Then he’d seen those volumes. No one collected first edition volumes like the ones he’d seen unless they were seriously into the craft. He knew then she was the real deal.
That second time she’d used her push he could barely contain his smile.
He was beginning to see the promise of this place. The move from Salem had been a mixed proposition at best, but they’d needed to make some changes—for all of them. Taking Helena-Marie’s suggestion had been a good decision. That witch had more insight into their problems than any shrink could expose in hundreds of therapy sessions. He was done with shrinks. A new beginning, accepting what they were, would be good for all of them.
He glanced behind him through the glass doors to see the two pretty women with their heads together, whispering behind the counter like the enchantresses they were. All they needed was one of those cast-iron cauldrons to complete the magical look.
He’d felt the magic from the smaller one as soon as he’d walked toward her. Some sort of green witch, holding the magic of rebirth in her fingertips, she emitted a calming vibe that had triggered his awareness, though he hadn’t been completely sure she was aware of it herself. Some elemental witches had no idea of their true power. They simply thought they were skilled. His best guess… She worked at this shop part-time because she liked it, but she owned some sort of flower shop or greenhouse and was probably pretty successful with everything that came from the earth. She might just consider it a green thumb, but Nick knew differently—he knew all about power—and if she was aware of her powers, she held them close to the vest.
He and the redhead had something in common that way because he felt the power of the wood. Not a witchy power, at least not like hers, but he could feel a piece of wood and know what it would become in his expert hands.
The tall woman—his woman, she just didn’t know it yet—was a mystery. The telekinesis implied a bit of elemental magic, probably air. He’d felt a shimmer around some journals, and that witching ball hadn’t flung itself at the wall. He wasn’t sure just yet if her frustration had momentarily made her lose control or whether she’d flung it at the wall on purpose, but that didn’t matter. She definitely had the power, and that push brought a bit of excitement into the fold because, not only was he immune to all magic flung his way he also had a lot of experience with that push. He dealt with it every day and never tired of seeing that look of frustration when it didn’t work. On Sydney Janzen’s face, it was downright irresistible. Talk about adorable.
With that straight blond hair, sleek, slender body, and gorgeous brown eyes, she was quite the looker. That wasn’t a pre-requisite in Nick’s book, but it definitely added a lot of interest to the chase.
He hadn’t been looking forward to a job this much in forever, and he hadn’t been in the market for a relationship. And yet, as fate would have it, a potential one had dropped into his lap. He wondered what Sydney Janzen would think of that.
He stepped off the porch and drew in a deep breath of that tangy ocean air. Tourists and residents alike strolled the boardwalk, and others, bags in hand, dipped in and out of the shops around him—a bistro, an ice cream parlor, a few novelty shops. A couple of hardier souls braved the waves on boards of all sizes and descriptions. The September air was warm, and the surf was probably as warm as it would get in this area, but even so, Nick figured those waves had to be close to butt-freezing cold. He was glad to see a couple of the surfers had on wetsuits in the deeper waters.
He’d turned to head toward the parking lot behind the building when he noticed another woman emerge from the antique shop on the other corner. The town was filled with beauty, and this girl was no exception. She walked with comfortable assurance and an athletic grace, her ash-blond layers bouncing with her movements. Her little dog, a Papillon he thought, strutted in front of her as if he owned the town, his little head twisting left and right to take in all the activity around him, his eyes bright and alert.
She crossed the street and caught sight of him staring. She gave a wide smile, full of happiness and enthusiasm, but he sensed two things.
First, that smile wasn’t quite genuine. Oh, it looked real enough, and he was sure almost everyone around her would be charmed by it, but there was such underlying sadness in her that Nick drew back for a moment. No woman that pretty and seemingly self-assured should feel that sad, and though emotion held no real magical signature he could feel or see, it often manifested in the people caught in its grip. This woman gave off such a melancholy and hopeless sensation that Nick felt her emotions pepper his skin like cold raindrops.
Second, he sensed that here was another elemental, a water witch if he had to guess. He could almost see her gliding through the water, completely at ease both above and below the surface. But there was a problem. Though she entered the watery world often, she hadn’t partaken of its joy in a long time, perhaps not a decade, and she was beginning to lose touch with who she really was. She was giving up.
When the woman and her dog reached Mystic Tides, she gave him another smile. As she tilted her face, her hair feathered softly around her face. “Good afternoon.”
“Back at ya,” Nick said.
She gestured toward the door. “Going inside?”
“Already been.”
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” When he nodded, she held out her hand, and he shook it. “Halona Jacobs. I own Beachcombers across the street, and I’m one of the owners here at Mystic Tides.”
“Nick Spencer. Nice to meet you.”
Her gaze dropped to his empty hands. “I’m sorry we had nothing to interest you.”
Nick’s glance shot to the door. “Oh, you did.” He gave a chuckle. “She just isn’t falling for my charms yet.”
“And which she might that be?” Halona asked.
“The Dutch one. Either they’re a hard sell, or it was an off day for the Spencer magic.”
