Spellbound After Midnight
Jenna Collett
Copyright © 2020 Jenna Collett
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Jenna Collett
Edited by: Bryony Leah - https://www.bryonyleah.com/
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Books In This Series
Chapter 1
The Kingdom of Ever
Daniels Curses and Cures
Magic had really screwed me this time.
I stared at the herbs in the bottom of the mortar and pretended not to notice the lime green hair escaping Mrs. Anderson’s hood. She withdrew a glass vial from her pocket and slammed it on the counter. I eyed the half-used potion. It was my latest creation, guaranteed to give my customers’ hair a shiny new luster. Unfortunately, “guaranteed” might be too strong of a word. I probably should have tested the concoction on my own auburn locks before stocking the shelves.
“I want my money back.”
“Now, Mrs. Anderson, you know I can’t do that.” I tapped the wooden sign propped up on the edge of the counter. “No refunds.”
Mrs. Anderson’s eye twitched, the little spasm a precursor to the boiling wrath beneath the surface. “Look what you’ve done!” She whipped off her hood to expose a mass of green curls.
The color was awful, but it was the acidic smell that made tears sting the corners of my eyes. Pressing my knuckles under my nose, I took shallow breaths.
“Did you follow the directions?”
The wooden sign hit the floor, followed by a basket of tea leaves. When she reached for a crystal jar filled with moonstones, I held up my hands in defeat.
“Okay! You can have a refund.” I searched under the counter and counted out the coins, which amounted to the entire day’s profit. Mrs. Anderson wasn’t my only dissatisfied customer; earlier, I’d cast a siren spell and left a young woman mute. A cup of honey-ginger brew had solved the problem, but I didn’t expect a glowing recommendation.
“You’re a disgrace, Tessa. Your mother would turn in her grave if she could see what you’ve done to her magic shop.” She snatched the coins from my fingers. “And you call yourself a witch.”
Her words stung, but she wasn’t wrong. My spells came in fits and spurts, and my potions never turned out right. Admittedly, this was the first time I’d ever dyed a woman’s hair green.
“I’m sure it’s not permanent. Why don’t you try this potion to counteract the effects?” I nudged a different vial across the counter. “On the house.”
Mrs. Anderson smiled, her lips straining at the corners. Holding my gaze, she lifted the tube and removed the cork stopper to spill its contents onto the carpet. The rug immediately turned bright pink.
I bit my lip. Too much mugwort? I was sure I’d measured that one correctly.
“If your mother and I hadn’t been such good friends, you’d be hearing from my solicitor.” Mrs. Anderson flipped the hood over her head and charged toward the door.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how—”
The bell above the door jangled with her exit, putting an end to my apology.
I groaned and dropped my forehead into my hands. What was I supposed to do now? Peeking between my fingers at the carpet, I watched the pink stain vanish, leaving behind a spot in better condition than before. The potion did work. It just needed a minute.
“Everyone is so impatient,” I muttered, grabbing the used vials and dropping them in a basket beneath the counter. Quiet filled the empty shop except for the rhythmic tick of the pendulum. I was running out of time, and the grandfather clock in the corner was gleefully counting down the seconds.
Stacks of bills littered the countertop, the invoices mocking me with their vast sums and creeping deadlines. I sifted through them and paused at the notice that outweighed them all. Argus. I never should have borrowed money from his gang. It didn’t matter that I’d been desperate and on the verge of selling the magic shop. I’d missed a payment, and Argus didn’t do missed payments.
Three days ago, I’d arrived home to find one of the lanterns on the gateposts shattered. A note had been nailed to the wood containing a single word stamped in red: Overdue. Warning number one. Then, yesterday, Argus had sent one of his thugs to lurk outside my shop. The heavy belt at the thug’s waist stowing knives and other ominous tools hadn’t escaped my notice. When he caught me looking, he’d pulled a blade from its sheath and inspected the end. Yeah, it was sharp. Warning number two. Something told me I would not like warning number three.
I closed my eyes and tried to cast the blame where it really belonged. This wouldn’t have happened if my magic had developed properly. In my family’s long line of witches, I was the only one who hadn’t mastered the calling. My mother had always believed I was special and would become the most powerful witch in our line. Only, in the years since her death, I’d brought the magic shop to the brink of closure and sent most of my mother’s dedicated clients running in the opposite direction. A lump formed in my throat as I thought of her. I was number one, all right. A number one screw-up. If anything, I’d mastered the art of warding people away. Too bad I couldn’t bottle that up and sell it—proper warding spells sold for a fortune.
With a heavy sigh, I dismissed the bills and circled the counter. My joints ached from too many hours on my feet, and I stifled a yawn as I padded across the floor. At the window, I pushed aside a tasseled curtain and squinted to see out into the dark yard.
