Barking up the Wrong Tree: Willow Bay Witches #2

  Barking up the Wrong Tree

  Willow Bay Witches #2

  Samantha Silver

  Blueberry Books

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Also by Samantha Silver

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Standing in the middle of the entrance way to Healthy Paws Veterinary Clinic, the local vet clinic in Willow Bay that I ran, I couldn’t help but think this was hands down the most chaotic day of work I’d ever had. By a huge, margin.

  It had all started early this morning, as soon as I’d come in to work. We weren’t even open yet when one of my regulars, the manager of the local hardware store, Mickey Kane, came in with his border collie Milo, who had gotten a huge splinter in his foot from a discarded log, and absolutely, positively didn’t want anybody touching his paw at all.

  Sophie – my best friend and vet technician - and I instantly took Milo to the back, where it took me ten minutes of reasoning with the poor, panicked dog that letting us take the splinter out without complaining was going to be a lot nicer than having to put him in the muzzle and fighting him.

  Being able to talk to animals has its plus sides when you’re a vet.

  Oh yeah, I should mention: I’m a witch, and my special witchy superpower, that no other witches I know have, is the ability to talk to animals. It led to some crazy rumours when I was a kid, until I was old enough to understand that I shouldn’t do it around other people. Luckily, nowadays the people that knew me growing up just chalk it up to a very active imagination.

  Of course, I don’t actually look like what you’d stereotypically expect a witch to look like: instead of warts and a crooked nose I have a nice button-shaped nose, a face that I’ve been told is pretty cute, framed by curly brown hair.

  Sophie, on the other hand, is half Japanese, with a streak of bright purple hair among the rest of her straight black locks. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get the witch gene from her mom, and so while she’s aware that I have magical powers and can talk to animals, she’s as human as they get.

  Once the whole adventure with Milo was over and done with, Milo leaving with a pretty little blue bandage wrapped around his paw and antibiotics to avoid infection, I figured we were going to settle into a nice day of calm appointments and happy pets.

  It was only 10:30 and any dream I had of that happening had long gone out the window.

  The first few appointments were completely normal, but then we had to deal with Missy.

  Missy was a little bit of an adventurer, even by kitten standards. Nineteen weeks old, pure black, with huge, curious looking blue eyes, I always joked with her owner Kate that she should have named her Columbo.

  The appointment itself went completely fine. Missy was just in getting the last of her kitten vaccines, which she wasn’t a big fan of. Unfortunately, when Kate went to put her back in the carrier and opened the door, she didn’t quite close it properly, and Missy took full advantage. It took only a couple of seconds for everything to go from completely normal to fully chaotic.

  “Oh no Missy, come back!” Kate cried out, but it was too late. Missy slipped out of the door before I managed to get it back closed, and ran to where all the action was: the lobby.

  “Uh oh,” Sophie muttered, and a minute later, I knew why: a sudden cacophony of sound made its way back towards us: dogs barking, cats howling; it was like the world’s most annoying impromptu concert. I looked at Sophie.

  “The Maynard dogs are here for their yearly booster and checkup, and one of them is getting spayed.”

  “Ohhhhhh boy,” I replied. The Maynards were a family of incredibly nice people, with a farm on the outskirts of town, and they had six dogs who were normally very well trained, who helped them herd the sheep and cattle around, but who absolutely hated coming to the vet. Apparently seeing a loose cat in the lobby was setting them off completely.

  “We have to go get Missy!!” Kate yelled, and the three of us ran back towards the lobby. I wasn’t especially worried for Missy’s safety; the kitten was far more agile than even the fastest dog, and as we ran out there she was scampering along the blinds rod, moving back and forth, taunting the barking dogs below who the Maynards, Jackson and Mollie, were desperately trying to keep a hold of.

  Karen, my receptionist, was trying to help by moving a chair over towards the window to try and get Missy.

  I grabbed one of the Maynard dogs and started taking it towards the exam rooms, hoping to be able to calm them down by moving them away from the cat. Sophie saw and did the same thing, but we both paused to watch as Karen reached over for Missy.

  “Be careful, Karen,” I called out, not liking how far over the edge of the chair Karen had to reach to get at the cat. Still, it looked like it might actually work. Missy saw Karen coming and was now standing still, and Karen made one last effort to grab the loose kitten.

  “I got this, don’t worry Angela,” Karen replied.

  Like a blur, though, Missy leapt off the curtain rod, landing on Karen’s head, who let out a yelp as she began to fall off the chair. Missy jumped off Karen’s head and onto the main counter, right next to my cat Bee, who to her credit had done very little to add to the pandemonium by staying on her bed, where she’d been curled up in a little ball since 8 o’clock that morning. Bee opened one eye to look at the kitten, who scampered along the edge of the counter as Karen fell to the ground with a squeal, the thud of her body hitting the ground sickening.

  “Oh! Karen!” I cried, everything snapping back to life.

  I took the dog I had and moved him quickly into an exam room.

