Of Curses and Charms

by Nyx Halliwell

  1 cup fresh lemon juice (fresh squeezed, organic)

  2 cups cold water

  2-3 sprigs dried, organic culinary lavender (for garnish)

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  Directions:

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  Place the dried lavender in a pitcher; pour the boiling water over it; cover with plastic wrap and allow to steep 10 minutes; strain and discard the lavender and return the water to the pitcher. Add the honey and stir until dissolved. Add the lemon juice and cold water. Refrigerate until serving and garnish if desired.

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  Fairy party ideas:

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  Check thrift stores for fancy tea cups and saucers. Don’t be afraid to mix and match, no set needs to be perfect.

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  Add small white lights to everything.

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  Use lots of small pots of flowers around sitting areas and on table, hang swags of greenery (decorated with lights) over doorways or fireplaces, and wrap colorful ribbons or scarves around everything.

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  Have temporary fairy tattoos available for guests.

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  Make a selection of miniature teacakes, muffins, fruit kabobs, etc. Add sprinkles and colored sugar (fairy dust) to any frosting you use.

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  Serve lavender or pink lemonade and label it Fairy Juice.

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  Print out a What Is Your Fairy Name sheet from Pinterest and let your guests become truly magickal!

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  Hold a fairy scavenger hunt, searching for things in nature, such as pinecones, flowers, leaves, twigs, moss, etc. You can also hide tiny bells and trinkets for guests to find just for fun.

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  If you’re crafty, fill tiny bottles with glitter and make Fairy Dust necklaces for each of your guests to take home.

  The Amazing Healing Energies of Crystals!

  Rose Quartz

  Unconditional love ~ Compassion ~ Gratitude

  Aids in self-love, self-forgiveness

  Attracts romance

  Place over heart; wear as jewelry; carry in pockets or purse. Place several stones in bowls inside house or on desk. Works well with other stones.

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  Black Tourmaline

  Protection ~ Grounding

  Stops all negativity, including EMF and geopathic

  Wear as jewelry; place in four corners of house, room, or office to stop others’ negativity from entering. Works well with selenite, rose quartz, and other high vibration stones.

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  Selenite

  Cleansing ~ Protection ~ Healing

  Cleans energy on all levels

  Shields energy from outside forces

  Enhances psychic abilities

  Promotes sleep and peace

  Place under pillow or bed; place in any room, windows, corners, on desk, etc. If feeling sick, place on appropriate body part.

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  Commonly asked questions:

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  What is Reiki? Reiki is an energy healing modality that clears and balances your chakras and aura with pure Source (Universal Consciousness, God, whatever you prefer to call it) energy. It is unconditional love and healing that aids you in releasing stress, raising your body’s own healing frequency, and being at peace with your life.

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  What is Crystal Healing? Crystal healing uses the natural vibrational frequency of the stones to affect positive, healing energy flow in the body. Like Reiki, it raises your natural vibration, clearing out toxins and that which no longer serves you so healthy energy can come in.

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  If you’d like to learn more about crystals, schedule a healing session, or contact a loved one who’s passed over, please visit: www.crystalswithmisty.com

  Ready for Stars and Spells?

  Dive into the next magical story, Of Stars and Spells, and find out if star-crossed lovers can create an enchanting new life together as they uncover the truth about a very human threat.

  Chapter 1

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  Autumn. My favorite season and the one I’m named after. This morning, I feel the tug of the Pacific Northwest weather, the turning of the wheel of life, even before I open my front door.

  Something big is happening today. Even my cards agree. The Ace of Pentacles fell out of my tarot deck as I shuffled this morning, alerting me to new beginnings and earth energy working together to bring me something tangible.

  Crisp fall air fills my nose as I find Godfrey and Snow perched on the welcome mat. Both cats look up at the same time, as if their heads are on a string, and Godfrey meows loudly.

  Cats. I have a doggie door at the back entrance, but they refuse to use it. Godfrey believes it’s beneath him, and he’s trained his new love interest to act the same.

  The two walk by me, one on each side. They curl up at the fireplace, Snow nestling in among her kittens and licking Vivaldi’s head before she settles on Sirius’s large dog bed. Sirius is my familiar, a beautiful large Irish wolfhound that Snow’s kittens adore.

  The kittens have grown considerably since my sister, Summer, found them in a box left on the front porch of our metaphysical shop this past June. Vivaldi, along with the others, greets her mother warmly and rubs her face with her own.

  As I look out across the yard, I inhale deeply, enjoying the beautiful sunlight glistening off an abundance of yellow, orange, and red leaves. Winter’s cabin and the Whitethorne woods are on my right. Summer and Spring’s cabins, several gardens, and Spring’s greenhouse, branch off on the left. Gourds and pumpkins are scattered amongst the now dormant gardens, Mother Nature getting ready for a deep sleep.

  Sirius is finishing his breakfast, and is ready for his walk, by the time I’ve slipped on my running shoes. I’m wearing bright orange yoga pants featuring pumpkins and a matching puffy vest over a black long-sleeve shirt. I’ve swept my red hair into a ponytail and put in my skeleton earrings to complete my look. Sirius wears a black collar with moons and stars on it, his metal tag a bright yellow, matching the color of his wise old eyes.

