by Amy Boyles
Thorne cupped my hand and brought it to his lips. He brushed his mouth over my knuckles, spreading warmth across my skin.
His chest heaved as he inhaled. “I’ll help. We’ll go to Magnolia Cove and see what we can find out.”
My stomach flipped with excitement. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
Charming
“This is Magnolia Cove?” I turned to Thorne. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m sure.”
What lay in front of me was a crumbling town. Bald patches, where shingles should have been, made the roofs of the houses look like patchwork quilts. The shrubs, which should have been in bloom, were dark brown, the life sucked from them. The colors of the buildings were drab, as if they’d been painted in grime.
“Where do we go?” I said.
Thorne led the way down the street. “I have no idea. Let’s see what happens.”
I cringed as we walked. The place seemed barren, empty. I was expecting a tumbleweed to roll past any second. “Are you sure there’s even anyone living here?”
“I’m not sure about much,” Thorne said, “but you wanted to come.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, “throw that on me, why don’t you?”
Thorne winked. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“Hold it right there.”
A jolt of fear zipped like electricity down my limbs. “Who said that?”
“I did.”
I whirled around to see a short old lady, heavily rounded at the waist, pointing a shotgun at us.
I nearly laughed. She was facing off against a vampire and a witch. I seriously doubted her shotgun would have much effect on us.
“Who the heck are y’all?” the lady said.
“Well,” I started to explain, but was cut off when a flash of light plumed next to her and a couple appeared.
The man had dark hair that was cut in a razor-sharp line at his chin, and the woman had long cinnamon- and honey-colored hair. It was full of thick waves that cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall.
“Vampire,” the man sneered.
I groaned. Seriously. That was the worst thing to say to Thorne. Pointing out that he was a vampire annoyed him. I should know, because I used to do the same thing.
Thorne tensed. I could practically feel the air become thick with anger. “Got a problem with that?” Thorne said.
The man took a step forward. “I do. We have a problem with your kind.”
Thorne scoffed. “Join the club. About half the population has a problem with my kind. So, if you don’t have anything better to offer than that, Werewolf, maybe you should just mosey on along.”
Werewolf? Weren’t they dangerous? Like, couldn’t they turn me into a werewolf?
I nearly slapped myself. Here I was worried about being turned into a werewolf when my boyfriend was a vampire.
I should really rethink some stuff in my life. Like, seriously.
I splayed out my hands. “Wait a minute, y’all. We’re visiting this town, but we come in peace. No one wants to hurt anyone.”
“Speak for yourself,” Thorne muttered.
I shot him a look full of flaming daggers. “Like I said, no one is here to start trouble.”
The man, or werewolf, folded his arms and glared at us. “Then why have you come?”
My lower lip trembled. I had never spoken to strangers about Blake and I didn’t know if these people were friend or foe, but I had to take the risk and find out.
“We’re looking for a man.”
“What man?” the old lady said. “We’ve got a lot of men here. About a thousand. Maybe more. I don’t remember the last time we took a census.”
“Well, he’s not exactly a man,” I admitted. “He’s a vampire.”
The werewolf’s eyes narrowed to slits. A shiver ran down my back. I did not, I repeat—I did not want to meet this guy in a dark alley. No way. No how. That was absolutely the last thing I wanted.
“What vampire are you looking for?” he asked.
“His name is Blake Calhoun.”
The man and woman exchanged a look. The old lady stroked her chin before pulling a corncob pipe from her pocket and shoving it between her teeth.
“What the heck do you want with him? You his friend?”
“No,” I nearly shouted. “I’m not his friend. Blake Calhoun may be responsible for my father’s death. We last heard he was here, in Magnolia Cove. So we came to find him.”
Thorne cocked a brow. “That was before we received such a warm welcome,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.
I elbowed his arm. “What my friend means to say is, we weren’t expecting to see folks with a shotgun. That’s all. No big deal. We can handle it, but it’s a bit of a shock.”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed. “So,” he said in typical Thorne terseness, “are you going to help us, or should we look somewhere else? Perhaps we can find assistance from people who aren’t looking to take off our heads.”
The young woman stepped forward. “I’m sorry for all the confusion. Y’all are right. Blake Calhoun has been here, but we don’t know where he is.”
“Oh.” My hopes shattered against the ground. “Well, thank you for telling us.” I glanced up at Thorne. “Maybe we should be on our way.”
“We’re looking for him, too,” the man said. “Maybe you can help us.”
Thorne’s lips peeled back in a sneer. “You wanting to get over your dislike of me?”
“No more than you’re wanting to get over your distrust of me, Vampire,” the man said.
The young woman splayed out her arms. “Axel, that’s enough.” She smiled at us. “You’ll have to excuse my husband. We’ve had a trying few weeks.” She pointed to the houses. “This—all of this—the way our town looks, it’s because of Blake. It’s his doing. We’re trying to find him, searching him out, but the process is slow.”
I stared again at the crumbling buildings. “You said he did this?”
She nodded.
The woman’s face pinched in sadness, and in that moment I knew what I had to do—I had to help her. I had to do whatever I could to stop Blake Calhoun from continuing to hurt other people.
