Spell or High Water

by ReGina Welling

  Group names are interesting. A school of fish, a pride of lions, a pack of wolves, a kaleidoscope of butterflies, a parliament of owls, a murder of crows, and — important to know in Moonchuckle Bay — a blessing of unicorns. I went online to see if anyone had come up with a group name for merfolk, and the only thing I found was a gossip of mermaids, which I didn’t care for. What would you call a group of mermaids? I chose a miracle of mermaids.

  About Heather Horrocks

  Heather Horrocks is the USA Today bestselling author of numerous light-hearted, funny, feel-good books (Moonchuckle Bay paranormal romances, upcoming Hungry Cat Café paranormal cozy mysteries, Chick Flick Clique and Christmas Street romantic comedies, Who-Dun-Him Inn cozy mysteries), plus the Women Who Knew inspirational series. The first book in her Christmas Street series, Bah, Humbug!, is currently in development as a TV movie.

  Follow Heather online at:

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  Strawberry Butterscream

  A. Gardner

  Summary

  A psychic and her new co-worker who also happens to be a witch attempt to stop a shadow siren from claiming her next victim at a company barbecue. This story takes place in the fictional beach town of Misty Key, Alabama.

  Chapter One

  "Lookin' like a snack, Nova."

  My coworker must have bought a new book of cheesy pick-up lines for the company's annual summer barbeque. Clearly, all of those sexual harassment seminars hadn't done a dang thing. His gaze wandered along the neckline of my cream-colored top – a sheer fabric with pineapples wearing sunglasses all over it.

  "You're gross, Damon." I wrinkled my nose. "No woman wants to be treated like a piece of meat."

  "But you can't deny that my pick-up lines work," Damon replied. "You and I are talking, right?" He grabbed a cupcake from a nearby dessert table and slowly licked a bit of the strawberry buttercream on top.

  "I wish we weren't." I glanced over Damon's shoulder and spotted Mara Hexton. She was a new co-worker of mine who had just moved into town from Atlanta. I'd figured out right away that she was an evil genius when it came to all things spreadsheets. She was also a witch – something the ordinary folks at Shellington Industries were oblivious to. Except me.

  "Nice blouse you got there," Damon continued. "Are you wearing a swimsuit underneath?"

  My hopes of a peaceful afternoon sipping fruity cocktails on the beach were shattered when I realized Damon would be hovering in the background.

  "Swimsuit? I thought this was a free-for-all." Like magic, Mara came to my rescue at just the right moment. "You know, a swimsuit optional sort of thing?" She crossed her arms and watched as Damon's eyes went wide. "Yeah. Try not to blush. It's borderline inappropriate."

  "Borderline?" I muttered.

  "Excuse me, ladies." Damon abandoned his cupcake and cleared his throat. "I forgot something in my car." Damon hurriedly jogged toward the lobby.

  "It's called dignity," Mara said, rolling her eyes. The rays of sunshine peeking through the windows made her bronze skin look enchanting.

  "It's what's her name descending from her throne for a swim," I commented, listening for the sounds of snapping cameras and shouting paparazzi.

  "You know her name." Mara grinned and eyed the dessert table.

  And Mara was right.

  Jewel Carmichael had a reputation for prancing around Misty Key in her bikini.

  She might as well have been nude because her skimpy selections left little to the imagination.

  "I guess that's just a trade-off of having the company party at the Crystal Grande Hotel," I responded.

  "It is a beautiful hotel. The private buffet and patio are also is a plus. I didn't know Shellington shelled out for this sort of thing." Mara glanced up at the vaulted ceiling, her eyes slowly wandering to the crown molding before settling on a bay window overlooking the emerald green ocean.

  I loved Misty Key, Alabama. In my opinion, it was one of the last little beach towns on the gulf coast with that southern charm all of the tourists craved. It had a town square, storefronts along Main Street, and white sandy beaches. I visited frequently thanks to the Greene sisters and their penchant for trouble. I'd never met such a delinquent bunch of psychics. But their quirks had saved my behind more than once. For that, I would always be grateful.

  "It's like sipping sweet tea in a mermaid's castle," I joked. "And I'm not just saying that because of the clan of sirens that live around here. They're harmless." I smoothed the sides of my auburn hair and tightened my bun. My charm bracelet jingled, catching Mara's attention.

  "Are you a cat person?"

  I touched one of the charms dangling from my wrist. It matched a set of earrings I wore on special occasions, although my boss teased me sometimes for being so matchy-matchy.

  "In a way," I answered. "Do ghost cats count?"

  Mara narrowed her eyes, studying the space around me as if expecting to see a furry feline pop out of my blouse. "Huh?"

  "Oh, a medium who lives down the road told me a dead Siamese follows me around."

  "Lovely." Mara tugged at the hem of her pink t-shirt.

  "I've been told worse," I added. I shrugged off the comment even though that phantom Siamese was something I thought about every day. The cat represented my sister. She was no longer with me and used to joke that she would forever haunt me as a pesky, furry sidekick when she died.

  "Tell me about it over something chocolate." She took a step closer to the dessert table. "The last thing I want to do is waste precious daylight. The beach is calling our name, girl. How often do you get to chill in a place like this during work hours?"

  "Every year," I said. "That's why they call it an annual barbecue."

  "I think I'm going to like it at Shellington Industries. I might even do some apartment hunting right here in Misty Key. I don't mind the commute." Mara handed me a plate and tilted her head toward the chocolate fountain and selection of fruits.