  My familiar and I leave the cats by the fireplace to nap in its warmth, and head out for our daily jaunt.

  Yellow and purple mums are in full bloom along the stone path to Conjure. The last traces of fog slips off amongst the pines and redwoods, and the sun continues to rise. The smell of baking apples and pumpkin bread mixes with the scent of the pine trees, telling me Spring is hard at work in the kitchen for the fall festival and Samhain celebration.

  Sirius trots on and off the path, sniffing and marking his territory here and there. I feel more alive at this time of year than any other, and the dog seems to share that.

  Spring’s familiar, Hoax, is on the back porch as we climb the steps. “May there be guineafowl crying at your child’s birth,” the mockingbird yells at me.

  Whatever that means. Sirius growls at him in warning, but I just roll my eyes. The bird is cursed and can’t fly, and he slings Irish and Gaelic curses at everyone—his way of mocking us. Some days, I wonder how he’s managed to live this long among a group of witches.

  I leave Sirius on the back porch with Hoax, and head inside to find Spring and her friend, Storm, baking apple fritters, donuts, and other specialty treats for the case out front. I greet my sister, whose pale cheeks are flushed from the heat of the stove, with a kiss on the cheek. Snagging a cup from the cabinet, I fill it with warm apple cider from a giant soup pot on the stove.

  Storm, a gypsy at heart, pulls out the latest round of miniature apple cider donuts from the oven. She’s pinned her long hair up on top of her head and wears a black flowing skirt, purple top, and a candy corn necklace. Her dark hair and eyes contrast Spring’s blond hair and blue eyes, but the two move with a rhythm suggesting they are old friends reunited in this lifetime. Spring sprinkles cinnamon sugar on top of the donuts and then puts them on a cooling rack.

  I drop a cinnamon stick into the apple cider and take seve
ral sips, enjoying the scent and warmth as it goes down my throat. “How many have you made?” I ask, looking around. Every inch of counterspace is covered with some form of baked goods. I lick my lips anticipating what I’m sneaking from the plethora for breakfast.

  “We’ve completed three dozen donuts,” my sister says, continuing to work even as she speaks. Her dangling black cat earrings swing as she moves. She’s wearing my favorite Halloween apron and she accented her outfit with an orange and black headband. “I have five dozen more, three pies, and two dozen pumpkin muffins on order.”

  Along with her lotions, potions, and herbs, her bakery goods are in high demand. She’s probably been here in the kitchen since well before sunrise. “When I get back from my run, I’ll open up the shop so you two can keep working. My clients don’t start until ten. That will give you time to get your orders completed.”

  As she hustles past me, she gives me a quick squeeze. “Thank you.” She points to a basket on the edge of the counter. “Will you drop that at Mama Nightingale’s?”

  “Of course.” Snatching up the basket, I return to the porch, grab Sirius, and the two of us take off. As we pass the front parking lot, I see there are already customers lining up at the entrance, hoping to be one of the few to grab the apple cider donuts before they sell out.

  Even with Storm’s help, Spring has been running out of all the fall pastries by the end of each day. I expect the holidays will be the same.

  The shop is also short of space to keep up with demand for other products, especially Summer’s crystal jewelry, and our selection of buddhas and goddess statues. I’ve been considering expanding our storefront on the north side to give us more room. We could use the retail space for products and I could use a larger treatment room.

  I don’t do many energy healing sessions—that’s Summer’s area of expertise—but I’m seeing more clients than ever for tarot readings, birth chart readings, and relationship advice. They often come in pairs or groups and it’s challenging to fit everyone around my table.

  Summer has seen an increase in her energy healing sessions as well, and I know she could use more space in her room for all her crystals and other supplies. Sometimes, she has couples or best friends who want to have a treatment together, but she only can fit one table in there. She recently had a request to do an entire bridal party, giving them all a burst of positive energy to get them through the wedding, but it’s impossible to squeeze that many people into the tiny room she uses now, so she was forced to do the group session at the bride’s house.

  Plus, Spring needs a bigger kitchen. Then we could hire Storm full time.

  Expansion—this energy falls under the planet Jupiter. I ask for that planet’s guidance and assistance as I contemplate my plans.

  The sounds of birds and squirrels getting ready for hibernation reach my ears. Sirius and I turn north, walking along the highway on our favorite bike trail. I drink in the sight of the turning leaves, the reassuring smell of wood fires lingering in the air.

  Various evergreens provide a canopy over the trail, a tapestry of sunshine falling at our feet. I have to watch for acorns and pinecones as I start a jog to keep up with Sirius. I take him off leash so he can run along the path in and out of the woods, sniffing and barking at the squirrels.

  We pass the rear of Momma Nightingale’s convenience store, and it looks like she’s busy this early as well. Several people are getting gas, others coming and going from the store with various prepackaged items, newspapers, and lottery tickets. Mama herself opens the back door to throw out trash and says good morning to me. I lift the basket, whistle at Sirius to come, and after a logging truck passes, we cross the highway to deliver the breakfast goods for her new fresh bakery case.

