The Reluctant Witch: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery

Book 1: The Imperfect Witch

by Amelia Hopegood

Genres: Vampires; Paranormal Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

A quirky small town, a dangerous secret, and one reluctant witch who can’t outrun her past.

Jenny Sinclair was determined to leave magic behind. Working as a Police Officer and living in her home town was supposed to be her quiet refuge – until a brutal murder shatters its peace and drags Jenny back into the world she swore off.

Enter Oliver Collins: a vampire in a tailored suit, armed with a razor-sharp tongue and eyes that see straight through Jenny’s defences. He’s infuriating, irresistible, and far too interested in the secrets Jenny swore she’d never reveal. His arrival is unsettling, and Jenny can’t decide if he’s her greatest ally or her biggest distraction.

With the investigation closing in and shadows rising, Jenny realises magic may be the only way to survive what’s coming. But wielding it again could cost her everything she’s fought to protect – her freedom, her heart, and maybe even her life.

Full of meddling relatives, unexpected sparks, and a dog who just might be the brains of the operation, The Reluctant Witch is a spellbinding blend of mystery, magic, and slow-burn romance that will keep you turning pages long into the night.

Book 1 in the Imperfect Witch trilogy:-

Book 1 – The Reluctant Witch
Book 2 – The Avenging Witch
Book 3 – The Fated Witch

Release date: October 1, 2025

Publisher: Bry Publishing

Print pages: 228

Sample

Chapter 1

I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I. Am. Not.
***

As I rested my feet on my cluttered coffee table, the first warning I received that my
peace was about to be disturbed was when my police dog started wagging his tail.
My black and white English springer spaniel, Fitzwilliam, was not moving any other
part of his body.
I groaned and swung my feet from their comfortable position. Fitzwilliam’s
response could mean only one thing: At least one member of my family was about to
knock on the door. I actually expected more than one person – my relations tended
to move around in groups. It was more intimidating that way to us lesser mortals.
True to form, a hearty knock pounded on the sturdy wooden unit. Standing, I
looked around. I wasn’t the tidiest of people. My excuse was that I worked long
hours, but the reality was — laziness. Why tidy when I could binge watch the latest
Netflix boxset? I thought the place didn’t look too bad, so I didn’t do the usual mad
run around to hide at least some of the mess before opening the door.
My mother and grandmother stood, smiling, on the front step.
“That’s a worrying sight,” I said in greeting, stepping back to allow them entry.
Fitzwilliam was doing his usual snake-around-the-legs dance in greeting.
“Let us in, Fitz,” my mother said, waving at him. Fortunately, he’s a highly
intelligent dog who understands the random waves my mother often aims in his
direction, so he stopped his dance and led the way into the lounge as if my family
had come to visit him. Which wasn’t an unreasonable assumption to make, as I think
he at least equals me in their affections.
They entered the square room, which was my favourite room in my small
house; sun brightened it almost all day when the sun actually came out of course.
The sofa and chairs were a little too big for the space, but it was furniture that
hugged you. Bookshelves filled the back wall, and a tiny television occupied a
corner. I’d decorated each wall a different colour, as I couldn’t make up my mind
what ‘theme’ I should paint it. The colours were all shades of lilac and purple, my
favourite colour. It definitely was my happy place — a bit haphazard, but warm and
comfortable. Sums up my home and myself to a tee.
The two most formidable women in the family assessed the clutter level —
and made no attempt to hide it. “You could have this sorted in a matter of seconds,”
my mother scolded, hinting at the subject, which once raised, always ended in an
argument.
Ignoring her words, I smiled at them both. “Brew?”
“Yes, please. It’s freezing out there,” my grandma said.
“I’ll switch on the fire,” I responded, moving over to my gas fire and pressing
the ignite button. I made tea while they crowded the building warmth.
Grandma sniffed as she saw me enter carrying a tray bearing three cups. “No
biscuits?”
“No. It’s four weeks until Christmas. I’m trying to be good,” I answered.

