All Spell is Breaking Loose: Lexi Balefire: Matchmaking Witch (Fate Weaver Book 2)

by Welling, ReGina

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  All Spell is Breaking Loose

  ReGina Welling

  Erin Lynn

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  © 2017 ReGina Welling, Erin Lynn

  All Rights Reserved, worldwide.

  No part of this book or any of its contents may be reproduced, copied, modified or adapted, without the prior written consent of the author, unless otherwise indicated for stand-alone materials.

  Chapter One

  Leather pants ought to come with warning labels.

  An itchy tag reading: These pants will make you sweat and do nothing at all to increase your self-esteem might have made me choose more wisely.

  Instead, heat and friction produced a sheen of sweat that made my thighs chafe against the unforgiving hide, and I sent up a quick apology to the poor animal who had given up their skin so I could try to feel more comfortable in my own.

  Magic coiled inside me like an adder waiting for a juicy mouse as I slid into and tried to blend with the crowd. Port Day festival transformed a six-block by six-block square ranging from the harbor all the way to the city center into one giant party. Foot traffic clogged streets lined with food stands serving everything from deep-fried ice cream sandwiches to fish and chips. Dozens of artisans hawked their wares, pulling both the willing and the uninterested into the depths of their tents with the promise of treasures untold.

  I passed by a makeshift stage where music, heavy on drums and bass, settled into my breastbone like a curse and enticed my heartbeat to a primitive rhythm. At least I was dressed halfway appropriately for this section of the venue.

  The street smelled of booze, ethnic food, warm bodies, and desire. No, not the sexual kind, get your mind out of the gutter. Okay, maybe there was an element of sexual tension, but I also sensed plenty of people looking for a love that lasts. That group was in luck because it's my job to make soul mates happen.

  I'm Lexi Balefire. Witch. Matchmaker. Keeper of the Balefire Flame. Daughter of Cupid. A lot of titles to carry, but I try to make it work.

  A restless hunger to ply my trade burned in me like a dark fire as I made my way through the crowd. So many matches, so little time.

  What I do doesn't require an algorithm for counting points of compatibility; it's both simpler and more complex than basic math. Before awakening to my full complement of witch magic, I ran my business on a combination of instinct and the matchmaker's version of an internal GPS connected to my gut. Depending on the strength of the signal, I could pinpoint the location of a client's perfect match to within a hundred feet. I guess you could call me a divining rod for love.

  In the weeks since my awakening on Beltane, my process had changed significantly. Since there was no one to ask--save for my half-brother, Jett, who hated me with a fiery passion (his input would most definitely fall into the "unhelpful" category)--I could only speculate that my witch magic had also increased whatever love mojo I'd inherited from my father's side of the family. Finding out my dad was Cupid (yes, that Cupid) had answered fewer questions than it raised.

  My heritage did explain my affinity for lovers, so that was a boon. The rest--the change in how my matchmaking skills worked--was not. First of all, I no longer needed to get acquainted with clients before knowing exactly where to find their perfect match. I had always enjoyed the part of my job where information filtered in by bits and piece as my clients talked a blue streak. Discovering the nuances of personalities helped create a connection between myself and the people I helped--one I missed now that its absence left me struggling to feel engaged.

  Today, though, the sweet desire to be helpful had given way to something slightly darker, more urgent. Something almost strong enough to be called a compulsion. I needed to be in control; to pluck the strings that turn a chance meeting into a fated encounter.

  Port Day festival is one of Port Harbor's biggest yearly events and my all-time personal favorite. What's not to love? There's good food, dancing in the streets, great art, and best of all, a ton of people to watch. The thread of giddy power coursing through my veins drove me among the crowd, into McGinty's pub, and out a back exit that would drop me near the corner of Ballast and Westmoreland--that much closer to where my boyfriend was slated to play a set in half an hour. Plenty of time to do my matchmaking thing along the way.

  On my way through the dark din of the pub, I grabbed the low back of a barstool and gave it a spin. The cute blond, who had been flirting with the brooding man to her left, now faced her one and only--the shy guy to her right. A kick to the leg of his chair pulled his attention away from the glass cradled in his hands. Their eyes met, and the match was a done deal.

  "We'll be back in ten," the lead singer announced into the ringing silence left behind when the band stopped playing, and I corralled a thirty-something man with an earnest face before he could follow the wrong woman outside.

  Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at his astonished expression, I covered by saying, "I can't believe how long it's been. You should have kept in touch." By the time he figured out we'd never met before, I'd maneuvered him across the room and right into a knot of women waiting for their turn in the ladies room.

  "Oh my God, it's like a crazy reunion." Keeping hold of the guy, I slung an arm around his perfect match. "How have you been. You two know each other, right?" I shoved the pair together while focusing my attention vaguely across the room. "Hey, there's Sally, gotta run. You two catch up, I'm sure you have a lot to talk about," I said brightly, then raised my voice to no one, "Hey! Sally. Wait for me." I hurried out the back door, leaving the astonished beginnings of another match behind me.

