Witchy Warnings
A HEX SISTER COZY MYSTERY (Tess Fortune) Book 4
Kate Allenton
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Here’s A Sneak Peek Of Book 5
Kate Allenton’s books are all available in Kindle Unlimited.
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 Kate Allenton
All rights reserved.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Please purchase only authorize electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Coastal Escape Publishing
Discover other titles by Kate Allenton
At
http://www.kateallenton.com
Created with Vellum
1
“You can’t leave,” I said, following my sister Tess around her room as she folded the last sundress and shoved it into her suitcase. “Who’s going to run the inn?”
Her smile was tight-lipped as walked into the bathroom to grab her toiletries and walked back out. She tossed them into the bag before picking up the inn’s magical book, which lay on the bed. She tried passing the book like an Olympic torch. “You’ll be fine, Georgia. There’s no one scheduled, and I marked off my vacation, so I’m sure you won’t have any guests.” Her brows dipped, and the uncertainty on her face proved even she didn’t buy the line she was feeding me. “I hope.”
I shoved the book back against her chest, snatching my hands away as if someone had laced the torch with flesh-eating acid and one-touch would kill me. “I can’t. I don’t like people, and besides, I have to go to the antique shop to sort through the mess that Mildred left. Did you know that she didn’t even keep inventory? Who does that?”
Tess tossed the inn’s magical reservation book onto the bed. “It’s okay. Margo promised to cover the inn while I’m gone. Between her and Friday...”
“Don’t you mean Theo the third?” I asked. Theo, Friday, whatever, they were all the same guy. Friday was the cat name he’d received when my relatives had stuck him in that feline form, which he’d had for the last century or two. My relatives could hold a grudge.
“Margo and Theo can handle things around here.” Tess grinned in the reassuring way she probably used when greeting the people that arrived on Venture Island. Her face softened and appeared unassuming, but I knew better.
“Theo promised to help me at the antique store,” I said.
Tess sighed. “Fine, then Margo can handle the inn by herself. There are no guest reservations listed, and there aren’t any appointments, so there shouldn’t be much to do. King, Livvy, and I will only be gone to Venture Island for a week. We’ll be back next Saturday.”
Tess crossed the room and grabbed a couple witch-in-training books from the shelf and stuffed them into her bag.
“Aren’t you worried about leaving us here?” I asked, picking up her pendant from the dresser and lowering it over her head. The trinket had been a gift from the witch council. It turned her spell casting and witchy abilities off as if flicking a light switch. She couldn’t unintentionally harm anyone, and no one could hurt her. The magic was muted and nullified.
Tess didn’t know much about being a witch, but she and Margo were the only family I had left.
“If I don’t go there and see my dad, then Masterson Venture will come here. Think of it this way, I’m saving you and Margo both from the overbearing man. I can manage him on the island, but not here.”
“You’re going to show him you’re happy by bringing the boyfriend and kid with you. Is that your plan?”
She grinned as she zipped the suitcase. “That’s the plan. My dad needs to see that leaving the island didn’t change the person I am. I owe him that much.”
“He’s not your dad.”
Tess lugged the suitcase off the bed and rested it on the floor, lifting the retractable pull handle. “That man may not be my dad by DNA, but he’s been more of a father than ours will ever be.”
Tess’s face softened as Noah entered the room. “Tess, are you almost done? If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss the ferry. King and Livvy are downstairs. We’re waiting on you.”
“She’s ready,” I growled and grabbed the dang book from the bed, intending to pass it off to Margo, who I knew would be downstairs waiting to wish everyone a safe trip. This was my last-ditch attempt to stall Tess. I’d been trying ever since she had concocted the plan for a vacation, but I couldn’t blame her. She’d been dealing with nothing but death since the minute she arrived. “Grab her bag, studly. God forbid she trips on the stairs and has to stay with us.”
Noah grabbed her bag.
Tess turned, pulling me into a hug I hadn’t been expecting. “I’ll be back before you know it. It’s one week. What can really go wrong in one week?”
She had to ask.
If the ominous dark clouds in the sky weren’t a warning about the day I was about to have, the short stop at the coffee shop should have been. I was running out of ideas to avoid dealing with the antique shop. It had been three whole weeks since all that went down with my sisters being kidnapped over a painting and a delusional witch wanting to use evil.
I sat idly at the coffee shop table across from Theo, who was still getting used to his newfound freedom and looking around in wonder as if deciding what or who he wanted to do first.