“You can be good when you’re dead,” Grandma responded in disgust.
“I’d rather be good now and prolong the death part for as long as possible,
thanks,” I retorted.
“You come from a line of long-lived witches. There’ll be no problem in your
living for decades yet,” Grandma assured me.
“I’m only half witch, and I certainly don’t look like one,” I pointed out through
gritted teeth. It was true. My mother was a witch but had committed a cardinal sin by
falling in love with a non-magical man. There had been arguments, apparently. My
mother looked like a witch: jet black hair and green eyes that glowed whenever she
carried out her witchy tasks. Me, on the other hand: mousey brown hair and blue
eyes. About as un-witchlike as I could be. “Anyway, in order to quickly change the
subject, to what do I owe this honour?”
“You were a high achiever, half witch or not,” Grandma muttered.
“Unfortunately, we haven’t got the time to start this argument at the moment.
We have other things to discuss,” Mum intervened.
Immediately on the alert, I waited. If mum didn’t want to support Grandma in
her argumentative persuasion of trying to return me to the witches’ fold, something
must be up.
“Have you heard from any of your colleagues this morning?” Mum asked.
“No. I’m on rest day for a couple of days. Should I have?” I was a dog-handler
for the local police force. It combined my two loves — protecting people and working
with dogs.
“We thought you might have because of the nature of what’s happened,” Mum
said.
“You’d best explain,” I said, sitting down on my sofa. I didn’t put my feet back
on my coffee table. Yes, it was my house, and yes, I was an adult, but you don’t
appreciate the high standards of my relations nor their quelling looks when someone,
okay me, was foolish enough to step out of line. Give me some credit for being
careful about which fights to choose.
“A witch has been killed, and there were bite marks on her neck,” Grandma
supplied.
“Really?” Her words certainly got my attention.
“Yes. Last night sometime. She was found in the woods this morning by a dog
walker,” Mum said. “Obviously it was around town in minutes.”
“Obviously,” I responded dryly. There’s something you need to understand
about my town. It’s weird. Witches, humans and vampires live together, side by side,
in an uncomfortable but fairly consistent peace. It’s one of the few places in England,
Scotland, and Wales where that happens. Normally, the two sides of the
supernatural don’t take to each other, and the humans don’t trust any of us, in the
main. Animosity and mistrust abound from lack of understanding of the traditions and
ways of the opposing groups. That makes it sensible to live in separate areas.
Laughable really when we are held up as the epitome of towns. The reality is, if
we’re separate, there’s less likelihood of tension.
Our town, for some long-lost reason way back in its history, decided to live
together, in an uneasy, but acceptable, neighbourly fashion. I wouldn’t go as far as to
say we mix; we just live side by side, but peacefully, which is very important to all
sides.
“Have they found out who did it?”
“Not as far as we know. But it’s being treated as a murder,” Mum said
unnecessarily.

“There’s to be an urgent meeting of the elders tonight. Can you minute it?”
Grandma asked. She wanted to know if I could take the minutes of the meeting for
the record of official witch business. The elders meeting was really the only part of
witching life I took part in, and that was only because I was a non-practising witch. It
was a rule that the record of the meetings had to be written by a non-magical person.
The witching community hated this. There was a healthy distrust of the non-magics
within both the witching and vampire worlds, which to be fair was equally as high
within the human world. When I’d rejected my heritage, it had seemed a perfect way
of remaining true to the constitution without having a non-magic involved. That was
the justification of the elders. My aim was to choose the route of least confrontation.
If it meant that I led a peaceful life without some of the recriminations of my
people for turning my back on magic, I could live with it. Some of the elders were
open in their opinion of me, but the only real criticisms of my life choices came from
my family. I could ignore those with a fair level of equanimity. Most of the time.
“Yes. I’ll be there,” I said. “It must be sending ripples through both
communities,” I mused. “My bosses will be organising patrols.”
“There’s already been a higher police presence around,” Mum admitted.
“Did you know the woman who was killed?” I asked.
“No. She’d only just moved into town,” Grandma said. “The welcome party
had been round, but she’d not really had time to get involved with anything as yet.
She lived alone. Poor girl. Cut off in her prime.”
Grandma’s assessment of the age of the deceased, could range from
anything from twenty years, to a hundred and twenty. We weren’t like vampires who
could live for hundreds of years, but reaching a hundred and thirty, was a common
occurrence. Thankfully, humans were living longer, so old age was less of an
indication of being an old witch when seeing a very elderly person around town.
The witching community nominated a few elders and some of the younger
members for a welcoming party to any newcomers to the area. Their role was to
encourage new witches to fully engross themselves into the events and
organisations that existed in the area. It also gave us the opportunity to explain our
unique living arrangements. I didn’t necessarily agree with this. I thought it just
created wariness, especially of the vampire community, from the start. Unfortunately,
I didn’t have any say in what happened. I was barely tolerated in most cases; I was
an outcast for rejecting my heritage. I wasn’t run out of town only because grandma
was one of the elders.
It was a fact I could have lived with, completely moving away and starting
afresh, but my family couldn’t, so I stayed put. It meant I existed on the edge of two
societies, the magic one and the non-magics. I didn’t really fit into either. It wasn’t
always easy, but I loved my family, so accepting things as they were, I just got on
with it.
“I’ll meet you at the library at seven,” I said. “I’ll give Fitz a walk beforehand.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Mum asked. “There’s a killer on the loose.”
“I’ll walk him in the park, not the woods,” I said. There was no point in arguing
with a protective parent, nor did I want to cause her any unnecessary worry.
“I could come with you. At least then I’ll have my powers to use if anything
should happen,” Mum offered.
“Only a fool would be anywhere near this town today with the amount of police
activity there’ll be,” I assured her. “And it would seem magic wouldn’t do anyone any
good if an active witch couldn’t fight off her attacker.”

