Selective Spells by Willow Mason

Author:Willow Mason [Mason, Willow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The sound of scrabbling claws roused me from my funk the following morning. Beezley’s bark had been almost constant since about eight o’clock. He seemed to believe it was a decent time to start the day, something with which my own body clock vehemently disagreed.

It was the fact I couldn’t hear what the dog was saying, beyond barking, that brought home the truth. Despite spending the entire night with my eyes squeezed closed, wishing as hard as I could, I’d woken this morning with my magic still missing.

The penalty seemed extreme.

There was no way for me to know if the police had succeeded in stealing the spells last night. I supposed with the furore I’d caused, the officers might well have chosen another night for their heist.

Not that it mattered if they’d postponed. Even if I tried, I wouldn’t be able to stop them now. A text to any witch in the coven would go unread and unanswered. Any door would be slammed in my face. To associate with me would leave them facing the same penalty.

Life sucked. It didn’t help to know most of it was my fault.

“I can’t understand a word you’re saying so stop yelling at me,” I shouted at Beezley. It shut him up for about two minutes, then the barking and scrabbling at my door began again.

It was the visual my mind provided that got me opening the door. The oak wood panelling on the door should have been something Beezley cared about more than me—after all, it was his house—but I couldn’t stand the destruction.

“What?” I shouted, on my worst behaviour. To be fair, my attitude had been so low for the past few days. the dog probably didn’t notice much difference. The words Prissy had delivered last night might have been cutting but even I couldn’t dispute they were true.

“Woof, woof,” Beezley said, sitting on his hind legs and gesticulating. “Woof!”

“Oh, this’ll be painful,” I muttered, heading for the computer. “Can you type in what you want to say?”

Apparently not.

“I need an app,” I said, typing in a search although I guessed there’d be nothing on the market. To my happy surprise, I proved myself wrong. “Hold on a sec.”

In a few minutes, I’d downloaded the app to my phone and held it up to record Beezley’s latest round of barking. On the screen, a pulsing button flashed ‘translating’ before coming up with a result.

“Could I have a TreatieWise Canine Treat?” was the apparent translation. Not something that supported the urgency written over Beezley’s face. I grew more suspicious when I saw the app creator was also named TreatieWise.

My hope demanded I retest it but after five variations on the same theme appeared on screen, I gave up and deleted the useless app from my phone with a vicious click of my thumb.

“It’s no use,” I said as Beezley restarted his barking with renewed vigour. “I can’t understand a single word you’re saying.”

He pulled a newspaper off the table, some of it already torn in long strips where he must have struggled to pull it from the plastic wrapper.

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