Beon felt his jaw drop when he finally caught onto what Seth was saying.
“A bit slow, aren’t you?” teased Seth “Perhaps fatherhood has already addled your brain.”
Epilogue
Four Years Later
While lying on her back, Sophia watched the gulls in the sky above her, swooping and dancing, their shapes silhouetted against a pale blue. Bending her knees, she dug her toes deeper into the warm sand, loving the feel of it between her toes. The melody of her favorite lullaby rose from her lips as she sang. The words of the cheerful rhyme seemed the best way to express how content she was feeling...until sand was suddenly kicked in her face.
Spitting the grains from her mouth, Sophia sat up, blinking. The frown fled her face when she watched her little girl, Nadia, waddle past, emitting a string of excited giggles and screams. Beon was closing in fast behind her, and when he scooped the girl up into his arms, he swung her high in the air before planting her feet again. Nadia continued to giggle uncontrollably as she took off running once more.
“That’s a good girl, Nadia, make him work for it! He’s growing soft!” Seth shouted from beside Sophia.
Eva laughed in her hysterically high-pitched honking manner, which in turn caused Mother Everard and Nurse to start giggling as well. The entire clan had decided to venture out for a picnic on this fine day. Ever since Beon had visited his mother and found out the king had named he and Seth Lords of the North, and given them the lands and titles formerly belonging to her father, Lord Gall, the family had decided to stay at Bamborough during the summer months. Beon had invited his mother to stay with them whenever they were there.
Having Beon’s mother in her life was like a sweet balm to Sophia’s soul...almost like having her own mama back. She was gentle and kind and loved Nadia as only a grandmother could. It was a dream come true that they were all together and it made Sophia deliriously happy, and the halls of Bamborough Castle now echoed with laughter. Sophia really didn’t know the details of what had happened to Father. She just knew that he’d attacked Sir Percy and then never returned.
Beon appeared lunging over a nearby knag with Nadia on his shoulders amidst a gaggle of titters that never seemed to cease when they played on the beach like this.
“Lord Beon! I thought I taught you how to treat a lady! Now release your daughter at once!” Nurse teased, and Sophia remembered when Beon twirled her around like that too. A fond memory for sure.
“Thank goodness you were around to instruct him, Madam Kemp!” Mother Everard laughed.
“Pardon me, but I thought I was the one who taught Beon how to treat a lady. Ask a question, agree, and compliment...the secret to success...” Seth’s interjection brought more laughter...and honking, in the case of Eva.
“You’re both wrong,” Beon said as he set Nadia free and then crawled toward Sophia, his voice going husky, “it was this beautiful creature who taught me how to treat a lady.”
“You’re a work in progress, Sir Knight.”
Sophia squealed and laughed when Beon captured her about the waist and tickled her. In the tussle, she’d wound up on her back again.
After pressing a ticklish kiss to her neck, he rose up, propping himself on his elbows. Beon peered down at her for a long moment, an unspoken question in his eyes. Before he said anything, however, he leaned closer and kissed her gently on the lips.
When the others cheered at such a public display of affection, Sophia felt her cheeks heating.
Beon released her mouth and held her gaze once more, that question still visible within his expression, and she was prompted to ask, “Dare I ask what you’re thinking?”
“Nadia turns five in a fortnight.”
Sophia frowned at that. It wasn’t a question, but then as she thought about it, she realized it was. They’d agreed to discuss his turning into a vampire again once Nadia was five years old.
A bit of panic constricted her lungs at how fast this day had come. Beon was right to ask it of her...she knew that...he’d been so patient in letting them have this time together as mortals.
Knowing there’d been recent whisperings of Sir Percy and his vampire sisters continuing to recruit more followers in hopes of returning with an army to fight them, in addition to the countless battles they’d had over the years, this wasn’t a decision they could keep putting off. The Order had thus far successfully hindered Percy’s diabolical plan to rule the world, and the ancient vampire wanted revenge.
As Beon waited for her response, Sophia looked over at Nadia playing with a seashell, and she knew it was time. She knew Beon would do anything, make any sacrifice to keep that little girl safe, and so would she.
After taking a measured breath and then releasing it, Sophia looked up at Beon and said, “Yes.”
Trailing a finger over his stubbled jaw as she processed what this change would mean, she added, “I’ll miss peering into your eyes whilst we lay in bed each night.”
“Does the idea of blindfolding you once the sun goes down intrigue you?”
She blinked at that, trying to sort out what the smirk on his face meant. “I might be curious to see what you have in mind. But what are you going to do about your magical breath?”
“I mean to keep you completely intoxicated with it.”
“What about when I become a vampire as well?”
“We’d best enjoy it while it lasts then.”
“What makes you so sure it’s going to be enjoyable for me?”
