Spell or High Water

by ReGina Welling

  The Heart of the World directed its attention to Mac. “Water witch, I called you as well through your bloodline. The elves owe all the Hearts a debt, though it is not in their nature to acknowledge it directly. But I found one who would hear me, and she found you. The solstice is waning, and I cannot pass the barrier which protects World’s End without risking my new fire. You will shield me with your power and escort me to my home as you have already proven yourself capable of doing.”

  Mac gave the dragon a courtly bow. “It would be my honor.” With a flourish of his hands, he enveloped the dragon in a second skin made of seawater. The Heart spread its wings and leaped into the air, then twisted and dove straight down like an arrow into the ocean. With a jaunty wave, Mac followed.

  I heard the dragon’s voice in my mind as he disappeared into the depths of the Pacific. “One last gift. Burn bright, little spark.”

  I watched the waves as they churned once and then stilled before turning my attention to Josh. I’d only just finished calling 911 for an ambulance when Mac returned, riding on a wave which deposited him on the deck in front of me.

  He staggered a little, gasping for air. “Damn, I’m parched. Hours?”

  “Two minutes.”

  “Astounding.” His smile was as brilliant as sunshine.

  Sunshine.

  The sun was shining.

  I looked up at the sky in shock. “But it has to be almost midnight!”

  This was the Heart’s gift, and it was completely, utterly, beautifully impossible. The sun couldn’t move out of its position to shine down on Santa Monica like it was mid-day, and yet there it was. The snow was already starting to melt, and the breeze was soft and warm.

  It was magic.

  Mac’s quiet laughter was filled with wonder. “Well, that’s a summer solstice for the record books.”

  When he looked at me, I saw tears in his eyes. My breath caught as he took my hand. I could feel the pulse of his witch blood drawing me closer and closer. Then I was in his arms and his lips were on mine, and I was falling…

  I was actually falling! My legs had gone numb with cold, and my heart had skipped a beat—not in a romantic way, but in the I might be having a heart attack sort of way! Weak and nauseous, I clutched at Mac to steady myself, but when he swayed and nearly pulled us both down, I pushed myself away.

  Almost immediately, warmth and feeling returned to my limbs. Gasping, we stared at one another with dawning realization.

  Mac took a ragged breath. “A fish and a bird might fall in love…”

  “But where would they live?” I finished the quote.

  His lips quirked up into a rueful smile. “Water and fire—they can’t exist in the same space together. Our powers nullify each other.”

  I didn’t want to believe it. “Maybe there’s something we can do, some way to make it work!”

  It wasn’t fair. We finished each other’s sentences. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

  But Mac was already shaking his head. “We are what we are, Theresa. We need to be true to that. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned through the years, it’s that love shouldn’t be that hard.”

  We were interrupted by the arrival of the paramedics, but there was nothing left to say. After Josh was strapped onto a stretcher and bundled into the back of the ambulance, Mac and I got in our separate cars. We followed the ambulance to the start of the pier and the main road, but when I turned right towards the hospital, he turned left.

  I perched myself on the end of the hospital bed and crossed my legs. My red sundress had a slit high enough to make things interesting, and despite the fact that it was a scorcher outside, I hadn’t put on a sunhat when I left the house. That was part of the Heart’s last gift to me. Pale Irish skin be damned—I could now stay out in the sun I loved as long as I wanted and never burn!

  I patted Josh’s leg. “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re going home today.”

  He opened one eye. “I was just enjoying the view unobserved.”

  “Oh, one good near drowning and death by exposure and you’ve developed superpowers, have you?”

  Smiling rakishly, he opened his other eye. “It’s a skill I developed at MIT. People say all kinds of interesting things when they think you’re asleep.”

  “That’s sneaky.”

  His smile widened. “That’s smart.” When he sat up, I saw he was already dressed and ready to go under the blanket. Sneaky indeed. “Have you heard anything else about our little buddy?” That’s what he called the child he thought he’d saved on Santa Monica Pier.

