Love the Witch, Hate the Craft: A Romantic Paranormal Mystery (The Witches of Secret Hallow Book 1)

by Nora Lee

  Table of Contents

  Title

  About

  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

  Love the Witch,

  Hate the Craft

  A Romantic Paranormal Mystery

  The Witches of Secret Hallow

  Book One

  Nora Lee

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  About Love the Witch, Hate the Craft

  When Rowan Middlebrook left Secret Hallow for college, she swore she would never return home. It’s not that she doesn’t like her hometown. It’s just kinda weird there, what with the eternal autumn thing, the hauntings, and…oh yeah, all the witchcraft.

  But then Rowan broke up with Garrett, her magic-oblivious boyfriend. And then the local school district put a hiring freeze on teachers, so Rowan can’t get a job in her field. And then Nana Winterblossom asked for Rowan’s help saving The Elder Tree, since she she used to be the best earth witch in Secret Hallow.

  Why not? What harm could there be in going home just for one week?

  Rowan quickly meets the new warlock in Secret Hallow: Caedmon McFarland, who thinks he’s going to take over the coven by marrying Rowan, despite the fact they’ve never met before. Meddling Nana has that matchmaking twinkle in her eye, so she’s no help shaking Caedmon off.

  Dodging arranged marriage and trying to save The Elder Tree is more than enough to keep Rowan busy until graduate school.

  Which is why it couldn’t be more inconvenient for Garrett, magic-oblivious ex-boyfriend, to suddenly show up in Secret Hallow looking for Rowan.

  Now Rowan remembers why she swore to never go home again.

  Chapter 1

  ROWAN STEPPED THROUGH the automatic doors separating the interior of the airport terminal from the outdoors. The smell of saltwater, fish, and kelp filled her nostrils as she took a deep breath to calm herself, having just caught sight of a familiar broken-down pickup idling at the curb. Three figures sat on the other side of the darkened windshield: Nana behind the wheel, and the Ash sisters, Enid and Gemma, on the bench seat next to her.

  Even at that distance, Rowan could make out the pointed witch hats the sisters wore.

  She took a few more deep breaths. She counted to ten. And then she breathed some more. None of that reduced her rising stress. There were not enough deep-breathing exercises in the world to get her through the day.

  Enid flung open the passenger-side door, jumped to the sidewalk, and rushed over. “Blessed be, Rowan! Been too long. So good to see you.”

  Rowan managed to smile as Enid pulled her into a warm embrace. The smile vanished when Enid stepped back to cast a scathing glance over Rowan. “We gotta do something about that outfit. You look like Suzy College.”

  She glanced down at her University of Oregon sweatshirt and faded jeans. Her idea of fashion consisted of anything clean that fit and felt comfortable. By those standards, Rowan was practically Posh Spice.

  By that time, they’d been joined by Enid’s sister Gemma, who pulled Rowan into a side-hug. Neither Posh Spice nor Suzy College would have dared to be seen in public with them: both wore multi-layered, multi-colored skirts, ankle boots in variegated shades of purple, striped stockings, and crop tops that emphasized the ebony skin of their toned stomachs.

  And then, of course, the witch hats.

  “Give her a break, sis. You shouldn’t be surprised that she looks like a student. Our girl did just graduate.” Giving Rowan a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, Gemma said, “We’re proud of what you’ve done out in the world, but we’re also very glad you’ve come back. Life in Secret Hallow isn’t the same without you.”

  A heavily ringed hand waved from the open driver’s side window of the truck. “Let’s go!” Nana called.

  Gemma took Rowan’s duffle as Enid dragged her toward the waiting truck.

  “Hi, Nana!” Rowan said. She didn’t have to feign enthusiasm at the sight of her grandmother. Nana was old enough that her witchy clothes would pass for benign old lady eccentricity, unlike the Ash sisters, who might as well have tattooed “we are witches” on their foreheads.

  “Stop with the chatting and get in, granddaughter,” Nana said impatiently. “We can visit when we get back to the village.” She hated visiting mundane cities. She claimed that being so far from the magic pouring out of the Elder Grove made her bones ache.

  Enid hopped into the bed of the truck with what looked like a living, breathing bearskin rug. She hugged the massive St. Bernard snoozing on the warm metal. “Who’s a good boy?” The dog raised his massive head and gave his mistress a woebegone look.

  “You brought Bronson. How nice.” Rowan gave the dog a quick pat as she waited for Gemma to climb in. She tried her best to sound positive despite her anxiety about being seen with such an odd group.

  “Bronson is the best boy in the world,” said Enid in a loud baby talk voice that could only attract attention.

  She glanced around the loading zone and breathed a sigh of relief to see no one looking. It was a busy day at the airport, so everyone was far too busy coming and going to care what the pickup of women were doing in “costume” so far from Halloween.

  Rowan’s clawing embarrassment was too familiar a sensation. She thought she had left such shame behind when she left for college, but it had wasted no time roaring back. All it took was a glimpse of pointy witch hats and the perpetual humiliation of her childhood returned as though it had never left.

