From Rags to Witches

by Michelle Rowen

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  Other Books by Michelle Rowen

  From Rags to Witches

  Copyright © 2021 by Michelle Rowen

  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.

  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.

  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/

  1

  I blame the shoes for everything.

  To be fair, they were absolutely gorgeous, sparkling in the boutique window, beckoning to me like a pair of glittery designer-labeled sirens. For the last four months, I’d worn sensible footwear ninety percent of the time, as part of the extremely minimalist selection I’d toted with me on my travels.

  “Greetings, Sarah Dearly,” I imagined the shoes cooing at me. “Aren’t we lovely?”

  “You certainly are,” I agreed.

  “You want us, don’t you?”

  “I sure do.”

  “We’re on sale.”

  “I love sales,” I told them. “And I love you.”

  “We love you too!”

  Just as I reached for my credit card, I heard a familiar voice in my left ear.

  “Oh. My. Effing. God. Sarah! What are you doing here?”

  This exclamation was followed by a crushing embrace that I didn’t have time to defend myself against.

  A wave of guilt immediately crashed over me as I wrenched my gaze away from the high-heeled sparkle to the face of my blonde best friend, Amy.

  “Amy,” I said, hugging her back. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “I didn’t know you were back in Toronto. Why didn’t you call me?” she demanded, her sky blue eyes sweeping over me from foot to fang.

  “I’m sorry, I should have,” I said. “I know. But we’re only back in Toronto for a day, and then we’re off again.”

  “I haven’t seen you in a million years!”

  “It’s only been four months,” I said carefully.

  “Well, it feels like a million years. So you’re leaving tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “Bright and early.”

  “Where are you headed off to now?” she asked.

  “Not sure yet.” I half expected her to freak out on me for not making plans with her the moment I got back. I had planned to call her and maybe grab drinks tonight. But I’d slept twelve solid hours last night in my own bed, which was a fluffy oasis of luxury after spending months in hotel and motel rooms of varying degrees of comfort.

  Amy nodded. “Well, it sounds like you have time to at least have a coffee with me. Like, now. Now or never, right?”

  “Sounds great,” I agreed readily.

  We headed to the closest coffeehouse and got a table in the corner with a good view of Bloor Street. Amy ordered drinks for us, and I was mildly surprised she got mine right.

  “Black coffee, no cream, no sugar for you,” she said, placing the mug in front of me. “And a Pumpkin Spice Latte for me, extra whip. Yum.”

  I eyed her drink with envy. Some vampires could tolerate human foods, but I wasn’t one of them like Amy was. Therefore, black coffee was my go-to hot drink for the rest of eternity. And one day, I hoped I’d actually get the taste for the bitter brew.

  “Tell me everything that’s going on with you,” I said to her.

  Amy shook her head. “You first. You’re the one with the jet-setting, millionaire lifestyle now.”

  I literally snorted out loud at that. “Hardly.”

  Amy dunked her finger into the whipped cream crowning her coffee, and licked it thoughtfully. “I guess I don’t really understand. If Thierry’s the one who’s a consultant for the Ring, why do you have to travel with him all the time? Sorry, I guess I just miss you.”

  I reached over to grab her hand. “I miss you too. And I…I don’t have to. I mean, I don’t have to do anything. But I want to. Thierry’s job for the vampire council is to deal with vampire issues, making sure they don’t escalate into something really messy. And I help him whenever and however I can.”

  Her eyes widened. “Messy, how? You mean, dangerous?”

  I chewed my bottom lip as I considered how much I wanted to share with her. About the vampires, ghosts, witches, demons, and other supernatural things that go bump—and sometimes thud—in the night. And, quite often, also in the day.

  I waved a hand. “You know, just bureaucratic stuff. Nothing really dangerous.”

  Her expression relaxed. “That sounds incredibly boring.”

  “It is,” I lied. “So very boring.”

  A long silence fell between us, and I watched as a shadow fell over Amy’s previously bright expression. “By the way, I’m furious with you,” she said.

  Damn. I knew this was coming. “Why?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How could you get married without me by your side? Especially in Las Vegas! You know that’s always been my dream.”

  This was true. For all the years I’d known Amy, she’d had a dream of the tackiest, most extravagant wedding in history. With extra feathers and a gigantic bucketful of sequins and rhinestones thrown into the mix.

