All Hallowed Out Read online

  All Hallowed Out

  Wayfair Witches Book Eleven

  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.

  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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  Website: https://aaalbright.com

  Table of Contents

  1. The Leaves on the Trees Aren’t Falling

  2. Nip Not Nap

  3. The Night Rooms

  4. Lord of Tiggerton Manor

  5. He Moves On Easily

  6. I Told Her Not to Use the Ladder!

  7. Schisms and Schemes

  8. It’s Got Nothing to Do With What’s-His-Name

  9. All Of Those Moments

  10. A Vision of Now

  11. World’s Greatest Agent

  12. Self-Control

  13. Tearful Thomas

  14. The Smoking Beret

  15. Vicious Vixen

  16. The Witch Who Hated Halloween

  17. Ellie’s Offerings

  18. All Hallowed Out

  19. The Best Halloween Ever

  20. A Great Big Jar of Nutbutter

  21. An Siúlóid Marbh

  22. English Muffin

  23. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

  24. Community Spirit

  25. Restless Souls

  26. Plan C

  27. Dancing With the Stars

  28. The Familiar Who Saved the World

  29. Isn’t This All a Bit Backwards, Judge Blasket?

  1. The Leaves on the Trees Aren’t Falling

  There are many proverbs which I should have remembered on that Tuesday morning, two days before Halloween. Maybe I should have brought to mind that I ought not count my chickens before they’ve hatched. Or perhaps I should have recalled that there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip. I could even have reminded myself that it was foolish to tempt fate, or to sell the skin before I’d caught the bear.

  But I wasn’t thinking of any of those wise old adages. What I was thinking was that the crisp breeze felt delicious against my skin, and that the crunching leaves underfoot made the morning all the more wonderful. Basically, I was enjoying myself far more than was sensible. And seeing as I couldn’t remember a single Halloween that hadn’t been filled with murder, mystery and mayhem, perhaps I should have remembered not to put the cart before the horse.

  ‘Wanda!’ squealed Dizzy, my bat familiar. ‘There are some really good ones over there.’

  He was pointing to a bright area of the forest, where I could see the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. Dizzy was right. Some bright orange mushrooms were shining on a tree over that way.

  ‘Are they the Autumn Zaps?’ asked Wolfie, the enormous Irish Wolfhound who had stolen my heart two Halloweens ago.

  My boyfriend Max chuckled and stroked the wolfhound’s head. ‘Autumn Zings is what we’re looking for, Wolfie, not Zaps,’ he said as we walked towards the mushrooms. ‘But yeah, that’s them. Wow, they’re amazing looking, aren’t they? Actually, the whole forest looks amazing this morning.’

  It really did. So much so that I said something ridiculous in reply. I looked up at my handsome boyfriend, and I uttered the stupid words – the chicken-counting, fate-tempting, bear-skin selling, cup-spilling words. ‘Doesn’t it just?’ I said with a silly smile on my fool of a face. ‘This is going to be the best Halloween ever.’

  Max, it seemed, liked to tempt fate and count his chickens just as much as I did, because he looked down at me and replied, ‘You know what, Wanda? I think you’re right. This is going to be the best Halloween ever. It was a great idea to take some time off and come to Riddler’s Cove. We could both do with a break.’

  Since I had no idea that he and I had just become those fools who seldom differ, I grinned some more. And then I stood up onto my tiptoes, kissing him. While not usually the kind of guy to get stressed, Max had been working especially hard lately. If his loan with Sickle Sensible went through, he’d soon be the proud owner of Paws, a dog rescue centre, coupled with the boarding kennels which would help fund the rescue side of the business. He’d worked in a place just like that once, but when the new owners dropped the charitable side of their operation, Max left. Now, my weredog boyfriend was going to be running his own business and charity, and I couldn’t be prouder.

  Sure, Dizzy sometimes enjoyed a giggle about the fact that I was going out with a weredog who worked with actual dogs, but he didn’t do it in a nasty way. Slightly sarcastic, maybe, but not nasty.

