by Susan Hayes
Too Hexy For Her Broom
Susan Hayes
Copyright © 2020 by Susan Hayes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.
The Author of this Book has been granted permission by Robyn Peterman to use the copyrighted characters and/or worlds created by Robyn Peterman in this book. All copyright protection to the original characters and/or worlds of the Magic and Mayhem series is retained by Robyn Peterman.
Contents
Foreword
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
About the Author
Foreword
Blast Off with us into the Magic and Mayhem Universe!
* * *
I’m Robyn Peterman, the creator of the Magic and Mayhem Series and I’d like to invite you to my Magic and Mayhem Universe.
* * *
What is the Magic and Mayhem Universe, you may ask?
* * *
Well, let me explain…
* * *
It’s basically authorized fan fiction written by some amazing authors that I stalked and blackmailed! KIDDING! I was lucky and blessed to have some brilliant authors say yes! They have written brand new stories using my world and some of my characters. And let me tell you…the results are hilarious!
* * *
So here it is! Blast off with us into the hilarious Magic and Mayhem Universe. Side splitting books by fantabulous authors! Check out each and every one. You will laugh your way to a magical HEA!
* * *
For all the stories, go to https://magicandmayhemuniverse.com/. Grab your copy today!
And if you would like to read the book that started all the madness, Switching Hour is FREE!
https://robynpeterman.com/switching-hour/
Chapter One
Breeze Blackstone counted down the seconds. Three-Two-One-Midnight. “Happy birthday to me.”
Her phone played a tinny version of the Happy Birthday song, and digital fireworks crackled and popped on the screen. She pointed to the candle placed dead center in the middle of a stack of red velvet cupcakes piled high with cream cheese frosting. A brief stream of bright blue sparks flew from her fingers to ignite the wick with a cheery yellow flame.
This was her private tradition, a carryover from the days her mom and dad used to wake her up to sing her happy birthday. Back then, there would be presents and cake and laughter, and then she’d fall into bed again, buzzing with sugar and happiness. Those days were long gone, but she’d held onto part of the tradition – in about two minutes, she was going to be riding a serious sugar high.
“Thank the Goddess, even lame witches have the metabolism of a hummingbird on crack.” She pulled the platter toward her, her mouth watering already. She was so focused on her treats, she almost forgot to make her wishes. Three of them, just like her parents had always taught her.
Since there was no one around to hear her heart’s desires, she said the words aloud. “I wish I could see my parents again. I wish I was a powerful witch. And I wish that, somewhere out there, is someone who could love me.”
They were the same ones every year, and while she knew she wasn’t likely to ever get them answered, she made the wishes anyway. What harm could it do?
She blew out her candle and had the cupcake halfway to her mouth when her tiny apartment exploded into pandemonium. The yodelling opening of “Tarzan Boy” tore through the air, a disco ball appeared overhead, and lights in a myriad of eye-gouging shades of neon danced across the walls. She spun around, looking for the source of the mayhem and music. “Who? What? And for the love of the Goddess, why?”
Instead of an answer, her table exploded with purple smoke and so much glitter it was hard to see or breathe. She waved her hands, and a stream of sparks flew out in a mini cyclone, gathering up the smoke and airborne sparkly crap until she could see again.
“What a mess!” Blue sparks crackled and popped around her fingers in a tiny thunderstorm as she looked at the carnage that had been her birthday celebration. The cupcakes were splattered across the apartment like sugary shrapnel. There were bits of baked, gooey goodness stuck to the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. Everything she owned was buried in two inches of glitter, and the purple smoke smelled alarmingly like Aqua Net hairspray.
Resting on the table where her frosted feast had been a few seconds ago was a gift, wrapped in eye-searing pink and black wrapping paper and festooned with an insane amount of hot pink curly-ribbon.
No one had given her a birthday present in years. Thirteen years, to be exact. So, who had sent her this, and why did it come with an 80’s theme?
She banished the glitter and the sad remains of her cupcakes with a wave of her hand, and opened a window to air out her apartment. Despite the magical cleanup, she could still see bits of glitter shimmering like unicorn dandruff in the night air. Not even magic could completely remove the stuff—it was one of the mysteries of the universe.
Only once the mess was gone and things were relatively tidy again could she focus on the present. It wasn’t very big, maybe the size of a shoebox, but since it had been delivered by magic, size didn’t mean a thing. There could be a purple elephant inside and she wouldn’t know until she opened it. “Don’t be an elephant. I want my damage deposit back on this place when I move out, so you cannot be an elephant.”
