I tossed the fourth suitcase in the trunk of my car and slammed the lid. This was the right decision. I had two months of vacation time piled up at my commercial real estate office. My doctor had urged a break since I hadn’t taken a vacation in years, and with the divorce papers signed, nothing and no one kept me at home. Not even a goldfish.
Besides, mid-September was the perfect time to explore the province. Kids were back in school, tourists from away were lesser in number, and the weather was fine. Though I’d lived in Nova Scotia for many years, whole swaths of the province remained a mystery.
I’d already dropped the spare key with Kathy next door. Maybe she could keep my poor African violet alive. Mobius was down to two leaves. I was about to step into the house when a large, windowless van cruised by. Probably the folks at number 29 getting more renovations. Better them than me.
The melodic tones of the doorbell interrupted my last check for locked windows. As soon as I was back, I was ripping that thing off the wall. Beethoven is lovely, but I was sick of hearing the tinny rendition of Fur Elise every time someone came to my door looking for money. Which was the only time my doorbell rang.
Half expecting Kathy, I flung open the door with a smile on my face. But instead of a well-coiffured forty-something woman, I faced a small, dapper, older man, flanked by two other men who could play bit parts as bouncers in a seedy nightclub, right down to their misshapen noses.
“Yes?” I kept the smile in place but eased the door closed a few inches and put the bulk of my body behind it. Maybe not a religious cult, but they were selling something.
“Good morning. You are Mary Ashford.” He removed his hat, a bowler, or a trilby, one of those old-fashioned numbers no one wore anymore, and held it over his heart.
“Who wants to know?” If he said he was a representative for a Nigerian prince …
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fenlock Braithwaite and I have important news for you. May I step inside?”
I may be blonde, but I ain’t stupid. “I’m just on my way out. If you leave me your card, I’ll—”
And then he stood inside my house with the door closed. Not sure how that happened. I retreated a few steps and dug into my pocket for my cell phone. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Allow me to explain. You have a distant cousin living in Aberdeen, Scotland. She is gravely ill and not long for this world, the poor dear. You are her only heir.”
“And if I pay you a few thousand dollars, you’ll make sure I inherit?” I held my phone aloft. “I’m counting to five. One, two—”
“I’m afraid I can’t leave without you. You will inherit not only incredible wealth, but also magical powers beyond your wildest imaginings. Should you refuse your inheritance, those powers will be at risk from dark forces.”
“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” I knew for a fact I looked every one of my fifty years despite the hundreds … thousands of dollars I spent on lotions and serums and facials. Heck, I’d even tried Botox once.
The weird man smiled, his perfect teeth gleaming. No way that shade of white was natural in a man of that age. “It’s imperative that you accompany us to Ravendell Academy where you will be safe.”
“You’re insane.” Not the smartest thing to say to a crazy person spouting conspiracy theories, but I often spoke before reasoned thought got in the way. “I’m calling the cops. You might want to skedaddle before they get here.” I jabbed at the phone’s screen, but it remained black. Funny, I’d powered up my phone a few hours earlier to check the weather forecast. “Get out of my house.” I retreated to the kitchen and plugged in the phone. No recharging beep. This wasn’t right. No way could I go on a road trip without a functioning cell phone.
The creepy man had followed me into the kitchen. “I’m afraid your phone won’t work.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” He was a small man. I could take him in a fight. I calculated the distance to the back door … where the silhouette of one of the goons blocked the light. Crap. And double crap for all the windows being closed. No one would hear me scream, not here in the land of oversized lots and privacy fences. I wiped my sweaty hands on my designer jeans and lunged for the security control panel next to the door. I slammed the red panic button. Seconds passed without the wail of the alarm.
“A spell has removed this house from the earthly plane, though it appears as normal from the outside.”
A spell? This guy was way off the earthly plane. “Sure. And the spaceship is idling around the corner.” Keep it light. Humour is great at defusing tricky situations. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted, hoping to get off at least one shout for help. The doorknob didn’t budge. What the hell?
“Please come with us, Miss Ashford. All will be clear when we reach our destination.”
Real gut-clenching, body-sweating, bladder-loosening fear took hold. Was that what they said to people before they were given the glass of funny-tasting juice?
“What’s this cousin’s name?” I had to keep him talking while I figured out how to get out of this mess. If I could make it to the knife drawer …
“Columbina Jesterspinks. We must leave now.”
I laughed. “That’s a name I’ve never heard in my entire life. You have the wrong Mary Ashford.” I eased a few steps toward the sink. The marble rolling pin - from Italy, never used - sat in its decorative cradle. One bash of that on the side of the head should do the trick. “For a scam artist, you’re not very bright.”
“I will explain everything once we are on our way.”
“Here’s an idea. Come back when this Columbia person has died. We’ll discuss my inheritance then.” I rested my hand on the counter and slid it toward the weapon. This would prove it had been a smart purchase despite William P. Asshat the Third’s objections to the extra weight in the luggage.
“Miss Jesterspink’s magic is too powerful to leave untethered for even the briefest of time.”
“She’s a magician?” A few more inches…
“She is a witch, Miss Ashford, as are you. Now, time we left.”
Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to subscribe (its’ FREE) so you won’t miss the next chapter, published here next Friday.
Thanks! I was channelling my own fed-up-with-this-crap for much of this book, hehe.
Omg. pulled me in from fhe first paragraph! Well done