Mum took a sharp breath. “If we can’t fight them with magic, what can we do
to protect ourselves?”
“Find the murderer,” I said.
“We’ll be conducting our own enquiries,” Grandma assured her daughter.
“You should leave it to the police,” I cautioned.
“Pah. One of ours is dead. None of us is going to rely solely on the non-
magics to find the killer,” Grandma retorted.
“Those are my colleagues you’re criticising,” I responded just as tartly.
“Who will just put it down to inter-racial fighting. Don’t worry. Anything we find,
we’ll pass on to them. Through you,” Grandma assured me.
“You really want to see me hated by every colleague I come into contact with,
don’t you?” I sighed. “I would love to just go to work like a normal person and get on
with my life. Instead you insist on reminding my peers that I’m an oddity.”
“You are a witch of the finest pedigree,” Grandma sniffed. “It isn’t my fault you
came up with some hare-brained idea of following a non-magical profession.”
“It was more than that. You know it was,” I said quietly. It was always the
same. I could never get them to understand my decisions, yet they knew my reasons
for making them. My life choices hadn’t been made on a whim. I still suffered the
nightmares to prove it.
“Come, Mother,” Mum said. “Let’s get back. I need to drop you off before
collecting Jim from the golf club.”
“Give dad a kiss for me,” I said, standing to hopefully encourage Grandma to
realise that our conversation was over.
“I will. ‘Bye, love.”
“Bye, Jenny,” Grandma said, for once taking the hint. “I’ll see you later. Don’t
be late.”
“I never am,” I answered, giving her a kiss on the cheek. I closed the door
behind them. Looking down at Fitzwilliam, I rolled my eyes. “Ten years, and she still
won’t accept my decision.” My words received a tail wag and a circle, his usual
happy dance. “Yes. You know it’s an early dinner for you and a leg stretch. I daren’t
be late after claiming that I never was.”

Chapter 2

The elders gathered in a community room at the back of the town library. Strange
how a nondescript community room could play host to the most powerful witches in
the area. They even had the facility to make themselves a cup of tea if they so
wished. Surreal how the magic world and ordinary world mixed.
There were twenty in total, male and female, all slightly scary; all a little
intimidating. They wore official garb only for their meetings. They had on black
clothing and cloaks that were made in the family colours. Each colour was vibrant.
It’s a myth that witches like black; we actually love deep, rich colours as seen by the
rainbow of shades around the table when everyone was seated. Thankfully, I was so
far down in the pecking order, everyone barely noticed me, only looking in my
direction when the need to question something from the minutes arose.
I sat at the bottom of the table, notepad at the ready, and the chairman, who
was the chief elder, a man whose frail looks and white, wispy beard hid the fact that
he was a very powerful witch, called the meeting to order. I had no idea how old he
was, but even Grandma treated him with deference — a sure sign he was older even
than she.
The chairman gave an update, detailing the woman who’d been killed as well
as the statement from the police. “We’ve committed to help in any way we can. In
fact, the chief superintendent allowed three of this group to assess the victim and
offer any suggestions or information we could,” the chairman stated.
My head had snapped up at his words. The chief superintendent asking for
help from the witches? The boss of the division that covered my town hated magic. I
knew that because of the briefings that had been given since his arrival in his post.
Oh, it wasn’t admitted publicly but privately, and within the walls of the station he
worked in, the man detested all things magic. Even if he’d tried to hide them, inner
feelings won’t stay completely hidden, especially from me.
“He’s keen to reassure us that everything will be done to find the killer, but
he’s amenable to our working with the vampire community to ease any tensions this
incident might have caused.”
The mutterings this statement brought was a sign of how everyone’s minds
were racing, just as mine was.
“And what are we supposed to do? Start inviting the vampires round for tea?”
came one sarcastic question.
“They aren’t all bad,” my grandma interjected. “There are bad eggs in every
society.”
“Yes, there are.”
A few eyes turned in my direction, and although I could feel their disapproving
looks, I kept my head down. It was a well-practised routine for me. If people didn’t

