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

by Nora Lee

  Rowan kept her fists clenched as the heat in her face intensified.

  Caedmon walked right past her to shake hands with Nana and the Ash sisters instead. “Good to see you all again.” He tousled Bronson’s fur and even managed to stroke Sparkle’s feathers. Rowan didn’t like how comfortable this outsider looked with familiars that belonged to her home coven. Not one bit. “What brings you so far into the woods today?”

  “We’ve brought my granddaughter to see the tree.” Nana’s tone was funny. The older woman had an unfamiliar glint of appreciation in her eyes.

  Rowan would have laughed if she hadn’t been trying so hard to radiate disapproval.

  It was hard not to ogle Caedmon, though. Rowan caught a whiff of his musky scent, and her body’s reaction was distinctly primal. “You didn’t answer my question.” She fought not to look away when their eyes met again. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to help. The Elder Tree needs me.” He gave her a wry smile. “In fact, I think the whole coven needs me. The group needs someone to step in to handle these kinds of problems.”

  She couldn’t deny the coven lacked guidance. Rowan’s parents had been the high priest and priestess, the leaders who led them during the various holidays, shaped the town, and guided new witches. That role in the coven was her family’s birthright and honor. They were descended from Hephaestus Hallow and had inherited control of Secret Hallow from him.

  Unfortunately, Rowan’s parents, self-centered as always, had left to adventure with other covens at the same time that Rowan had gone to college. That had left a void in coven leadership. Someone else certainly needed to take over.

  Someone who wasn’t this strange redheaded witch who wore that ab-hugging t-shirt like a second skin.

  “I’m here,” said Rowan. “So you can leave now.” She waved in the direction they’d come.

  Caedmon gave her a heart-melting smile as he took a step closer. Rowan stumbled trying to avoid him.

  “Now that I’ve seen you, I don’t plan to leave anytime soon.” He put his hands in his pockets, which was a safe place for hands to be, especially ones as strong- and manly-looking at his. “How about we go have a coffee and get to know each other better?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea!” Nana chirped, clapping her bony hands together.

  Rowan wondered whether her grandmother might be under some kind of spell. She’d never known the woman to be so gleeful about the idea of Rowan spending time with a man. “I don’t have time for that,” she told Caedmon. “I’ve got to figure out what’s wrong with our Elder Tree. If you don’t mind…?”

  He cross his arms over his broad chest and shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m going to handle the tree.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “Unless you’ll agree to have that coffee with me so we can discuss what I’ve learned so far, I’m afraid I wouldn’t feel comfortable allowing you to mess with the progress I’ve made.”

  “Progress!” Rowan gestured at the tree as a strip of bark fluttered to the ground. “You call that progress?”

  Gemma placed a gentle hand on her arm. “You didn’t see the tree before Caedmon started working here. This is much better.”

  “She’s right,” Enid said. “We thought the tree might crumble to the ground before he came. In the short time he’s been here, the trunk seems stronger.”

  “The peeling has slowed, too,” interjected Nana.

  Rowan caught Caedmon’s smug smirk. The ground gave a slight tremble beneath them as her annoyance bubbled up. She had once been an earth witch—the most powerful earth witch Secret Hallow had ever known. She could have tossed Caedmon onto his shapely posterior with a mere thought.

  Nana’s grip tightened on her cane, allowing her to maintain her balance through the tremor. The reminder of Nana’s injured hip made Rowan stop.

  Her heart pounded as she fought to contain her anger.

  She couldn’t allow herself to unleash her powers on the man, no matter how much he irritated her.

  “You should go talk with him, granddaughter. He’s really trying to help us. Between the two of you, I’m sure you could heal the tree.” Nana’s tone was light, as though she hadn’t noticed the earthquake—a telltale sign of Rowan’s mood.

  All three of Rowan’s companions looked much too pleased at the idea of her spending time with Caedmon. They would be no help.

  Rowan couldn’t deny Caedmon if she wanted to help the Elder Tree.

