Frankie B: Curse of the Blue Moon: Marina Witches Mysteries, #7

By Andie Low

A dead witch, not so recessive shifter genes and a magical cop ready to slap you in irons? Looks as if the curse of the blue moon isn't the only reason Frankie needs to get out of town.

 

She isn't off on vacation, much as she needs one. Instead, she's returning to the realm of the Wereall, the race whose shifter blood flows in her veins. Unfortunately, Oliver Wright, the cop assigned to the case, doesn't want her going anywhere.

 

Much as she'd like to hang around and find out who's actually responsible for Hayley's death, she can't. To do so would be to see her guilty of the crime he's already accusing her of. At least this is how Nana Peg tells it.

 

With the cops on her tail — literally — will Frankie be able to evade capture long enough to find the actual killer? She sure hopes so, because if she can't, she's going to be stuck eating kitty kibble for a very long time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Squabbling Sparrows Press
• Release date: Apr 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215844007

Book preview

1

The private room at the Starlight Infirmary is strangely quiet. Stanley, the Marina Coven’s leader is breathing, but only just. His daughter Gwen did one heck of a number on him when she hexed him and stole his powers. The crazy witch had done so both to bolster her own magical clout and to stop him from turning her back into a lizard. A crying shame because she was a better one of those than she was a human being.

Frankie still can’t believe the elderly warlock had been sucked in by his odious offspring. He knows better than anyone how evil his daughter is. Releasing her from the terrarium and reversing the skinx hex had been stupid.

He’s paid the price though, perhaps even permanently.

Frankie looks at Dr Marvin who’s standing on the other side of Stanley’s bed. Testing out her latest fashion accessory, she lets her thoughts of his resemblance to a vaudeville performer run free. He raises an eyebrow and looks at her and she’s unable to stop her hands straying to her beanie. She presses it closer to her skull, trying to keep the crinkle of aluminum foil to a minimum.

Despite his scowl, she knows he’s not privy to her thoughts. If he was, he would have kicked her out by now. Another thing that’s not welcome in the establishment is modern medicine. Even Hogwarts is cutting edge compared to this nod to Gothic architecture. There are too many fiddly bits for Frankie’s liking, or for maintaining a sterile environment.

Marvin the Magnificent crosses his arms over his chest, and jerks his head in Stanley’s direction. Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Miss Bonny?

Frankie doesn’t answer. She’s too busy holding her breath while watching that top hat of his teetering about. Only after it’s settled does she speak.

Of course! Aunt Selena went through the steps with me. It’s a simple enough process. Again Frankie’s glad of her tinfoil beanie. Yes, her aunt had explained the steps to her, and yes it had all sounded simple enough. If she’s honest though, it had sounded too simple.

Zane her merman boyfriend, who’s next to her, nudges her shoulder. Do you want us to leave you to it?

His suggestion doesn’t surprise Frankie. Even with her special beanie stopping him from reading her thoughts as he usually could, Zane’s picked up on her reticence. She isn’t keen on performing in front of Dr Marvin, nor any of the beings that make up the nursing staff.

Post-mortem is the best way to describe these ladies. Not as in they look to be dead. Rather it’s as though they’ve been assembled courtesy of leftovers found in the hospital’s morgue. Patched up, and by someone with really bad sewing skills.

I would prefer to do this alone. There’s less chance of cross contamination according to Selena. Okay, so Frankie is fudging the truth here. Her aunt hadn’t exactly said this. Rather she’d said it can be easier to do the process when you’re on your own.

The doctor isn’t happy about being asked to leave. They are, after all, in what amounts to his private hospital. Frankie crosses her own arms and returns his stare. She even raises an eyebrow in a move that’s Zane to a T.

An audible huff and the doctor stomps out of the room, one of the nurses shadowing him. Frankie suspects if the room had a door rather than a curtain, he would have slammed it.

Zane’s departure is less dramatic. He simply kisses the top of her head, wishes her luck and strolls out into the corridor.