get a response, they were soon bored. It didn’t have the effect the person wanted
when they could only offer a look of disgust to the top of someone’s head.
“Yes, well, the vampires have issued a statement,” the chairperson said,
focusing everyone’s gaze back on himself. “It’s full of the usual platitudes, but the
wording would suggest they are worried about the impact of this sad event.”
“Worried there’ll be retaliation, more like,” one female elder muttered.
“We shall not endorse any sort of backlash from this,” came the stern
response from the top of the table. “None of us wishes to start a war. Both sides
would suffer.”
There were murmurings of agreement, and the woman who had uttered the
words looked shamefaced.
“I have spoken with the chief superintendent, and he agrees that we should
send an intermediary over to make contact with the vampires and act on our own
behalf to see if there is anything we can do together to reassure both communities
and show support for each other.”
I could tell this wasn’t fully supported by some of the mutterings, but none
would openly stand up to the chief elder. If he had made a decision, they would
support it.
“If I could bring the meeting back to order. I would like to make a proposal. I
nominate Miss Jennifer Sinclair to be our go-between and make contact with the
nominated vampire. If this proposal is passed, first contact will be made as soon as
possible.”
I yelped in surprise at the words, and my pen clattered to the table, minutes
forgotten. “Me?” I spluttered.
I felt I was in a surreal game of ping-pong as eyes turned between my seat at
the bottom of the long table and the chief elder at the top.
“Yes, you, Jennifer.” He always gave me my full name, the only time I heard it,
except when I was in trouble with one of my family.
“But what could I do?”
“You are in a unique situation. You are a trusted member of the police force.”
He didn’t acknowledge the expressions aimed in my direction when he uttered those
words. “You aren’t a practicing witch but are connected to one of the most respected
families of our communities. There isn’t anyone else who would be least threatening
in our community.”
“And useless,” someone muttered.
I turned on them. “I’m a bloody good police officer,” I answered sharply. My life
choices might have seemed baffling or insane to a member of my community, but I
wasn’t taking any criticism of my job. I worked damned hard at it.
“Of course you are,” the chief elder said, offering a warning glance to the ones
uttering vocal dissent. “Which is why you are perfect for the role. You will be
unbiased and professional whilst understanding the concern of the supernatural
community.”
I immediately understood why he was Chief Elder. He’d managed to convince
me that I couldn’t say no to his faith in me by uttering just two sentences. I cursed my
inner vanity but nodded nevertheless.
Seeming to be satisfied with my acquiescence, he turned the meeting back to
the practicalities of increasing the witching security. The magic world never relied on
the police force alone to protect them. Sometimes a baton and taser just wouldn’t
stand up to what the supernatural world could throw at each other.

After the meeting, a few members of the group hung around to discuss what
had passed, but I was eager to head off. The chief elder indicated he wanted a word
as I was heading for the doorway, and I reluctantly made my way over to him.
Grandma was already talking to him.
“Did you know about this when you called round?” I asked her.
“No. But it’s a good idea. You are the perfect person to make contact and try
to get us to work together,” Grandma answered.
“You do know if someone doesn’t agree with me, I arrest them don’t you?” I
asked tongue-in-cheek.
“Better than turning them into a mouse, which I was inclined to do during my
rebellious phase,” the chief elder said, his eyes twinkling at me. “I have every faith in
you, Jennifer. You have special talents you’ve yet to realise. This is a perfect
opportunity to hone your skills and help us all.”
“I won’t be using magic,” I said, just to clarify.
“Of course not. This isn’t about magic. It’s about preventing panic and
reprisals,” he assured me.
“I’m happy to try,” I admitted.
“Good. I have every faith in you.”
We said our goodbyes, and I left the building with grandma. We were both
silent until she climbed into my car and I turned the engine on.
“It’s not going to be easy,” she said without her usual bluster.
“No. They mistrust us. As we do them,” I answered, pulling away from the
library.
“Yet, we do live in relative harmony.”
“Hardly. We live side by side. We don’t integrate, or very little. We mix more
with non-magics than we do with vampires. We don’t even go to the same schools.”
It was true. No one seemed to like the idea of sending their child to the school of
self-confessed blood suckers. I think the teachers weren’t concerned at the
segregation; they would have needed to carry out risk assessments. I could only
shudder at the imagined paperwork.
“I hope we can use this to build something solid.”
“No pressure then?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
“You’ve always been a high achiever in everything you’ve set your mind to.
I’ve every faith in you,” Grandma responded. “Just be careful, and take Fitz with you
everywhere.”
I looked at her in puzzlement. “I know he’s excellent at tracking, but you do
realise how soft he is, don’t you?” I asked.
“A dog is a good guide to assessing people,” Grandma said. “If he doesn’t like
someone, it’s an indication they can’t be trusted. And he would protect you if you
were attacked.”
“You aren’t selling this role to me,” I responded dryly.

***

Turning up for duty at the dog section the following morning, I was soon to find out
that my police role had changed, temporarily at least. It always surprises me how the
witch world can affect my day-to-day life. I should be used to it, but I’m always
stunned how it interferes with my life no matter how hard I try to reject it.
We are a central unit, the handlers and dogs being deployed to wherever
we’re needed across the force area. We tend to work in the areas nearest where we