  “Okay, I’ll meet with you.”

  He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Fantastic!”

  She raised a hand of her own. “Under the condition that we meet here in the grove tomorrow.”

  “We can do that,” Caedmon agreed. “We’ll have a picnic lunch…and talk.” He motioned toward the direction they’d come. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish what I started here.”

  Nana and the Ash sisters turned away, waving and calling cheerful goodbyes.

  Rowan stomped after them, teeth clenched.

  What have I gotten myself into? she wondered.

  A final glimpse back before they rounded into the undergrowth and out of Caedmon’s sight showed him standing in the clearing watching their departure with a satisfied grin. He stood tall, his bearing regal, as though he’d already taken over as High Priest of the Secret Hallow Coven.

  No matter how much she wanted to run away, she couldn’t allow that.

  Chapter 4

  ROWAN AWOKE THE next day to the delicious aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and bacon. Her grandmother, a kitchen witch, always concocted the most mouth-watering baked goods. Her appreciative sniff of the cool morning air confirmed her belief that Nana had once again created the airy coffee cake of which Rowan was so fond.

  There were benefits to coming home, no matter how reluctantly, and the coffee cake might have been the finest benefit of them all.

  Pale morning light filtered through her woven curtains. An electrified hurricane lantern still rested atop the rickety old desk and chair beneath the window—her preferred late-night homework spot throughout high school. The worn steamer trunk at the foot of the bed contained a variety of quilts sewn by several generations of Winterblossoms.

  Someday, when Rowan birthed a child of her own, those quilts would be hers.

  That was assuming that she would ever have children, of course. It seemed doubtful considering her status as a recently single lady.

  What a depressing thought.

  She sat up, throwing her frayed comforter aside. She wouldn’t start the day morose. Not when there was a village to save.

  Rowan entered the kitchen, yawning and scratching. The dark wood flooring and ceiling beams bore protective markings carved into them by the home’s previous occupants a century or more before. They glimmered with magic in the corner of her eye.

  Nana was still cooking. She motioned at the table with a dripping spatula. “Have a seat, granddaughter. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

  Sliding onto the bench at the thick oak table, she stifled another yawn and reached for the coffee mug. “When’d you get home last night?” Nana had gone back to work at the Penny Spindle after leaving the Samhain Grove. Despite being an old woman, she seemed to have more energy than Rowan. “I’m sorry I wasn’t awake when you got in. I tried to wait up as long as I could.”

  “Don’t worry ‘bout that. You needed the sleep, I’m sure.” Nana limped across the room with frying pan in hand. She scooped scrambled eggs and bacon onto the chipped plate in front of Rowan before filling her own. “Eat up. You look like you haven’t had a good meal since you left here. The food out in the mundane world isn’t very good, is it?”

  Nana didn’t think anything in the mundane world was very good.

  Rowan took a swig of scalding coffee to avoid having to respond, immediately realizing what a bad idea that was when blisters raised on her tongue. “Thank you for breakfast, Nana,” she said, eyes watering.

  “No need for thanks, granddau
ghter. Families take care of each other,” Nana said. Rowan winced. “Oh, none of that now. That’s not what I mean. You haven’t been home since you left—not even for holidays. Everyone’s missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  “If that’s so, then I would be curious to know why you never visited,” Nana said, skillfully putting down the granny guilt trip.

  Rowan shrugged stiffly. She couldn’t explain to Nana that she’d been afraid to come back, afraid she might hurt someone. Or worse.

  Only fear could have kept Rowan so far from home. Everything about the run-down kitchen was a hug of nostalgia: the worn butcher-block countertops, the chipped blue enamel pots hanging from an overhead rack, the scarred tabletop. None of that had changed. The only new features were the light layer of grease and dust on most everything, as well as the pellets under Sparkles’s roost. The owl didn’t used to be allowed in the kitchen.

  A rustling sounded overhead, as though Sparkles had detected Rowan’s unfriendly thoughts.