Halona tilted her head back as she laughed, and Nick felt more raindrops touch his skin, this time silky ones. Happiness—genuine happiness—radiated through her at the mention of her friend. She gave him a thorough once-over, and he almost blushed.
“Oh, I can’t imagine someone like you having an off day. Maybe the Dutch one is having an off day. You’ll have to come back. Try out that Spencer magic again. It’s a magical town, after all.”
“It is indeed, and I plan to come back. In fact…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I think you’ll be seeing me around a lot.”
“Good,” she said. “I hope so.”
As if he’d heard a magic word, the little dog hopped up onto the porch, and the woman followed, disappearing inside with a wave. Yep. Three little witches… but that didn’t explain the fire extinguishers. There was another one, the “know-you-who.” The fire elemental. Four girls with powers. Nothing like hiding in plain sight surrounded by the magical trappings.
Getting to know the women of Blansett was going to be fun, but of course, some things weren’t exactly kosher, and that bothered him. He glanced back to the door. Sydney had no idea, but some of her books were magically enhanced. Someone had put a spell of increased value on them. The perpetrator hadn’t been overly greedy because that might raise suspicion over time, but anyone who touched some of those volumes would instantly add over a thousand dollars to their worth. The only person who would know the approximate true value was the spellcaster.
And me of course.
Nick didn’t really have any powers of his own, not powers per se. He couldn’t push into someone’s mind, and he couldn’t create fire. He couldn’t make the earth blossom or the sea rage. His power lay in his relationship to magic and its effect. No one could use magic on him—at least no one he’d run into so far in his life—and, when he was close enough to an object or person, he could tell if magic had been used. Those books, though. They were so soaked in magic that it had literally left an oily residue on his skin.
Sydney had overpaid for most of the books, but he had a feeling she
wouldn’t be happy if he could prove that, even if he managed to get her some money back. Funny thing about some women—they just wanted to be right, even if it cost them.
Nick began to whistle as he headed to his van. He’d already decided Sydney was the woman for him—for them—and he intended to make sure that happened as soon as possible.
He’d had his doubts about this move, but Helena-Marie had been right. Blansett held everything, and that special someone, he needed. Now he just had to convince Sydney they could make magic together.
Chapter 2
Saturday Evening
Sydney steered her Mustang along the long, winding driveway of her family home on Sandpiper Drive, admiring the large terracotta planters filled with beautiful lilac blossoms. She waved to Max Gallagher, who strolled along the brick-paved path, snipping at some stray stems that had dared to poke through his manicured brilliance.
Max lifted his hand in return, a cursory gesture, but one as friendly as he’d ever given her. Her father’s brooding gardener—six feet of handsome dark Irish—replanted the enormous terracotta pots with new flowers each month to offer a variety in the color palette, but not because he cared what the visitors thought. Sydney suspected Max didn’t give a damn what they thought. As an earth witch, he simply couldn’t help himself. He spent most of his time with the gifts and treasures of the earth, shunning most personal contact, particularly with the tourists, who he avoided like the plague. And yet still they came from throughout the state, and often the country, to view the colorful splendor of not only the gardens but also the magnificence of the only certified castle in Blansett, or the entire county for that matter—Gercharmeerd Leven.
Charmed Life.
Successful, yes. Influential, yes. Rich, yes. The Janzens were all of those things, but little did most people know how truly charmed the lives of those who’d lived here had been.
Sydney liked all the flowers Max planted, but she liked the lilacs in particular. They always meant that the heat of summer would soon melt into the past and the autumn would arrive with its cooler air and crisp fall leaves, bringing with them her favorite time of year. She laughed because anyone who knew the history of her town, or her family for that matter, would assume that meant harvest and Halloween, given the witchy vibe that permeated the town. Blansett was steeped in magic and witchcraft, after all, both white and dark. But for Sydney the lilacs meant September, and September meant one thing: back to school. To the children she adored and the job she loved.
Sure, she got her fix during the summer acting as a counselor for the local day camp, and had a great time doing it, but for Sydney, nothing was better than the structure and excitement of her actual days at Blansett Elementary where she taught second grade. She anticipated the smell of the chalk and the markers, the laughter of the kids as they barreled down the halls looking for their new classrooms, the happiness in their smiles as they reconnected with good friends after a summer vacation.
School began on Tuesday, and probably unlike most of her students, she couldn’t wait.
“Just a couple more days, Glim.” She ruffled the soft hair on her dog’s head, and Glimmer stretched then put her paws up on the window. “Then you’ll be spending your days with Halona and Scamp. You’ll like that, won’t you, sweetie?”
Sydney reached the circle part of the drive and parked in front of the massive oak door of her family home. As a child she’d discovered hidden doors, secret passageways, and mysterious rooms tucked beyond solid walls. She’d made a list and shown it proudly to her father. Bryan Janzen had glanced at it one afternoon when she was thirteen and given her a raised brow.
“Only six secret rooms? And here I thought you were a real explorer.”
Challenge accepted. After that, she’d delved into her explorations with an even deeper fervor, but she had yet to find any others. And her father, stubborn and loveable Dutchman that he was, refused to tell her. Somehow he knew she secretly didn’t want to be told.
