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

by Nora Lee

  Nana sighed. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with the creature. She’s been very twitchy the past few weeks. That’s why I brought the roost into the kitchen, if that helps ease your mind at all.”

  It didn’t.

  “I worry about how sanitary that is, that’s all,” Rowan said.

  “We’re witches! Our familiars can’t make us sick.”

  Rowan rolled her eyes. “Well, I think I might move the roost outside anyway. Sparkles needs fresh air. Is there anything else I can do while I’m here?”

  “If you’d like to conjure up a few repairs, I’d be grateful.” Nana sighed and shook her head. “My powers aren’t what they used to be.”

  “I’ll be happy to work with my own two hands. Using my powers isn’t an option.”

  “Why are you so stubborn, granddaughter?”

  Rowan stood, wiping dust from the settee off of her butt. “I enjoy doing things by hand. The work is satisfying.”

  “You do what you feel is right.” Nana tossed a treat to Sparkles. “I trust you.”

  I’m glad you do, thought Rowan. I sure don’t.

  Chapter 5

  ROWAN TOOK NANA’S clunky pickup to the Samhain Grove to meet Caedmon for their lunch “date.” Nana had thoughtfully included several of her culinary creations for the picnic, and the mouthwatering aroma of fresh-baked apple pie filled the cab. She could think of little other than the flaky crust containing a filling seasoned to perfection. If only they weren’t picnicking, she would’ve brought homemade ice cream too.

  Along with the pie, the lunch Nana had packed for her seemed guaranteed to appeal to a man’s heart by way of his stomach: oven-baked chicken (no fried foods for her aging grandmother), potato salad made with eggs fresh from Nana’s hens, a salad picked from the garden just that morning along with a special dressing, and fresh-squeezed lemonade.

  How would anyone resist such a delicious meal?

  Answer: they couldn’t. Caedmon would be so distracted by Nana’s kitchen witchery that he wouldn’t even notice Rowan working on the Elder Tree, and she could escape before their date turned into anything that resembled an actual date.

  “Cunning plan, self,” Rowan muttered. If she’d had a curly villainous mustache, she would have twirled it.

  Her trip to the Elder Tree took didn’t take long, unfortunately, since she didn’t feel she’d had enough of a chance to prepare herself for a meeting with a man she hadn’t been able to stand at first sight.

  Caedmon stood across the stream, tall and strong, drawing water from the stagnant pool behind him toward the roots of the failing tree. Wilting leaves fluttered around his feet. The tree’s branches seemed to droop even further toward the ground.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” called Rowan, afraid she was watching the death of their beloved Elder Tree right before her eyes. “Stop that right now!”

  Dropping his arms, Caedmon turned, his eyes ablaze with anger. “How dare you interrupt!” When he recognized Rowan, his face relaxed into an ingratiating smile. “Oh…hi, Rowan. Good to see you again.” He motioned at the basket in her hand. “You brought lunch?”

  “No…I brought an infant.” When Caedmon gave her a strange look, her own smile faded. Garrett had always appreciated her weird sense of humor. “Yes, I brought lunch. Wasn’t that the point of meeting you here today?” She moved to cross the pooled water separating them.

  “Stay put. I’ll come to you.” Caedmon made a production of walking over the brackish stream, hair flowing out in a slight breeze, as though he were trying to look like some sort of savior.

  He came to her side and held a hand out to take the basket she carried.

  She reluctantly passed over Nana’s food just so that she could shake out the worn plaid blanket. It would have been a very romantic, cozy scene—the two of them sitting on a blanket in a magical grove to share food—if not for all the dying trees. Rowan couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling of the Elder Tree fading beside her.

  Rowan opened the basket and removed the dishes and food containers. Within minutes, a complete meal laid spread before them.

  “Looks delicious.” Caedmon rubbed his hands and leaned forward to examine what she’d brought. “Did you fix all this?”