live for practical reasons, but we can be sent anywhere in the district. I’d spent a
number of years in my local division before applying and being accepted in the dog
unit. It had been a day of pure joy for me, and believe me when I say there hadn’t
been many of those over recent years.
I walked with Fitz at my side into the small set of offices that I called home
and was greeted by my sergeant. “Here she is, abandoning us like a rat on a sinking
ship.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, walking straight to the kettle. My sergeant was
a good supervisor but needed a regular supply of tea to keep him happy. Builders
tea – strong and full of sugar.
“You’ve been seconded to a specialist unit. Ghostbusters extraordinaire,” he
responded.
“There’s no such things as ghosts,” I retorted, plonking his brew on the table
in front of him. I don’t know how, but the kettle always seemed to be just boiled in our
office. I was sometimes convinced that he had a legal addiction.
“You of all people should believe,” he scolded gently.
“I’m descended from witches. We are very much alive,” I answered.
“Unlike vampires.”
“Hmm, still not ghosts. Are you being serious about me being seconded out of
the dog section?” I asked bringing the conversation back to practical matters.
Sometimes he went too far with his digs about the supernatural world. I had never
detected a dislike of the magical world, but sometimes he was very quick to ridicule.
“I certainly am. It’s come down from the chief superintendent of the division
you live in,” Sarge explained. “They’re pinning their hopes on you solving the witch
murder.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”
“I’m a lowly sergeant. It’s not my role to question the what’s and wherefores,
just to do.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
Tutting, I sat opposite him, Fitz flopping down at my side. Even he didn’t seem
to appreciate my sergeant’s vain attempts at humour.
“We have a whole department of people who are expert in dealing with
murder. They’re called the Serious Crime Squad, for goodness sake. Why would
they pick a dog-handler to help? I’ve only done one six-month attachment to C.I.D.,
and no career in that department interested me.”
“Perhaps they have plans to transfer you over to them permanently? It is an
odd appointment, I’ll grant you, but who knows how the big bosses’ minds work? I
certainly don’t.”
It didn’t feel right, but one thing was certain: I had to do as I was bid, and it
seemed Mike hadn’t other information to offer. “Where will I be working from?
Headquarters?”
“Some of the time. Apparently, they’ve also found you a room at the local nick.
You’re to set up there initially.”
“Who’s my line of command?”
“You report to a DCI Collins.” He shrugged. “Yes, directly to a DCI. You still
technically belong to us, but you and Fitz are not to carry out any dog-handling
duties.”
“I like being in this section.”
“Let’s hope you come back to us then.”

“Don’t say that,” I implored.
“You know we’re here to do as they say. Ours is not to question why.”
“It’s being so cynical that keeps you going. I suppose I’d better make my way
over to my new police station then,” I said, standing.
“Jenny?”
“Yes?”
A look flickered across Mike’s features before he spoke. It was one I couldn’t
work out, which was strange and a little unnerving for me. “I don’t know what’s going
on but be careful. If there is something out there killing witches, they aren’t going to
be too happy about a witch investigating them. If you need me, or feel at risk, don’t
do anything foolish. Ask for help. Or if you need to run something past me, I’ll always
listen. Remember, we’ll always back you up, whether you’re on secondment or not.”
Those were strange words for my quite reticent sergeant to utter, but I
appreciated them. “Thank you. That means a lot,” I answered, but his words and his
demeanour worried me far more than I let on.
***

I was directed to my new office when I reached my local police station. I’d worked
here for four years before being transferred into the dog section. I still knew a
number of officers based here, so the journey to my new office was beset with lots of
questions and greetings.
Finally reaching the closed door, I braced myself for what lay behind it.
Turning the handle, I breathed out as the door swung open. I had a window. That
was something. There was also a set of shelves, now empty, but with signs they’d
been emptied in a hurry. Bits of paper were strewn across the floor. A small table and
chair filled the space in the centre of the room.
I had a computer and a phone. I felt positively spoiled. There was no kettle,
which was a shame, but I suppose I couldn’t expect everything.
Looking down at Fitz, I tried to smile. “At least they haven’t banned me from
bringing you in.” They could have stopped me working with Fitz. Because I wasn’t
actively handling my dog on this case, there was no need to bring him to work. In the
worst-case scenario, they could take him from me. They would’ve had a fight on their
hands if that happened, or if it was suggested, but it was at the back of my mind that
it was a possibility.
Switching on the computer, I sighed. This still didn’t feel right, but the sooner I
got on with it, the quicker everything would go back to normal.
I read through the reports of the death and then decided to leave the office to
go to the mortuary. I had to see if the body had given up any clues.
Hearing a weird sound, like a ‘pop’ outside my office, I looked up as the door
opened. A man walked in whose entrance made me stand involuntarily, and Fitz
immediately stood between myself and the stranger. He was tall and athletic with jet
black hair and piercing grey eyes. I’d never seen such an eye-colour before. They
held a silvery grey heat underneath, like simmering steel. They drew your attention
immediately, and his steady gaze kept it. Well it certainly did mine. I felt he was
looking into my soul, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. He was pale, but not
strikingly so. His features were angular and distinctive. Dressed in a high-quality suit,
he was a very handsome specimen, but that wasn’t what struck me about him. Okay,
perhaps it was the first thing I noticed, but it was followed very quickly by something
of real importance.