Women walked by smiling and flirting, making Theo’s eyes twinkle. He was a sexy guy. Tall, dark, and handsome with his model good looks. He wouldn’t tell us what he’d done to piss off our ancestor who’d used a spell to keep him in cat form, but if I had to guess, he’d broken her heart. He had the goods to pull that off.
“You’re acting like a dog in heat. If you need to go sow your oats, then go get some. Nothing is keeping you here,” I said earning glares from the parents around us.
Theo turned his attention back on me, tilting his head to the side as he’d done in cat form, pretending not to understand a word on the first day I’d shown up at the inn. He’d nosed his way into my room just in time for me to change clothes and given me that same look.
“You know why I can’t leave yet,” he said on a sigh, watching me over the brim of the coffee cup he lifted to his lips.
I knew. Theo had nowhere to go and no money. That was why I’d hired him for the antique store. A man like him, living with Mildred, had seen and knew everything going on. He was the perfect
person to understand the history of the relics that waited, not that I’d need a history lesson when I had ghosts waiting to tell me the significance of each piece. I felt sorry for him in a way. The only friends he had were me and my screwed up sisters.
The bell above the door chimed, and the blood drained from my face as a man came in and stood just inside. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but I didn’t need him to take them off to know the color of the peepers scanning the crowd.
“You okay, Georgia?” Theo rested his hand over mine. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat as I slowly rose. I knew instantly when the gaze locked with mine. A smile formed at the corner of the owner’s lips as he seductively slid the sunglasses off his eyes and headed in my direction.
My breath hitched as my heart raced. There could be no good reason for his visit.
“Georgia Fontaine. It’s been awhile,” he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sharply pleated pants.
“Special Agent Logan Douglas.” His name grated like sandpaper on my tongue; the memories were even worse. I grabbed my coffee and glanced at Theo. “I’ll see you in ten.”
Theo’s brows rose. Concern flashed in his eyes. “I can go with you now.”
“Sorry, guy. This is official FBI business.” Logan flashed his badge before shoving it back into his pocket. “I need to ask her some questions in private. Take your time and finish your coffee. This won’t take long.”
Logan followed me out the door. Anger and confusion clouded my mind as I tried to figure out what the hell he was doing here.
“It’s been what, about two years?” Two years, five months, and three days, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that the date had anything to do with missing him instead of my mother’s death. That was the last day I’d seen Logan, the last time I’d ever wanted to.
“I’m flattered you remembered,” he said in the same rich voice that used to make me weak in the knees. He’d lost that effect on me.
I spun on him, almost spilling my coffee on his crisp white shirt. My darn reflexes stopped me from ruining his day. “It wasn’t a compliment. Last time I saw you, I was crying over my mother’s dead body. So, just tell me why you’re here and what you want.”
“I see you’re still angry.”
I turned away and started walking toward the antique shop. “You could say that. Now, since you’ve seen it for yourself, you can leave on the horse you rode in on. As you can see, I’m not in need of saving, and your armor isn’t as shiny as it used to be.”
I shoved the key into the door of the antique store and stepped inside, turning with my hand on the door to block his path. “Sorry, we aren’t opened for business yet.”
“Georgia, I’m sorry.”
My eyes narrowed. I didn’t care if Logan yelled it while standing on top of the statue in front of Canapoly Falls Historical Building. “Sorry for what? Pretending to be someone you weren’t or maybe for the way you used me for information about my mother after you got me in bed. Or perhaps you’re sorry for disappearing out of my life the day she died. Or maybe you’re sorry for letting your superiors think my mother was some crazy nut job when she tried to convince them that a killer was using voodoo to kill his victims.”
My chest heaved with anger; electrical current shimmered beneath my skin and gathered in my hands. It wouldn’t take much to hurt Logan. One little jolt from the electricity running through me would put him on his knees. The thought of doing jail time was the only thing that stopped me. So instead of hurting him the way he’d done me, I slammed the door in his face and flicked the lock.
“This is official business, Georgia,” Logan’s words were muted through the glass door, and I pretended not to hear. He pulled out a picture and slapped it on the glass, holding it in place. I glanced at the picture. That hitch in my breath from seeing Logan in the coffee shop grew into the size of a fur ball stuck in my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
The picture was of another crime scene, a man’s body hanging from a noose. A voodoo doll was pinned to the guy’s shirt with matching injuries. Someone had painted the same death symbol on the walls that had been found beneath my mother’s rug. The same symbol that almost got my sisters and I killed.
“He’s back,” I whispered, taking an unconscious step back.
“Open up, Georgia.”