The last to leave is the other nurse, although not before she’s wiped Stanley’s forehead free of sweat. While the creatures might be weird, Frankie can’t fault their bedside manner.

Not until there’s no sign of the others in the corridor does Frankie shake the tension out of her arms. Normally she’d need to be careful of Dex at this point, with the small Jack Russell more often than not under her feet. She’s relieved that today he’s decided to remain at the marina due to a certain Maltese Terrier.

Frankie has to admit the dog is cute, with masses of silky white hair and a little pink tongue. It’s the mutt’s eyes that creep her out, with these a brown so dark they border on black. The best way to describe them is lacking soul. Dark pools designed to suck you under and that work a treat on Dex.

Her arms hanging limply, Frankie twists her head first to one side, and then the other, the resultant cracks loud in the room. As relaxed as she’ll ever be, she places one hand on Stanley’s chest.

Thank the Goddess the evil witch responsible for this is in a place where she can’t hurt anyone else.

Unable to find what it is she’s searching for, Frankie moves her hand. She moves it a couple more times, worried she’s too late. Only then does she release the breath she’s been holding.

Stanley’s heart beat is feeble, with the occasional stutter that has her own thumping harder than it should. She puts her other hand on his forehead, finding it damp despite the nurse’s earlier ministrations.

Without the luxury of time, Frankie hurries to locate Stanley’s powers inside herself, soon finding the small safe she’d envisaged to keep them separate from her own.

Breathing deeply, she focusses on centering her own powers before daring to unlock the metal box. There’s nothing hesitant about the release of Stanley’s magic. Rather than traveling down her arms and into his body as she’s intended, his powers flood her. The sensation is incredible. Incredible enough that it takes all her willpower to remember they’re not hers to keep.

Frankie enjoys them for a second or two, before gritting her teeth and forcing them where she wants them to go. Hmmm, it’s nowhere near as simple as her Aunt Selena made out. Eventually though she has Stanley’s energy streaming down her arms, through her fingertips and into his inert form.

What she’s not expecting is the demon essence she’d taken from Mimi Merriweather all those months ago following hot on its magical heels.

The last thing Stanley needs is to be flooded with the powers of that demon-borne succubus. He’d suffered enough when he was married to the woman.

Oh no you don’t, you evil cow! You’re staying right where you are.

Using every bit of her Wereall power, Frankie drags the demon essence back into her own body. It doesn’t come willingly, instead kicking and psychically screaming every inch of the way. Frankie yanks her hands back, trusting she’s pulled them free in time.

She then runs them over herself, checking to see if she can pick up on anything amiss, or even missing. Nope, she’s good. To be doubly sure everything is as it should be, she then waves her hands back and forth above the coven leader. Avoiding physical contact isn’t easy, with her hands almost magnetically drawn to him. So powerful is the pull that it has the muscles in her arms straining.

Unable to pick up any demonic powers lurking in his small frame she drags her hands back down to her sides. Her relief is such that she drops into the chair next to his bed, resting her head on the crisp cotton sheets.

Her scalp immediately starting to prickle soon has her sitting bolt upright. Wow, those succubus powers of Mimi’s are bound and determined to find their way inside the coven leader. That is so not happening.

While some might consider her strange for wanting to hang onto the remains of Mimi Merriweather’s powers, she has her reasons. Firstly, she doesn’t know what relinquishing them would do to Stanley in his weakened state.

Secondly, and perhaps of more importance, is that she isn’t sure how their loss will affect her own powers. For too long she lived with pathetic and unreliable magic. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in Hades she’s returning to that state, willingly.

She files the experience away for when she returns Calico Jack’s powers to him. She’s going to need a ward of some kind because the last thing the world needs is Calico Jack being imbued with essence of Mimi.

Her granddad is shady enough without that sort of top-up. And Frankie suspects not just any ward will do, it’s going to have to be something special. It might even necessitate her getting her mom’s big book of magic out and dusting it off. Not that there’ll be any cramming or transfer of powers happening any time soon.