  “Was your dream being by my side at my wedding or getting married by an Elvis impersonator?” I tried to quip.

  Her suddenly steely glare said it all.

  I cringed and spread my hands. “I’m sorry. It happened. It was the right time and the right place—mostly, anyway. And no one else was there other than Thierry and me.”

  Amy’s glare didn’t dissipate. “It’s because I don’t really like him, right?”

  I finally returned the expression with a glare of my own. “No. But I can’t say that didn’t cross my mind. I know you don’t
totally approve of him even after all this time.”

  “I can’t help it. He’s too old for you. By, like, six centuries. And he’s too grumpy and serious. And he’s already married!”

  “Divorced,” I corrected.

  She shrugged. “They were married for a million years.”

  “Not a million,” I grumbled. A “million years” seemed to be Amy’s go-to measure of time today. And this was far from my favorite topic. Yes, Thierry had been married to his sire Veronique, an absolutely gorgeous vampire, for about six centuries. It was a loveless marriage of convenience and many misunderstandings and infidelities (mostly on her part). Which was the super short version, of course, but still 100-percent true. For the record, I actually considered Veronique a friend now, even if she was a handful-and-a-half of drama.

  Amy sighed. “Ever since you met Thierry last year, you’ve lost, like, half of your delightful, whimsical personality.”

  I bristled. “I am just as delightful and whimsical as I ever have been. And FYI, your husband isn’t much younger than Thierry.”

  She raised her chin. “We’re not married anymore.”

  For a moment, I was sure I’d heard her wrong. “Wait, what? You and Barry… you’re separated?”

  “Divorced, actually,” Amy said bluntly. “It was a mutual decision two months ago.”

  It took me a moment to compose myself. Barry and Amy had been a lust-at-first-sight thing and gotten married at the speed of light, throwing out the term “soulmate” like romantic confetti. He’d sired her on their first date, which I was still pissed off about. I mean, most civilized people waited until the third date before making any literally life-altering decisions, didn’t they?

  My sire had been a blind date from hell who hadn’t even asked if I wanted to be a vampire before he single-handedly upended my entire life. And then he’d had the audacity to get himself killed by vampire hunters literally five minutes later.

  The jerk.

  May he rest in peace.

  Five minutes after that, I’d met the tall, dark, and devastatingly delicious Thierry de Bennicoeur, who’d (extremely reluctantly at first) helped me navigate my dangerous new world before I’d fallen head over fangs for him.

  And the rest, as they say, is history.

  “Oh, my God, Amy. I’m so sorry.” Sure, there had been a bunch of problems between Amy and her husband since they’d hooked up, but I’d honestly thought they’d worked them all out.

  “Don’t be,” she replied brightly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Barry’s fine. We’re still friends. But we realized we just weren’t right for each other. The brighter the flame, the quicker the darkness returns.” She frowned. “Or something like that. Barry said it better, all poetic-like.”

  I was still trying to reconcile all of this. “You didn’t tell me.”

  Her lips thinned. “No, I didn’t, did I? Doesn’t feel great to be left out of important decisions, does it?”

  Oh boy. I took a sip of coffee before replying to that. I didn’t want to lose my patience with my best friend after being with her less than half an hour, and I definitely didn’t want this to escalate more than it already had.

  “Where is Barry now?” I asked.

  “He’s moved to London, England, to open a restaurant,” she replied.

  “Well, that’s random,” I muttered.

  “As random as tagging along with your master vampire husband on his new job like some sort of pathetic puppy?”

  My gaze shot to hers, and I saw the regret in her eyes set in a split second later.

  “That was a shitty thing to say,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, you did,” I told her. “And you’re entitled to your opinion, even if it’s that I’m a pathetic puppy. But, for what it’s worth, puppies are never pathetic. They’re adorable.”

  “I should probably go before I say something else that’s stupid and hurtful.” Amy stood up and hoisted her heavy purse over her shoulder. She sighed. “It’s just…you never call anymore. You don’t email or text. You didn’t invite me to your wedding or even send me a picture of it. And when I needed you, you weren’t here. Then I randomly see you shopping for shoes, just like we used to do together. I guess I’m more bitter than I’d like to admit. I thought I meant more to you.”