I shook my head and took another step back. “No.”
“Each wound on the doll matches the victim’s. Your mother was right.”
“You should have listened to her when she was still alive. She tried to help you and look where that got her,” I yelled through the glass door. No way was I succumbing to the same fate. “You’re wasting your time; go away.” I shook my head and pressed my lips tightly together, walking backward toward the back room.
“Hate me all you want”—Logan slammed the picture harder against the door—“but these were innocent people, Georgia, and only you can help stop him.”
Innocent or not, they were already dead, and I couldn’t bring them back, not that I would. I refused to even glance over my shoulder before I disappeared into the back room. Only then did I let the fear coiling inside break free. Much like a tidal wave breaching the shore, tears fell free.
2
“Georgia, open up,” Theo yelled while knocking on the back door.
“Are you alone?”
“What kind of question is that? Did you think I’d bring a woman back here?”
I unlocked the door and let him in. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
He stepped inside. His face clouded in concern, and his smile fell as he watched me swipe angrily at the tears left behind.
“You’ve been crying? What could that guy have possibly said to you to make you cry?”
“Bad memories is all,” I said, taking a deep calming breath and shoving the thoughts away. Just because the FBI agent was in town didn’t mean that anyone had followed him. “Was he still out front when you got here?”
“No. The FBI guy was gone. You didn’t answer when I knocked on the door, so I came around back.” Theo gestured with his thumb. “Do you want me to go open the store?”
“We’re not opening today. We’re doing inventory,” I said when another knock sounded on the back door. “It better not be him, or so help me God…” I grabbed a candlestick from the shelf and held it behind my back as I yanked the door open.
A deliveryman stood outside with two crates loaded on a heavy duty cart, clipboard in hand.
“Can I help you?” The tension in my shoulders eased.
“I have a delivery for Hexford Antiques. Is that you?” he asked as his gaze went from Theo’s to mine.
Theo slipped the candlestick free and put it back on the shelf, and I pulled the door open wider. “Sort of.”
“Sort of, lady? What does that mean? Either you are or you’re not. Which is it?”
“Fine, it’s me. Well, technically it was my grandmother’s place, but that conniving woman left it to me in her will.”
“Perfect, sign here while I unload.” He shoved the clipboard at me before wheeling in the dolly. I glanced down at the list to see that Mildred had arranged delivery from an estate sale when the owner died. My eyes widened as I flipped the page. “Ten crates?”
The guy tilted the crates to pull the dolly out before wiping the sweat from his brow. “Ten crates and one trunk. It shouldn’t take long for my buddy and me to get it all in here.”
Thirty minutes later, both Theo and I stood in the backroom with crowbars in hand.
“Any idea what all this stuff is?” he asked.
I shook my head as I shoved the crowbar beneath the lid, prying it open. “Nope, my goal was to sell all this crap, not to accumulate more.”
His eyes sparkled in humor as he tore through three boxes before I got my first one open. In each box, he dug around, moving the packing paper and peeking inside before he abandoned the treasures and moved to
the next.
“What do you suppose is inside this thing?” I asked, gesturing to the only wooden box not packed in one of the crates. I wiped the sweat from my brow as Theo ran his finger over the intricate design on the wood.
“It looks like it’s an old dowry box so maybe an antique wedding dress.”
“How do you know what a dowry box looks like?” I teased him.
“I can’t recall how I know.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh God. Has all that time as a cat made me lose my memory?”
“Give your memory time to come back. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” I hoped. I couldn’t even imagine living back when a dowry was utilized to snag a husband. My box would have been filled with voodoo dolls like the one in Logan’s picture. I’d made several as a young girl, happy to help my mother in her mystic shop. It was supposed to be for fun, not real.
“I believe I grew up in that time,” he said, squatting next to the box to examine it closer and swiping the dust off the lid. “It looks like it‘s been stuck in someone’s attic for years.”
A ghostly man appeared in the room. I’d kind of expected a ghost to show up with what could have been an emotional item, but not necessarily this ghost. This one stood dressed in a designer three-piece suit. The man looked to be in his sixties and didn’t fit with the older relics of the ninety-year-old man’s estate. This ghost looked like he belonged in one of the high rises on Wall Street. His relationship to the box made no sense unless he‘d inherited it from a distant relative.
He stared down at me with his hands in his pockets. A stern aggravated look filled his ghostly face. He seemed unamused to be dead, and even more so at the mess we’d created. He looked like a father ready to yell at a child to clean up his room.
Witchy Warning Page 1