  “It’ll be ok, I’ll be back in a minute,” I told him quickly as I rushed back out to find Karen on the ground, laughing. Thank God.

  “Are you ok?” I asked, worry etched on my face.

  “I’m totally fine,” Karen replied, accepting kisses from one of the Maynard dogs who was still running free. “I did so much gymnastics growing up, I know how to fall safely,” she replied, and I let out a huge sigh of relief. I’d forgotten that Karen had at one point been Willow Bay’s top gymnast. No wonder she felt comfortable getting up on the chair to try and catch Missy.

  “I’m so glad to hear that, Karen,” I told her, and I absolutely meant it. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I helped her to her feet.

  “I think I should go to some adult classes though,” Karen replied as she helped me get the rest of the Maynard dogs into the exam room. “I probably shouldn’t have fallen in the first place.”

  “Well,” Sophie replied, “I don’t think most gymnasts have to deal with a crazy kitten using their head as a launching pad.”

  When all of the dogs were safely in the exam rooms, we found Kate cornering Missy in the little closet-sized room to the side of the lobby where we kept the scale to weigh the animals when they came in.

  “Come on, Missy,” I told her. “It’s over. The dogs are gone, so you can stop taunting them. It’s time for you to get in your carrier so you can go home.”

  “Absolutely not, I like being free,” Missy hissed at me in reply, and I rolled my eyes.
I couldn’t exactly have a conversation with her in front of Kate. One of the most important rules of being a witch was to make sure humans never found out that witches existed. Close family members excluded, of course, which is why Sophie was allowed to know: her mom was a witch.

  “Fine, have it your way,” I muttered. “Guard the entrance,” I told Kate and Sophie, and I went into the room. Missy jumped onto the scale and tried to jump over me, but unfortunately she didn’t quite make it high enough. I grabbed her in mid-air and fought the scratches and howls coming my way, placing the kitten into the carrier that Kate had so nicely prepared for her; there was even a nice memory foam pillow on the bottom, in a case that I was pretty sure Kate had made herself.

  When Missy was finally, safely in the carrier, I let out a huge sigh and leaned against the wall.

  “Kittens are so undignified,” I heard Bee murmur from the bed she still hadn’t moved from. Sometimes my pretty little black cat liked being involved in the action, sometimes she just didn’t want anything to disturb her sleep. This was one of the latter days, apparently. Thankfully.

  “Thank you so much,” Kate told me and Sophie. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe Missy did all that.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told Kate, managing a smile. “That’s what kittens do, they get into trouble.”

  “I’m starting to realize that,” Kate replied, laughing. “She just has so much energy.”

  “Have you ever considered a second kitten?” I asked. “There’s a popular saying that if you’re going to get one kitten, get two. They’ll tire each other out.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we need, is a second Missy,” Sophie muttered, and I stepped on her foot on purpose. “Ow!” she shot, giving me a glare.

  Kate looked at my thoughtfully. “You know, I know the animal shelter still has two of her siblings up for adoption. You might be right, I think I’ll go over there today and see if I fall in love with one of them as well.”

  I left Kate to settle up the bill with Karen, and Sophie and I went over to deal with the six dogs who needed shots, and the one who was going to stay overnight for a spaying as well. I was planning on doing the surgery that afternoon, when I had a few hours free.

  “We are so stopping at the liquor store before going home,” Sophie told me as we headed towards the back. “I need a drink so bad right now, I’m pretty sure by tonight I’m going to need to be black-out drunk if this day keeps going the way it is.”

  I laughed. “I know what you mean. Surely this day can’t get even more insane.”

  Little did I know just how wrong I was.

  Chapter 2

  The one saving grace was that I’d planned on meeting my sister Charlotte for a late lunch at Betty’s Café, a cute little café/bakery a little ways down the main street of Willow Bay. Willow Bay was a small village on the Oregon coast, about an hour from Portland. We were definitely a tourist town, with one main street and about six thousand permanent residents. Every year, in summer especially, people flocked from Portland, the rest of Oregon, and even Washington and California to enjoy sitting on the beach under the willow trees, wiling the days away and sometimes even getting to see a few surfers on days with big surges. I’d grown up in Willow Bay, and while I went to veterinary school in Seattle, I had always planned on coming back, and I did. After all, Willow Bay was home. It might not have been perfect, but I absolutely loved it here.

  Three hours after the adventure with Missy we had given all the Maynard dogs their vaccines, given X-rays to a black lab called Puffy who was what I liked to call an adventurous eater – this time the X-ray showed six whole extra-large muffins, paper wrapper included – and spayed Lottie, the youngest of the Maynard dog clan, who was happily resting and being checked on by Sophie.

  I barely had the energy to change out of my scrubs and make my way down to Betty’s, but I did it, and when I got there I collapsed into the chair at the corner table across from where my sister Charlotte was sitting.