  “I know why you went away. And I understand. I do,” Nana said, lifting a hand. Sparkles landed on her palm. “We won’t discuss this topic any more while you’re here. What’s past is past and we need to worry about our future. You’re our only hope.”

  The tiny owl hopped off Nana’s hand and onto the tabletop, knocking over the creamer.

  “Hey!” Rowan yanked her coffee cup to safety.

  “You’re not much of a help, Sparkles,” said Nana with a fond laugh.

  Rowan wiped up the spilled cream with her cloth napkin and tossed the wadded cloth over her shoulder. She glanced back to see the napkin land on the butcher-block countertop right where she’d aimed. “Still got it!”

  Nana laughed again. “That you do. I’ve never seen anyone with as accurate an arm. You missed your calling! Should have gone into baseball or basketball instead of education.”

  “There’s no future in sports, Nana. You know that.” Unnerved by the golden eyes staring at her from the center of the table, Rowan shoveled a glob of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “Why haven’t any of the others tried to heal the Elder Tree, Nana? Why rely on help from a stranger like Caedmon?”

  Nana took a bite of her own eggs, staring out the window into the distance as Sparkles hopped over to peck at her hand. She set down her fork and stroked the bird’s head. “Everyone’s so busy these days. Orianna’s got Fern. Gemma and Enid are fixated on the school. Your parents are off adventuring. And I can’t get around as well as I used to.”

  Sparkles took flight, bringing Nana’s attention back to the table. Her eyes shone with tears. “The whole truth is that no one else is as strong in as you. No one else has the power to heal the Elder Tree. We’ve had no choice but to place our hopes on Caedmon.”

  “How’d he find us?” Rowan gathered up her own dishes and carried them over to the counter. “New blood doesn’t just appear from nowhere.”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “They’re the same in the end.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Rowan turned when she felt the warmth of familial bond flow between at Nana’s touch on her arm. “How do you know Caedmon isn’t the one poisoning the Elder Tree?”

  “He isn’t. It began failing long before Caedmon came to us.”

  “Is the man powerful enough to perform long-distance spell work?”

  Nana gave her the sad smile Rowan hated to see on her normally cheerful face. “We can’t blame the newcomer, granddaughter. I know you don’t trust outsiders. Can’t say as I blame you none on that front, either. You just need to trust that I feel he has good intentions in this matter.”

  Rowan tucked Nana’s hand into the crook of her arm. “I do trust you, Nana. Now trust me to clean the kitchen for you. It’s a mess in here. Letting Sparkles roost where we eat? Really?”

  Nana’s laugh was a pleasant chime. “Very well. Clean away! I’ll tend the garden.”

  Rowan fell into the rhythm of doing dishes. Through the window, she caught sight of Nana standing near the split-rail fence separating the front garden from the road, staring off in the direction of the Elder Tree.

  She hadn’t been lying when she said she trusted Nana’s judgment, but Nana was getting old. She thought that Sparkles should poop two feet from the breakfast nook. Her judgment might have seen better days.

  Rowan still didn’t trust Caedmon.

  How could he have even found the coven? Most outsiders reached the vicinity of Secret Hallow and continued on without realizing the community existed. Even another witch couldn’t find them without an invitation. Yet this stranger not only found the village, he’d convinced residents to allow him access to one of their most revered symbols.

  The pots hanging on the overhead rack rattled at a slight earthquake.

  Rowan’s temper was getting the best of her again.

  She grabbed the edge of the sink and forced herself to take deep breaths. Rowan watched the sway of the pots until they came to a resting position again. Only then did she allow herself to breathe easy.

  Sparkles settled onto Rowan’s shoulder, her tiny talons digging through the sweater she wore and into her flesh. The little white owl stared at Rowan with unblinking golden eyes as though accusing her of not being around in her Nana’s time of need.

  Reaching up a hand to stroke the bird’s soft feathers, she heaved a sad sigh, “I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me this is all my fault.”