A young woman stood on the walkway leading to the shop. Illuminated by the glow of my one remaining lantern, her long blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she twisted a strand around her finger. She bounced on her heels as if trying to decide whether she was coming or going. With a curt nod, she decided. She was coming.
The woman bounded up the steps and pushed open the door before I pulled myself away from the window. I studied her, trying to remember if I’d sold her any botched potions. At least her hair wasn’t green, but if she wanted a refund like the others, she’d be out of luck. Maybe I could offer her store credit? No. Better to cut her off before she asked.
“We’re closed.”
She hovered in the doorway, letting the cold air in. “Are you the witch?”
My teeth clenched at the obvious question. “Witch, fairy godmother, take your pick. We’re still closed.”
“I need your he
lp. I realize it’s late, but you’re the only shop open.”
“Except, as I mentioned, I’m not.” Crossing both arms over my chest, I hoped she’d take the hint and leave.
The woman ignored my remark and sank to her knees. She rummaged through a bag slung over her shoulder.
“I can pay you.”
Apparently, she knew a few magical words of her own. “I’m listening.”
The front of the woman’s cloak gaped open, revealing a filthy smock covered in ash. It spotted her skin too, leaving a gray smudge along her temple. She was most likely a maid, some unfortunate girl saddled with a miserable employer. She wasn’t rich. In fact, she looked dirt-poor. Emphasis on the dirt.
“What’s your name?” I asked, warming to the idea of turning a profit.
“Ella Lockwood.” Pausing in her search, she stuck out a hand.
“Tessa Daniels.” I felt the rough calluses covering her palm as we shook. Workers’ hands, the kind used to scrubbing floors and washing laundry.
Ella pulled away and resumed her search. “Here it is.” She withdrew a small object and held it up to the light. “The ring was my mother’s.”
The simple gold ring with an ornate design carved into its surface wouldn’t sell for much at the pawnshop, but it might bring in enough to cover my missed payment. I considered the trade, even as guilt warred with self-preservation and the little voice masquerading as my conscience urged me to think twice. The ring was a family heirloom, and I’d sold enough of my mother’s belongings to know the toll that took. I’d received temporary funds in exchange for a permanent void. Each item was a piece of her slipping away.
“I can’t take it. Sorry.” I brushed Ella’s hand aside and walked over to the door, cursing my morals with each step. Refusing money to save someone else future heartbreak defied logic. Argus would have no trouble breaking something of mine, though I was sure he wasn’t about to break my heart. My knees, most likely.
“Wait! I know it’s not much, but I’m desperate. I’ll do anything.”
Anything. The word made me pause. I’d been willing to do anything to save the shop, and look where that had gotten me. This kind of desperation rarely worked out in the victim’s favor. Still, I’d do it again, and it wasn’t like I was taking advantage of her. I needed money, and she needed a spell. I might not be the best witch—or much of a witch at all—but I had a duty. A family creed. My mother would have helped, no questions asked. She’d have done it for free.
I wasn’t that foolish.
“If I accept, what do you want?”
A glimmer of hope flashed across Ella’s eager face. “The king is throwing a ball for his son tonight, and I have to be there.”
My gaze took a second journey over Ella’s rumpled uniform and soot-covered shoes. She wasn’t exactly ball material, not by a long shot. I should have guessed though. The prince’s ball had been the talk of the kingdom since the invitations went out. Prince Marcus of Ever was searching for a wife and every eligible woman in the kingdom was invited, myself included. The idea of trying to snare a prince to solve my money problems had lasted all of three seconds. While my looks had no trouble attracting a man, my spells and reputation usually put them off before I could secure a proposal. You turn a suitor into a mouse one time, and suddenly, everyone’s hesitant to kiss you. Honestly, it was an accident, and I changed him back the second I figured out how.
“You need a gown, don’t you?”
“Shoes too, and a carriage.”
“Is that all?” I laughed. Potions and creams I had, but Ella needed an illusion spell, the least stable type of magic. If I cast it wrong, the illusion might fade and Ella could wind up in rags on the dance floor—or worse, naked. I cringed. There weren’t enough smelling salts in the kingdom to manage that scene, and if anyone found out she’d been to see me? Goodbye, magic shop.
Ella grasped my arm, and her voice took on a pleading note. “Will you help? I have nowhere else to go.”
“Fine,” I mumbled, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth. Then again, who was I to dash a young girl’s dream of marrying a prince? Joy blossomed on Ella’s face and her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. In the right light and minus all the dirt, Ella was quite attractive. Who knew, maybe the spell would work, and she’d land herself the prince? In thanks, they’d shower me with gold, and it would solve all my problems. That kind of optimism was usually reserved for suckers, but at my rate, things needed to turn around.
Ella’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “How do we start? I’ve never seen magic in action before.”