She loved every inch of the three-story brick structure. Turrets, both round and square, rose high, their pitched roofs holding tall, gleaming spires. The attic space of each turret added a fourth story to the imposing structure at each of the four corners and at each side, as though keeping watchful eyes on every direction—behind the home into the acres of deep, dark wood, over the beautiful gardens and fountains that flanked the huge home, and ahead into the sparkling waters of the Atlantic. Though late in the day, sunlight still flashed on the whitecaps beyond, the gliding gulls creating dark shadows on the sandy beach.
Sydney’s childhood playroom, and her starting point for every adventure, lay in the rounded turret on the eastern edge of the castle, right above her room on the third floor. She would begin each day with the break of dawn as the sun shone into her room to tease her awake, and then she would climb the spiral staircase to the loft above, perched to view the landscapes of her childhood, the dark and gloomy woods, the bright wash of colorful gardens and lush lawns, and the deep blue of the ocean depths. North, south, east, west, each direction held, in itself, all the magic and imagination any little girl could possibly want.
Her favorite room, however, was the library, a room that gave her some of her biggest adventures—two stories of dark paneling and bookshelves, ringed with a balcony, in the square turret on the western side of the house. When not exploring the house or hanging in town with her cousins or trying to shore up her newly developing magical skills, Sydney had spent her spare time combing through her father’s antique books. Her passion had grown over the years, along with his collection.
She loved this house. The mullioned windows seemed to wink at her happily between the dark shutters, tiny glints of sunlight bouncing off the glass. Though most were dark beyond, a lone light shone in the western turret, signaling her father was home, in the library, lost among his precious books.
When she saw a shadow within a shadow glide past one downstairs window, Sydney turned off the car.
The front door swung open to reveal Marta, her father’s housekeeper. Sydney had known Marta for most of her life. It had been almost twenty-five years since Bryan had hired Marta after the death of Sydney’s mother. Sydney loved Marta, not only as a child loves her daily caregiver but also because Marta was a generous and loving soul. They’d grown to be fast friends over the years. Marta oversaw the household now, with a dozen employees under her command, but she managed to run the castle—both the private areas and the public—with only smiles and laughter. As an empath, Marta knew it was far easier to get what she wanted with a bit of honey—and her baked goods.
The plump little woman gave Sydney a wave and hustled down the stairs to open the passenger door. She scooped Glimmer up into her hands and pressed the ball of fluff up to her face. Glimmer wiggled and squirmed with happiness, her little tongue licking furiously at Marta’s plump cheek.
“I have missed you, my little Glimmer. It has been a couple weeks since you came to visit.” She gave Sydney a squeeze around her waist. “And I have missed you too, my pretty girl. Have you been busy then?”
“I have, Marta. We just finished up day camp a few weeks ago, and the shop was busy with quite a bit of pre-holiday business. We were swamped up until this afternoon, but I think most of the tourists were enjoying the beach.”
“Ack, the beach. Who needs all that sweat, eh?”
Sydney glanced toward the rose garden to see several tourists still wandering over the manicured grounds. “How many busloads did you have today?”
“Three, though the buses were gone by 4. Those few there came on their own. Rode bikes out from town, and though we were technically closed, I gave them all appelflappen. They are nice kids.”
“You’re a softie, Marta.”
“I am, but you keep that a secret, and I will not tell your father that you feel like skin and bones under all that silk.”
“Really, Marta, I’ll—”
“It is good that you are busy. I like to see you busy, but yo
u must not let yourself forget to eat, mihn lieverd. Come…” She gave Sydney another squeeze. “You, my skinny little miss, must come in and eat. Your father has requested hachée tonight.”
“Mmm… I haven’t had that in a long time. Beef?”
“Of course. As if your father would eat anything else in his hachée. Your grandmother’s recipe calls for beef.”
Sydney stepped up to the doorway and paused. “Marta, what events has Dad been to in the last few weeks?”
Marta’s pretty apple-cheeked face scrunched. “There were some meetings back in August, a county charity event I believe. Nothing recently… oh, except for a meeting with the library board. You know your father… always involved with the library. Sometimes I wonder why he’s in lumber when he should have been a librarian.”
“There’s no money in libraries, Marta.” Sydney winked. “Therefore no history of librarians in the Janzen family.”
“Oh ja,” Marta said. “But your father, he is a special man. Why do you ask about meetings?”
“No real reason.” She stepped over the threshold and into the circular foyer that held the massive spiral staircase and crystal chandelier. She inhaled the smells of her happy childhood—cooked apples, fresh flowers, the rather musty smell of old books—and twirled, her high heels spinning her round and round on the glossy tiled floor.
Marta plopped Glimmer down and a click, click, click echoed as Glimmer took off toward the kitchen where Marta kept his treats in a pretty ceramic canister.
Glancing up into Sydney’s face, Marta smiled and said, “You need to come home more often, little one. You look happy.”
“I am happy,” Sydney said.
Marta gave her a curious look and gave a little shake of her head. “No, not truly… but you will be soon.” She gave Sydney a little shove. “Now go find your father. Dinner in twenty minutes.”
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