Witch Cursed in Westerham—Paranormal Investigation Bureau Book 10

When violent crime increases in Westerham, Lily and the PIB agents have to step in to sort things out. But nothing is quite as it seems, and danger lurks in every shadow.

Just when Lily thinks she can figure things out, everyone turns against her, including those she loves most. It doesn't help that the person instigating the hate is one of the most powerful witches at the PIB—the love of Will's life: Dana.

Can Lily use her magic to get to the source of the violence before things escalate to the point of no return? And will her friends see the truth about Dana, or will Lily lose them forever?

“Mmm, it smells so good in here.” Saliva drenched my mouth and spurted out before I could close my lips.

Imani, waiting with me in Tulsi’s Indian restaurant for our takeaway, screwed up her face. She frantically wiped her cheek. “Gross, Lily. You even contaminated my lips. Your salivary glands are out of control. Calm them, please.”

I pressed my lips together, then held my palm over my mouth as I spoke… just in case some rogue drops shot out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. You don’t have to worry, though. I don’t have any diseases or anything.” She looked at me, one eyebrow elevated. “Well, it’s not like I can take it back. Do they have a bathroom here? Maybe you could go wash your face?”

An Indian lady dressed in a vibrant green sari approached us with two plastic bags. Phew, saved. “Here’s your order, loves. Enjoy your meal.” She smiled. 

I grinned in return and took the bags. “Thank you. This smells delicious.” Imani gave me a side-eyed glance. We turned and left.

Once out on the footpath, a burst of high-energy, almost hyperactive magic slapped the back of my skull before dissipating. That was weird. I looked at Imani. “Did you feel that?”

Her gaze flicked up and down the street. “Yes.” There was nothing obvious out of place.

“It was strong. Should we be worried?” My heart beat faster because even though I didn’t have the feeling of being watched, it was possible that RP—Regula Pythonissam, the group who were after me—were out there, observing. I threw up a return-to-sender spell just in case.

“I don’t know, Lily. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” Imani’s phone rang. “Hello, James. Yes.” Imani looked across and down the street a bit. “Okay. Yep. Bye.” She turned to me. “I have to attend a potential crime scene, which happens to be that antique shop over there.” She pointed to where she’d been looking a moment ago—at a two-storey white semi-detached building with the sign Castle Antiques Centre mounted on the building above the glass shopfront. Like many English buildings, a dormer window at the top of the building indicated there was liveable space in the roof cavity.

“I love antique shops. Lead the way. Actually, what sort of crime? We’re not about to walk into a shop full of blood and guts, are we?” Because that wouldn’t be fun, obviously.

“Stolen items that just popped out. The owner’s a witch, so she called the PIB straight away.” Imani looked both ways and crossed. I stayed on her heels. The owner met us at the front door. 

The thirty-something-year-old had brown hair in two braids, one over each shoulder. She was a fellow nail-biter, a finger currently in her mouth. She didn’t even bother taking the finger from her lips when she spoke. She eyed us. “Are you from the PIB?”

“Yes. I’m Agent Jawara, and this is my assistant, Lily Bianchi.” Imani wasn’t in uniform today, as she technically didn’t start her shift until three, but she pulled out her ID and showed the woman.

The shop owner held out her hand—the one that had been partly in her mouth—for Imani to shake. Imani looked at it, paused, then quickly shook it. Ew. I gave the woman a quick nod and folded my arms. I didn’t want to give her the impression I wanted to shake her manky hand.

“Thanks for coming so quickly. I’m Lissa.”

“Why don’t you take us inside and explain what happened? I’ll need to get an inventory of what was taken, and if you have any photos of the missing items, that would be helpful.”

“Of course.” She turned and led us inside.

The stale smell of old furniture and the fresh scent of eucalyptus oil seeped from the pores of the quiet interior. It was mildly pleasant, and, for a moment, I could’ve been in the past.

We reached a wider spot in the narrow path threading through tightly packed furniture and shelves holding plates, teacups, vases, and all manner of collectable knick-knacks. Lissa halted and pointed to either side of the aisle. “This side had a pair of 19th Century Doulton of Lambeth Plinths.” She turned. “This side had a round Regency mahogany four-seat dining table. All up, they’re worth around five-thousand pounds, give or take.” She frowned.

 Imani made notes in a small notepad. “When did you notice they were missing, and how did you discover it?”

“It was about five or six minutes ago. I was sitting behind the counter”—she nodded at the counter at the back of the shop—“looking towards the door, and I felt a bit of magic; then they just popped away. I don’t even know how that’s possible. No one was here to cast a spell on them.” 

Imani pulled out her phone and took photos of the spaces. She mumbled something, and her magic grazed my scalp. Imani smiled. “We have a signature.” She said, “Symbol, you’ve made an impression on me. I’m taking your image and sending it to the PIB.” She looked at Lissa. “Someone would have had to come in here at some point and cast the spell that would eventually have taken the furniture away. Do you have security cameras?”

“No. We don’t normally have a problem with theft, and I have mirrors everywhere, so I can always keep an eye out.”

I looked around. Rounded convex mirrors were positioned near the ceiling in each of the four corners, so she would have had a good view from wherever in the shop she happened to be. Imani’s gaze landed on my face. She raised an eyebrow. Did she want me to take photos? But we couldn’t risk anyone finding out what it was I did. I gave a quick head shake. Imani turned back to the woman. “I think we need more formal photos. I’m going to get my assistant to take them. Do you mind?”

She shrugged. “If you think it will help. Okay.”

“You can wait at your counter if you like. We won’t be long.”

“Fine.” She made her way behind said counter and sat on a stool but continued to observe us.

Since she was a witch, it was fine for me to magic my Nikon to myself. I placed the two bags of food on the floor, took the lens cap off, turned the camera on, and pointed it at the aisle next to where the furniture used to be. I didn’t want to say anything out loud, in case Lissa heard me. Show me who stole the furniture that disappeared today.

The lighting changed slightly, and I turned towards the window. It was raining on the day the items were spelled. I turned to face the back of the shop where Lissa sat. A man stood between me and her, blocking my view of the counter. He was side-on to me, touching one of the plinths. Unfortunately, he wore a baseball cap pulled low over his face, sunglasses, and a thick brown beard covered the rest of his face. His long coat hid his build. The only meaningful information I could get was his height—about five ten—his hair, and white skin.