  “You tell your sister I’m needin’ more,” she says, flipping back the red-checkered towel to eye the contents. “I’m selling out of these goodies every morning before I can say Happy Halloween.”

  I smile at the shorter woman, the sun on her dark skin highlighting its smooth surface. I wonder how old our neighbor is—much older than she appears I suspect. “She’s having trouble keeping up with the demand at our place too, but I’ll put in your request.”

  One of Mama’s eyes narrows at me. “She puttin’ some kind of spell of them, making them so popular?”

  I wink at her. “Good food is a magick in itself, isn’t it?”

  She laughs good-naturedly and pats Sirius on the head. “I’m lookin’ forward to your trick-or-treat open house Saturday night. Need me some new tarot cards.”

  “They’ll be on sale.”

  She nods, looking off toward the woods. “Your momma would be proud of what you gals accomplished in the past year, growing Conjure the way you have.”

  My heart does a hard thud in my ribcage at the thought of Mom. “We’re having a small get-together after the open house to honor her if you’d like to attend.”

  Another nod, this time her gaze finding mine. “I’d be honored.”

  With a wave goodbye, Sirius and I head back to the path.

  My heart does another thud, this one more like a soft echo, as we draw close to Harrington Farms. The twenty-five acre family-owned and operated place grows vegetables for sale in the summer, pumpkins and gourds in autumn, and Christmas trees for the holidays.

  There’s a small wooden stand behind the front gate, pumpkins in various sizes spreading out from each side. Potted mums form a backdrop. Inside the stand are jars of homemade jams and jellies, and some of Spring’s honey, along with other craft items Mrs. Harrington makes and sells.

  I’m surprised to see the gate is closed. No one is in the stand. Usually when Sirius and I go by, Mr. or Mrs. Harrington, or one of their helpers, is opening up.

  The house seems quiet as well. There’s no one out and about.

  I feel an itch under my breastbone, but I ignore it, running on with Sirius. Perhaps they’re getting a late start today, or having a business meeting inside.

  We run past acres of ground, now going fallow for the winter. Mr. Harrington has already cleaned off most of the garden growth and vines, a few beds still filled with mums. Behind that are acres of Christmas trees, the next season bearing down on us even though Halloween is a couple days away.

  My sisters and I celebrate the holiday as Samhain, and our customers who do the same are growing every year, demanding more and more items for the season. The Harringtons have seen a good amount of growth in the past few years as well. Many folks have come full circle, wanting the experience of hunting for pumpkins, purchasing locally grown mums and gourds, and preferring handmade gift items rather than the mass produced and marketed items from stores.

  Sirius and I spend a little time in the national park, soaking up sun and passing other walkers, joggers, and bike riders. Everyone in these parts speaks and offers a kind word, and I offer gratitude to Mother Nature for giving us this beautiful place to live in.

  I gather a few maple leaves from the path—as big as my hand and strikingly yellow and orange—before we turn around and head home. I plan to press them in our Whitethorne Book of Spells I keep to infuse the pages with the precious fall energy.

  Several cars pass us on the highway as we walk the bike path back toward the Harrington Farm. I’m thinking about the clients I have later today—two tarot readings, and a past life birth chart analysis. I always enjoy those a great deal.

  I’m thinking about that and the possible expansion of our shop next year, when a black truck roars past me and wheels in at the Harrington’s drive.

  A man gets out dressed in a perfectly pressed white military uniform. I stop in my tracks and my breath catches in my lungs.

  I’d know that build, that beautiful head of hair, that face, anywhere.

  He goes to the gate to unlock it.

  I blink several times, unable to believe my eyes. This Air Force officer is broader and more muscled under that impressive uniform than I man I knew five years ago.

  But my heart has
no doubt, its solid thudthudthud inside my chest an absolute checkmark.

  Quinn.

  My soul mate.

  Sirius stops beside me, his lanky body pressing into my leg as he picks up on my sudden mix of emotions—surprise, worry…

  Love.

  A bottomless well of unrequited love.

  For half a second, I try to talk myself out of the idea that it truly is Quinn Harrington. He’s swung the gate open so he can drive up the lane leading to the house.

  His buzzcut hair is so dark, it seems to absorb the morning sunlight. When he looks up, his eyes meet mine, and there’s no denying it.

  I sense him catch his breath.

  This is the man who left me five years ago.

  The man whose chart I’ve read a hundred times.

  Unlike the dozens of couples decorating the wall in my office, ours isn’t a fairy tale ending. We’re soul mates, yes, but not all soul mates end up together.

  My love life is jinxed. In this lifetime, Quinn and I are destined to only be star-crossed lovers.

  Doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring for him. Dreaming about him. Wishing on the stars that he’d back down to earth to be with me.

  Wish granted.

  Or is it?

  My pulse beats so fast I feel like I might have a panic attack. I feel his heartbeat too—clairsentience is one of my gifts. It’s as if the two of us are frozen in time.

  How is it possible that he’s back and I didn’t know it?