Spellcasting with a Chance of Spirits: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Grimm Cove Book 3)

by Mandy M. Roth

  This was the home he felt most at ease within. It was located in a town in South Carolina, a place he’d have never dreamed he’d pass through, let alone decide to settle in. He honestly could not recall what had even prompted him to venture to Grimm Cove to start with. It was a far cry from the grand European cities he’d been accustomed to. For the longest time, London had been the preferred place he hung his hat.

  And Grimm Cove was certainly no London.

  It lacked a good deal of the amenities he preferred yet had everything he needed. From the moment that Fate had brought him to the town years ago, he’d felt a connection to it. Sensed the power contained within its borders surging and then calling to him.

  Maybe it was because the town was a supernatural hot spot. One that drew in others like him. While nice to a degree, leaving him feeling more connected, it often presented its own set of problems.

  Like higher-than-average murder rates.

  Grimm Cove was no stranger to bloodshed or battles of good against evil, but it had been in something of a quiet period for nearly forty years. No one had been able to explain the hows or whys. Just like no one seemed to be able to explain why there had been a sudden dramatic bump in activity seven months ago.

  From Bram’s understanding, that was when bodies began dropping because of a succubus-witch. Then, four weeks ago, the supernatural-related incidents spiked. Two battles had taken place nearly back-to-back. Dragos had been behind one of the attacks in town.

  As Bram had feared while in Romania, Dragos had been freed by The Order of the Dragon and had decided to exact his revenge, starting with Bram.

  Well, the revenge had started and ended with Bram, since the master vampire was no longer a threat.

  He should have started with Seward, said the demon with a snort. His demon is not me.

  Bram grinned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but is Seward’s demon not your biological brother?”

  He is, but that only means I know I am better than him, said the demon arrogantly.

  Bram nearly laughed. Even demons suffered from sibling rivalry.

  “Dracula would have been a better start,” offered Bram. “He would have been so busy singing his own praises he’d have missed the threat altogether.”

  This time it was the demon who laughed. Yes. At last check, Vlad didn’t have the backing of a slayer daughter and her witchy, weather-controlling friends.

  Tipping his head back, Bram laughed more. “Never did I think women could be so lethal.”

  I could have told you that, said the demon. Women are terrifying. One second all is fine and well, and the next, everyone is left wondering if they are the ones with the demon in them.

  Bram didn’t want to laugh but it happened all the same.

  Dana, Poppy, and Marcy had played major roles in the downfall of Dragos. Despite being young and relatively inexperienced in the way of supernaturals, the women had proven to be formidable foes. Ones he was pleased to say were not standing in opposition to him.

  Yet, reminded the demon.

  Bram groaned.

  The other battle that Grimm Cove had played host to around four weeks ago had come in the form of the succubus-witch. Bram hadn’t been present for that fight, but he’d gotten an earful about it upon his return from Romania. A number of the Van Helsing slayers had come to the aid of Dana and her friends during the attack.

  Austin could not stop raving about Dana’s natural-born vampire slaying abilities.

  Bram was torn between being proud of his daughter and nervous. They’d yet to establish anything close to a real relationship. If she felt so inclined, she could turn her natural-born killing skills against him.

  She would not, said the demon.

  “Are you so sure?” asked Bram. “I know I would not raise a hand to stop her.”

  Neither would I, added the demon before a flash of concern came from him. Let’s not point out the fact she could possibly kill us. After all, it’s clear to see she has her mother’s temper.

  Smiling, Bram thought back to Daniella’s famed temper. It was true, Dana had it as well. “Good plan. Though there is a fair amount of the Van Helsing temper in her too.”

  Then we will make extra certain we don’t point out she was born with the ability to stand against us, said the demon.

  All joking aside, they’d been lucky that Ager hadn’t come along with Dragos when he’d attacked. Had he, the end might not have been the same. So far, there were no signs that Ager had been in town at all. That should have provided comfort, but Ager hadn’t been alive as long as he had without learning to hide under the noses of others. The man could very well be within the boundaries of the town but keeping a low profile.

  That worried Bram. Made him leery of leaving when other slayer matters popped up around the world. If he walked away now, and Ager was in Grimm Cove, there was no telling what would happen.

  Questioning Dragos about Ager’s whereabouts would have been the prudent thing to do, but Bram had been too focused on killing the man to worry about getting information from him. The vampire had certainly died in the most memorable of ways. Bram had been going head-to-head with him when Dana and her two best friends had drawn upon elemental magik, using their combined powers to call forth a storm and a tornado.

  Bram had thrown Dragos like a rag doll into the funnel cloud and a second later, lightning had slashed through the sky, striking the master vampire. He’d burst into ash that was quickly dispersed by the storm.

  The satisfaction Bram and his demon had felt when Dragos took his last breath still clung to him, fueling him nearly a month later.

  All had been quiet in the supernatural community since the attacks, and that worried Bram. Especially when he knew Ager was still out there working with The Order of the Dragon. They were plotting something big. He could feel it in his bones, but he didn’t know what.

