Spell or High Water

by ReGina Welling

  Personally, I’d always hoped the legend wasn’t true. I didn’t want to believe that one or more of the founding fathers had killed someone in cold blood to steal his land. And, although I visited the hollow regularly, I’d never been bothered by the Russian’s or any other spirit. Of course, I made it a practice to be gone before sundown. But most legends are based at least in part on fact, and anyone who’s lived on the island for any length of time will tell you there have been a number of strange and unexplained deaths on the island over the years.

  “I can’t help but think of the last time we came here together,” I said as we continued to walk. “The cats had just begun to leave then. At the time I didn’t think the solution to our problem would so difficult, but this has been a long and difficult journey that’s been going on for months. Do you think this stone is really the answer?”

  “I think it must be. Jasmina wouldn’t offer a solution she wasn’t certain would work.”

  I really hoped Tansy’s faith hadn’t been misplaced. I was worried about her, so I took my time, glancing behind me as I climbed the steep trail to make sure she was all right. I’d traveled this path many times before and knew the journey would become even more difficult before we reached the top of the bluff that overlooked the ground below. I’m not a witch and I don’t claim to understand magic the way Tansy does, but it seemed to me that if two people with a connection to the magic were required to do whatever was needed today, it would have made more sense for Bella to come with me, with Tansy waiting for us back home in Pelican Bay. I’d gone so far as to suggest such a trade, but Tansy had insisted it was her journey to make.

  After we reached the top of the bluff I stopped to look out over the view. The sun glistened off the still water of the ocean as seabirds glided above the surface, looking for their dinner. Despite the dark clouds on the horizon, I had the feeling of being able to see clear out to the edge of the world from the highest place on the island.

  “The path down into the hollow will be brutal. Are you sure you don’t just want to wait for me here?” I asked the increasingly pale and frail-looking witch.

  “I’m sure. The journey is ours to make.”

  I took a deep breath and turned back toward the narrow path. “Okay. But let me know if you need to stop.”

  “I’ll be fine, Caitlin Hart. Don’t waste any energy worrying about me.”

  Easier said than done, I thought to myself as I slowly walked down the trail so as not to tax Tansy. “Here’s the fork,” I said after we’d been walking a while. “The same one we found the last time we were here. Then we went to the left, but both paths were narrow and both went inland. Should we go to the left once again or go to the right this time?”

  “As before, I must instruct you to close your eyes and focus on the paths ahead of you,” Tansy said.

  Once again I did as she told me. Once again I asked myself which trail felt right, and once again I chose the path to the left. I just hoped I’d made the correct choice.

  “We’ll go to the left,” I said with more confidence than I felt, and I turned and headed down that trail. I could feel Tansy walking behind me, but I could also sense her distress. I hoped our journey would come to an end soon.

  Jasmina’s instruction, which she had told me to relay to Tansy was to bring the stone into the hollow and find the cavern at the very center of the island. Once I’d found it, we were both to go inside. She’d warned me that the floor would drop sharply toward the bottom of the deep cavern, but we were to continue despite the effort required to complete the journey. When we reached the bottom we’d find an altar that, Jasmina said, had existed for centuries. It was on this altar that we must leave the stone after saying a few words, which Tansy knew. Jasmina had assured me that once the gift had been accepted, the cats would begin to return to their ancestral home.

  “When Cody and I were in New Orleans we were sent on this crazy scavenger hunt that had us running all over the city for hours to find a map that, in my opinion, could have been presented to us in a much easier fashion. Do you have any idea why Jasmina or whoever drew it made things so hard?”

  “It was a test,” Tansy answered as we continued our descent toward the bottom of the hollow.

  “A test?”

  “I wasn’t apprised of the details, but I do know it was important to Jasmina only to turn the stone over to someone who was worthy of it. The stone is a very powerful object and can be used for good or evil, depending on the intention of the person who possesses it. I think Jasmina just wanted to be sure you had what it took to be temporary guardian of it until it could be returned to its rightful place.”

  I chewed on that for a minute as we continued to walk. I supposed I understood the need for a test of some sort, but the one that had been provided for us had seemed pretty random and purposeless. “I don’t understand how running around town following clues proved anything.”

  “Was it an enjoyable journey?” Tansy asked.

  “Not at all. The weather was hot and humid, and I felt like I was swaddled in a wool blanket that was slowly suffocating me in itchy dampness. I can’t remember the last time I was so uncomfortable physically.”

  “Yet you didn’t quit despite your discomfort.”

  I bit my bottom lip as I navigated a particularly steep part of the trail. “No, I didn’t quit. Trust me, I wanted to, but of course I wouldn’t. It was too important.”

  “Your commitment to the journey despite personal sacrifice shows your willingness to put the needs of others before your own. That’s an important trait for someone entrusted with magic.”

  I frowned. “I guess. It still seemed like a lot of hoopla to get a map.”

  “Were the clues easy to follow?” Tansy asked.

  I shrugged. “Yes and no. It took some good, old-fashioned detective work to find a few of the locations we were sent to, but mostly the path wasn’t too hard to follow. By the way, what was going on at Drusilla’s magic shop? She wasn’t really dead, was she?”

