretel jumped up onto a stool and then slid right off it. Gritting her teeth, she climbed back on and said, ‘You know what? If I can’t trust myself to sit on a stool without falling off, then I can’t trust myself to order. I’ll have whatever Wanda’s having.’

  I didn’t need to look at the menu to know what I wanted – and luckily, it was something that Gretel liked, too. But seeing as Ronan had passed the menu my way, I took a brief look just to be polite. He was one of three brothers who ran the establishment and, like the others, he had jet black hair and shining grey eyes. He had looked the same age – a robust fifty or so – for as long as I could remember. But I knew that he was far older than he appeared.

  When America began a Potions Prohibition in the Year of the Cuckoo (1920), he and his brothers ran a booming business, shipping illegal potions across the seas. To this day, there were passageways running beneath the bar and continuing on through the cliffs, leading to several coves along the coastline.

  Frankly, I admired their business sense. And if they looked this young due to glamours, good food, or maybe even some of those illegal potions they shipped … well, it was really none of my business. I liked all three brothers, deeply and instinctively, and not only because they served the best pub grub in Ireland.

  ‘Could I have the veggie burger and chips, please?’ I asked as I hopped onto a stool next to Gretel. ‘And an orange juice.’

  He quickly scribbled down my order and then gave me a wink. ‘We happen to have some very nice apple tart today, Wanda. Not that you’d be interested in a thing like that.’

  ‘You’re evil, Ronan, do you know that?’ I said.

  He let out a loud laugh. ‘So … you don’t want any then?’

  ‘Oh, I want some. With ice cream. I just won’t have a big dinner later on to make up for it.’ As I spoke those words, I tried to keep a straight face. I knew perfectly well that it didn’t matter how much I had for lunch. It was my mother’s turn to cook tonight, which meant I’d be having second helpings of everything she made.

  Our food arrived quickly and, as we ate, we chatted about the only interesting thing to have happened on our beat in well … ever – and that was the subject of the mysterious shed. After a few minutes of batting some crazy theories back and forth, I came up with the only one that made any sense.

  ‘Maybe it was someone moving house,’ I suggested. ‘And they wanted to take their garden shed with them, so they tried to transport it with a spell but they got the coordinates wrong.’

  Gretel let out a sigh of relief. ‘You know what? That sounds like the perfect explanation. You’re so clever, Wanda.’

  ‘Really?’ I felt ridiculously happy at her praise. Being unempowered, I often wondered whether I deserved my place on the force. But because I didn’t want to be a glory glutton, I changed the subject quickly, nodding my head to a poster on the wall. ‘Look at that,’ I said. ‘A Call of the Wild concert. Tomorrow night! Is it wrong that I’m almost as excited about that as I am about my engagement?’

  As she spotted the poster, a grin stretched across her face. ‘Oh my stars! I’m even more excited about it than I am about your engagement. But …’ Her face suddenly fell. ‘Oh no. Look at the venue, Wanda. It’s going to be at that new stadium on the outskirts of Riddler’s Cove. Plimpton Circle.’

  I peered closer. She was right. ‘I didn’t know it was finished yet. Crap. Darrell Plimpton built Plimpton Circle, didn’t he? And seeing as you look just as disappointed as I feel, then you already know how Will feels about that guy.’

  Gretel nodded glumly. Over a year ago, Will and Darrell had run against each other in an election to decide who would become Minister for Magical Law. Darrell had played dirty, then and ever since. Will had won anyway, by an enormous margin, and even though almost everyone agreed that he was the best Minister we’d ever had, Darrell was constantly trying to call for another election.

  ‘Will made me promise I wouldn’t attend a single event there,’ I said. ‘And I can see his point. I mean, I’m the wife-to-be of the Minister for Magical Law. I shouldn’t be supporting a venue built by his biggest enemy.’

  ‘I won’t go either, then. Darrell Plimpton is a creep with a capital C. I don’t want to see his stadium do well, either.’

  ‘Gretel!’ I shook my head in exasperation. ‘You can’t not go. You love the Call of the Wild. Oh, promise me you’ll go. I’ll feel unbelievably guilty if you don’t.’

  She gave me a small smile. ‘Maybe. I guess I could ask Todge to come along. There might not even be any tickets left at this stage, though, so there’s no point in talking about it anymore.’

  She was right. There was no point in talking about it anymore. Because the thought of not going to the concert made me feel a little … moody? Irritable? Annoyed with Will? Whatever odd feelings were running through my mind, I was one hundred percent aware of how unreasonable they were. Will was a good fiancé, and an amazing man. Missing out on the concert of the year just to make him happy, well … it was the least I could do.


  Just to remind myself of precisely how wonderful he was, I gazed down at my ring. I was still happily gazing, when a crashing noise came our way.

  Gretel and I stared at the door that led through to the back.

  ‘Probably nothing,’ she said unsurely. ‘Maybe someone dropped a tray?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, picking up my helmet and jumping from my stool. ‘That’ll be it. Just someone dropping a tray. But … I’m getting a funny feeling about this, Gretel. Maybe we should go check it out anyway. Just to be on the safe side.’

  She looked me up and down. ‘To be on the safe side? You’re being weird, Wanda. What could possibly be wrong?’

  My eyes veered towards the door. She was right, wasn’t she? Nothing could be wrong. Other than the shed we’d seen a short while ago, we lived in the most uneventful town in the world. So why did I feel slightly queasy?

  ‘Nothing’s wrong, I’m sure. But it sounds like someone might have made a bit of a mess, so we should go help them out.’

  ‘Oh.’ She leapt from her seat, smiling. ‘We absolutely should.’ She rolled her eyes and snorted as she followed me. ‘For a minute there I thought you were thinking it was something serious.’

  As we walked warily around the bar and through to the back, we saw that we were right. Someone had dropped a tray on the ground, and that someone was Fiodóir, another of the brothers who ran the tavern. The tray had been filled with plates and bowls, and shards of the dinnerware had spilled all over the floor.

  Much as I wished that the dropped tray was the only thing of note in the kitchen, there was something far more ominous – because just a few feet away from Fiodóir was the reason he’d dropped the tray.

  Fiodóir’s grey eyes were wide, and his face was pale as he stared out through the open back door, looking helplessly at the sight on the ground.

  ‘Good afternoon, good afternoon,’ he said weakly as we neared him. ‘I mean, it’s not, but … you have to say it, don’t you?’