Elemental Eight

by Cindy Stark

  ELEMENTAL EIGHT

  Teas & Temptations Mysteries

  Book Eight

  By Cindy Stark

  www.cindystark.com

  Elemental Eight © 2018 C. Nielsen

  Cover Design by Kelli Ann Morgan

  Inspire Creative Services

  All rights reserved

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Welcome to Stonebridge, Massachusetts

  Welcome to Stonebridge, a small town in Massachusetts where the label “witch” is just as dangerous now as it was in 1692. From a distance, most would say the folks in Stonebridge are about the friendliest around. But a dark and disturbing history is the backbone that continues to haunt citizens of this quaint town where many have secrets they never intend to reveal.

  Visit www.cindystark.com for more titles and release information. Sign up for Cindy’s newsletter to ensure you’re always hearing the latest happenings.

  DISCLAIMER:

  All spells in this book are purely fictional and for fun.

  Prologue

  Stonebridge, Massachusetts 1689

  Clarabelle sat on the small porch of the two-story house Cal and his father had built at the edge of his father’s property. The western skies had grown rosy, and she waited for Cal to return from his father’s fields for the day so that they could share supper. When Cal had talked about building her a home, she’d never expected to love it this much. The black roof contrasted beautifully with the white house, but the pitched gables and round windows on the second floor were her favorite things.

  They’d enjoyed married life as they should, and Clarabelle couldn’t help but feel she was the luckiest woman in Massachusetts. She’d hoped marrying Cal would have removed any question of her association with known witches. As far as the town knew, she was a proper young wife, above reproach.

  Fluttering in her stomach caught her attention, and she placed a hand over her belly. The sensations were so new that she couldn’t be sure, but three months had passed without her monthly menses, and she’d begun to suspect she might be with child.

  Cal would be so excited. He’d often talked about being a father. She couldn’t wait to tell him. She’d cooked a special meal of chicken and dumplings, and she would share her news that night.

  If only he would come home.

  She knew the distance from the fields to their house wasn’t short, but the grove next to where they’d built their house encompassed incredible energy that she used in her daily life without Cal’s knowledge. She’d managed to pry up a stair in their house and had kept her spell book safely inside to protect their budding family as well.

  She spotted Cal then, crossing the rock bridge. The sun shone on his blond hair, reminding her of wheat, and though he had massive shoulders, she could tell from his gait that he’d worked a hard day.

  She had just the news to cheer him up.

  Clarabelle stood and waved. Cal returned her greeting.

  Crazy energy whipped through her veins. She could hardly wait.

  A sudden thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she should tell him of her powers, too. After all, they were man and wife, and she knew he loved her dearly.

  He deserved to know about her heritage and the baby. Her father had accepted her mother’s gifts, and she believed Cal would accept hers, too. They would be bonded by a child, and that child could likely show signs of his or her witch birthright before it was old enough to know to hide it.

  Their child would need protection from both parents.

  When Cal neared the grove of trees, Clarabelle stepped off the porch and hurried toward him. Excitement fluttered inside her. When she was close enough, she threw her arms around his neck, and he drew her into a fierce embrace.

  He kissed her passionately on the lips and then grinned. “Missed you today.”

  She beamed. “I missed you, too.”

  She folded her fingers around his large hand and tugged him toward the house. “Come. I have news to share.”

  He lifted interested brows. “What would that be?”

  Clarabelle nodded toward the house, remaining cautious though there was no one around to overhear. “Inside.”

  She encouraged him to sit on a chair, and she climbed onto his lap. “I have wonderful news.”

  He traced a finger down her cheek. “Tell me, then. Do not keep me waiting any longer.”

  She stared deeply into his crystal blue eyes, basking in the love she found there. “Two things, really.”

  Blood thundered in her head, and she inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve wanted to share this with you for some time, but the time was not right. I feel it is today.”

  He nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I see.”

  Clarabelle captured his gaze and held steady. “Please allow me to finish before you speak. I need to tell you everything.”

  Cal remained mute, and Clarabelle knew she was stalling.

  “I am a witch.”

  An enormous vacuum sucked in all her nervousness and his curiosity and left them with utter silence.

  He stared.

  She searched his eyes, looking for traces of love. “Please say something.”

  Then he stood abruptly, and she toppled to the floor.

  He glared down at her. “I shall leave this house and will not return until tomorrow at which point I expect you and your belongings to be gone. Because I have loved you, I will give you that much time.”

  He stomped to the front door, opened it to step outside, and slammed it closed.

  Clarabelle sat flabbergasted on the floor. He…he…

  Hot tears flooded her eyes, and she folded in on herself.

  But, he loved her. She loved him. The witch in her blood should not matter. They were meant to be together, to build this life together.