  Rowan handed him a plate laden with chicken and potato salad. “You can thank Nana. She’s the accomplished kitchen witch. I even burn the water I try to heat for my tea.” Caedmon started to laugh. “No, really. I’m serious. I destroyed Nana’s favorite teapot just this morning.” He stopped laughing.

  He took the fork she handed him and dug into the salad, but not before she caught a look of disappointment he couldn’t quite hide. “Mmm…I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful. What seasoning does she use?”

  “Beats me.” Rowan took a mouthful of her own salad and closed her eyes as she chewed. “Whatever’s in this is sinful and should be outlawed, though. I’m sure this is bad for my figure.”

  “Not in my eyes,” said Caedmon as he looked her over. “You look good to me. Very good, in fact. Your looks rival the taste of this wonderful food. That more than makes up for the fact that you can’t cook.”

  A flush spread over her face—whether from embarrassment or anger, she wasn’t sure. Rowan took a too-large bite of salad and started to splutter when it went down the wrong way. Taking up her glass of lemonade, she chugged, then spluttered again when the liquid also went down the wrong way.

  Caedmon leaned over to pat her shoulder.

  Rowan jerked her shoulder away from his hand and regretted the movement at once when the food she’d been trying to cough up lodged in her throat.

  “Are you all right?”

  Her eyes watered and black dots danced at the edges of her vision. Each time she struggled to dislodge the blockage, she just made the problem worse. As she felt as though her lungs were about to burst, she lost control of her powers, allowing them to draw energy from the earth upon which she sat. The energy built up within her until her throat clenched once, hard, and ejected the salad from her with extreme velocity…

  …to splatter all over Caedmon’s face.

  He wiped the disgusting mess off while staring at her as she took a soothing sip of lemonade.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Rowan in a half-hearted way. She didn’t feel the least bit apologetic about spitting masticated potato salad on him.

  She took several deep breaths and worked to slow her heart rate and the trembling ground under them. Within moments, she felt the power drain away from her and back into the ground below.

  Caedmon held his napkin in both hands and closed his eyes. After a moment, the cloth began to drip water onto the blanket upon which they sat. He had used magic to dampen his rag instead of dipping it in the nearby stream. What a show-off.

  He wrung out the excess liquid before wiping down his face again. “Much better.” Setting his damp and dirty napkin aside, he leaned back on his hands, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles. “You caused the trembling, didn’t you?”

  Rowan put on her most innocent look. “What?” She’d been told she didn’t lie well, but hoped he didn’t know her enough to be able to tell the difference. “If you mean my shaking…that’s just because I almost died a minute ago. Nana’s salad just tried to assassinate me. She should put a warning label on that stuff.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “I don’t know what you do mean.” Rowan started to pack up the leftovers as Caedmon continued to stare at her. “What trembling?”

  “I’ve heard you’re an earth witch. Math may not be my strong suit, but I do know how to add two and two. You were upset and the ground trembled.”

  She closed the basket. Her appetite was gone.

  A shaft of sunlight broke through the overcast day and filtered through the multi-colored leaves onto the Elder Tree. The trunk shook and branches quavered in a slight breeze. Several strips of bark sloughed off and fell to the ground. Her throat clenched aga
in, but this time against tears. “Can you tell me what you’ve been doing to the tree? Water should help, shouldn’t it?”

  His expression shuttered. Caedmon could tell that she was trying to redirect the conversation to business. “Yes, water should help. I don’t know why it hasn’t.”

  The brilliant shaft of sunlight disappeared into the marine layer blowing in off the nearby ocean and gloom fell over them once more. Rowan shivered against the chill and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Sometimes solo magic isn’t enough to break a dark spell. If that’s the problem, we’ll need to work together to heal the tree.” He looked back at her. “Are you willing to become my partner? I’m sure our powers combined could fix this.”

  Rowan dropped her head so her hair covered her face. “I can’t help you.”

  “You keep saying that. Why not?”

