Maxie Duncan Box Set

by Webb, Melissa L.

  “Jensen?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking back up, puzzled by my change in tone.

  “Do you really hate Halloween?”

  “Oh. That,” he said before going back to scribbling, clearly dismissing the topic.

  “Come on. What’s so terrible about the holiday?”

  Setting his pen down, he pushed the papers to the side. Good. I finally had his full attention. “There is nothing wrong with Halloween, Maxie,” he told me as he stepped closer. “It’s just more of a human holiday then ours. One night a year, they think it’s cool to pretend to rub shoulders with the unknown. Then they spend the rest of the year denying it even exists.” He shook his head, disgusted by the way people were. “It’s all a game to them. It’s not real life. And it offends a lot of us.”

  “But they don’t know any better. I didn’t know any better.”

  “I know, Max. But can’t you understand our point of view? Why celebrate something that showcases us as either evil and grotesque, or silly and fake?”

  I could feel my lips drawing down in a pout. If I couldn’t convince Jensen, I wasn’t going to convince any of them. It looked like Halloween was out of the question this year. As well as every other year for the rest of my life.

  He knew my pouty face too well. Stepping closer, he placed his hands on my hips. “Hey,” he said, holding my gaze. “It’s not that bad. Supernaturals have holidays humans don’t.”

  I pushed him back as I climbed down from the counter. “Yeah, it’s not the same.”

  “Maxie,” he said, grabbing my hand. I could tell he wanted to pull me close again, but was afraid of how I might react. “We’ll still make a night of it. We could go out. Or we can stay in. Whatever you want to do. Just…no Halloween.”

  As tempting as an evening curled up on the couch with Jensen was, my heart just wasn’t in it. It wouldn’t be the same. I wanted what I had grown up with. Costumes, candy, and some scares. I wanted my Halloween.

  With a sigh, I pulled away from him, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, worry in his voice. “You’re not mad, are you?”

  Mad? I was furious. Couldn’t he see how much this meant to me? He supposedly wanted nothing more than to make me happy. Why couldn’t he give me this?

  “No,” I lied. “I have to go meet Harry. He wants to work on potions today.” Sadness clung to me as I headed out the door to my car, Jensen watching me silently from inside. I needed to figure out a way to celebrate my favorite holiday, even if it meant doing it alone.

  Like I said, I was stubborn at times.

  

  Dropping more alder bark into the pot, I stirred it three times in complete circles just as Harry had shown me. I knew there was more to being a witch than throwing raw energy around; there was a real art to it, as well as a responsibility. Witches tend to rearrange the very essence of things. I needed to learn this stuff. I agreed wholeheartedly. But putting me in charge of brewing a potion was a lot like putting me in charge of a deep fryer. And we all knew how that turned out.

  I tossed in some sage from the bowl next to me. My mind wasn’t on the luck spell we were brewing. How could I concentrate on something when I was too busy lamenting my old way of life and everything that went with it?

  I absently grabbed a bowl off the shelf behind me, taking a pinch of the brown stuff out. Oh, well. The sooner I finished what I was doing, the sooner I could placate myself with some retail therapy.

  I leaned closer to the pot, ready to sprinkle the brown powder into my mixture.

  “No,” Harry yelled suddenly from across the room. “Don’t add that.”

  His outburst made me twitch, causing my fingers to snap open of their own accord. The powder slipped out, falling straight for my liquid. I watched with morbid curiosity, wondering what would happen when the two substances met.

  “Get down,” my mentor hissed as he ran towards me. Well, you don’t have to tell me that twice.

  Dropping, I slid under the table I had been standing at. The older man slid under the table with the grace of a cat and twice as fast, coming to rest next to me.

  Harry muttered something under his breath and energy poured out of him, glowing emerald green as it coated around us, cradling us in a bubble of protection.

  It wasn’t a moment too soon. The floor trembled below us, as an explosion rocked overhead. I cringed, imagining what kind of condition my accident had left Harry’s workroom in. Looking over at the man next to me, panic squeezed my heart. What had I destroyed of his? Was the room even still standing? Well…it was nice having his help while it lasted.

  To my surprise, he let out a deep sigh, patted my knee reassuringly, and dropped his energy, crawling out from under the table. Reluctantly, I followed.

  Coughing, I fanned the smoke away from my face. The place was a charred mess. My potion dripped from the walls. Shrapnel from the pot stuck out of the furniture here and there. The large window facing Harry’s horse stables was shattered, the musky scent of horses and hay tickling my nose as the breeze blew in off the pasture.

  Okay, now I was surely in trouble.

  Harry turned towards me, a slight frown on his lips. “Obviously, that wasn’t the right bowl,” he said with a slight trace of humor.

  He thought this mess was funny? “I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t…I don’t know what happened. What was that stuff?”

  The owner of L.A.’s trendiest restaurant and fellow witch shrugged as he tried to pull a piece of metal from the antique desk near the window. “It’s something I’ve been working on. Very potent stuff as you can see.” He gave up trying, his shoulders sagging a little before he turned back to me. “I said grab the orange bowl next to it.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. He had been walking me through the potion step by step and I messed it up because my head was someplace else.