  She stilled. Her eyes grew wide, and she placed a hand on her stomach. She had a life growing inside her. Cal’s child.

  But he could never know, would never have a chance to love it.

  Suddenly, life was no longer about her and her safety. She was nearly certain Cal would report her claim. The townsfolk would come after her.

  They would want to drown her like they had the others.

  But she had someone to protect now.

  Fierce determination swept over her.

  No, they would not harm her. Would not steal her child from her, or worse, kill it.

  She would run, hide in the forest that had offered her protection in the past. She knew it well. She’d find a way to get a message to Scarlet and Lily. They would help her.

  They would join her side, and together, they would fight back.

  Chapter One

  Hazel stepped from her car and grinned. The sun
ny October day couldn’t have been more perfect for a wedding dress fitting and spending time with her bestie.

  She slipped her arm through Cora’s as they approached the old Victorian manor that housed Mrs. Beatrice Rutherford, seamstress extraordinaire, along with her showroom and sewing area. “Cora, I’m so happy you could sneak away from the café for a bit and come with me.”

  Cora’s eyes brightened. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying to see what your bodice looks like attached to your skirt ever since our first visit.”

  Overwhelming excitement bubbled from inside Hazel. “Me, too.”

  They stepped through the short, wrought iron gate and followed the gray cobblestone path to the front door where orange and yellow chrysanthemums flourished in turquoise ceramic pots on the front steps. Hazel rang the bell to announce their arrival.

  A minute passed before Hazel heard shuffling on the opposite side of the door. The knob turned, and the door swung open, revealing a rosy-cheeked, plump woman with nearly all white hair. She grinned. “Hazel, dear. And look, you’ve brought my next potential client, sweet Cora, along with you.”

  Cora blushed and glanced at Hazel with suspicion in her eyes. Clearly Cora thought Hazel had outted her budding romance with Lachlan, and Cora’s hopes that they’d get married, which she had.

  But she’d never admit to it.

  Hazel stepped forward and hugged Beatrice, enjoying the scent of roses that seemed to perpetually cling to the older lady. Hazel had loved her from the moment they’d met. “Hello, Mrs. Rutherford. I know it’s only been a week since I was here, but it’s already been too long.”

  Beatrice kissed her cheek. “Far too long.”

  Cora followed with a hug of her own. “You can be sure if my day ever comes, you’ll be making my dress, too.”

  Beatrice chortled. “You girls are too good to me.”

  Hazel waited for the seamstress to close the door behind them. “You have magic in your fingertips, Mrs. Rutherford. I wouldn’t dream of going to anyone else.”

  She smiled but shook her head. “Hush, now. If some hear you say magic, they might lose their minds and come after me. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve accused an innocent person.”

  Hazel nodded in agreement. “Very true. I’ll remember that.”

  A momentary hint of sadness touched Cora’s features. “It’s too bad people still feel that way.”

  Beatrice clucked as she led the way to the parlor that had been turned into a dressing area. “It’s a bunch of silly business, if you ask me. Even if Stonebridge still had witches, I wouldn’t care. The town is full of nothing but nice people, if you ask me. Well…except those witch-haters.”

  Cora lifted cautious brows. “Like Samuel Canterbury?”

  Beatrice shot Cora a nasty look. “He’s the worst. I’m always happy to see him go and loath when he returns to town.”

  Hazel frowned. “I was under the impression that he doesn’t spend much time here anymore. I haven’t run across him once since I moved here.”

  Cora snorted. “You’ve been lucky so far, but you’re likely out of time. When Fred Hawking was in the café this morning, he said he’d noticed lights on in Samuel’s house last night. I’m sure he’ll make his appearance soon.”

  Beatrice opened a large closet and pulled out a clear garment bag, filled with ivory tulle and lace.

  Hazel’s pulse spiked at the sight of her beautiful gown.

  “He’d better not come near me,” Beatrice continued. “I’m still not one hundred percent sure he didn’t have something to do with Sarah’s death.”

  Hazel flipped her gaze from the dress to Beatrice.

  The pink on Beatrice’s cheeks turned shades of red. “Oh, here now I’m talking about the dead wife of the man you’re going to marry. I’m so sorry.”

  Hazel gave her a kind smile. “Please don’t be sorry. I’m as interested as anyone about what happened to Sarah. Well, except Peter, of course. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard rumors.”

  Cora nodded. “I think we all wish we could discover the truth.”

  Beatrice unzipped the garment bag, revealing the incredibly detailed lace that made up Hazel’s bodice and straps. “I’ll bet my eye-teeth Samuel is involved. I’ve always wondered about Albert Winthrop, too, but I guess his wife took care of that problem.”

  Sadness sparked in Hazel’s heart. “Poor Florence. She was one of my first and dearest customers, and I don’t blame her at all for finally losing her mind and offing her cheating, horrible husband.”