  Max pulled me in for an even deeper kiss, and I was just getting lost in the loveliness of it when I remembered what we were here for. I pulled away and bent down, beginning to fill my basket with the Autumn Zings. ‘I have to have them at the community hall before noon. Candace Plimpton is “helping” Arthur Albright organize the A Trick for a Treat festivities this year, and she wants these for the punch she’s making. You know what she’s like – if she doesn’t get these in time, she’ll rain fury upon my head.’

  Max chuckled. ‘You realise you’re afraid of an eleven-year-old?’

  ‘She’s twelve now,’ I stated. ‘And if you think this is bad, imagine what she’ll be like when she’s reached her terrible teens.’ Even though I was conjuring up horrific images of how much bossier Candace might become, a part of me was smiling. I’d hated her when I first met her, and the feeling was most definitely mutual. But after a few adventures together, we’d become unlikely friends.

  Speaking of unlikely friends, Wolfie and Dizzy were really enjoying their time together. Dizzy had managed to distract Wolfie from the bird he’d been chasing, and gotten him to play a different game of chase. The little bat was now scooping sticks up from the forest floor and flying away with them. Wolfie was in hot pursuit on his long, wolfhound legs. One by one, Dizzy dropped them to the ground and, once Wolfie had caught the sticks and chewed them into nothing but pulpy shreds, the game began again.

  ‘Well, whether we’re in these woods as Candace’s servants or not, it’s still a great morning,’ said Max. ‘The sun is shining, the wind is bracing, the leaves are falling …’ He trailed off, frowning and looking at the surrounding trees. ‘Huh. That’s weird. The leaves aren’t falling, are they?’

  I followed his eyes. We had been surrounded by the bracing breeze of which he’d spoken. And as that bracing breeze blew, the trees had been quickly shedding their leaves. But now … now all traces of that breeze were gone.

  The stillness wasn’t the strangest thing, though. What was strangest was the sight of so many leaves, simply hanging in the air. It was as though they had been frozen on their downward fall. If it weren’t for the fact that Max and I could move, speak and think, I might even suspect that time had suddenly stopped.

  After a few seconds of Max and I staring, the leaves began to move once more. Except they didn’t continue on their journey to the forest floor. Instead, they swirled upwards, and were firmly reattached to the branches of the trees. To look at those leaves, you’d think they’d always been there, and that they hadn’t just been part of some time-bending oddity.

  The air grew stiller than ever, and the only sound I could hear was the panicked beating of my heart.

  Dizzy fluttered to my shoulder, gulping. ‘What’s going on in these woods, Wanda?’ he asked in a frightened squeak. ‘Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it? Leaves don’t normally d
o that.’

  With my bat on my shoulder, and Max by my side, I spun full-circle, looking all around. There wasn’t a single rustle in the trees. ‘No, leaves don’t normally do that. But we’ll figure it out.’ I quickly patted him. ‘Probably just some kid messing with magic nearby, Dizz. Just–’

  The sound of whimpering reached my ears, and I broke off speaking.

  ‘That’s Wolfie!’ cried Max, running in the direction of the whimper.

  As I took off after him, Dizzy flew from my shoulder and kept lookout overhead. ‘There he is!’ The bat pointed to the edge of the forest, at the point where it merged with the back garden of my coven’s cottage, Wayfarers’ Rest. ‘There’s a cat arguing with him, Wanda. The cat seems drunk.’

  We ran faster, reaching the edge of the woods in seconds. There was a cat sitting at the base of a tree, with his paw wrapped around a small bottle. He was a mackerel tabby, with lovely black stripes all over his fur, and he was sitting back with his large belly on display. He took a swig from his drink, shook the bottle at Wolfie and said, ‘Y’know, all I wanted to do was play chasing. What are you so afraid of?’

  Wolfie gulped, and whimpered once more. ‘Wanda says I mustn’t chase cats. Her coven has lots of cats. They chase me. Because I’m big, and I could hurt them if I caught them in my mouth, or pounced on them too hard.’