  Harry watched me with sympathetic eyes as my guilt grew thicker, turning my cheeks crimson no doubt. I was such an idiot.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, walking over to me instead. “Something’s on your mind, my dear. What has you so distracted?”

  I shook my head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I told him, picking up a chair from the floor, and setting it back against the table.

  Grabbing the chair before I could slide it in, he captured my attention. “Is it Ryan? Are you still grieving over what happened between you?”

  I felt a hitch in my breath at the thought of America’s Golden Boy and what he’d sacrificed to save me. Yes, Ryan was still on my mind. He would always be on my mind. “No, it’s not him.”

  “Is it his father?”

  “No. Richard Everheart is lying low these days. The attacks have even stopped. I’m not too worried about him right now,” I told him with a shrug. “Whatever happens, happens. Sitting around worrying about it isn’t going to help.”

  “Good,” he approved with a sagely nod. “What is it, then, that has you so frazzled, child?”

  As I looked into his worried eyes, I started feeling very silly. Compared to everything else going on in my life, Halloween should be the last thing on my mind. Or maybe it was the fact I couldn’t worry about that stuff anymore that made my focus had settle on something so trivial.

  “It’s just…” I started, feeling my cheeks grow warm once again. “Why is Halloween such a taboo subject? I say the word and people act like I’ve cursed their children or something.”

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but it was pretty darn close.

  Harry was silent, staring at me with a strange look on his face. I knew it. I was being a silly little girl.

  He threw his head back and laughed, deep and full, making me feel even more foolish. “You are something else, Maxie Duncan. I forget the world can be so innocent sometimes, but you never fail to remind me of that.”

  Well, what did I say to that? “I’m sorry?”

  “No, my dear. It’s a good thing. It lets me
know the world hasn’t been jaded beyond repair.” He stepped closer, taking my hands in his. “Maxie, Supernaturals have their reasons for wanting to hide from this day, but…maybe it’s time to remind them they can celebrate who they are without conforming to the stereotypes. Talk to them. Remind them what this holiday used to mean.”

  Used to mean. A thought started forming at those words. They took shape, becoming surer by the second. “I’ve got to go,” I told him, excited by the possibilities.

  “You go ahead,” Harry told me. “Help your friends find the joy this day brings you.”

  I looked around the room, sidestepping a drip of slime as it rained down from the ceiling. “Sorry about the mess.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. Nothing is permanent.” He raised his arms, sweeping them in a grand gesture, like a conductor bringing his symphony to life.

  Before my eyes, the room started putting itself back together. In a matter of moments, Harry’s workshop was as good as new.

  I shook my head as he gave me a knowing smile. It was good to have magic. “Now go on,” he told me, reaching for his potion supplies. “You have a lot to do.”

  Yes. Yes, I did. It was time to find the true essence of Halloween. It was time to plan a party.

  

  I sat on my bed, flipping through the old book I picked up at Jensen’s. As I read the words on the pages, I grew more confused. Halloween used to be a sacred holiday to the Celts. It was a celebration of the death of the old harvest, and the start of a new year.

  The veils separating us from the other side were the thinnest at this time, causing Supernaturals to become more powerful. It was an honored day where you could let your freak flag fly. Why did they hate it so much now?

  A holiday this sacred, this infused with magic, should be celebrated. And in style. And if anyone could do that; it was me.

  Flipping through a few more pages, I stopped, staring down at the spell in front of me. I had found my solution. It was a spell to awaken the spirit of Samhain. A spell to bring back what once was. That was exactly what I needed. My friends needed to find the joy this day once provided. It needed to be honored once again.

  Grabbing a few candles, I placed them around my room, dimming my light as they were lit. Sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by the flickering flames, I felt the power hum in my veins. It was ready. I hoped I was.

  Glancing down at the book in my lap, I stared at the words, taking them into my soul. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and began to recite them.

  “The old fires are dying. The old ways forgotten. The old spirit draws to the end.” I took in another deep breath, continuing, “Now is the time to start anew. I breathe life in the spirit once again. Awaken. Awaken, now. What once was, shall be again.”

  As I said the last words, I felt the surge of power burning in my nerves rush out of me like a gust of wind. It swept through my room, rattling my things. Hitting the walls, it kept going, spreading throughout Enchantment Cove.

  As I stood up, putting out the candles around me, my legs wobbled. I felt drained, but good. My essence had sealed the spell, sending it on its quest with the speed of lightning. I couldn’t help the smile spreading across my lips. I had a feeling things were going to be a lot more festive from now on.

  

  I pulled up outside the Cove. I had finished the evening shift at the Hotel DenMark and I was looking forward to a long soak in my tub. After that, I would start in on party plans. There was so much needing done, and hardly any time to do it. I wanted this to be the biggest, baddest party anyone had ever seen.

  I needed to find a caterer, hire a D.J., get some killer decorations, and figure out where the heck I was even going to hold it. I knew I wanted it at the Cove. It would be a coming out party for me. Show the world I was witch and proud. It would also be a great way to make friends and say hello to all the Supernaturals in the building.