  Suppressing a sigh, I passed him his glasses. I hated lying to Josh, but the truth was inconceivable. “His parents called when they got back to Toronto. He’s doing fine. They wanted you to know they’re grateful you found him, but I got the sense they just want to put this all behind them. I think they’re a little ashamed they didn’t realize he’d snuck out of the hotel after they put him to bed.”

  “It’s amazing how far he got on his own dressed like that! I just wish I could have seen him to say goodbye.”

  I hopped off the bed. “Well, you were out cold, and they had a plane to catch.”

  He nodded. “Tell me what happened again? It’s still fuzzy.”

  I pulled the wheelchair out from behind the curtain. “I will if you get in.”

  Josh stood and his jaw set in that stubborn way I was beginning to recognize. “No way. I’m not getting pushed around in that thing! It’s embarrassing!”

  I smiled sweetly. “Get in, or you can get yourself home. And since I’m driving your car…”

  Muttering something mildly profane under his breath, Josh complied. He’d already gathered up his things in the overnight bag I’d brought from the guest house. I picked it up and dumped it on his lap.

  More muttering.

  Swinging Josh around, I wheeled him out of the room and past the nurses’ station to the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

  “Now, where was I? Right, so I finally convinced you to do the smart thing and call the police to tell them you’d found a lost child. When we saw them arriving at the main house, we went out to greet them, but you slipped and fell into the pool head first. The top layer had frozen slightly, and that’s how you got the very mild concussion you’ve been milking for the past two days. One of the officers fished you out and gave you CPR, and then the ambulance came, and we all went to the hospital. Little buddy’s parents arrived to take him back, and everyone lived happily ever after.”

  “And what happened to your Dad’s client? Mac something or other?”

  I kept my voice carefully neutral. “No idea. I was only helping Dad close the deal by giving Mac a tour of all the tourist hot spots. He bought the house in Beverly Hills though. You’re going to have to start parking on the street because I saw Dad eyeing the new Mercedes!”

  The elevator opened and we got in and descended to the ground floor in silence. I pushed Josh through the atrium to where the wheelchairs were deposited and stopped. “OK, that’s as far as we go. You can walk to the parking garage from here.”

  He seemed preoccupied as we walked through the garage. He didn’t even comment when I got into the driver’s seat of his Camry.

  “I guess I do remember,” he said finally as we pulled out of the garage and into the street. “It was cold and there was water everywhere.”

  “There you go. I knew it would come back to you.”

  We drove for a while until Josh noticed our surroundings. “You missed our turnoff.”

  “Yup.” When I glanced over, he was looking at me quizzically, but I declined to answer the question in his gaze.

  After a few minutes, I pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the Santa Monica Pier and managed to find an open spot at the far end. The pier was thronged with tourists, per usual. I didn’t mind. We weren’t heading to the pier.

  “What are we doing here?” Josh asked.

  I turned off the car and twisted in my seat to look
at him. “I’ll answer your question if you answer mine first.”

  “OK.”

  “Do you like me, Josh?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Why? I was never very nice to you.”

  Grinning, he held up two fingers. “Uh, that’s two questions.”

  “Josh!”

  He shrugged. “I guess I’ve just always known you were special. I’ve known it from the very first day we met. You’re worth waiting for.” He smiled. “You’re even worth holding off on buying my own home for two years in the hopes you might come back for a visit.”

  It took a moment before I could respond. “Why would you do that?”

  “Like I said, because you’re special.”

  “Look that’s flattering, but how can you possibly know that? You hardly know me at all.”

  “I think I do. Who you are inside—” Josh reached out as if to touch me, but then let his hand fall back to rest on his leg. “—it’s something I can sense.” He looked out the window for a moment, and when he turned back, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I was only little when my mom died, but I remember her so clearly. She was special too. It was something I could see when I looked at her. I could feel it when she was near. I’ve been looking for someone like her my whole life.”