  As we reached him, Max stood protectively next to Wolfie, while I stroked the dog’s back. Poor Wolfie. He really did get the rough end of the stick sometimes. Worse, actually – he sometimes got his favourite sticks stolen by cats, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it – and yet here he was, still refusing to chase this mischievous moggy. He had the patience of a lovely furry angel.

  ‘Do you want to play chasing, people?’ The cat threw the bottle aside, then darted around us, circling us so quickly that he became a blur. ‘Come on! You know you want to. I need to take my mind off things.’

  He ran and ran, stopping only to come back and drain the last of his drink. As he ran off once more, I picked it up and took a sniff. It smelled like milk, but much sweeter. The label said: Kapow Meow!

  The cat finally skidded to a stop. ‘Hands off my energy drink, sister,’ he said, edging towards us, swatting the air with a paw as though performing some kitty karate.

  I set the bottle on the ground. ‘I was just looking.’

  After a few more swats and some air kicks, he pounced on the bottle, groaning when he realised it was empty. He then dropped to the ground, rolling over with his paw to his brow. ‘Oh, woe is me!’ he cried.

  ‘Your name is Woe?’ asked Wolfie. Well, it was a valid question.

  The cat sprang to his feet once more. ‘My name is Tigger. And I’m in desperate need of the Wayfarer. Firstly because I need her to purchase me some Kapow Meow, and secondly because I need her to do what she does best.’

  I crouched down to his level (and no, I didn’t have to crouch very far, seeing as I’m rather short). ‘I’m the Wayfarer, Tigger. How can I help you, other than buying you some … what did you call it? Kapow Meow?’

  The truth was, I already knew exactly how I could help him. I’d have to do what I did for all the other familiars who sought me out. I would need to solve his witch’s murder. No wonder he was acting strangely, the poor cat.

  Just a few minutes ago I’d been kissing my boyfriend, picking mushrooms and feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Now I knew how foolish I’d been to even attempt to enjoy this holiday. Because in my life, Halloween wasn’t a time for fun and frolics. It was a time for chaos and killings – killings like the murder of Tigger’s witch.

  The cat looked me up and down. ‘No way. I don’t believe you. The Wayfarer solves crimes, saves lives and sends criminals to Witchfield. She’s fierce and brave. She doesn’t spend her mornings skipping through the woods wearing a bobbly hat.’

  Dizzy flew in circles above the cat. ‘Hey! Wanda can wear whatever she likes. Just because most people don’t think orange is her colour, what does it matter?’

  My hand went to my hat. It had been a present from my mother, who loved me in orange. Granted, it was the same garish shade of orange as the magical Autumn Zings (so named because they added a zing to the Halloween punch). But no one could say it wasn’t seasonal. She’d bought me a matching scarf and gloves, too. And when I put it on this morning, Max said I looked adorable. My boyfriend wouldn’t lie to me, would he? I looked up at his handsome face. He seemed to be concentrating rather hard on a flying bird. Yeah, he’d totally lie to me. Max would tell me I looked good in a dress made of toilet roll.

  But no matter what anyone else thought of my hat, I liked it – a lot – so I kept it firmly planted on my noggin. ‘The Wayfarer does wear a bobbly hat,’ I informed the cat. ‘Because I am the Wayfarer. Not all crime-fighters come in muscly packages. Listen, my coven house is just over there.’ I pointed through the trees to Wayfarers’ Rest. ‘So why don’t we all go inside and get warm? We’ve got plenty of food, and … well, I have no idea what Kapow Meow is, but I’ll try to get you some if I can. Is it something I can buy from the shops near here?’

  ‘It’s an energy drink,’ he said, his words coming out rather fast. ‘Nothing bad in it. Just because the ingredients haven’t been tested doesn’t mean they’re harmful. But we need to get that first. They sell it in Budget Buys.’

  ‘Fine. Can I pick you up?’

  Tigger leapt into my arms. ‘No. Yes. Can we go now? I need my Kapow. I need it so I can meow.’

  I glanced at Max.

  ‘I’ll head into the house and tell the others you’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, before softly stroking the cat. ‘And for what it’s worth, little buddy, I’m really sorry your witch was murdered.’