  But as big as the apartments were there, (And I mean big. I’ve seen 5-star suites smaller than the apartment we live in.) I just didn’t know where I’d find a space big enough to accommodate 100 tenants and all their family and friends.

  Well, if everything went according to plan, I’d have some help figuring that out. Fingers crossed.

  Equipping the alarm on my little red convertible, I headed across the parking lot, lists and ideas swirling through my mind. I was so busy preplanning my fantastic soirée, I didn’t notice the ground trembling under my feet. Not until I lurched forward, the ground practically rolling under me.

  I leaned down, fearing for my life, my car alarm going off behind me. What was going on? Why had the stable earth I had always taken for granted, suddenly decided to rise up and revolt?

  Another wave knocked me to my knees as I grew nauseous, riding the ground like waves under a boat. Moisture had formed on my skin, turning it cold and clammy. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

  As I closed my eyes, begging myself to hold on, the movement stopped. All was still around me, tranquil even, except for my blaring car alarm. Gingerly picking myself up off the ground, I swayed slightly in my heels, as I dusted off my work slacks. Well, now. That was different.

  Hurrying to my car, I shut off its angry blasts of warning, then turned and all but ran for the building. I didn’t want to be out there alone if the ground decided to do that again. Pushing in my code, I hurried into the apartment lobby as fast as I could. I may be a witch, but that was just weird.

  “Hey,” a voice greeted me as I leaned against a plush red velvet couch to catch my breath.

  I glanced up, muttering a hello as I took in my roommate’s boyfriend.

  Danny must have seen the worry in my features (no doubt, I was as white as a sheet), because he suddenly grinned. “So now you’ve lived through your first earthquake, Max. You’ve officially been welcomed to California.”

  I stood there on shaky legs, staring up at him. Was he insane? “You mean this happens all the time?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Get used to them. They’re easier to sleep through that way,” he told me like it was no big deal. He stepped past me with a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I have to go sub for a night class, but Van’s upstairs. She’s been dying to talk to you all evening.” He gave me a knowing smile before heading out.

  I watched him go; still trying to calm my nerves from the ride the parking lot had put me through. So that was something I needed to get used to? I was beginning to question my decision to move out west. I wasn’t likely to get thrown around by the ground in my home state of Maine. Well, if everyone in California could get used to it, I guess I could.

  It wasn’t as if I hadn’t experienced worst things since I arrived here. At least this was something totally natural.

  Straightening my rumpled clothes, my head held high, I headed back to the elevator. I could shrug this off as nothing more than an inconvenience; after all, I had more important things to worry about.

  Pulling open the gated doors of the old cage elevator, I giggled in delight. Someone had strung a battery-powered string of lights from the ceiling. A soft purple glow filled the space, welcoming me in. I pushed the button for the seventh floor and rode up in silence. I had to wonder who had put the lights there. Obviously, the spirit of Halloween was waking up around me. I could only hope there was more to come.

  The elevator stopped and I let myself out, glancing around as I headed down the hallway. Did the lights really mean what I thought they did? Could it be that I had really brought the joy of Halloween back to these people?

  The hall looked as normal as ever. Nothing spoke All Hallow’s Eve to me. That is, until I turned the corner to our apartment. There on my door, like a sign welcoming me home, was a giant, fluffy, black wreath. It was covered in spiders, pumpkins, bats, crows, and silver glitter. It looked like Martha Stewart had thrown up on it, and I absolutely loved it.

  Yay! Halloween was here. And it had presented itself at my door.

  I let myself in, hurrying into
the parlor. I hung my coat up, still lost in my pleasant stupor. I was going to celebrate Halloween after all.

  “Van,” I called, tossing my purse onto a table. I wondered what else they had in store for me.

  “In here,” Van called back, her voice racing towards me from the kitchen with bubbly cheer.

  I followed it, her cheer infecting me with every step. I knew this season was going to be the best I’d ever had. I could practically feel that old Fall magic oozing from every pore.

  Van turned and smiled at me, a spatula in one hand, mixing spoon in the other. She wore a pink lacey apron currently sprinkled with flour. The sweet smell of baking cookies wafted from the oven.

  Raising my eyebrows, I stared at my friend. Of all the time I had spent living with Van, I had never seen her domestic. And three months was a long time. “What ya doing?” I asked her innocently, practically drooling over the smells fighting for dominance around me. “Is that hot apples I smell?”

  Van grinned at me, pointing her cookie dough covered spoon at a large pot on the burners. “I made hot apple cider. Help yourself.”

  Well, I wasn’t going to say no to cider, even if it was a little out of character for Van. Her weirdness was my gain. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, I helped myself to the steaming liquid. I took a small sip, never taking my eyes off the pixie.

  Oh, yeah. Just like our cook used to make. Now if only I could have made the leaves change in So. Cal., it would have felt as if I was home.

  Humming quietly to herself, Van placed small blobs of cookie dough on a greased cookie sheet.

  I took another sip and decided to say something. “So when did you become Betty Crocker?” I asked, stealing a warm cookie off a plate nearby. Yum. Snickerdoodle.