  “Drusilla is fine.”

  I let out a breath of relief. “Good. I was worried when I saw all that blood. I was extra-freaked out when I saw the voodoo doll. She looked exactly like me. What was up with that?”

  “I suppose it was just part of the test. There are many people who would have become overcome with fear at finding a voodoo doll that looked like them left in a puddle of blood. Most would have given up their quest right then and there.”

  I supposed Tansy had a point. I would probably have run and never looked back a few years ago, before I’d taken on the role of being a partner of the cats. I’d seen a lot of blood and a lot of death in those few years. I guess I wasn’t as easily frightened as I once had been.

  “Did you learn anything about yourself from your experience?” Tansy asked.

  I thought of Abigail Beaumont. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  Tansy paused to catch her breath. “Do you?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not really. But this one thing did happen while we were in New Orleans. Cody and I met a woman in an art gallery. She offered to give us a tour, and since I was greedily enjoying her air-conditioning, I agreed. During the course of the tour she showed us a painting of an old plantation house. I swear to you, I recognized it. It wasn’t like it looked similar to something I’d seen in the past; I was certain I’d seen that exact house. I’ve never been to Louisiana before, so having seen the house in person was pretty much impossible, yet I had a distinct memory of having been there.”

  Tansy didn’t respond, so I continued telling her. “A short time later the gallery owner showed us a photo of the couple who’d lived in the house. I immediately knew the man’s name was Pierre. It was really odd. She told us the couple had had a daughter, Abigail. The wife died shortly after Abigail was born and Pierre sent her to live with her maternal grandmother. As it turned out, she went on to lead a short but productive life. She died when she was thirty-four while trying to save the life of a youn
g boy who was drowning.”

  “And you felt a connection to this woman?” Tansy asked.

  “I did. The next day Cody showed me a photo of Abigail and she looked exactly like me. She could have been my twin. My logical mind acknowledges that we’re both of Irish descent, so it isn’t impossible that we could have similar features, but the other part of me, the part that’s walking around in a magical place with a magical rock in my backpack, is telling me there’s something more going on. I really feel like I was destined to find out about Abigail, but I don’t have any idea why.”

  “Don’t fret, Caitlin Hart. Your truth will come to you in time.”

  “I guess,” I mumbled as I mulled over all the odd things that had happened to me in the past week. Life really was a wild ride when you allowed yourself to take the path less traveled. In my wildest dreams I never imagined that my trip to New Orleans and the Bayou would have turned out the way it had.

  “And then there was the cat,” I said, remembering Baptiste.

  “You mean that cat?” Tansy stopped walking and pointed at the animal sitting on the trail ahead of us.

  “Yes, that exact cat,” I said and took a few steps forward. “How on earth did he get from Louisiana to here?”

  Tansy didn’t answer. I really hadn’t expected her to. She was always closemouthed about how things with these magical cats actually worked and I didn’t see why this should be an exception. “Never mind,” I said. “I assume he wants us to follow him.”

  “That would seem to be the reason for his presence,” Tansy agreed.

  I paused to make sure Tansy was all right, then continued on as the cat went down the trail. “Have you ever been to the bayou?” I asked her after the trail leveled off a bit.

  “I have not had the privilege.”

  “It’s an odd sort of place,” I began. “On one hand, it’s beautiful and mysterious. Teeming with life, even in the middle of the night. I found sights, scents, and sounds there that seemed vaguely familiar, but in the end I couldn’t identify them. In a way, the bayou felt as if it was alive. Not just the insects and animals that lived within it, but the whole area seemed to radiate its own energy. An odd sort of energy that both enticed and terrified me. I found I was enchanted and almost mesmerized by the sheer majesty of the place, yet it was also cruel and unyielding. It appeared to me that death comes as easily as life in the bayou. I’ve never experienced any place quite like it.”

  When Tansy didn’t respond I stopped and turned around. She was standing completely still, her face as white as a sheet.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I rather think not.”

  “Should we stop?” I felt my pulse racing as I tried to figure out how best to help my friend.

  “We must continue. I can feel the hollow screaming in pain. We must right what has been wronged.”

  “Maybe I should go on alone,” I suggested worriedly.

  “No. I must pass a test of my own. It won’t be long now.”

  I really, really hated what was going on, but I nodded and kept walking, following Baptiste. Luckily, we didn’t have far to travel before we reached the entrance to a cave. I knew the hike down would be steep, and I anticipated it might be narrow, so I insisted Tansy walk in front of me, so I could keep an eye on her.

  As we slowly descended into the dark, cold interior of the cave, I was glad the cat had appeared and taken charge of the direction of the journey. I wasn’t certain I would have entered the cave with Tansy in such bad shape if he hadn’t been there to lead the way. Over the past few years I’d followed a number of magical cats into a variety of dangerous situations, but they’d never led me anywhere I couldn’t ultimately handle.

  “The path is getting steeper,” Tansy warned me. “I think we’re nearing the end to our journey.”