  As we stared at one another, the silence stretched between us, but for the first time, there was something extra in it.

  Tingle, tingle, TINGLE.

  But this was my plan for the day, and I wasn’t going to let a set of gorgeous brown eyes throw me off. No matter how sweet, and sexy.

  “Fine then.” I opened the car door and got out. Then I got the picnic bag, umbrella, and a bag of towels and swimsuits out of the trunk and dropped them on the pavement. Closing my eyes, I lifted my face to the sun.

  Maybe Josh was a Sensitive because there was a tiny bit of witch blood in him from his mother. Maybe he was just a really nice guy and love shouldn’t be so hard. And maybe it was a leftover hint of Santa Monica sorcery that would fade by the time I went home. I didn’t know yet, but at that moment, all that mattered was the sun and the heat and the scent of the ocean in the air.

  I opened my eyes. Josh had got out of the car and was leaning against it, looking at me with a bemused smile on his face. “So, what are we doing here?”

  I smiled back. “C’mon, Josh,” I said. “Let’s go to the beach.”

  The End

  SANTA MONICA SORCERY is set in the world of The Bad Luck Witch Chronicles

  About Heather Hamilton

  Heather grew up in a family where books of myths and legends were used to teach the ABCs and Irish uncles still believed in fairies. Raised with tall tales, she has always told stories too- first as an actor and singer, and now as a writer. She is also a much sought after book cover designer and the owner of Book Cover Artistry.

  Writing as Heather Hamilton-Senter, she is the author of the Amazon top 50 bestseller Bound In Blue: Book One of the Sword of Elements and its sequels.

  Follow Heather Hamilton online or join up for her newsletter at:

  www.heatherhamiltonsenter.com

  A Touch of Lace

  A Baylee Scott Paranormal Cozy Mystery Short

  April Aasheim

  Summary

  When a ghost rises from the grave, Baylee Scott and her supernaturally-inclined family are called upon to solve the riddle of this restless spirit.

  A Touch of Lace

  “The spirits are restless, Baylee! Can you hear them?”

  My mother, Vivi Bonds, a spirit herself, crowded in behind me as I worked to stack cucumber sandwiches on ornate silver trays. The cucumbers were from our garden, the tray was from our antique shop, and Mother was from the cemetery down the road. Her breath was acrid, as if she’d been drinking black coffee.

  “Don’t they have mints in the afterlife?” I teased, moving around her to where my brother, Alex, was busy baking scones at the other end of the large kitchen. I could have moved straight through her, as she had no solid form, but the sensation of passing through spirits always sent a chill through me - it was akin to stepping into an ice cold shower when you were expecting the water to be warm.

  I wound my way out past the coffee counter, where my cousin Kela was setting out dainty china cups and saucers, and into the main dining room. The Aunt-Tea-Query, named by a clever relative in the distant past, was both an antique shop and a tea house. It had been in my family for generations, and had once been a bustling gathering place for local gossip and Sunday brunches. But the business had since fallen out of favor because newer generations preferred newer establishments. Acquiring new customers was the reason I agreed to Kela’s Summer Solstice Séance, since she assured me that three of the wealthiest people in town were attending. One was a recluse, Patricia Morton, who was rumored to be the richest woman, not just in Reed Hollow, but in the entire county. Kela’s mind bubbled with ideas about how that might benefit us. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my cousin’s motives, but I was impressed with her drive and desire to help. She tackled her projects with precision and enthusiasm, and it was difficult to avoid getting caught up in her excitement.

  As I walked, my mother’s ghost bobbed along behind me, offering her ever-helpful hints. “Don’t serve Alex’s scones until after they’ve had their wine,” she said. “Or maybe not at all. The old biddies might break a tooth.” And, “If you put out all the sandwiches now, they’ll eat them all now. Then what will you have for the after-party?”