There was an envelope nestled inside the mass of ribbon, and it took her a few seconds to free it from the Medusa-like coils. She opened it and withdrew a birthday card. It was relatively tame, with a cake and words proclaiming ‘Happy 13th Birthday!’ Which was damned odd because she was twenty-six.
A letter was folded up inside, and she read it quickly.
* * *
Happy Birthday Breeze,
The time has come for you to go home. It is also time for me to return those things that have been held in trust for you. May the Goddess bless you and guide you on your journey.
* * *
Baba Yaga
* * *
P.S. Sorry about the cupcakes.
* * *
Breeze read the letter through three more times. Baba Yaga? The Baba Yaga? The leader of all witches and warlocks and one of the most powerful magical beings in the world? That…that would explain the glitter. And the 80’s music. She hadn’t met the woman, but her 80’s obsession was legendary.
She stared down at the table and the gaudily wrapped gift. “Holy Goddess in gumboots, why would Baba Yaga be sending me a birthday gift?”
When Breeze was anxious, she cleaned. So, instead of opening the present, she pulled out her cleaning supplies and went to work. Cleaning soothed her soul and helped her establish order in her little section of the cosmos. She liked order. She did not like chaos, or surprises. She eyed the package warily. Or surprises that caused chaos.
By one in the morning, the
whole place was immaculate, and the scent of hairspray had been obliterated by lemon oil and pine cleanser. Now, she was ready to open her gift.
She opened the wrapping carefully and slid the heavy contents out onto the table, then paused to fold the paper into a neat square before setting it aside. The gift itself was a wooden box covered in elaborate carvings. The wood was a warm golden shade, as smooth as silk to the touch, and the images etched into it were perfect miniatures of all sorts of animals and sea creatures. Orcas and seals, eagles and bears.
Memories flooded her mind, taking over her thoughts and senses. The Winnipeg air suddenly smelled wrong, too dry and dusty. Where was the salt tang? The hint of moisture that hung on the wind? Green forests and birdsong. Rocky shores, and the unceasing lullaby of waves crashing on the beach.
She lifted the lid off the box, and she caught a whiff of another memory-evoking scent – cedar. Her toybox had been made from the same aromatic wood. So had her mother’s hope chest, which had been a wonderful hiding spot during games of hide-and-seek. It had been full of soft blankets and homemade quilts, a cushy nest she could snuggle into while she waited for them to find her.
“Nope. Not going there,” she said aloud, hoping it helped put the brakes on her trip down memory lane. She was tempted to wrap the damned thing in something airtight and toss it into the back of her closet. She didn’t want to remember her childhood. It had ended badly. Goddess, she hadn’t thought about any of this in years. Losing her parents had sucked.
Cupcakes.
She conjured up a fresh platter of frosted perfection and added a plate of chocolate chip cookies, still warm enough to be gooey in the middle. Much better.
She snagged one of the cookies and munched on it, giving herself a few more seconds of sugar-based emotional support before she opened the box. She was stalling and she knew it, but she’d bet her dozen fresh cupcakes that whatever was inside, she wasn’t going to like it. At this point, she’d rather an elephant.
“Time to pull up your big-girl panties and see what the High Witch herself sent you.” She dusted the cookie crumbs off her hands and lifted the lid back on its hinges. Inside were three items, all carefully wrapped in dark green tissue paper. The first one contained a set of keys with a kitschy tag that read “Home sweet home.” She remembered them. They’d been her mother’s. But the house had been sold, hadn’t it? She’d only been thirteen at the time, but someone had told her that her inheritance had gone to pay for her care and education. Given that her care had involved a lot of scrubbing floors and eating watery soup, she’d always assumed her parents hadn’t left her much.
She picked up the keys and devoured another cookie. Holy Hell’s freaking bells. Did she still have a house? Is that what the letter meant about going home? She looked around the tiny apartment. It was big enough you could swing a cat in it, but only if you weren’t overly fond of the thing and didn’t mind bouncing it off a few bits of furniture. If she had real estate to sell, she could move up to something with an actual bedroom!
The next item was so small she wasn’t sure there was anything in the tissues at all. It was a tiny golden key no bigger than her fingernail. She held it up to get a better look at it. “And what in the name of the Goddess’ go-go boots am I supposed to do with this?”
The locket around her neck started to vibrate at the end of its chain. She pulled it out from beneath her shirt and eyed it with suspicion. This night was getting weirder, and she was not a fan of weird. The locket was the only part of her old life that she kept with her, and that was mostly because she couldn’t take the thing off. Ever. She’d tried to break the spell that kept it in place, but nothing worked. She took it as yet more proof she was destined to be a somewhat subpar sort of witch.