“You’re a vampire!” I exclaimed.
“You’re a vampire, sir,” he responded.
I flushed. “Sorry, sir.”
“They told me you weren’t a practising witch,” he said, in a deep voice that
was as smooth as chocolate.
“I’m not. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to work out how to turn off my senses,” I
admitted. It was true. Witches had a very heightened sensory system; mine seemed
particularly sensitive to others. It was very useful, especially in my role as a police
officer.
“I see. I hope those same benefits will help in this enquiry. I’m the DCI in
charge of the case.” He held out his hand.
“PC Jennifer Sinclair, but everyone calls me Jenny,” I answered shaking his
hand firmly. His touch sent a trail of goose bumps up my arm, and I resisted the urge
to shiver as the tingles continued down my spine.
“PC Sinclair, good to meet you. And who is this?” he asked, slowly releasing
my hand, causing further goosebumps to carve a path up my arm, to which he
seemed oblivious as he crouched to Fitz’s level.
“This is Fitzwilliam,” I said, watching with interest as Fitz, wagged and sniffed,
less like he did when meeting a friend, but as he did when we were on duty. Friendly
enough but slightly aloof. As he sniffed the wag became stronger and more
pronounced.
“Hello, fella. There’s no need to worry, but you know that, don’t you?” Fitz
relaxed a little when he received a scratch under his chin.
“I’m afraid all this has come as a surprise,” I admitted. “I used your name to
look up the team who I’ll be working with. You aren’t listed on the Serious Crime
Squad.” There was an excellent internal system that I’d looked at briefly, but he
wasn’t the detective chief inspector listed on that team.
“No. We’re a sub-unit off the S.C.S.,” he admitted. “I should have introduced
myself more fully, but your accusation put me off, and I’m always distracted by dogs,”
he explained and stood once more. “I’m DCI Oliver Collins.”
“DCI Collins?” I asked, unable to stop the smirk appearing on my lips.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “You’re a Jane Austen fan,” he said dully.
“With a dog named Fitzwilliam giving a little clue, yes, I am. Sorry. You must
think me unprofessional,” I apologised quickly, but I couldn’t help my thoughts,
considering that Pride and Prejudice would have been a completely different story if
Mr Collins had looked like the one standing before me.
“There’s no need. It’s happened before, and I’m sure it’ll happen again. I have
to admit, you’re not what I expected either,” he admitted.
“No. People are often disappointed,” I admitted.
“I doubt that. Shall we go to the café on the corner of this street? I can
recommend the hot chocolate there,” Oliver said indicating we should leave my
office.
“Do they accept dogs? And isn’t it a little too public for what we’re going to
discuss?” I asked.
“Yes, they accept dogs. I checked. Being out of the police station is preferable
for now.”
I followed meekly, walking in silence as I tried to keep up with his strides. I
arrived slightly breathless at the café, and DCI Collins opened the door for me to
enter. I thanked him and walked in with Fitz at my side.

A waitress, who didn’t blink an eyelid at me, seated us. She was busy
watching Oliver. To his credit, he was pleasant and polite but didn’t actually seem to
notice that she was almost purring at him.
After we placed our orders, Oliver turned to me. “Forgive me for asking, but is
Fitzwilliam your familiar?” he asked.
“No. I don’t have one,” I replied.
“I thought all witches did.”
“I’m not a witch.”
“I don’t understand. I’d heard you turned your back on your heritage, but I
suppose I didn’t truly believe it.”
“I’m not a practising witch, but I’m a fully paid-up member of the community.
Unfortunately, you can’t escape who you are as much as you might wish it. Not when
you belong to my community anyway,” I answered honestly.
“Interesting,” Oliver responded. His eyes had deepened in colour, the hint of
silver now much stronger, and I felt that I was being examined from my soul
outwards. It was unnerving. I felt like admitting all the inner thoughts I’d ever
experienced. I’d bet money that he had a one hundred per cent clean-up rate where
crime was concerned. If I was compelled to confess to stuff I hadn’t done, I felt pity
for the criminals in the area.
“I’m not clear why I’ve been picked for this secondment,” I admitted.
“You seemed to be the perfect choice,” came the answer.
“I didn’t realise I was on anyone’s radar. I have no ambitions other than to be
in the dog-section.”
“Do you not like cats?”
I laughed. “They’re ok, but a bit difficult to track an offender with, sir.”
A slight smile touched his lips. “I’m not used to seeing a witch without her
trusted cat by her side.”
“If we’re going to spout stereotypes I could ask why we’re meeting in the
daylight and you’ve just ordered a luxury hot chocolate, sir,” I responded. I had to be
respectful, with such a high-ranking officer, but I wasn’t going to blindly nod and say
yes-sir, no-sir when he was uttering ridiculous statements.
Oliver gave me a look. “And you a police officer. You haven’t been keeping up
with your diversity briefings.”
“Obviously not, because I’ll admit, meeting you has created lots of questions.”
We were interrupted by the waitress, who by some miracle didn’t spill our
drinks, which was no mean feat, the way she was still ogling Oliver.
“What would you like to know?” Oliver asked when we were left alone.
“Let’s start with your being here at this early hour, in the sunshine, and how
you’ve managed to achieve your rank as a vampire. I always like to start with the
little details,” I answered. I obviously knew that vampires roamed the streets during
the day; I wasn’t that out of touch, but I’d never asked a vampire how that had come
about. This seemed too good an opportunity to miss.
“My people realised a few hundred years ago that being unable to remain
outside during the day was a distinct disadvantage when blending into an area and
protecting oneself if vampire hunters decided they were going on a rampage,” Oliver
said.
“Surely you are able to surround yourself with protective spells?”
“Unfortunately, not. We’re not witches, so we have to rely on the more human
side of security. Some of us have a few tricks up our sleeves of course, but they
can’t be classed as magic.”