  Exiting McGinty's and zigging right, I made up a quick and dirty spell to poke a guy in the ribs. The sudden shock caused a chain reaction through the crowd. While Mr. Poker went on his merry way, the innocent pokee jumped and stepped on the foot of the woman standing just behind him. She yelped in surprise and careened into the support pole holding up the canopy of a pottery maker's tent. It wobbled just enough to slip sideways and slap against the back of the man standing on the other side, who lurched into the street just as his perfect match happened by. Boom. I gave myself a mental high five for using magic for good.

  Three matches in a row. A decent result, but not enough to tame the fidgety spirit still pulling my feet through the streets. I needed to find more, do more, bring more love into the world. A force stronger than the intuition I'd relied on to make my business successful drove me forward. I hated the feeling of not being in perfect control and yet I c
raved more. Despite my best intentions, I might have already been hooked on the powerful seduction of touching lives and changing fates with much less effort than I ever needed before.

  Around the next corner, Mackintosh Clark stood near the stage he would occupy in a few short minutes. Our relationship was still new enough that the mere sight of him gave me the flutters. It might have been his rock star good looks--blond hair long enough to curl around a chiseled chin, hands that knew their way around a set of guitar strings--and a woman's body. We exchanged a hug made awkward by the Gibson slung over his back and a kiss that lifted the top of my head to send it soaring.

  "Are you going to stick around for my first set?"

  The restless need to keep moving decided the question for me. "I'll catch the second if that's okay. There are so many matches here tonight it's an adrenaline rush." Gentle hands cupped my flushed face as Kin dropped a kiss on my nose. He leaned close to keep his next words for my ears only.

  "Be careful, okay. Jett's probably hanging around if there's this much romantic energy in the air."

  Having sworn to undo my life's work, my half-brother used his Cupid-given affinity to break apart couples before they could exchange true love's kiss, and I wondered if today's driving need to make matches had anything to do with his unmaking them. I hadn't seen him around, but after our last meeting I doubted he'd have the guts to face me.

  "I'm on high alert. Don't worry; I can handle Jett." I gave Kin another kiss and walked away.

  A woman possessed, I moved through the crowded street like a wraith. As though they sensed a higher purpose, people drifted out of my way as I ghosted among them, putting two more couples together with no regret for the dates they might have left behind. Those unfortunates would get their matches in due time.

  No thought was spared for the ephemeral nature of the pairings, either. When a person visited FootSwept Matchmaking, my place of business, they could pretty much count on a happily ever after. That was my job, my credo, and I followed through until I was sure the couplings would stick. Due diligence went out the window today in favor of the happily right now.

  Something about that bothered me, but not enough to stop. Or enough to think about the odds of having so many lonely hearts in such close proximity. Even crowded into a relatively small geographical area, there was usually much more distance between matches. What was up with that?

  Logic should have warned me the chances were about as good as winning the lottery twice in the same day.

  Logic was asleep at the wheel.

  Otherwise, it would have been ringing the hinky bell in my brain long before that niggling feeling of being watched began to lift the hairs on the back of my neck.

  The list of people interested enough in my actions to spend time spying on me only included two other names besides Jett's, and neither with the best intentions. My arch-enemy Serena hadn't the subtlety to pull off a surveillance mission on her own, and wherever she went, Jett followed. Or maybe it was the other way around--I didn't care enough about either of them to waste time trying to figure out the nuances of their relationship. Then there was my mother, Sylvana Balefire. Her intentions fell into the category of undefinable.

  Long absent from my life for reasons I had recently discovered were lies, she'd popped up just long enough to disguise herself as a friendly shop owner, give me the key I needed to gain my full level of power, and then disappear again.

  Poof.

  The only thing missing was a cloud of purple smoke and any sort of explanation for why she had bothered coming back at all if she only meant to disappear again. She had to know I'd eventually figure out her deception, and she should have been the one to tell me about my father. Instead, I'd learned I was a Child of Cupid from Jett during a showdown after he'd used Serena to cast a soul curse on my boyfriend. His bombshell explained a few things while leaving even larger gaps in my knowledge of my own family. Gaps my mother could likely fill if only she would only come back around.

  My inner Cupid rose up again and washed all other thoughts away. There were matches here, and it was my job to make them. You know what they say about ambition--it's blind, and I was living proof.

  Every couple I put together fed the craving for more and more and still more. I knew I should stop while I still could, but I liked the rush too much. I liked it right up until the balance tipped and I knew I was no longer in control.

  Almost running, I dodged down a side street less clogged with bodies than the rest; the pull so strong I couldn't stop. I reached the outer edge of the festival, the sounds of music and laughter becoming quieter with each step. I heard the argument escalate before I found them. Jett's fingerprints were everywhere; if I didn't have a mess to clean up, I could have followed it straight to him and ended his reign of terror before he even laid eyes on me.