  She hopped onto the lumpy seat and just managed to latch the creaky door before the pickup lurched forward. In the chipped side-view mirror, she caught sight of the exhaust belching out a cloud of black smoke.

  “Easy, Nana!” Enid called through the open window separating her from the cab. She was lying across the slumbering dog, who hadn’t batted an eye at the pickup’s jerking.

  Nana took a corner like a racecar driver. “Sorry. Can’t do much with this old bucket of bolts, ya know?” Rowan grabbed the handle above the passenger window to brace herself.

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Enid. “You could have someone do a little work on the old clunker.”

  “No one in the village is very mechanical. You know that.”

  “Who’s talking about a mechanic?”

  “Um, you guys haven’t been casting spells on this pickup…have you?” Rowan asked.

  “Goblins, no!” Nana cried as she wrenched the wheel to whip them around a corner.

  Rowan almost felt reassured, but then Gemma muttered, “No spells that Nana knows about, anyway.”

  That explained the purple sparkles now gushing out of the tailpipe.

  Rowan fumbled beneath the flowing fabric of Gemma’s skirt to find her seatbelt, grimacing as she fell against her seatmate during another sharp turn. She knew no one could hear their conversation, but still didn’t feel comfortable discussing the peculiar talents of the residents of her village out in the
wider world. It felt like one of her blissfully mundane professors might appear from nowhere and scold her for weirdness.

  After a few hair-raising moments, she managed to buckle up then gripped the door handle for dear life. Her grandmother’s driving hadn’t improved any in the time she’d been away at school.

  “Orianna wanted me to apologize. She wishes she could have come today.” Nana merged into traffic without checking over her shoulder. Tires squealed and a cacophony of horns honked their displeasure.

  Rowan’s knuckles whitened on the handle. “I haven’t heard from her in ages.”

  “I’m not surprised. She won’t leave that child of hers alone for two seconds.” Gemma laughed. “That’s why I plan to never have kids of my own. They take up too much time and responsibility. When would I get to watch more TV shows on Netflix? I wouldn’t be able to binge entire series in a single weekend.”

  “You say that as though that would be a bad thing,” said Enid through the window. To Rowan, she added, “Gemma’s doing enough for the village kids without adding one of her own to the herd. She’s fixated on restoring the schoolhouse. I’m surprised she hasn’t already tried to recruit you.”

  “Shush, sis! Don’t ruin things.”

  Rowan frowned. “Recruit? What do you mean?”

  Nana interrupted. “We need to talk about other issues first. Specifically, the Elder Tree. Nothing is more important. We won’t be able to educate the young witchlings of Secret Hallow if the magic is gone!”

  Gemma placed a hand atop Rowan’s free one. “She’s right. The tree is in desperate need of your special brand of tender loving care. I do believe you’ve arrived just in the nick of time, to be honest. We’ll lose the Elder Tree before too long without the right kind of help.”

  “That’s the truth,” said Enid. “We’re in urgent need of the right kind of help.”

  The group fell silent as they each descended into their own thoughts.

  Rowan rolled down her window and leaned her head against the frame as she watched them pass beyond the city limits.

  It wouldn’t be long now before they reached Secret Hallow.

  The road narrowed as they ventured deeper into the forest and the trees bumped up against the neglected macadam like a living wall. Locals didn’t venture out this way very often due to long-standing legends about the strange happenings in the deep woods between them and the ocean.

  Little did they know, the truth was far stranger than what they imagined.

  An occasional shaft of golden sunlight filtering through the dense vegetation caused shadows to dance on the road ahead of them. The breeze blowing in through the window carried the rich aroma of damp earth and decaying leaves. The slight chill made Rowan glad for the warmth of her sweatshirt, no matter what Enid thought of her look.

  It wasn’t as though Rowan had anyone to impress now that she had broken up with her boyfriend, Garrett.

  “Almost home!”

  Nana’s cheery voice interrupted Rowan’s dejected thoughts. A rusted directional sign swung from a single nail off a leaning post, heralding the nearby village. Gloom fell over the truck as they drove onto the rickety covered bridge separating Secret Hallow from the outside world.

  The pickup slowed to a crawl on the splintered wooden track as the weathered structure surrounding them creaked at the weight of the vehicle.

  Rowan spoke through clenched teeth. “After all this time, no one thought to fix this thing?”

  “Why bother? This is a great way to keep strangers from showing up on our doorstep.” Nana cackled. “Better than trying to shoo off curious weirdos, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose.” Rowan doubted there was anyone weirder outside Secret Hallow than those within.

  After what an eternity in which Rowan believed they’d drop through the rotted bridge into the depths of the murky river below, they emerged out the opposite side. The pickup growled around a final bend in the narrow road to allow Rowan her first glimpse of her home village in six years.

  Unlike the rusty sign on the bridge, the wooden sign at the edge of the village identifying the hamlet as “Secret Hallow” looked as though it had gotten a recent touch-up, as did the gingerbread Victorians lined along Main Street. Everything sparkled, and it wasn’t just the glow of nostalgia making everything so beautiful.

  That was the magic intrinsic to Secret Hallow. The magic that she had been trying to escape for so many years.