The last time I performed an illusion, things had gotten dicey. I considered the fragile jars of potions lining the shelves. We were surrounded by way too much glass to cast a spell indoors. I couldn’t afford to trash the shop if something went wrong. The ring was supposed to pay for my debt, not damages.
“Let’s go into the back yard. Magic works best in the open air.”
Ella nodded. “Makes sense. Magic seems so volatile.”
She had no idea.
I opened the back door and ushered her outside. “Stand over there,” I instructed, waving her away from the house.
Ella lifted her skirt and waded through the overgrown grass. She stepped into a beam of moonlight, and it washed her features of color, making her appear more ghost than human.
“Here?”
“Perfect. Don’t move. I can’t stress that enough.” I rubbed my hands together and let magic build between my palms. Sparks sizzled in the air near my fingertips, and unease rippled through me. I pushed it aside. It wasn’t like I could make Ella’s clothes any worse than they already were.
I began to chant.
“Wait!” Ella held up a finger and took a step forward, halting me mid-spell. “I’m sure whatever you have in mind will be beautiful, but I’ve always dreamed of wearing a gown made of chiffon with silver beading. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“How about a matching pair of glass slippers while I’m at it?” I deadpanned.
“Can you?” Ella lifted her hand to her lips in wonder.
I blew out a breath, my sarcasm wasted. “Just go back to where you were and don’t move.”
Rubbing my hands to recapture the flow of magic, I made sure Ella followed my directions then let my eyes drift shut. The wind bracketed my face, swirling around my shoulders and neck. I curled my fingers into fists and flung my arms out, sending a warm gust of air across the yard.
Sparks glittered as Ella spun in a slow circle. Soft layers of chiffon billowed from her waist, and rows of silver beads encrusted the bodice of the gown. They glistened and twinkled like the stars overhead. A pair of translucent slippers adorned her feet.
Ella raised her ankle, taking it all in. “It’s the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.”
Satisfaction expanded inside my chest, and I crooked my finger, signaling her to join my side. “And now, the carriage.”
I pointed to an overgrown pumpkin nestled in the garden. Fists together, I shot them out, launching another draft of warm air. It wafted over the target, and the pumpkin grew larger and larger until it cast a shadow over the yard. I nudged Ella and gave her a smug smile.
The pumpkin exploded.
Chunks of pulp hurtled through the air, landing in wet clumps at our feet. Seeds splattered across the fence like organic shrapnel, and I moaned as stringy goo oozed down the side of the gardening shed. The urge to gag pushed at the back of my throat when the odor of soggy gourd filled my nostrils. Regaining my composure—and my gag reflex—I counted the remaining pumpkins and gave a sheepish shrug.
“Want me to try again?”
A beat of silence passed as Ella picked seeds from her gown. “Now that I think of it, there’s a carriage post near here. I’ll hire one.”
“If you think that’s best.” I swallowed my pride. It was clear I’d reached my magical limit for the day.
Ella gestured to her gown. “How long will the spell l
ast?”
There was no way to know for sure, but I plastered on a confident smile. “Hours, so go ahead and dance till midnight.”
“I’m not going there to dance.”
Ella’s sharp tone made me frown. I forced the concern away. It wasn’t my business if she planned on dancing or pick-pocketing guests. I’d done my part. Well, two-thirds.
“Thank you for this. I should go, or I’ll be late.” Ella pressed the ring into my hand as payment. Our fingers touched, and a shock erupted at the contact.
A fiery pain spread through my palm. Unfurling my fingers to gaze at the ring, I watched it glow bright orange then cool to its original color. The intense heat had branded my palm with the same engraving etched into the ring.
“Be careful, Ella.” I wasn’t sure why I said it. The woman was going to a ball, not the grave, but knowing that didn’t ease my concern. Ella smiled softly, the gesture not reaching her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak but changed her mind. Instead, she straightened her spine, gave a final nod of thanks, and disappeared through the gate.
I examined the symbols on my palm. It was common for spells to leave a mark. The brand would fade along with the illusion. But as I stood in the frigid night air, a chill that had nothing to do with the cold swept through my body. It intensified, making each breath a sharp pain in my lungs. A bad omen. As a witch, I’d had a few, and when one occurred, you didn’t push it aside.
I moved toward the gate on wobbly legs, fear urging me to find Ella and bring her back. When I reached the road, however, she was already gone.
Chapter 2
Wisps of fog covered the ground as I bent and shoveled pumpkin chunks into a bucket at my feet. A headache beat at my temples, and I paused to press the ache away with my fingers. Images from the night before flashed through my mind. I’d handled the green hair incident and the annoyance of Ella’s arrival, but everything after that was a blur. The ring, the promise to help…the spell. I groaned and glanced at the ravaged pumpkin, evidence of my abysmal magic.
Spellbound After Midnight (Ever Dark, Ever Deadly Book 1) Page 1