“We won’t know until we try, will we?”
“So cheeky! What am I going to do with you?”
“Could I offer a few suggestions?”
Sophia laughed. “I think you should shut up and kiss me again.”
“I find I very much like the way you think.”
* * *
The End
Thanks for reading!
Continue the Fateful Vampire Series Fateful, Fractured and Forever, as well as The Order of the Curse Bound Knights.
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About the Authors
Cheri Schmidt, author of the successful Fateful Vampire Series, and Tristan Hunt, a seasoned narrator, decided to start writing together in 2016.
Having come from artistic backgrounds, Cheri as a photographer and designer, Tristan as a musician and performer, they've often joked while embarking on this unexpected journey that they are 'two creative, non-writers, writing together.' But the union has been a natural progression of two storytellers at heart working together to bring Cheri's books to life through audio over the past three years. The duo worked so well it was only natural to begin telling the stories together moving forward.
Cheri writes from her home in Virginia and Tristan writes in California, symbolic of two very different perspectives enriching the tales they tell!
Read More from Cheri Schmidt and Tristan Hunt
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Pick Your Potion
Witch’s Brew Cozy Mystery Book 1
CC Dragon
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
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Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Pick Your Potion (Witch’s Brew Cozy Mystery 1)
Copyright © February 2017
By CC Dragon
> Cover art by Coverkicks.com
Edited by Mary Yakovets
Proofed by: Jessica Bimberg
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All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Witch’s Brew Cozy Mystery Book 1
Gypsies, vamps, and weres…these are just some of the people powerful witch Claudia Crestwood and her friends protect.
In the city of Hartford, Connecticut—years before Salem, there were witch trials. Now the paranormal coexist with humans, more or less. With the help of her hippie aunt and cousins, her gypsy uncle, and other paranormal friends, Claudia stands on the line between humans and paras—helping to keep the peace.
When a human customer dies after an incident at the coffee shop, Claudia must dig into the case to protect the café and the coven. Threats have been made and what’s worse, she’s harboring a hunter wanted by the police in her basement. A hot and powerful wizard starts showing up in the shop when Claudia needs help and is at her worst. Intriguing and annoying… She isn’t sure she can trust him and his reclusive family but it’s time for her to dig deeper into the magical world.
Chapter 1
I fumbled with the grinder that had, of course, locked up right in the middle of the morning rush. Coffee and tea sounded like such a calming business, but people were serious about their coffee and not patient about waiting for it.
The sighs and mumblings of the backed-up line of customers registered, but I had to focus on the matter at hand or I’d make a mess and it’d only take longer. Magic would help, but there were too many humans watching me far too closely.
“Claudia,” my cousin Iris whispered from the back.
I gave her the in-a-minute finger and turned to Brad, one of our new baristas. “Try and get that loose. I’ll be right back.”
“Right, boss,” he said.
Vampires. I liked hiring them, mostly because they took the night shift, lived on expired blood from the blood bank, and their handsome faces brought in the lady customers who ordered the pricier drinks. This one seemed as tame as any of those I employed. But vamps liked structure and following a leader. I was so not that leader. I was a twenty-five-year-old witch with a long line of caffeine deficient customers.
“And make me a green tea with a double shot of calming potion when it gets slow,” I said as I wiped my hands on a towel.
Potions were what my aunt cleverly named the shots other places used. Some were just flavor, and others had herbal benefits or vitamin mixes. Our PMS potion might get snickers from men, but the female customers swore by it.
The coffee shop remained a great cover for my coven’s deeper purposes. We helped paranormal creatures who didn’t want to hurt humans. We could all coexist, or so my hippie aunt believed. She was working the counter in one of her flowing printed dresses, no bra and wicker shoes.
Iris tapped her foot on the floor to get my attention and waved me over faster.
I picked up the pace and joined her. “What’s up?”
“Dad has someone in the basement,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
I shrugged and admired the mermaid braid she’d put her honey blonde hair in today. She and her identical twin sister, Violet, were always on trend, even if they were hippies like their mom. Her tank dress flowed in a red paisley today.
“He needs you,” she added.
“Why? The cells are free if he needs to lock up anyone,” I replied. Hosting any werewolves who needed a secure place during the full moon was also part of the routine.
“I don’t think it’s that. Please go check. I’ll cover for you up here. I don’t have a class until ten.” She grabbed the towel from my hand.
“Good luck, that grinder likes to spit out grounds.” I was sort of happy to be free.
“Every job helps us to help others.” Iris smiled.
Her good mood probably had as much to do with cute and eternally youthful Brad as helping people. I wished I could be as cheery and sweet as my cousins about cleaning. I mean, they were like my sisters. My aunt and uncle raised me after my parents died. I was only five when that happened, so I should’ve taken more of their teaching to heart, but I still had my mom’s draw to dark magic and big powers. Strong powers weren’t bad, as long as they were used for good. I had to watch the slippery slope.
