She couldn’t stand another moment watching him and the woman he’d replaced her with. They lived in bliss while she suffered. Each and every day she hated them that much more.
Her own father had been a horrible man. Violent and filthy, he’d gnawed away at her mother’s spirit until her mother had finally called on the dark spirits to take care of him. Alexandra had watched eagerly and followed in her mother’s footsteps after that, always careful to keep her practice of the craft hidden.
Especially from her step-father, Gyorgy Stoltz, for he loathed witches more than her own father had.
And it was that knowledge that was going to set her free. Gyorgy was the town’s magistrate and he would never be able to forgive the woman responsible for the plague, not to mention his own wife’s death. That’s why Alexandra would come back to this tiny cottage in the woods after her own mother expired. The old woman couldn’t possibly have that much time left, and if she did then perhaps Alexandra would help her along.
She felt almost giddy at the idea. She would beg the Reddish Wolf to come to the castle to save her poor mother. Of course, her mother would already be dead, but the wolf wouldn’t know that. The Reddish Wolf would refuse but in the end she would do the right thing, and it would cost her dearly.
Alexandra had learned enough about manipulation from her mother to know that she had her step-father just where she wanted him. She’d already planted the seed that Elena Maria Catargiu-Obrenović, the reddish wolf, was a witch. The whole village was looking for someone to blame over this outbreak of sickness. It would be easy enough to convince them that witchcraft was to blame. Then her step-father would be in the perfect position to avenge his wife’s death, all while giving the people of this small village someone to hang. All she needed was the Priest’s collaboration.
Chapter Three
Blast from the Past
Dublin, Ireland, 2031
I could feel my cheeks burning. “Madam Brun. I’m so sorry. I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve lost weight.” She’d also lost about fifteen years.
She bounced her luxurious dark curls with one hand and placed the other hand on her narrow hip, sashaying across the room.
“I married a doctor. I guess you could say I’ve had a little work done.”
That was putting it mildly. This man was clearly a magician. I couldn’t believe this was the same psychic I’d consulted sixteen years ago; she looked more like a younger sister or daughter.
She smoothed the jacket of her expensive pant suit down and set her purse on the counter.
“You remember my friend Leslie?” I asked.
Leslie held out her hand which Madam Brun let dangle.
Leslie cleared her throat and walked away. I knew what she was thinking and it rhymed with itch.
“What are you doing here? In Ireland, I mean?”
The last time I’d seen her she’d been dealing tarot cards and her body had jiggled almost as much as the elaborate coins that hung around her neck. Her frizzy hair had been tied back with a bright scarf, and her wrinkled eyes lined dramatically in kohl. She looked sixty at the time and now I wouldn’t have guessed her a day over forty-five.
“Oh, working, traveling, you know how it is.”
“Not really. Cullen would probably have a better understanding of that. Not too much travel involved in owning a bookstore.”
“No. I bet it’s a different sort of fun though. Look at all these books,” she said, picking up a thick volume. “The Witches Encyclopedia.”
“Yes, we just got a new shipment so it’s a little full in here.”
“It’s fabulous and I’ve been curious to see the place since I received the grand opening evite. Finding you here, located so close to where I’m staying, is such a coincidence.”
I saw her eyeing the open box of cupcakes and lifted it towards her.
“Thank you dear,” Madam said, taking the last vanilla bean. “I haven’t had breakfast yet and I’m famished.” She bit into it, rolling her eyes in ecstasy. “Did you get this from the Cupcake Shoppe up the street?”
Did everyone know that place? I thought begrudgingly. I glanced over at Leslie who was standing rigidly with her arms crossed in front of her. She cracked a smarmy grin.
“Yes, my daughter, Alana works there—she’s friends with the owner’s daughter.” I added.
“Really? Maybe I’ve met her.” she said, using a napkin to wipe a big glob of frosting from her lower lip. “We rented a flat across the road a month ago. I’m excited to try the new peppermint patty she’s adding to the menu today.”
“We just got a fresh box of those in this morning. Would you like one? Leslie loves to share with our customers,” I said, ignoring the angry, sideways glare Leslie fixed on me.
“That is so sweet but one is my limit. I’ve been meaning to look you up and when I spotted your sign today I thought it looked familiar. Fate is bringing us together once again.” She popped the last bite into her mouth, swallowing it almost without chewing.