  As he stared out at the darkness ebbing over the estate, his hand went to the window glass and eased over its smoothness. The demon in him perked, as it had done nightly for nearly a month each time Bram found himself staring at the setting sun…before he went to the Proctor House grounds and watched over the area as if he were a sentry.

  For as much as his demon protested most of what Bram did, it was totally and completely on board with the idea of guarding the home.

  Bram’s reasons for paying nightly visits to the Proctor House weren’t easily explained. Even he struggled to understand why. Never had he worried about the home’s well-being or felt the need to stand guard over it prior to a month ago. It would have made sense if Dana still resided there. But she’d only lived in the large home for two nights before she was mated to the head of the local wolf pack.

  Thinking of Jeffrey Farkas made Bram’s vampire side grumble. It didn’t like the idea of Dana mated any more than he did. Killing any man who dared to touch her felt like a great idea to him and the demon.

  Let’s do it, pressed the demon from within. The moment the sun sets. We can kill him.

  Bram tipped his head, considering the suggestion. Then he paused. “If we go, we will miss her arrival.”

  The demon laughed softly. Her? Do you mean Dana?

  Bram swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  I’m part of you, Van Helsing, said the demon. I know when you’re lying. This is one of those times. You do not wish to miss time with the blonde one.

  Bram’s pulse sped as thoughts of Marcy Dotter filled his head. While he’d been aware of her for some twenty-plus years because of the fact she’d roomed with Dana in college, and they had remained friends, he’d not laid eyes upon her in the flesh until a month ago, when he’d met her face-to-face while taking on Dragos. Before that, any time he’d checked in on Dana from afar, Marcy had been decidedly absent. Bram had ample pictures and videos of her, sent to him by the men he’d had watching over Dana.

  And truth be told, he watched the videos and stared at the photos more than anyone ever should. Even prior to meeting the quirky woman in pe
rson, he’d felt a bizarre pull to her. Now that he’d seen her up close and personal, only to realize she was even more beautiful in person, and had caught her scent—jasmine and sage—the draw to her was all-consuming.

  She is why we visit the Proctor House, stated the demon in a way that lacked sarcasm or judgment.

  Closing his eyes a moment, Bram struggled to deny the claim that Marcy was why he felt the need to watch over the Proctor House property. The house itself had a longstanding history in Grimm Cove and was well-known as a source of power. The Proctor line of witches had always been the caretakers of the power that resided there, and Bram had never felt the need to intervene before. He wanted to tell the demon that it was wrong, that Marcy was not the reason, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Because I am right, said the demon. She is why we go. She is who we guard. Not the house. Not the old magik.

  The realization that she really was what compelled him to guard the Proctor House each night shook him to his core.

  The implications were not lost on him as he put his forehead to the cool glass, keeping his eyes closed, trying to control himself, fearful the demon would seize the moment to take over.

  The demon made no such attempt, which only served to worry Bram more. It loved to take any opportunity it could to be in charge. The fact it was willing to permit him this moment of reflection and contemplation without stepping through the emotional opening he’d left was telling.

  Bram kept his head to the glass. “That cannot mean she’s our…no. That cannot be.”

  He couldn’t even form the words. The thought was too ridiculous.

  Yet, it was the very same train of thought Harker had had in Romania some six weeks ago. The question had seemed absurd to Bram then, but felt less so now.

  The demon did its version of sitting back in a chair and kicking its feet up as if it had been waiting for some time and wanted to be sure to enjoy the show. Do share why it is she cannot be the one for us. I am all ears, Van Helsing.

  “She’s too young!” bellowed Bram.

  She is the age you were when I was forced upon you. Therefore, in terms of how many years a body has aged, you are the same, said the demon, clearly having put a good deal of thought into the matter.

  “She is Dana’s best friend,” countered Bram.

  The demon snorted. That means she is forbidden fruit? Hardly. It means your daughter trusts her and she trusts your daughter. As it should be, or so they tell me. I’ve never been much of one to worry about who does and does not trust me.

  Bram lifted his head and stared at his reflection in the glass. He shook his head in disbelief. “No. There is another explanation. I’m sure of it.”

  The demon chortled. This, I cannot wait to hear.

  Bram drew in a deep breath. “If she is, and I’m not saying that she is, but if so, history could repeat itself. We could cause her end, like we caused…”

  He couldn’t even bring himself to say the name.

  His demon fell silent, giving Bram a chance to think more upon it all.

  “I should cancel the plans for tonight,” he said as his gaze slid to his oversize secretary desk that sat not far from him. A network of underground tunnels and rooms expanded under the Van Helsing estate and spider-webbed out to a number of locations in Grimm Cove.

  While they were used by only the Van Helsings now, there had been a point in time when many had traveled through the tunnels that went below the town. They’d already been somewhat established when he’d purchased the land. The founders of the town were all connected to the supernatural, and many, like Bram, needed to be shielded from the sun as much as possible. Thus, the underground means of travel was established. Over the years, fewer and fewer people knew of them or used them.

  Bram’s own men only knew of some veins, not all. But they all knew of the various large vaults Bram had constructed with the help of another, directly under the mansion grounds, housing seemingly endless amounts of information on the supernatural. Each vault was vast, and they always made him feel as if he were stepping back in time.