I didn’t have the sweet blonde hair either. I had pure black hair that I jazzed up with a shimmering purple strip to be more like my sisters; they had purplish names, anyway.
I walked down the stairs. The old brick building was full of spirit energy and history. Hartford, Connecticut attracted paranormal creatures because, decades before Salem, it’d had its own witch trials here. That meant witches and paranormal creatures naturally had a right to be here. It also meant we clashed with the local human population, at times.
Owning a coffee shop brought the gossip and the news to me organically. This way, our coven had a finger on the pulse of the human world just in case we needed to push the paranormal further underground for our safety. Witches and wizards were the crossover, after all. Mostly human but with the ability to develop some powers. I had more than my share.
The basement was a maze. Storage was separate. The cages were in the back. There was a small room where vamps or hunters sometimes crashed when they had nowhere else to go. Uncle Vinny had someone on the cot and was grabbing gauze from the first aid kit.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing, he’ll be fine. We just need to hide him here for a while,” Uncle Vinny replied.
“Sure.” I trusted my uncle but still wanted to talk to my guest and feel him out.
My uncle’s phone beeped. “I have to take this. Just give him the rundown.”
Uncle Vinny took the call and spoke his native language.
I studied the visitor. Mid-twenties, handsome, beat up and scratched but still smug enough to smile and act like he wasn’t in pain.
“Ryan Jones,” he said.
The Jones was a lie, but most hunters used fake names. “Claudia Crestwood. You’re a hunter?” I asked.
He nodded. “What’s your uncle speaking? I can’t place that language.”
“Rom,” I said.
“Like Romanian?” Ryan frowned.
“No, like Romani. He’s a gypsy. Where are you from?” I asked.
“South Carolina most recently. I was tracking a werewolf that just refused to be contained during the full moon. He kept killing. He killed his family and just didn’t care, anymore. He went into a mall just before moonrise. A couple of stores were having midnight sales or staying open around the clock before Christmas for shoppers. I had to take him out. But I was on video. I killed the werewolf, but he turned back into human form once he was dead.” He winced and put pressure on his leg.
“I know how werewolves work. So, you got tagged for murder by the local PD?” I tried to assess his wounds. “You need a hospital to check out internal injuries. At the very least you need stitches.”
“Nah, just a little rest until things calm down. You’re a gypsy witch?” he asked.
“I’m not a gypsy. My aunt is my mother’s sister; Vinny married into the family. Sorry, no gypsy blood here. You can stay, but you have to follow the rules.” I propped a hand on my hip.
“Sure,” he said.
“No meddling in my uncle’s cases unless he asks you for backup. No upsetting my coven or my family. Stay out of my coffee shop. Don’t upset my customers or the staff.”
“No problem. Relax.” He grinned.
He was sexy but used to being in control. No doubt I would be a challenge. His broad shoulders and strong arms were tempting, but you had to be tough to be a hunter. Then again, hunters often died young. My uncle had lots of scars, and he was semi-retired. Now, he acted as advisor to the younger hunters in
the area.
“That’s not all. I have vampires who work here, mostly at night. They have plenty of blood supplied, so they don’t kill people. You don’t bother them or intimidate them. If you stay for a full moon, I house werewolves. You don’t antagonize them.” Some hunters liked to keep the fear in the paranormal creatures so they stayed in line. I’ve found friendship worked better than threats.
“I only hunt those who’ve killed humans and refuse to take help in containing themselves.” He held up his hands.
The answer was politically correct, but my instinct said he liked the kill. A little more Faith than Buffy.
“I never met a gypsy before. Think he’ll take me to stay with them?” Ryan asked.
“Why would he? With that smirk and the flirty attitude you’re giving me now… Those guys would beat the crap out of you if you even looked at their daughters. Gypsies are the original hunters. They’d teach you a few lessons.” I grabbed the backup first aid kit from the shelf. He’d need it.
“Original hunters?” he asked.
“Think about it. Nomads who traveled light with their families. Men went out and did the work; women stayed home—protecting their kids. It looks old-fashioned, but they all are fighters. The groups were rumored to be associated with poverty, crime, and trouble because they were hunting the creatures that lived in the shadows and hurt humans. That’s not an easy life, is it?”
“No, it’s not. Makes so much sense. How did I not know that?” He chuckled.
“You do, now. So, respect them and stay away because those guys travel in groups, fight anything bare-handed, and make The Walking Dead look like a vacation when they go after someone. From the looks of you, you’d mess with the wrong daughter.”
Myths & Magic: A Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection Page 215