  Like it or not, Rowan was home.

  Chapter 2

  EVEN NOW, SO many years after Rowan had left for college, Secret Hallow was very much the village of her childhood. So many things seemed to be frozen in time as though holding its breath to await her return.

  That only made the few things that had changed all the more unsettling.

  Orianna’s shop, Books of Shadows, had a “CLOSED” sign prominent on the front door; upstairs, curtains fluttered around the fluffy black kitten perched on the ledge of an open window.

  Next door, people relaxed on the cobblestone walk in front of Java by Candlelight. The patrons looked up in curiosity as the pickup rumbled by. Their eyes brightened at the sight of her.

  She could tell what they were all thinking.

  Rowan Middlebrook was back to take care of the coven.

  Not a chance, she thought, pulling her sweater’s hood up to cover her features.

  “Howdy, cuz,” called Enid, waving at a server who emerged from the coffee shop with a tray of steaming drinks balanced on one hand. “Full shift today?”

  “Yeah.” The cousin waved back with a wide smile for the occupant of the front seat. “Hello! Good to see you, Rowan!”

  Oh, dragon eggs. I’ve been spotted. “Hi, Eddy!” Rowan called back, peering reluctantly out from under her hood. Eddy was one of Enid and Gemma’s younger cousins, just a few months older than Rowan. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  “Can we meet up later?” Eddy asked.

  “Don’t get greedy! We called dibs!” Enid shouted back with a laugh.

  “As long as I get a turn eventually.” Eddy set a mug in front of a stranger seated amongst all the familiar faces.

  A mysterious man, handsome, with a shock of red hair, stared at her over the rim of the huge mug as he sipped his steaming brew. He didn’t frown at the sight of Rowan, but she wasn’t certain that she liked the excitement in his eyes any better.

  Nana drove a short distance more before pulling into the lot behind the Penny Spindle. She shut off the engine and rested her forehead against the worn steering wheel, smaller and more tired-looking than Rowan remembered. Shrunken. As though life were fading from her.

  Rowan unbuckled and climbed out onto the uneven ground. “Wait right there. Let me help you down.”

  Gemma hurried to lower the tailgate as Rowan rounded the rear of the pickup. Dropping to the ground, Enid slapped her thighs. “C’mon, boy. You can do this.”

  The St. Bernard lifted his massive head and blinked.

  Laughing, Gemma pulled a small bag from her skirt pocket. “You’ll need to bribe him.” She shook the package. “Here you go, Bronson. Nummy-nums just for you if you come down here.”

  Bronson lumbered toward the edge of the tailgate, the bed of the truck dipping under the weight of the massive beast. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, a line of drool dripping from him to the pitted metal.

  Rowan opened the driver’s side door and offered her arm.

  “Thank you, granddaughter.” Nana balanced herself on Rowan as she maneuvered to the ground. Turning back, she kept a grip on the younger woman while rummaging behind the seat, then let go and supported herself with a beautiful carved cane. “You can go. I’m okay now.”

  The strength of her grandmother’s grip reassured Rowan only slightly. “What are we doing here?” Rowan asked, hovering nearby. “I should get to the Samhain Grove so I can fix the Elder Tree as soon as possible.”

  “We need to pick up a spell kit before we can go anywhere,” Eni
d said. “How do you think you’ll do magic if you don’t have herbs?” Rowan opened her mouth to argue that she had no plans of casting magic, but Enid didn’t allow her to speak. “Don’t worry, won’t take a moment! We’ll be right back!” She waved goodbye then followed Gemma and Bronson, the most useless familiar in the world, up the street.

  The sisters spoke together animatedly as they retreated, punctuating their words with wild gestures in sharp contrast to the measured movements of the Saint Bernard between them. Their flowing skirts fluttered in the slight breeze.

  “I’ll wait here,” Rowan said, leaning against the side of the pickup.

  “Don’t be silly,” Nana said. “We’re at the shop. Let’s have a look around.”

  Rowan grimaced up at the colorful facade before which she stood where an oval sign with a peach background proclaimed the shop as “The Penny Spindle – Established 1800 – Hephaestus Hallow, Proprietor.” Bay windows edged in the same red as the sign lettering stood sentinel on either side of hand-carved wooden doors. Sunlight filtered through the wavy glass windows to highlight apothecary jars in a variety of sizes, shapes, and colors set within folds of plush black velvet.

  The door swung open.

  A woman emerged, looking back into the dim recesses of the interior. “Thanks for your help. I’ll pick up my order later.” She allowed the door to swing shut and dug into the depths of her oversized carpetbag without noticing Rowan. “Can never find what I need in this thing,” the woman muttered and dug for several moments before shutting the bag and hurrying off.

  “What are you waiting for?” Nana asked, limping to her side. “Go on in. The shop won’t bite.”

  Biting was far from Rowan’s greatest fear in Secret Hallow.

  She pushed the door open to find the shop empty of life. The pleasing aroma of spices hung heavy in the warm air as she stepped inside, along with another familiar scent she hadn’t smelled in all the time she’d been away: a whiff of bay rum.

  A chill passed through her.