She moved the key closer to the locket. This time, they both started to vibrate. “More weirdness. Wonderful.” The chain was long enough to let her see the pendant if she held it out in front of her. It looked the same as always, a simple gold heart with an aquamarine set into the centre. It was hinged as if it could open, but she’d never found the trick to it. She flipped it over to look at the back, which had her initials engraved in elegant, looping letters.
The moment she turned the pendant over, the key flew out of her fingers like it was suddenly magnetized. It hit the back of the heart with a metallic click, followed by a tinkling sound as a hundred tiny golden sparks swirled around the locket for a moment. When the dazzling light display cleared, there was a clasp along the side that hadn’t been there before.
“I’m really starting to rethink the whole elephant thing,” she muttered and touched the clasp. The locket sprang open, and she found herself staring at a picture of her parents. They looked just like she remembered them. Before she could react, the two people in the picture started to speak in voices she hadn’t heard in thirteen years.
* * *
“The time has come to take your place,
Reclaim your home, protect that space.
The threat is dark, but you carry our light,
The three that are one can stop this blight.
If you find a way to win,
Fate has promised you’ll see us again.”
The image of her mother smiled and blew her a kiss. “Love you, baby.”
* * *
Breeze let go of her locket and spent the next five minutes devouring each and every cupcake on the plate. Every time she felt a hint of emotion, she buried her feelings in frosting. Not the healthiest way to cope, but her sanity was at stake.
She’d moved on to the cookies and was halfway through the stack before she felt calm enough to stop, but she kept the platter close at hand as she carefully lifted the locket again and looked at the picture. When it didn’t move this time, she closed the locket and then opened it again.
That did it. The moment she opened it, the image came to life and her parents’ voice spoke in unison, repeating the same verse as before. She played it over and over again, but as much as it hurt her heart, it didn’t get her any closer to understanding what the hell it all meant.
“Alright then. Maybe the answer’s in the box.” She reached for the last item. It took up most of the space, and the moment she had it in her hands she knew what she’d find inside the tissue. Documents. Lots of them. A stack of papers, all notated and tagged with multicoloured sticky-notes. She saw bank statements, vehicle registration, and even a deed of ownership for a house, all in her name.
There were instructions attached, along with contact information for a lawyer and an accountant, who apparently shared the same last name of…Snaggletuth? What the hell kind of name was that?
Clipped to the very top of the pile was a map with a photo attached. The map was of the Canadian west coast, and it had a red circle around a little cove set on the western coast of Vancouver Island. The town was so small it wasn’t even named, and she couldn’t remember the name of the place she’d grown up.
It was weird, but after her parent’s death, her memories of her hometown and everyone in it had all faded away. Not completely, but they were hazy and vague. Recalling anything about her home or friends took too much effort to think about, so she didn’t. The counsellors at the orphanage for witches and warlocks had encouraged their wards to let go of their past and focus on the future. “That’s where your happiness lies,” they’d say.
“Onwards and upwards.” She repeated one of the school’s favourite mantras as she stared at the contents of the box. She’d done her best to move forward, but her past wasn’t done with her yet. She tapped a finger on the picture of the town’s sign. “Welcome to Black Fin Bay.” Not even the name of the town rang any bells for her, which was a little weird. Maybe she’d start to remember once she got there. And apparently, she was being sent to reclaim her home and protect the place from some dark threat.
“Annoyingly cryptic and highly unsettling. Lovely.” She chomped on another cookie. “I definitely would have preferred the elephant.”
Chapte
r Two
He could have been out on the town tonight, chatting up ladies and enjoying a nice micro-brew at a human pub. But no, he was stuck patrolling the frigid waters of Black Fin Bay in the middle of the bloody night, looking for illegal dumping. Those damned seagull Shifters weren’t just messing up the coastline, they were flock-blocking his sex life.
Connell McLeod had been out almost every night this week looking for the sneaky Shifters. The bastards had been towing garbage scows full of toxic waste and trash into his territory and dumping it in the middle of the night when they thought no one was around to catch them. They were slowly turning the area into their personal rubbish heap, and he was on a Goddess-given mission to stop them.
Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be doing this alone. This whole area should have been under the magical protection of a witch or two, but apparently the locals had been without a witch or warlock for more than ten years. It showed, too. The Shifters had no healer, and the spells that hid the truth about their town were starting to fade.
If the protective spells unravelled much further, the town and everyone in it would be at risk. He could protect the place from almost anything tangible, but magic? That was a fish of a different colour. To fight magic, they needed a witch.
He surfaced and shifted back to his human form, treading water as he raised his head to the night sky. “I’m doing what I can, here, your Gloriousness, but if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you send along a witch to give me a hand with the magical end of things? I’m a selkie of many skills, but magic isn’t one of them.”