  ‘Murdered?’ Tigger gawked at Max. ‘My witch wasn’t murdered. She’s not even dead. Matter of fact, she’s in rehab.’

  2. Nip Not Nap

  For those of you who have never been held to ransom by a cat before, I can now tell you that it goes like this:

  ‘What do you mean?’ Dizzy asked. ‘Why do you need Wanda if your witch hasn’t been murdered?’

  Tigger folded his arms – well, he folded two front legs. ‘I’m saying nothing until I get some more Kapow Meow.’

  ‘I’m not sure you should have any more of that stuff,’ Max suggested (quite sensibly, methinks). ‘You seem pretty hyped up. Maybe tell us some more about what’s going on with you first, and then we’ll see what we can do. You said your witch is in rehab?’

  The cat held firm. ‘You know my demands. You want me to talk, you gotta get me the good stuff.’

  I wished I could have called his bluff, but I was far too curious. Why would he need me if his witch was in rehab and (presumably) getting all the help she required? And why was she in rehab? Was she addicted to drugs, or alcohol, or maybe even Kapow Meow, like her familiar clearly was?

  ‘You go on home,’ I said to Max. ‘I’ll take Tigger to the shop and follow on behind you in a few minutes.’

  ‘I’ll go home too.’ Dizzy flew from my shoulder and settled on Max’s. ‘It’s time for my mid-morning mango.’

  I stifled a giggle. When wasn’t it time for Dizzy to eat mango?

  With a wave at them all, I clicked my fingers and took myself and Tigger to Budget Buys. There was an entire fridge filled with the drink, so it was clearly popular. The slogan on the bottles boasted:

  The energy milk that makes you nip, not nap.

  ‘Nip not nap?’

  Tigger was staring thirstily at the fridge. ‘Yeah, you know – makes a cat nip around the place, all fast and fabulous, instead of just lying about napping all day long.’

  ‘Huh.’ Most cats I knew quite enjoyed napping all day. I turned to the back of the bottle, scanning the drink’s contents. It seemed to be made of herbs and spices rather than caffeine or sugar. ‘Nepeta Nippity Nip?’ I frowned, pausing at one of the ingredients. ‘I know that nepeta means it’s catmint, but I have never heard of the
Nepeta Nippity Nip variety before.’

  ‘It’s a new, magically grown kind. Nothing dangerous about it,’ he assured me. Well, he tried to assure me. In truth, I was feeling far from happy about this, especially considering his whole body had just begun to shake. ‘Get me three bottles,’ he said. ‘No … four. No, actually, better get the six-pack.’

  ≈

  When I arrived back at Wayfarers’ Rest, my dad was handing hot chocolates around, while my mother and Christine were serving up some fruitcake. Max greeted me with a peck on the cheek, and Wolfie with a slobbery lick (that tasted very much like fruitcake). Dizzy was busy eating, so he gave me a small wave of his wing and returned to more important matters.

  There were many wonderful perks of being a witch, one of them being that you could travel just as quickly as you could click your fingers. Although my mam and Christine both worked hundreds of miles away in Dublin, they’d popped home for their morning break, just because they could.

  Melissa was in the kitchen too, although she was in Riddler’s Cove for longer than just a morning break. She intended to spend the entire day in the community centre, helping us get things ready for Halloween.

  Usually, Melissa spent her days in Dublin working as a lawyer, in partnership with a man called Miles Master. As well as their legal firm, they also ran the Nemo Foundation. Well, it would probably be more apt to say that Candace Plimpton ran the foundation, while Melissa and Miles worked as her minions.

  Nemo was Candace’s brainchild. Because she was unhappy in her coven, she wanted to create a space for other witches who felt the same. And she hadn’t stopped at witches. One of their members was a young werewolf who felt far from at home in his pack. His father had refused to allow him to study wizardry, but Nemo had intervened, paying for the boy’s education.

  They now had members young and old, many with extraordinary talents (and if a supernatural considers a talent extraordinary, then it really is amazing). In fact, the skillset of the Nemo members was so astounding that I often wondered if Candace had an ulterior motive in bringing them together.