“Like turning into bats?”
“Yes. Although, as bats are now a protected species, you can gather that
wasn’t one of our best ideas. Our actions caused the destruction of many innocent
creatures when humans decided they could kill bats — far easier killing a bat than a
vampire in human form. The number of bats killed is an area of shame for us,” he
answered sincerely.
“You’ve evolved then.”
“Yes. It’s taken a few hundred years, and even now, on the brightest of days,
most of us prefer to be on the inside rather than out in the open,” he admitted.
“Your vitamin D levels must be appalling.”
“Quite.”
“I am curious as to how this living side by side came about,” I admitted. “Ours
is the only town to do it. We hear stories as to how it happened, but I’m presuming
most is folklore.”
“It was after the first and second world wars,” Oliver stated. “We had enlisted,
just as every other group of the supernatural did. I think we were all horrified about
the loss of life being experienced. Some of us presumed all supernaturals would
survive the battlefield. It was foolish and naïve. A mortar shell destroys everything in
its path, even the likes of us. When the war ended a group of vampires didn’t want to
be isolated again. We’d built-up friendships with those we’d served with. This town
was built post war, and it seemed a perfect chance to integrate.”
The question about Oliver’s age would have to wait for another time, because
it sounded as if he’d actually served in the conflicts. A sudden relief that he’d
survived washed over me, which was a surprise. I was no vampire hater, but I was
also quite reserved on first meeting new people. It came as part of the life choices I’d
made over the last ten years. Now was not appropriate to ask about how old he was;
he was still my boss after all.
“But the integration didn’t really work, did it?”
“No,” Oliver sighed. “It seems in everyday life everyone is suspicious of us. It’s
frustrating because we’re no threat to anyone.”
“I suppose it’s the whole bloodsucking thing,” I suggested.
“You certainly speak your mind,” Oliver pointed out. I shrugged. We were here
to talk about a death; there was no point in dancing around the issues. “If anyone
took the time to find out, you’d realise that we don’t go around taking anyone’s blood.
That was a few rogue individuals hundreds of years ago.”
“Do you take animal blood?”
“No,” Oliver sighed. “We couldn’t, in all consciousness, take the blood of a
defenceless animal.”
“I suppose you think people barbaric for eating them?” I asked, genuinely
curious.
“We eat them, but when taking blood, it has to be from a live being.”
“That does raise a question, but I’ll not go into that at the moment. How do
you get the blood you need?”
“We actually don’t need much blood. Just a few pints each week, unless we’re
injured. Then we need lots to regenerate,” Oliver explained. “Non-magics have the
blood bank run by the national health service; we have a private one. People
volunteer to donate blood, and they get paid for their contribution.”
“Really? Does that not take blood away from the NHS?”

“I doubt it. The people who require payment are probably not the type of
people who would volunteer to give it freely, but I could be too harsh with my
assumption.”
“Fascinating.”
There was a smile but for the briefest of moments. “You’d wanted to ask a
question. Another one.”
I grinned in return. I liked this vampire. As well as being one of the most
handsome men I’d ever seen and his touch sending goosebumps to places which
rarely tingled, he seemed to have a dry sense of humour. Admittedly I didn’t have a
lot of experience of vampires; even through my work I hadn’t come into much contact
with his kind. They seemed to sort out their issues among themselves.
“You said you needed to receive blood from a person or animal who is alive.
That would mean the victim would have known her killer? She’d have been alive
when having her blood taken.” It was a half-question, half-statement.
Oliver frowned, and I leaned back in my seat slightly. He’d been devilishly
attractive and appealing, but the moment he frowned, he suddenly became far more
foreboding. It felt as if the air around us had chilled slightly. I instinctively reached
down and stroked Fitz’s head. He hadn’t moved since he’d seated himself at my
knees, but his head had been constantly turned towards Oliver.
“Something has bothered me about this murder from the start,” Oliver
admitted, seeming to recollect himself as he forced himself to relax, and the air
settled once more.
“What’s that?”
“When a vampire bites a human being, the bite is laced with a healing liquid. It
shoots into the wound as soon as it’s made. It acts like a local anaesthetic, and the
wound starts to heal the moment we stop. We have only a limited amount of time we
can use that wound. When the wound dries up, we withdraw within a second or two,
and there is only the tiniest of marks. Only a thorough examination of a body would
reveal the bite.”
“Yet at the scene, it was discovered that there’d been a bite,” I mused.
“Yes. Which doesn’t make sense. We can’t stop the liquid from being
released. It’s something our body does innately. The victim had to have been alive
when the blood was taken, which means the healing process would have been
carried out.”
“Why does it happen? I would imagine when people were being used
historically, their comfort and welfare wasn’t at the top of the list of priorities.”
“We bite into an artery. It wouldn’t be a good idea for the artery to bleed out.
The human race would have died out hundreds of years ago when we didn’t
understand the way the body works as we do today. As a result, we would have died
out as a species,” Oliver answered.
The “we” in his answers were very curious, again hinting at a long life, but I
remained focused on what we were discussing. “True.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve had time to visit the mortuary yet, have you? Do you
know whereabouts the bite mark is?”
“No. I haven’t. With your permission, l’d like to visit the mortuary and the crime
scene today,” I answered. “Why is the positioning of the bite mark important?”
Oliver reached over and gently pressed two of his fingers at the base of my
neck at the junction with my shoulder. “We bite here. The artery is large and that
means there is less chance of a mistake being made. The artery travels upwards
and splits.” His fingers traced a line towards the base of my ear. “But as it does so it