I grabbed Thorne’s arm and dragged him closer. “My name is Charming Calhoun, no relation to Blake.” I cringed. “Okay, there might be some relation, but I’m on the witch side of the family and he’s on the vampire side. This surly man is Thorne Blackwood. We’re looking for Blake and want to help in any way that we can.”
The woman extended her hand. “I’m Pepper Reign. This is my husband, Axel.”
He grunted in reply.
She pointed at the old lady. “This is my grandmother, Betty Craple. Betty, you can stop pointing the shotgun at them.”
Betty glared at us for a minute; then she slowly lowered the barrel. “All right. I guess these two are okay. At least, they seem to be trustworthy.”
“We are,” I said. “We are absolutely trustworthy.” I pointed to the buildings. “What happened here?”
Pepper directed me to their cottage. “Come on in and we’ll tell you everything.”
I willingly followed them inside, but Thorne hemmed and hawed until finally I yanked his arm. “You’re coming with me, and you will lose this bad attitude of yours.”
“I don’t have a bad attitude,” he argued.
“Yes, you do. Now put a sock in it. I didn’t know you had a problem with werewolves until now.”
“Werewolves and vampires do not get along,” he growled.
“Well, try,” I nearly shouted. “For my sake.”
“Fine,” he snarled. “But I won’t like it.”
I glared at him until Thorne’s expression softened. “Fine. I’ll be nice. Very nice. I’ll do this for you—because I care about you.”
My own heart opened, and I softened to him. “Now, was that so hard to do?”
“Yes,” he grumbled.
I rolled my eyes. “No, it wasn’t. There’s
no point in you pretending that it was difficult. Now come on, let’s see what happened.”
The inside of the cottage looked normal enough. A fire burned in the hearth, and Betty pulled a pan of cornbread from the flames. “Anyone want a snack?”
“Yes, please,” I said.
“No, thank you,” Thorne grumbled.
I shot him a look, and he grunted with displeasure. “Fine. Yes, please. I’ll take a piece of cornbread, even though I’m a vampire,” he murmured.
I shook my head as my gaze washed across the ceiling. Why me? Why had I chosen to care about this big, burly, difficult man?
Often we have no say in who we love or care for. But I did not want to get into the whole L-O-V-E conversation, not right now, not when there was a vampire to find.
Axel pointed to some chairs around a table and we sat. Betty waddled up and served each of us a slice of cornbread and sweet tea. I slathered a good-sized pat of butter atop mine and drizzled honey on it. I mean, might as well make the cornbread as moist as I could. The last thing I wanted was to have a coughing fit at the table.
Axel waited until we were settled before he started to explain.
“Blake Calhoun broke apart a magical heart that used to burn in the fireplace of this very house. That heart fueled the magic in our town.”
Pepper draped a long, lithe hand atop Axel’s. “Now our town is dying. The heart itself split into four pieces that were scattered. We’ve found one of them, but we’re looking for the other three.”
Before I had a chance to ask about the pieces, Betty spoke. “Each piece has its own magic, and whoever finds it is given power, strange power. Nothing like we’re used to as witches, that is.”
My interest was piqued. “What sort of power?”
“The man we found before, in Haunted Hollow, Alabama, could turn objects into gold.”
“The Midas touch,” Thorne mused.
Axel nodded. “We were able to keep the piece from Blake, and it’s hidden someplace where he won’t find it. But there are three more.”
“And until you find them, your town will continue to die?” I asked.
Pepper’s mouth dipped into a frown. “That’s right. We’re afraid that at some point it could affect our own powers, but for now we’re all okay.”
I nibbled the inside of my lip. Her fear was a very strong possibility. After all, when I’d first arrived in Witch’s Forge, all the witches and wizards had wonky magic, and it was attributed to the fact that the power in the town was itself broken.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“We’re working day and night to fix this,” Pepper explained. “We don’t know where Blake is right now, but if we need your help…”
“And your particular talents,” Axel added, “can we reach out to you?”
Thorne quirked a brow. “Our talents? You mean my abilities as a vampire?” Before Axel could answer, Thorne spoke. “Listen, I might be a vampire, but that doesn’t mean I have any sort of ‘in’ with Calhoun. We’re not friends and I’m not buddies with him.”
“No one said that you were,” Axel said gruffly. “I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking to Charming, about her magical abilities. She’s an elemental witch, isn’t she?”
Thorne’s cheeks burned bright red. I laid a hand on his arm to soothe his wounded little vampire ego. “Yes, I’m an elemental witch. But what sort of things should we look out for? When it comes to the pieces of heart that are still missing?”
“Strange oddities,” Betty explained. “Things that make no sense. Something out of a warped fairy tale.”
Well that narrows it down.
It didn’t narrow it down at all. I understood about the man with the Midas touch, but without anything concrete to really search for, I was wading in the middle of the ocean, unsure of which way to turn.
But I guessed there wasn’t exactly a road map for this sort of thing. They were winging it as much as I would be.
Thorne rose. “We’ll do what we can, stay alert if anything strange happens.”