  As the path leveled off, the cave widened. At the bottom of the dark, narrow trail was what looked like a large chamber. In it was an altar built of rock. I turned around where I stood, looking at various scenes that had been painted on the dirt walls, depicting a time so long ago I found myself astonished at the fact that people had lived on the island that long ago. I wondered what had happened to those very first settlers. I knew that by the time the founding fathers arrived on Madrona Island it was all but deserted, except for the Russian.

  “Do you have the stone?” Tansy asked.

  I set my backpack on the ground and opened the top. I took out the stone and offered it to Tansy. She took the stone, said a few words I couldn’t understand, then set it on the altar. As the blue stone I’d brought with me from the bayou settled on the stone of the altar, she took my hand. When we both touched the altar the cavern filled with light. I gasped.

  “You feel it,” Tansy said as energy seemed to radiate from her body.

  “I do. It’s amazing. I’ve never felt anything so powerful. So alive.” I wasn’t certain I was glowing the way Tansy was, but it certainly felt like it.

  “You have the magic, just as I do. You always have. It’s time, Caitlin Hart, for you to embrace your destiny.”

  About Kathi Daley

  USA Today best-selling author Kathi Daley lives in beautiful Lake Tahoe with her husband Ken. When she isn’t writing, she likes spending time hiking the miles of desolate trails surrounding her home. She has authored more than seventy-five books in nine series, including Zoe Donovan Cozy Mysteries, Whales and Tails Island Mysteries, Sand and Sea Hawaiian Mysteries, Tj Jensen Paradise Lake Series, Writers’ Retreat Southern Seashore Mysteries, Rescue Alaska Paranormal Mysteries, Haunting by the Sea Paranormal Mysteries, and Seacliff High Teen Mysteries.

  Find out more about her books at www.kathidaley.com

  Santa Monica Sorcery

  Heather Hamilton

  Summary

  For the fire witch Theresa Ortiz, the past few months have been a time of transition. She has become close friends and the right-hand woman of her coven’s new leader, Truly Mason, but she has also had to watch as her ex-boyfriend Aidan and Truly have become undeniably attracted to one another. Seeking a break from personal tensions—and the rising tension of potential war between fae and witches—Theresa decides to leave Maine for a holiday at her father’s house in California. But Theresa is about to get more than she ever bargained for on her summer vacation, including a new chance at love.

  SANTA MONICA SORCERY is a novella set in the universe of THE BAD LUCK WITCH.

  Chapter One

  I stepped out of LAX’s frigidly air-conditioned interior into the sunny embrace of a Los Angeles in the full bloom of early summer.

  At least, that was what I expected to do.

  Instead, as I opened the glass door and stepped out into the tepid sunshine, a chilly breeze made me pull my cotton cardigan closed over my sundress. I’d left better weather back home in Kilkeel! And that was northern Maine, for crying out loud! I certainly hoped I hadn’t wasted my one week of holidays on the one week Los Angeles decided it was really located in Wisconsin.

  A silver Mercedes screeched to a halt directly in front of me. Leaving it idling, my father got out and bounded over. “Theresa, sweetheart!” He planted a kiss on my cheek that nearly knocked me over. “You’re late. I’ve been circling for half an hour. I couldn’t remember if you were getting in at Terminal 2 or 4.” A truck honked loudly at him for blocking the lane and received a rude gesture in response. Despite the Mercedes as evidence of his prosperity, Donald Ortiz had an almost pathological aversion to paying for parking.

  “Hey, Daddy, maybe we should get in.”

  “They can go around! Let me look at you. It’s been too long since you came to visit.” By the way his teeth gleamed even in the dullness of the day, he’d had them whitened again recently.

  The driver had rolled down his window and was now yelling obscenities at us. I’d forgotten what LA was like.

  “Dad, c’mon!”

  “Fine, fine. Give me your bag.” He popped the trunk and dropped my carry-on in.


  We got into the car, and my father jerked the wheel and pulled into the next lane, eliciting more angry honks from the car he cut off. “Two years, honey. That’s too long.”

  I suppressed a sigh. “I know. I know. Work has been busy. I honestly haven’t been able to get away.” Of course, it was my work with the Circle, the ruling coven on the East Coast, which had kept me away, not my job at the State Capital.

  “I don’t know why you stay in Maine. I know you want to take care of your mother, but…”

  “Don’t start, Dad.” When he grimaced but didn’t otherwise respond, I let myself relax into the warmth of the heated leather seats. “At least it’s actually summer in Maine. What’s with this weather? I checked the forecast yesterday and it said LA was going to be hot and sunny the whole week.”

  My father shrugged “It started this morning without any warning. Freaky. Probably just a cold front coming in from Canada.”

  As he navigated his way out of the complex of roads surrounding the airport and onto the highway, I didn’t bother telling him how improbable it was that a cold front had come down that far without some advance notice. My father had always had a sketchy grasp of the geography outside of the US.

  “Well, I hope it clears up soon,” I said hopefully, but through the side view mirror, I could see the dark clouds hovering over the ocean beyond LAX, preparing to sweep into the city.

  “You and me both. I’ve got a showing this afternoon with this guy who just moved here from Scotland, and Beverly Hills always looks better in the sun.”