goes thinner. We can bite in this more difficult spot, but if someone was being
attacked, the base of the neck would be the place to bite. More guaranteed to be a
successful hit, so to speak.”
My pulse rate had increased dramatically at his touch, as had the goose-
bumps that had emerged at our first contact. My mouth was dry, so I was quite proud
of myself when I was able to utter. “She was bitten on her neck.”
“On her neck would suggest here,” Oliver said, stroking the middle of my
neck. “I would describe where we usually bite as the base of the neck. I’ve been told
she was bitten in the middle of her neck.”
“Oh.” It was all I could utter. In fact, later, when I thought back on our
conversation, I was impressed at my eloquence. I pulled back from the touch; a
flicker of emotion flitted in Oliver’s now silver eyes before it was quickly blinked away.
I struggled to remain focused. The thought crossed my mind that I now understood
why virgins would willingly sacrifice themselves to a vampire. I was no innocent, and
this vampire was upsetting even my equilibrium. “How have your elders taken the
news?”
“We’ve been shocked and are more than a little concerned. The last thing we
want is attention focusing on us and to be found hiding a rogue vamp,” Oliver
admitted.
“We?”
“Yes. We. We are very much connected as a community.”
“That could cause problems if it was thought you would shield one who had
offended.”
“The reason I’m heading the investigation is to prevent accusations like that
from starting. I’ve picked only the best to be on my team. You came highly
recommended.”
“I doubt that, unless it was by my grandma, who’s nearly a hundred and
deluded,” I supplied.
“As all good relatives are.”
“Have you any idea who could have done this? Are there any vampires who
are causing concern?” Being hand-picked for the job brought a warm feeling to my
stomach, which I quickly shut down. A poor woman had been killed, and I was
experiencing self-satisfaction. I was disgusted with myself.
“I know you would expect us to say this, but we honestly don’t believe that it
was a vamp who killed her,” Oliver said. “It feels wrong. All of it does.”
“Who would want to set you up?”
“Apart from humans who realise who we are and feel threatened, witches who
are prejudiced, or vigilante hunters who are determined to rid the world of our kind, I
have no idea.”
“I take your point.”
“I’m glad someone does, because this needs sorting quickly,” Oliver said
earnestly. “I require full commitment and focus from every officer in my unit.”
“I’m dedicated, and as the victim was a person from my own family’s
community, you will get nothing but hard work from me. I’m just puzzled that I’m not
at headquarters with the rest of the team,” I admitted.
“I have my reasons for wanting to keep you locally based, but for now I don’t
want to go into them. Just be careful who you talk to, and don’t trust anyone.”
“Even my own colleagues?” I asked in disbelief.
“The term ‘anyone’ means no exclusions, PC Sinclair,” Oliver said firmly.

If he’d have undressed and started dancing on the table, I’d have been less
shocked. Slightly. His words weren’t those of a police officer. We relied on each other
more than we did our families. He’d said no exceptions. That meant the colleagues I
worked with. My sergeant’s words came back to me. He’d been at pains to promise
support. No. In this, Oliver was wrong.
“How do I report to you and receive my instructions?”
“For now, visit the site and the body. Find out about her before she arrived in
town. Door to door enquiries are underway, as are assessments of any vampires and
other criminals of note. We’re also looking at people who’ve had a grudge against
both groups,” Oliver said, standing and throwing a note onto the table. “You can send
updates to me by email, but I want you to have this.”
Taking out of his pocket a necklace of leather with a small purple droplet-
shaped amulet attached to it, he handed it to me. “I don’t give these out as a matter
of course,” he explained. “But if you would wear this while the whole investigation is
going on, I’d be grateful. All you need to do is hold the amulet and think of me, and
I’ll appear,” he explained.
I started to smile. I couldn’t help it. He’d given me control over him. A
Detective Chief Inspector who I could summon at any time! Wonderful.
“Please use it only if you need me urgently or you find out something that
shouldn’t be made public,” Oliver responded sternly.
“Spoilsport,” I muttered, putting the strap around my neck and tucking the
amulet under my shirt. “Do you want an update at least once a day?”
“I think at this stage, it’s very important,” Oliver responded. “For both sides
involved, we need this sorted out as quickly as possible.” ...