  But I did have work to do, so I focused my attention on the couple in front of me. Honestly, I can't even tell you what either one looked like, but my nose filled with the stench of ill intentions and I had to take action, so I stepped into the middle of the fight.

  Kids, don't try this at home.

  Two things happened at once. The first was that their fury turned on me, and the second shocked me even more. It shouldn't have, though, this wasn't the first time a couple's life played out before my eyes in a powerful vision.

  Not a still life in three dimensions, but a living, breathing representation of me standing behind the man and woman mid-fight, and all I could think about for the first few seconds was that the back of my hair looked weird. I resisted the temptation to reach out and see if I could touch the solid-looking figures because there was no scenario where the results wouldn't freak me out. What if I did and the dream me flinched? Or if my hand went right through my body?. Or even worse, what if I touched myself in the vision and the real me could feel it. Nope, not doing any of that.

  Keeping my hands to myself I circled around so I could see my face, and that freaked me out more than touching myself would have. Shut up; I know how it sounds.

  My eyes were lit with pink fire. Pink. And I was holding a bow and arrow in my hands. Okeydoke. Take me to the funny farm because I've lost it. Me holding a bow and arrow would be like a baby trying to drive a race car. Not safe, not smart, and not effective.

  Still, there I was, clutching the thing in my hand like I knew how to use it. Alternate universe much? The weapon seemed to be made of golden smoke and roiling shadow, it's barb a heart-shaped tip.

  I'm telling you, I almost peed my pants when my dream self lifted that bow and nocked the arrow, because as she did she looked right at me.

  A pounding heart and wobbly knees greeted me when my focus snapped back to the present and to the couple who'd been fighting so bitterly only moments before. Cute couple. I would have put them together myself if one or the other had asked for my help. And I would have felt good about doing it because every shred of my intuition insisted they were meant for one another. That this man and this woman, together, would make true love's kiss.

  The bow and arrow from my vision had to be symbolic, because no one in their right mind would turn me loose on the world with such a weapon. My athletic skills are limited to running in heels, thank you very much. I'm not the hunter/gatherer type. Well, I might hunt the shoe sales and gather people together, but I don't really think that counts. Handing me a pointy object? No. Just no.

  The dream or vision popped like a bubble, leaving me in the same place I'd been before it happened, right in the middle of an impending breakup. In other words, with my nose stuck in someone else's business.

  Don't ask how I did it because I'm not even sure myself. The best way I can describe it is that Lexi moved aside and something else, something much larger than myself took over. Cold fire rushed through me to burn Jett's mark to a cinder, then to ash to waft away on the wind. The fight was over, the couple coming out of it like they'd been sleepwalking.

  My job was done, but I couldn't pull back the fire. I needed h
elp. I needed Kin. Turning, I raced back the way I had come.

  Like a leviathan stirring in the deep, the power built inside me to the point of pain. My ears popped, then roared with sound and, certain everyone around me must be feeling the same pressure, I cringed. The crowd continued to party, unaffected. Dancing, drinking, eating, and shopping. Nausea dragged my stomach into my throat, weakened my knees.

  Dizzy, I stumbled into a crowded pub where it seemed like the bathroom was moving away from me at a faster pace than I could walk. Stumbling forward, I smacked into a wall of tattooed arm and T-shirt clad chest.

  "Sorry. I'm sorry," I shouted over the ringing in my ears.

  "Are you okay?" T-shirt's companion, all teased hair and raccoon-dark makeup, grabbed my arm in a helpful gesture. "Had a few too many, Honey? Here, let Delta help you." The woman slung an arm around my waist and practically carried me toward the door marked Chicks.

  "Thank you." My voice sounded tonelessly loud in the muffled quiet of the ladies room. "I just felt all funny for a minute; it's passing now." Marshaling my strength, I focused tightly on making my way to the sink with as close to a normal walk as I could muster. Water hitting porcelain rang through my head like thunder, but I managed to splash wet coolness on my face and felt marginally better for it.

  When I lifted my head, I caught Delta's intense gaze in the mirror. The way she looked at me seemed to hold a little more concern than most people might feel about someone they met during a chance encounter in a bar.

  "You're pale," Delta stated the obvious as I studied my face in the mirror over the sink. My eyes glittered oddly, at least two shades darker than their usual bright emerald green, and she was right, my skin looked pasty. Clucking quietly to herself, Delta pulled a blue bandanna from some hidden pocket, flipped the tap to warm water, and ran the cloth under the stream. Before I could protest, she cupped my chin gently and began to wipe at my cheeks.

  Tingling heat, the kind I recognized from long experience of living among the Fae, rose from the point of contact and I knew Delta carried more than simple human blood. She was a supernatural of some type.