  “Of course you do!” I stood up to face her, searching for some way to make this right, to mend whatever chasm of misunderstanding had opened between us. “Amy…”

  “It’s okay. Really. Sometimes people drift apart even if they really love each other,” she said, and gave me another quick hug. “That’s just how life is. Good luck, Sarah. With Thierry, with the Ring. With…with everything. It was really great to see you again.”

  I watched her leave, my eyes stinging, and then I sat back down at the table. Once, I would have run after her and apologized profusely for everything, even if I didn’t think I was totally at fault. But maybe she was right. Maybe I had changed more than I’d like to admit. And so had she.

  Maybe that’s why we hadn’t made more of an effort to stay in touch over the last few months.

  “I’m still whimsical,” I muttered. “And I’m still goddamn delightful.”

  Feeling rebellious and in need of an immediate distraction, I reached over to her barely touched latte and took a big gulp of it, allowing myself to enjoy the sinfully sweet taste of coffee, pumpkiny-spices, and whipped cream. It was like heaven sliding down my throat, a physical representation of my old life that I tried very hard not to think about anymore since it didn’t fit in with my new life.

  For a moment, I wondered if I might be able to find more of a balance between the old and the new—the delightfully whimsical human Sarah and the far less-wacky but still satisfyingly sassy vampire version.

  And maybe that balance could start with this ridiculously expensive, sugar-and-carb-laden drink.

  I lasted five minutes before the tortuous stomach cramps kicked in, and I rushed to the washroom to prove that such a perfect balance wasn’t going to be happening any time soon.

  “And that’s why Amy hates me,” I finished with a shuddery sigh.

  Thierry watched me in silence for a few moments. “Amy doesn’t hate you, Sarah.”

  How could he say that? “Weren’t you listening?”

  He nodded. “To every word. Amy loves you. She always will. And she’s projecting her insecurities onto you, looking for someone to blame for her own disappointments.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But that still doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation. In fact, it might make me feel worse about not being here for her.”

  I paced in short lines in front of him in the foyer of his luxury townhome that didn’t feel totally like home to me since I’d only spent a handful of nights there. Well, maybe a few handfuls. But, still. Thierry had a very minimalist, austere black and white décor esthetic that I didn’t really vibe with. It made me feel like I was trapped in a marble mausoleum. Even his wardrobe consisted of identical all-black Hugo Boss suits that fit his tall frame perfectly.

  If we lived here full time, I’d definitely redecorate and maybe buy him a few new shirts, but my fuchsia and faux fur preferences wouldn’t exactly thrill him either.

  They say opposites attract. That was Thierry and me in a nutshell. Or two esthetically different nutshells who were still crazy about each other.

  “Did you know Amy and Barry got divorced?” I asked.

  There was a slight pause before he answered. “I did.”

  I shot him a surprised look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Barry told me in confidence. I respected his wishes. I assumed Amy would reach out to you.”

  “She didn’t.” The old me would have been annoyed that Thierry kept this secret from me, and part of the new me still was. But if Thierry made someone a solemn promise, he kept it.

  I respected that as much as it bugged the hell out of me.

  “I thought they
were in love,” I said.

  “They were.”

  “And, what? Love has a Best Before date, like a carton of milk?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think a simple analogy can explain such an intricate experience.”

  Don’t say it, Sarah, I thought. I imagined a zipper on my lips, sealing them shut, leaving only a calm and angelically serene smile there for the world to see.

  Thierry studied me. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I replied tightly.

  “You’re thinking: do we have an expiry date as well?”

  I glared at him. “Okay, fine. When did you develop psychic abilities? That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  He nodded. “I figured.”

  “But it was only a fleetingly thought that I’m not going to dwell on. I love you. You love me. We’re married. Newlyweds still, who—FYI—need a real honeymoon if we ever manage to get more than a day off from your current indentured servitude to the ancient and fanged powers-that-be.”

  Thierry’s expression remained infuriatingly patient. “I am not an indentured servant. I simply have an agreement with the Ring. For now.”

  Sure. An agreement in the form of a typical employment contract. If typical employment contracts were signed in actual blood and lasted for fifty years, and one was forced to sign such a contract under extreme duress, including death threats towards one’s significant other. Namely me.

  “Speaking of the council,” Thierry said smoothly as my unexpected flare of anxiety eased as quickly as it had appeared. “I have our next assignment.”

  I nodded. “And…what is it?”