  Charlotte was my little sister, but we looked nothing alike. She had beautiful blonde hair that reached her shoulders, with just a slight curl to it, and skin so pale she looked like an English rose. It would have been impossible from looking at her to guess that our mom had Italian roots.

  Charlotte was also incredibly book smart. Currently finishing off her second year of medical school in Portland, an hour’s drive away from Willow Bay, she was most comfortable when researching things. She also wasn’t taking any time off; even in the summer semester she was taking classes, although she was “only” doing two of them.

  I wasn’t a total idiot, after all they don’t give veterinary degrees to absolutely anyone who walks in off the street, but Charlotte was off-the-charts smart. And I loved her more than anything in the whole world.

  When I was four years old and Charlotte was six months old, our parents were killed in a car accident coming back from an anniversary dinner. Their best friend, Lisa, who also happened to be Sophie’s mom, took us in and raised us as her own, but I still felt like it was my duty to take care of Charlotte, being her only biological family and all. We didn’t have anyone else.

  “Fun day at the office?” Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow as I struggled to move back into a socially acceptable seated position.

  “Don’t even get me started,” I replied. “If I ever complain that Bee’s a little bit too crazy, please remind me that cats like Missy exist.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Well, lucky for you I already ordered us BLTs, so you don’t need to go up to the counter and order.”

  “Have I ever told you you’re my favourite person in the whole wide world?” I asked Charlotte, who grinned in reply.

  “I know you said not to get me started, but I’m curious.”

  I told Charlotte everything that had happened that morning, from Milo coming in with the injured paw to the adventure with Missy.

  “Luckily everything after that went pretty smoothly, because I’m not sure how much more crazy I would be able to take today,” I finished.

  “Wow. And here I was going to tell you about how some students managed to screw up a chemistry experiment. They accidentally set up the buret incorrectly and sent a whole bunch of hot liquid everywhere. I still think your story is better.”

  I laughed. “Nope, that one’s pretty good,” I replied. I thought back to my own days of doing chemistry and how sometimes I thought it wouldn’t take much for something to go wrong. Nothing ever had while I was there, luckily.

  “I’m not sure it’s better, but one of the guys had some land in his hair and it burnt it all down to his scalp. He had to use the emergency chemical burn tap and then got sent straight to the hospital.”

  “Wow! That’s actually serious!” I said.

  “Yeah, well, the professor said he’s probably not going to suffer any sort of long term damage, other than the psychological scarring that comes with learning chemistry safety lessons the hard way.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Definitely.”

  Just then, Betty came over with our sandwiches and a side of fries. Betty McMahon was a kindly old woman in her 60s, who had decided that when she was finished teaching elementary school, rather than retire she would rather live out her dreams of running a little bakery. And oh boy was she ever good at it. Betty’s treats were known around the state, and people driving from Portland down south were known to detour well out of their way to stop in Willow Bay and get a taste of Betty’s amazing little treats.

  And she also made BLTs that were to die for. Thick sourdough bread, fresh lettuce and tomato, thick cut bacon – she always made mine with a vegetarian version - and the perfect amount of slightly spicy mayonnaise, grilled to perfection. This was one of my favourite treats in the whole town. And of course, the thick cut fries were a nice bonus as well.

  “Ohhhhh this is exactly what I need right now,” I said, picking up the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

  “Be careful there, Angela,�
� Charlotte told me. “We don’t want to have a When Harry Met Sally moment right here in the café.”

  I blushed at the insinuation.

  “I’m not that bad,” I said. Charlotte laughed.

  “I’m pretty sure you just made love to that first bite of the sandwich.”

  “Fine, well, I’ve had a bad day. Don’t judge me.”

  “Would some hot gossip make your day better?” Charlotte asked, and I looked up at her curiously. Charlotte wasn’t the type to gossip at all. Which is weird for someone who grew up in Willow Bay, the kind of place where gossiping about anything and everything is the number one pastime.

  “It depends on what the gossip is,” I replied.

  “Well, I was walking through Portland this morning, going to my car to come back here. And I walked past this cute little restaurant on Market Street, and I looked in, and guess who I saw?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Lisa,” Charlotte replied in a hushed whisper.

  “So? Lisa’s allowed to go to Portland. She has clients there, remember?” Sophie’s mom Lisa, who raised us as her own, ran her own accountancy firm. It had started out small, with just a few local clients, but her reputation made its way around the state and now Lisa had opened up an office in Portland and Eugene as well.

  “No, no. Not just Lisa by herself. Lisa with a man. And it definitely wasn’t a business meeting.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well as I walked by she was twirling her hair and he was holding her hand, and neither one of them were dressed for a business meeting, and neither one of them had folders or anything.”

  “Well, just because she’s old doesn’t mean she’s not allowed to date anyone,” I replied, but at the same time, something about it felt weird.

  Lisa had divorced Sophie’s father when Sophie was two years old. I’d known Sophie my whole life, and to date I had never known her to have a boyfriend. Ever.

  “Isn’t it strange though?”