  Sparkles nuzzled her cheek as if to say, It’s not your fault.

  At least she wasn’t biting anymore.

  The owl remained with Rowan as she finished cleaning. It took a good scrubbing to get the dust and grease off of everything. By the time she was done, Nana was finished in the garden, too. Rowan joined her in the living room.

  This room, like the kitchen, looked the worse for wear. Stains and holes marred the rugs hand-hooked by her great-grandmother, springs stuck out the front of the settee cushion, and the curtains hung askew. A breeze came through a gap between window and frame, rustling the curtains and causing the small fire in the hearth to emit ash into the room.

  “Join me on the settee,” Nana said.

  Ever obedient, Rowan sat beside her. “What have you got there?”

  Nana held a small electronic device on her lap. When Rowan joined her, she activated the screen and held it out.

  It was a digital photo frame, which currently displayed a picture of Rowan’s mother and father. They stood on a mountaintop with an expansive vista spread behind them, the distant hills purple in the fading light of early evening.

  They looked robust and healthy, as though they’d been getting a lot of exercise. Both were clothed in oversized tunics over baggy slacks and what looked like hand-made leather shoes.

  “That’s from Nepal,” said Nana. “They were there about three months ago.”

  Swiping a finger across the little screen, she came to a photo of just her mother standing among a group of strange women in front of tiny stone house covered in vivid green vines.

  “That’s from Coventry, England.”

  Another photo showed her parents standing at a caldera high above an expansive vista of clouds. They might have been at the top of the world.

  “Mt. Fuji, Japan,” said Nana. “They’re on Honshu right now looking for oni.”

  With a sigh of envy at the beauty of the landscapes compared to the state of her current location, Rowan swiped a finger again and found her parents standing next to the reflecting pool before the Taj Mahal.

  Another photo showed her father in front of a herd of elephants. In one, her mother and father each held a newborn infant, while a tired-looking man and woman reclined nearby. A series of photos showed them in bright snowscapes near an ocean.

  The final image was an interior shot of her mother wearing an oversized cloak and traditional “witch” hat much like the ones favored by the Ash sisters.

  “Where’s that?” Rowan
asked.

  Nana chuckled. “You’ll appreciate that one. Salem Witch Museum in Massachusetts.”

  “That explains the outfit. I’ve never seen Ma dress that way.” Rowan shut off the device. She felt exhausted skimming through the pictures, as though she were the one traveling the world.

  “She used to do that as a teen when she went out into the mundane world. Dyani loved to stir things up whenever she could.”

  “Not much has changed,” Rowan said.

  “It looks like they’re having a lot of fun, doesn’t it? You might say their current trip is the magical version of a stint in the Peace Corps.”

  “You said they’re looking for oni right now? Why would they do that? Aren’t those dangerous spirits?” Rowan worried that her parents might be taking on more than they could handle.

  “They’re fine, granddaughter. Don’t worry so much about them.”

  “Don’t you worry?”

  Nana shrugged. “Of course I do. A parent never stops worrying about a child…or grandchild, for that matter. Worry doesn’t solve anything, though. I’ve got to trust that they know what they’re doing. They’ve never let me down yet.”

  Considering how dilapidated the house had become, Rowan couldn’t agree. “Have you told them about the Elder Tree? I’m sure they’d know what to do with it.”

  “They’ll return when they’re ready.” Her eyes met Rowan’s. “And the coven will be fine with Caedmon looking out for us. As long as you’re willing to help him, of course.”

  “I still don’t understand how you can trust a man who is almost a perfect stranger.” Her temper bubbled under the surface, causing her to release a short burst of power. The house shook, the frame creaking as though another movement might bring the whole thing down on top of them. “I can’t help him, Nana. Please understand that.”

  “You can do whatever you put your mind to, granddaughter.”

  “Ouch!” Rowan flinched as Sparkles claws dug into her shoulder a moment before taking flight and disappearing from the room. “What the…?”