  “Here, here,” Beatrice said, and Cora echoed their sentiments.

  Beatrice waved a hand in front of her face as though clearing the atmosphere. “Enough of this depressing talk. We have a beautiful bride to think about.”

  “And an amazing dress,” Cora added. “Enough waiting. Let’s see it.”

  Beatrice beamed. “I have to say I dearly love each and every dress I’ve made, but this one is special. I feel I’ve given it part of my soul.”

  She dropped the garment bag from around the dress, and it fell to the bottom of a billow of ivory tulle.

  Hazel inhaled in awe and wonder.

  Cora gasped. “Oh, my stars. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

  Hazel stepped forward and gently touched the intricate lace on the shoulder straps. Ivory flowers interspersed with curling leaves and vines created her entire bodice. The floral designs appeared to creep up over her shoulders and then trail down the back.

  “Try it on,” Cora whispered in a reverent voice.

  She swallowed and nodded.

  Beatrice’s chuckle oozed with pleasure. “My greatest joy is watching the bride’s face when I reveal her wedding dress.”

  Hazel blinked back tears. “It’s absolutely stunning.”

  The seamstress held the dress out to her. “You know where the dressing room is. We’ll help with the buttons when you come out.”

  Hazel carefully folded the gown over her arm and then hurried to the curtained-off space that served as a dressing room. She swore her heart pounded the Wedding March as she quickly disrobed and slipped into the yards of tulle and lace.

  The bodice was loose on her because she needed to be buttoned, but the ethereal creation transformed her into a garden princess, the perfect dress for an earth witch. A brilliant smile bloomed from her heart to her lips.

  She’d never owned such a thing of beauty, and suddenly, she couldn’t wait for her wedding day and for Peter to see her wearing it.

  With happiness pulsing in her heart, she lifted the skirt and made her way to the other ladies.

  “Oh.” Cora placed a hand against her chest. “You are the most gorgeous thing ever.”

  Hazel fanned her face to keep tears away and cool her cheeks. “Only because Mrs. Rutherford is so talented.”

  The older lady clucked. “A work of art deserves the best kind of easel. You are beautiful, my dear. Absolutely beautiful. Come here, and let’s do up those buttons so we can see exactly how it fits.”

  Hazel couldn’t keep the grin from her face as Beatrice closed the thirty small buttons on the back that held her dress together.

  Cora chuckled. “Peter will have fun with those on your wedding night.”

  Hazel caught Beatrice’s smile in the mirror. “A little anticipation is good for the man. Keeps him humble.”

  Cora took her hand. “You’re glowing, you know.”

  Hazel nodded. “I’m so excited. I can’t stand it.”

  Cora grinned. “Me, too. Your day is going to be amazing.”

  A small ding dimmed her happiness. “It will be, as long as my mother doesn’t catch wind of it.”

  Beatrice rolled her eyes and nodded. Hazel had already filled her in on the details of her relationship with her mother during previous fittings. “There’s no reason she would find out.”

  Hazel wished that was true. “Not unless Victor tells her.”

  Beatrice met her gaze
in the mirror. “Does he know?”

  She’d explained Victor previously, too. “He knows I’m engaged. Hard to keep that a secret in this town. And unfortunately, he has a canny way of discovering information that I’d like to keep secret.”

  A flicker of mischief shone in Beatrice’s eyes. “Perhaps we should hex him.”

  Hazel froze.

  She swore the air evaporated from the room, and she flicked her gaze to Cora who looked equally stunned.

  Then Beatrice’s laughter filled the air.

  Cora was quick to join her, and Hazel forced a laugh from her empty lungs. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could?”

  Beatrice gave a swift nod. “Sounds like the man deserves it.”

  Life eased back into Hazel’s body. “He sure does. Did I tell you he tried to charm Cora the first day he was in town, right after I told him to bugger off?”

  She clucked and shook her head. “Scoundrel.”

  “He’s the worst,” Cora agreed. “If he wasn’t so darn attractive, he wouldn’t be near the problem.”

  Beatrice widened her eyes. “One of those, huh?”

  Hazel shook her head in frustration. “The worst.”

  Cora sighed. “We’ll figure out something. Right now, only a handful of people know your wedding date. We have a few days before we send out invitations. Then he’s likely to hear something.”

  Beatrice tugged on the waist of the dress. “The best way to beat the devil is to play his game, I say.”

  Hazel drew her brows together. “How do you mean?”

  The older woman grinned. “Send the man an invitation so that he doesn’t have to hear it from anyone else. Except…his will have the wrong date.”

  A hesitant smile crept onto Hazel’s lips, and she turned to Cora. “Do you think it would work?”

  Cora shrugged and then smiled. “I’d say it’s worth a try. Anything and everything to keep your mother away.”