Frankie doesn’t have a clue where her grandparents are. Anne and Calico Jack disappeared through a Wereall portal and she hasn’t had time to go looking for them. Actually, that’s a lie, she has; she just hasn’t bothered. They’re a pain in rear end; and not just part of the time, ALL of it.

Frankie’s mulling over how lousy her luck is to be related to them when she becomes conscious she’s being examined. Stanley is awake and appears surprisingly alert.

How are you? Are you okay?

Her enquiry as to his health has been general on purpose. She isn’t sure if he’ll have sensed the remains of Mimi flooding his system, or not. If he hasn’t picked up on it, she’s not going to go spilling the beans, or essence, or whatever.

I feel surprisingly well. How is Mimi?

Frankie’s breathing hitches, resulting in a coughing fit that has one of the nurses peeking through the curtain at the doorway. Frankie holds her hand up, stopping the creature where she is before waving her away. Not until the woman has ducked back into the corridor, does Frankie speak to Stanley.

Mimi? Why are you asking about Mimi?

Confusion clouds Stanley’s face. His words when he speaks are halting. Mimi? I meant Gwen. Did I really ask about Mimi?

Frankie nods dumbly. Could it be Stanley has Mimi on his mind due to him hosting the woman’s magical remains a couple of seconds ago? Or is it down to him having had his brains scrambled by his disloyal daughter?

Either way, Frankie’s faced with the very question she didn’t want to have to answer. Despite the sadness in his eyes telling of him expecting bad news it doesn’t make it any easier for her to break it. After yet again going over the various responses she’s come up, she opts for the least convoluted.

Ah, Gwen had a little run-in with the Wereall and they drained her of her, ah, powers.

Actually this is an understatement. After Frankie reclaimed Stanley and Calico Jack’s powers from his daughter, her Aunt Selena stripped Gwen of every ounce of energy.

Not content to stop there, they’d incarcerated the witch’s empty shell. Over-kill for sure, but Frankie knew firsthand the woman’s ability to rise from the ashes. The nasty piece of work was a veritable Phoenix on steroids when it came to that. And with Stanley’s health still hanging in the balance, there isn’t a chance Frankie’s going into full details.

Stanley’s brow creases enough that he rubs it hard before speaking again. That’s unfortunate, but expected. When may I see her?

Frankie’s alarmed to note the coven leader has gone from looking sad and worried to expectant.

"Ah, yeah about that, she’s being held at All Hallows Keep."

But she’ll be released soon, won’t she? Without her powers she’s no longer a danger to our society.

Oh, she’s definitely not that, mutters Frankie to herself, before continuing. I’ll check with my Aunt Selena and find out the release date.

The one thing Frankie knows is that this isn’t going to be any time soon. Even if the Wereall — the shifter race that runs the prison — decide Gwen has done her time, they won’t be able to release her. Not with the hex Frankie placed on her cell.

Frankie staggers to her feet and backs away from the bed, wiping her hands on the side of her jeans. Meantime, you take care of yourself and concentrate on getting better. I’ll check back with you as soon as I can.

Having tossed this empty promise at him, Frankie leaves before he can pin her down on when. Out in the corridor, she finds Marvin lurking along with one of his nurses.

Rather than risk being overhead by Stanley, Frankie drags her beanie off and stuffs it in the back pocket of her jeans. She then sends the doctor an image of how Gwen had been when Frankie left her.

She gets a flicker of surprise in response. It’s one the good doctor squelches before nodding his acceptance of the image. Even without him speaking, Frankie knows he’ll break the news to Stanley. Frankie also suspects Stanley will be sedated — make that as high as a kite — before this happens.

Nothing else to do, she sprints down the super-long corridor heading for Zane who’s waiting in the large foyer that’s the hub of the hospital. She slides to a stop next to him and is pleased when he puts his hands out to steady her.

Let’s go for a walk in the gardens. A moment later