Her words, although innocent enough, reminded me of that last visit when she’d warned me over and over again: Your daughter must never come into contact with that book.
“Anyway, Remus is waiting for me but maybe we can do dinner soon.”
“Remus?”
“My husband.”
“The Doctor. Congratulations. When did you get married?”
“Ten years ago. I’ll tell you all about it the next time I see you but I’ve got to go,” she said, opening the door to leave. “I’ll pop back in later.”
I walked to the counter where Leslie was cleaning the coffee machine and simultaneously demolishing a strawberry cupcake.
“Seriously, girl, doctors need to run tests on you. It is not natural for a person to eat so much without gaining an ounce.”
She turned her scowl on me. “I don’t like that woman.”
“You just don’t like her because she ate the last vanilla bean cupcake.”
“Also, Daphne ran away from her,” she confirmed, unscrewing the lid of the chocolate hazelnut spread. “Daphne is an excellent judge of character.”
“Wrong. Daphne is a diva—and you are the only person she likes all of the time.”
Leslie smirked. “Exactly my point, she is an excellent judge of character. Speaking of judging one’s character, this weird book came in with the shipment. Did you order a psychology book on the nature of evil? I don’t think it was a mistake. We were charged for that one.”
I looked away. I couldn’t admit I was questioning my own daughter, even to my best friend.
“Where did I put it now?” she mumbled to herself, getting to her feet.
I flashed back to that rainy night in Toronto almost seventeen years before. The night Madam Brun had given me the ominous choice to either abort my fetus or entrust Madam with the Book of Rochus for safe keeping.
“Are you listening to me?” asked Leslie, wrenching me from my thoughts. I looked down, realizing I’d unpacked a whole box without checking off the inventory list.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about Saturday and all I have to do. Do you think you can pop in and check on the new girl? I know it’s your free weekend but Alana’s friends are coming over for her birthday.”
“You asked me that last week.”
“Right and you said yes. It’s this relentless headache; it’s making me flighty.”
“Why don’t you go home and lie down?”
My eyes focused on the window. The black bird was still hanging around.
“I will. Thanks, Les.” At the sound of my voice the raven shifted its gaze to me. Daphne leapt at the window and it flew away. Hopefully it wouldn’t be back, I thought, spotting the missing psychology book and shoving it into my bag.
Continue reading Temple of Indra’s Witch
Coming Soon 2017
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachael Stapleton lives in a Second Empire Victorian home with her husband and two children in Ontario, Canada
and enjoys writing in the comforts of aged wood and arched dormers.
To learn more about Rachael Stapleton, visit her online at: RachaelStapleton.com
TIME TRAVELING BIBLIOPHILE SERIES
Temple of Indra’s Jewel
Temple of Indra’s Curse
Temple of Indra’s Lies
Temple of Indra’s Witch
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my online fan squad, which I must say is heavily comprised of my family, some of the loudest and perkiest being Sharon McGarvey, Sharlene Matacheski, Karon Cox, Nancy Dobson, Kelly Jackson and Rebecca Medcalf. Love you all to the moon. Then there is Lora Avgeris, Michelle Wagg, Leslie Bilcox, Laureen Partington, Roxanne Pollard, Melle Onyschuk, Katie Smith and Chelsea Weatherup. You ladies make me feel like J.K Rowling—the poor man’s version, of course, but beloved like her none the less, so thank you. I hope you will find that this book was worth the wait.
Many thanks to fellow writers: Paul Mason and Brenda Baker for joining me bi-weekly last year while I polished this book. Your professionalism, kind words, and advice certainly helped improve the quality of this novel and Brenda, your experience in India as well as your in-depth beta critique was invaluable! I’d also to thank my B7 writers’ group, as well as Samantha Alban for painstakingly reading my first drafts—providing diplomatic and constructive feedback, and encouragement. A special mention certainly belongs once again to Susan Croft for reading, time and time again, even when technology refused to participate; she is nothing if not diligent and dependable.
To the rest of my family and friends, thank you for the pep-talks, coffee, wine, hugs, sound advice, encouragement and kicks-up-the-backside. Without your love and support, I would be lost. Each and every one of you has at one time or another been my inspiration and motivation for continuing this journey. There’s probably a little of each of you in my characters so be nice or I’ll kill you off.
Temple of Indra's Lies (Time-Traveling Bibliophile Book 3) Page 26