  My mother had been overbearing in life, but now that she had all eternity to ‘love and guide,’ me, it bordered on smothering. With a pillow.

  I regarded her fuzzy specter. In life, she had stiff, short blond hair, but in ghost-form she could take on any likeness she chose. Tonight, she sported long red gypsy waves and eyelashes dark as a raven’s wings. She was stuffed into black dress and I wondered why she hadn’t made her body slimmer, or at least the dress larger. But apparently old habits died hard, even after death.

  “Do you have a moment to listen to a dream I had,” my mom said as I finished with the sandwiches.

  “Wait… you have dreams?” I shook my head. That was her way of trapping me into a conversation I couldn’t extract myself from. “I’ll listen to it later,” I said quickly as I returned to the kitchen. Alex was now waging war with the 1960s KitchenAid mixer, and the appliance was winning. Batter shot up from the blades and splattered around the room. My brother eventually pulled the plug in surrender. Even so, the contented look in his eyes overshadowed the frown on his lips. Alex wasn’t very good at his job, but he did it with heart. He loved this place and was determined to make a go of it, or die trying.

  “There’s more sandwiches in the fridge,” Alex said. He sniffed the air, probably smelling the thick perfume mom was wearing ‘for the event.’ I was the only one fortunate enough to see or hear my mother, but she could make herself known in other ways if she chose.

  I put on a pair of black lace gloves. I wore them for adornment…and for protection. I was a psychometrist - a psychic who gets information by ‘reading’ the energy embedded in an object. In my case, I was often able to see someone’s memories, especially if they were strong or especially relevant. It was intrusive, and sometimes painful, both emotionally and physically.

  “You know, Mom,” I said, in a voice low enough that only she could hear. “I’m worried that Alex isn’t following your recipes word-for-word again. Do you mind staying in here with him and watching? If he strays even a little, you can come out and get me.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier just to help him myself?” she asked.

  I had forbidden her to help Alex in the kitchen after an unpleasant incident in which she accidentally got the entire Senior Center stoned, but it might be my only bargaining chip.

  We both looked at Alex, who was dumping baking powder into a metal bowl without measuring. “Go get him,” I said to Mom. She grinned, promptly disappearing from my side and reappearing at his. I
slipped from the kitchen and into the solarium, but not before hearing Alex say, “Where did that come from?”

  Inside the glass-walled side chamber, Kela stood surveying the beautiful tables. She looked the part of a dark angel, in her long velvet gown with purple peacock feathers emerging from her bobbed hair. Her naturally pale face was powdered white, in striking contrast to her plump red lips. I felt out of place in my turquoise pencil skirt and cap-sleeved cashmere sweater, but I thought someone should represent us professionally. If we were receiving wealthy new patrons, I didn’t want them to think this sideshow was how we conducted regular business. Although, as Kela liked to point out, we’d probably make a lot more money if we did.

  “What do you think?” she asked, leaning to arrange a rose in its crystal vase so that the hanging table lights caught it in just the right way. She smiled, frowned, and then rearranged the flower. “There’s only so much you can do with a cockeyed rose.”

  “Uh, I suppose. Though I thought we were decorating for the dead,” I said, looking around. The room was light and elegant, reminiscent of a bygone era now only seen in old photographs. Kela had begged, borrowed, and possibly stolen hand-made lace table coverings, ornate high-backed chairs, and polished silver tea carts. Her invitations had gone out by cloaked couriers in the middle of the night. After the séance, the café and solarium would be open to the town for an after-hours party.

  “Scary on the outside, cozy on the inside,” Kela said, winking as she pushed through the door that led out to the garden.

  I followed her outside, grabbing the clipboard with the names of our guests. The garden was abloom with roses and violets and honeysuckle. The grass looked so green and inviting I wanted to take off my shoes and push my toes into it. It was late evening, and the moon above was a sliver of white, quietly serenaded by a few renegade stars.