And just like that, our meeting was over. I rose and shook hands with them. “Thank you so much for taking the time to explain what’s going on. If you happen to see Blake Calhoun—”
“I’ll call you.” Pepper gave me a genuine smile, and I had the feeling that she would keep her word. “Without a doubt, we’ll call.”
To my surprise, Thorne shook Axel’s hand. “It was nice meeting you,” Thorne said gruffly.
“The pleasure was all mine,” Axel replied tightly.
For some reason I had the feeling that both men were lying.
Figured that I couldn’t take Thorne anywhere without him getting into a testosterone-filled man fight over who was the toughest.
That was absolutely a vampire thing, something that I would never understand.
I took Thorne’s arm, and we exited the cottage. As we walked back to Thorne’s Jaguar, I eyed the town, noticing how drab and sad it was.
Thorne opened the passenger door and gestured for me to enter. “What are you thinking?”
I gripped the lip of the door and stared out at Magnolia Cove. “I’m thinking that you and I need to help these people. But first you need to talk to Leopold. See if he can help us with the other vampires, get them on our side.”
“Fine, I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you, then we can try to find one of the pieces of the heart.”
“How’re we going to do that?” he asked.
I clicked my tongue. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something.”
Charming
“Charming,” Aunt Rose said, “Pig needs her walk. I’ve just placed this pink dye in my hair, and it needs some time to set. Do you think you could walk her for me?”
I stood in the kitchen of the magical house I shared with my mother, Glinda, my great-aunt Rose, a broom that liked to spank people for no apparent reason, a flaming skull that spoke, and Pig, a potbellied swine with a penchant for matchmaking people.
Aunt Rose sat at the breakfast table, her hair plastered with what looked like purple goop.
“Why are you going pink?” I asked, because clearly that was more important than saying yes to taking Pig out.
“In case you haven’t noticed, the carnival is in town.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” I said. “Mayor Dixon wants me to matchmake the carnival owner.”
Rose’s eyelashes fluttered in rapid-fire blinking. “Is he handsome? Not that I’m interested,” she added coyly, “but you know how hard it is for men of a particular age to keep their hands off me.”
“That’s true,” Mama said, sailing in wearing a mint-colored chiffon gown. “We all remember how your last boyfriend turned out to be a three-thousand-year-old mummy.”
Rose pouted. “It’s a shame that not only was he intent on destroying Witch’s Forge, but that we only had a few moments together before he wound up back in his sarcophagus.”
“Yes,” Mama said dryly, “quite the shame. But”—she turned her attention to me, her eyes sparkling with delight—“did I hear you say something about a carnival, Charming?”
“It’s in town.” I nodded. “How have you missed it?”
Mama clutched her head. “I’ve been inside since yesterday. Horrible headache.” She threaded her fingers through her silky red hair. “It’s gone now, thank the heavens, but it really put me out.”
Rose grinned at me and held up Pig’s leash. “Her walk?”
I glanced down at the snorting creature. She was truly adorable with her little snout and delicate ears. Even her oinks were charming. Everything about the little pig was absolutely sweet as pie.
But that didn’t mean I felt like walking her.
I pointed to my bathrobe. “I’m not exactly dressed.”
Mama pressed her finger to my arm, and an electric jolt snaked up my skin. “Ouch!”
She floated past me to the coffee maker. “Now you’re dressed. You can walk Pig.”
I gazed at my clothing and snickered. “I’m dressed in a muumuu. I look like an old lady.”
Rose tapped the edge of her cup with a red fingernail. “Now, Charming, I resent that. I’m an old lady and even I don’t dress that badly.”
I grabbed Pig’s leash from her. “Thanks for the compliment, Rose,” I said, not meaning a word of it.
“You’re welcome,” she said brightly.
“Come on, Pig.”
I clipped the lead on Pig and led her outside. She’d just finished her business when the mayor hustled over from across the street.
“Charming! Have you been to the carnival yet?”
I inwardly groaned but knew I had a job to do. If the mayor wanted me to match Pig with another swine, I would do it. Heck, I was under contract and had no choice.
“Sorry, Mayor,” I said, “I haven’t met him yet, but rest assured,” I added in my perkiest voice, “I’m going over today, as soon as I finish walking Pig. Don’t you worry, I’m going to meet that carnival owner and find him the absolute best match that I can.”
As the mayor listened to me, her gaze floated up and down my muumuu. I wanted to dive under a bush and never be seen again.
“Well, um.” The mayor pointed to my clothes. “Just make sure you change your clothes before you do. That’s not exactly a presentable outfit.”
“Mayor, are you being clothes-ist?”
She plumped the bottom of her curled hair. “I’m sure I don’t know what that is, but I’m not it. I am the most inviting person I know. What I’m saying is that you represent the town of Witch’s Forge, and as that, you are her employee.”
“So don’t wear the muumuu,” I said.
“That’s right. Don’t wear the muumuu.” She gave me a finger wave. “Toodle-oo! I’ll see you!”
As soon as the mayor was out of earshot, I glanced down at Pig. “She didn’t like my outfit. I blame my mother.”