  She heard a rustle as Caedmon moved, but wasn’t quick enough to get away before he came onto his knees before her, putting a hand under her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his.

  Rowan flinched and withdrew. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  He released her chin. “No, you don’t.” Getting to his feet, he dusted off his form-fitting slacks, turning away from her. “It’s lucky that I’m here to take over the coven. The Secret Hallow coven won’t survive without someone in charge—and that someone is me.”

  “No!” Rowan scrambled to her feet. “I won’t allow you to take over for my parents. They’re not planning to be gone forever and the coven can survive very well until they return—or until Nana can groom the Ash sisters to take over. Their ancestors have been here as long as Hephaestus Hallow.”

  “You call this surviving?” Caedmon waved an arm toward the Elder Tree.

  She stood toe-to-toe with him. “How do I know you’re not causing this? The tree was fine when I left for school.”

  “When was that? Last week, last month…or last year?”

  She glanced away, stung by the truth of his words. “Doesn’t matter. All I know is that everything was fine before. Now that you’re here, the tree is dying.”

  “You’ll just have to get to know me better so you can see that I’m not doing this.” He lifted a hand to touch her again.

  Yeah, we’re not doing any of that. Thanks.

  Shaking her head, she backed away, his meaning clear and disturbing. “Not again. I won’t go on another date with you. I won’t go out with you and I definitely won’t work with you. What I really want is for you to go away and leave us alone.”

  “That’s not happening, sweetheart. Your friends have asked me to help with the Elder Tree and I’m not leaving until I’ve done everything possible. I’m also not leaving the coven without a high priest, and I’m pretty sure I have to be with you to take the job. You’d better get used to the idea of us being a couple.” He took her arms in his strong hands. She twisted her head in an attempt to break away. It didn’t work.

  Rowan brought the heel of her foot down on top of his toes.

  Caedmon stepped back, wincing. “Why, you…!”

  “Consent, you cauldron-licker,” Rowan said. “Ever heard of it? Maybe not, but I did get self-defense classes on campus. I can take you with or without magic.” She held her hands up in a mock ninja pose.

  “I was just trying to get you to listen to me!”

  “Talk with your mouth, not your grubby paws,” Rowan said. “Whatever plans you have for the coven—and for me—are not happening. Get out of here. We are not having a second date.”

  He seized the pie tin off the ground. “I’m taking this with me.”

  Rowan’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, I dare,” Caedmon said. He swiped pie filling off the bottom and licked it. “Delicious.”

  He held it over his shoulder like a waiter as he stalked out of the grove, rubbing in the fact that he was taking Nana’s tastiest concoction with him.

  Oh, goblins. Rowan had been hoping for leftovers.

  If she hadn’t felt so dirtied by his touch, Rowan might have laughed at the comical image he presented, the lean warlock hurrying off as fast as his sore foot would allow with a pie on his shoulder.

  She felt a slight twinge of conscience at having hurt someone, no matter how irritating he’d been, because that went against her upbringing. She’d always been taught to do no harm, which was one reason she chose to suppress her powers instead of allowing them free rein.

  The ground began trembling beneath her once again as Caedmon disappeared into the thickest part of the forest. Red and gold leaves showered down on the path to block his passage from view and his footsteps and mild curses faded into the distance.

  Left alone, she took a deep breath, looking skyward as she tried to calm herself.

  She almost lost her balance as the tremor intensified.

  That wasn’t the work of Rowan’s temper.

  Mystified, Rowan allowed herself to open her senses to her surroundings.

  A myriad of sensations assaulted her. First, she heard the insects crawling beneath the blanket of fallen leaves around her feet, smelled the deep aroma of decay and fertile soil, tasted the tang of saltwater on the air, saw the minuscule dust motes dancing in the watery sunlight filtering through the clouds and trees, and felt the chill moisture in the air.