  He forbade modern technology down there. While he had added electric lighting years ago, it was antique and certainly not up to today’s codes and standards. That was fine by him. It was better to work by. Less harsh on the eyes.

  Dana and Marcy were set to arrive shortly. Their reason for visiting was so that Marcy could look through information in the vaults that might pertain to her birth parents. When Dana had called Bram, telling him that Maria—the head of the Council of Elders—had suggested they seek out his resources and guidance on the matter, Bram had practically leapt at the chance. It meant he’d have time with his daughter.

  And now that the demon had pointed out what Bram had been too blind to see, that Marcy was important to him too, it meant time with her as well.

  He wasn’t ready to accept what the demon was suggesting, that Marcy was his mate.

  He needed time to think on it, and having her close, under his roof, within touching distance might prove to be too much for him. If he lost control around her or his daughter, he’d never forgive himself.

  Removing himself from the equation was the best option.

  He went toward the desk, his intention to pick up the old-style phone there and tell his daughter something had come up that needed his attention. That she and her friend were welcome to explore the vaults, but he would not be present.

  As he reached for the phone, his stomach knotted, and dread filled him.

  The demon stirred. Something is amiss.

  Nodding, Bram stepped back from the desk and the phone. He faced the window once more. As he did, the dread lessened. “What does that mean?”

  Rarely, if ever, did he ask for the demon’s opinion and want to hear the answer. While Bram was over a hundred, the demon had been alive since the dawn of time. It had seen and done far more in its life than Bram had in his. This was one of those times its knowledge could come in handy.

  I do not know, it responded, sounding as bewildered as Bram felt. Perhaps we should join the women in their search for information on the blonde’s ancestry.

  “I had intended to,” said Bram. “Well, right until I was going to cancel everything.”

  No. You intended to stare at the blonde in a manner that would unnerve anyone—including her. And if this is coming from me, a master of unnerving others, that is saying something, added the demon.

  “You think she’s something more than just a witch?” asked Bram. “More than my…”

  Mate. You can say the word, responded the demon. I think there is far more to Ms. Dotter than meets the eye.

  “Ms. Dotter? Since when do you stand on formality? Normally, you refer to women as cattle and see them as nothing more than something to quench your thirst and your sexual lust,” Bram said with a huff, unsure how he felt about this new path the demon was on.

  She is different, said the demon. I am not sure how different.

  He was leaving something out. Bram sighed. “Say it.”

  There is something familiar about her—about what I sense when we’re near her.

  The study door opened, effectively ending the conversation with his demon.

  Bram watched in the window’s reflection as Elis Van Helsing entered the room. Like most of the Van Helsings, Elis had dark hair and was tall. He also had a low tolerance for supernaturals, despite being one himself. After all, slayers were hardly human. Telling them as much always went over swimmingly.

  Even with Elis’s dislike of supernaturals, he accepted Bram for who and what he was—at least for the most part. That was a rare treat. Elis even joked a great deal about Bram’s condition. Though Bram strongly suspected it was a coping mechanism and something the man used to diffuse any unease he might have about being friends with a vampire.

  That, or the man fancied himself something of a comedian.

  I find you amusing. Tell him the one about you being a coward and wanting to leave the premises before tw
o women arrive, said the demon in a teasing manner.

  “Asshole,” replied Bram, earning him a questioning look from Elis.

  “Me, or are you talking to yourself…again?” asked Elis.

  Bram let out a long, slow breath. “I do not talk to myself. I talk to the demon I carry.”

  “Other vampires I know don’t do that,” Elis said. “It’s weird.”

  Bram’s shoulders squared. “Then maybe you should get out and meet more vampires.”

  “I’ve slayed a shitload of them,” said Elis. “Never really stopped to get to know them first. Maybe they’re all as weird too.”

  Bram growled.

  Elis cleared his throat. “But you’re totally not weird. Not at all. Not even a little.”

  Groaning, Bram stared at Elis via the reflection in the window. “What is it you need?”

  “Giving my nightly Kellan update,” said Elis, tension filling his voice.

  “Any change?” asked Bram, already knowing the answer. After a month of Kellan being stuck in wolf form and under the care of a trusted local veterinarian, Bram feared this was the wolf-shifter’s new reality.

  “No. Doc Hartshorn says Kellan’s condition is the same. He’s still stuck in wolf form and his wounds aren’t healing. He’s not getting worse, but he’s not getting better either. Doc is still administering sedatives,” said Elis. “Says Kellan is too aggressive without them.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.” Concern for the young man filtered through Bram. Shifters tended to heal rapidly. Bram had given some of his own blood to accelerate the healing process, but so far, it hadn’t worked. As much as he wanted to try again, doing so could cause more problems. “He is in good hands.”

  “Yeah, I know,” offered Elis, a sad note in his voice.

  Kellan and Elis were best friends, and had been for just over twenty years. One was rarely without the other, and Bram knew the last month, since the attack, had been incredibly difficult for the slayer.