by Iris Kincaid
The following evening, Morgan found himself in possession of a winning ten-thousand-dollar ticket. And a fiancé who was a witch. The couple held hands as Morgan’s mind continued to swirl around this new revelation.
“So, does this mean that you’re not actually a meteorology whiz?” Morgan wondered.
“I barely know how to spell it. But I can tell you the weather forecast for next week, next month, and next year—temperature, inches of snow, hurricanes, everything. Your family is never going to go out into a dangerous sea, and no other Oyster Cove family either.”
“And you know what’s going to happen . . . with us?”
Martine hesitated. “I’m not really the trusting kind, or at least, I never used to be. I think I probably would have run away from you and your family if I didn’t know that I was meant to be with you.”
“Well, I must have some kind of special powers myself, ’cause I knew that from almost the moment I met you. The whole family knew it.”
The certainty of the Beaumont family that she belonged with them may not have had its roots in witch powers, but it was strong and unshakable nonetheless. Martine could not have asked for a warmer haven. Her former aversion to family ties became a distant memory.
She increasingly thought of Morgan’s family as her own. And one priceless benefit of life with the Beaumonts—they were smart enough to know that the most perfect way to celebrate a twenty-sixth birthday was to throw a bouncy house party!
*****
“At least this girl will be able to squeeze information out of the Hatches. It doesn’t appear that they were directly responsible for my demise, but there’s no telling what they may have collectively witnessed,” Lilith mused.
“At least we now know that Fiona was able to strengthen herself with Arabella’s heart. Though, that still does not confirm guilt for either of them,” Delphine said.
“Fiona must be interrogated by someone who poses no threat to her. That is when she will let her guard down.”
As if she could sense herself being discussed right that moment, Fiona walked across the path of Delphine’s boutique window, glancing inside indifferently. Then, she stopped in her tracks and peered inside, staring in the direction of Lilith’s spirit. With a contemptuous smile, she continued on her way.
Lilith bristled. “She never used to be able to sense the dead. Her powers have grown.”
“As long as it does not imperil the safety and well-being of those sweet transplant beneficiaries, I will try to see that the matter is thoroughly investigated.”
Lilith was willing to leave it at that. But there was no question in her mind that the safety and well-being of the transplant witches were expendable. Her vengeance would take precedence above all other things.
Notes from the Author
Be sure to check on Amazon.com for the entire One Part Witch Series.
Next up – The Witch’s Strength – coming in April 2018
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Iris Kincaid