  Expanding her reach, she sensed the creatures hidden in the murky water of the stream, heard the cascade of the nearby waterfall, and saw the small rodents rushing through the underbrush and the birds perched in the nearby trees.

  Rowan gasped as another intelligence reached out to catch her attention.

  The Elder Tree.

  Raising trembling fingers to her lips, she shut her eyes tight, clamping down on her sensory exploration.

  Help, the tree implored. Save me.

  She looked across the way to see the tree’s branches beckoning her closer. Sap oozed from the many gaps and gashes in the massive trunk. Her still-heightened senses allowed her to hear the sound of the insects eating their way into the core of the massive trunk. One root burrowed up from beneath the ground to reach out toward her.

  Stepping back, Rowan shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  Please…

  The final opening between her mind and the outside world cut her off from any more magical intrusions.

  She blinked a couple times to clear away the after-effects of allowing herself to be so open to the world. Looking at the world through mundane eyes seemed more like looking at a photograph than real life and she grieved the fact that she couldn’t trust her powers enough to live life to the fullest.

  “This looks a lot like Nana’s garden,” she said to herself as she packed up the last of the picnic—missing only a few bites and an entire tasty pie—and laid the folded blanket atop the closed basket. “A little love and attention will do wonders for the grove, I’m sure. I’ve just got to use some good old-fashioned mundane elbow grease.”

  No magic.

  She knelt and put a hesitant hand into the becalmed stream to push aside the scummy surface and reveal the few sickly fish swimming around in lackluster circles. They darted off into the shadows.

  Removing her shoes and socks and rolling up the legs of her jeans, she stepped into the water. She took care not to slip on the stones lining the stream bed or to cut her feet on any of the sharper rocks; allowing her blood to flood into the water source could allow others to access her powers and she couldn’t let that happen any more than she could use her powers for herself.

  Her feet sunk into the muddy bank when she emerged on the other side of the stream. Though she could still feel the tree trying to get her attention, she kept her senses on lockdown.

  She reached out to touch the trunk with a gentle hand. The remaining bark felt rough and dry and left black marks on the sensitive skin of her palm. Wiping the dirt off onto her soiled and damp jeans, she tilted her head back to look up into the branches arching overhead, notici
ng they all drooped toward the ground. Rowan felt a brief stab of fear at the possibility of one of the massive limbs falling atop her as she stood here all alone. No one but Caedmon knew she’d remained behind, so she wouldn’t be found for a long time if she were injured.

  There wasn’t much she could do alone.

  “I’ll come back later with reinforcements and we’ll see what we can do,” Rowan said, patting the trunk. “Don’t you worry.”

  The tree couldn’t penetrate her senses to respond, so she hoped that it took comfort in her touch.

  Even so, Rowan did enough worrying for the both of them as she drove back to town.

  Chapter 6

  ROWAN PULLED NANA’S truck up in front of Books of Shadows and turned off the engine. She’d been in town a couple days and had yet to see her best friend, Orianna.

  She was going to change that. Rowan desperately needed a dose of girl talk after all the icky boy stuff she had been dealing with, and there was nobody better for girl talk than Orianna.

  Rowan stepped up to the window displaying a variety of secondhand books so she could look inside. The interior was deserted. She pulled out her cellphone to check the time before looking at the hours posted on the door.

  The shop should have been open.

  She jiggled the front door. Locked.

  Well, Rowan had never been one to allow things like locked doors, curfews, or rules to prevent her from seeing Orianna.

  She rounded the corner to the trellis. The window above was open.

  “Hey, Ori! You home?” she called, hands cupped on either side of her mouth.

  Orianna didn’t respond, but Rowan heard the thumping of feet from within the apartment above the shop. She must have been playing with her daughter, whom Rowan had yet to meet.

  No time like the present.

  Rowan hooked a foot in the trellis and climbed up to the second-floor window as she had when she’d visited as a child.

  Pushing aside one of the curtains fluttering in the slight breeze, she looked inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.