  A tray of cupcakes caught my attention first, mostly because I loved strawberries. My past time outside of work included working for The Clairs as a regional representative – one of the many responsibilities that came with being a licensed Seer. My psychic gift made eating in front of people an awkward affair. I jumped at the chance to enjoy a sugary morsel without prying eyes focused on my facial expressions.

  Clairgustance was one of the six clairs. Not a popular one. It consisted of interpreting someone's past, present, and future by taste. It started when I hit puberty. I would taste random things without putting anything in my mouth. As an adult, my psychic talent evolved into something more. The ability to learn about a person based on the food around them. One little taste was all I needed to give someone a proper psychic reading.

  Of course, that meant I'd tasted everything from heartbreak to lust.

  And, no. Revenge didn't taste sweet at all.

  I picked up the first cupcake I saw and quickly took a bite, tasting the fruity buttercream before it had the chance to push visions into my head about the emotional state of the person who had baked it. Sometimes I could turn my gift off, but it wasn't easy. It took so much concentration that it was easier to let the visions happen. Most of them were harmless. Like watching my very own sitcom.

  "You can't go wrong with strawberry buttercream," I muttered in between bites. "Or any kind of buttercream."

  "Wasn't that Damon's cupcake?" Mara raised her eyebrows.

  I nearly choked.

  But it was too late.

  The vision entered my head like an opening scene from a horror film. It was night and a rose-colored full moon reflected off of the ocean waves. The sound of laughter floated along the beach. The buffet room was full, and guests had spilled onto the patio with their evening drinks.

  And on the beach was a body. Pale. Lifeless. Cold.

  I saw Damon's face.

/>   I took a deep breath, my eyes wider than donut holes as the vision left my brain. My heart raced and I tried to settle it by taking long, steady breaths. I dropped the cupcake and stood frozen in place like a festively clad statue.

  "Oh, no."

  "What's the matter with you?" Mara looked me up and down. "Is this a ginger thing? My sister warned me about y'all."

  "My hair is more strawberry blonde than red," I argued.

  "Whatever you want to call it."

  "I just saw Damon's future." I gulped. "It isn't pretty."

  "You mean instead of getting fired, he gets promoted?" Mara shook her head. "Uh-uh. No way that is happening."

  "Worse," I responded, thinking back on the rigid body I'd seen on the beach. "He dies tonight."

  Chapter Two

  "You got all that from a cupcake?"

  Mara placed a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes.

  "I shouldn't have grabbed the first sweet I saw." I shrugged. "I'm a single woman in my thirties with a stressful career and an overbearing mother. Let's be real here. I'm a sucker for fad diets and cheat days." I clasped my hands together, twiddling my fingers.

  "You're going to intervene, aren't you?"

  Rule number one in the Seer Handbook: use your gift to help others and bring peace to your community.

  I sighed. "It was probably fate that led me to Damon's tainted cupcake."

  "What is it with y'all and fate?" Mara asked. "It's always the universe this and the cosmos that with you psychics. Whatever happened to minding your own business? You know, looking out for number one?"

  "Okay, what do you suggest we do? Cast a spell and call it good?" I glanced around the room searching for Damon. Luckily, I had a few hours before the sun went down.

  "Let Damon fall on his face," she replied. "His actions have consequences. It's about time he realized that."

  "It might be kind of hard for him to learn his lesson if he's dead," I added.

  Mara exhaled loudly as she inched closer to the chocolate fountain. She bit the corner of her lip and began loading up her plate with chocolate covered fruit. After sampling a spoonful of banana pudding, she finally set her plate down and rubbed her forehead.

  "Dang conscience."

  "All we got to do is keep him away from the water," I said.

  "Oh, sure. Easy as pie. I doubt the little perv has plans to troll the shoreline pretending to be texting but really snapping secret pics of his fellow cubicle mates." Mara picked up her plate again and headed for an open table on the patio. It was right next to the Crystal Grande's private beach. The Carmichael family had gone to great lengths to make sure the luxurious stretch of sand was as private as possible. It also didn't hurt that the Carmichael twins, Jewel and Jonathon, needed a paparazzi-free zone to call home. The Carmichaels resided on the top floor which was why the Crystal Grande Hotel was overpriced and always booked.

  "Well, when you put it like that."

  "How do we know your vision is even real?" Mara raised her eyebrows.

  My cheeks immediately went rosy.

  I eyed the first thing on Mara's plate that looked appetizing and helped myself. I sunk my teeth into a slice of chocolate covered pineapple and smiled when I saw a vision of Mara in the kitchen arguing with her mom about toast.

  "Your parents wanted you to study to be a fire witch, but you can barely make toast," I stated. "And you say you don't believe in fate and all that, but you check your horoscope every morning, and you hope to meet a man who is as helpful in the kitchen as he is in---"

  "Point taken." Mara interrupted. She cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair. "Did you see anything else about the . . . incident?"

  "There was a full moon," I answered. "That's how I knew it was tonight. The local chapter of shifters will be prowling the swamps as soon as the sun goes down, minus the ones that work tonight."

  Mara held up her finger. "Yes, but it's not just any moon. Tonight is what they call a strawberry moon. I bet you didn't know that."

  "That explains the pink I saw in my vision." An ocean breeze blew past, and I took a moment to enjoy the moist air on my skin. The higher humidity had always worked wonders on my pores.

  "You used your special talent, now let me use mine." Mara pulled out her cell phone.

  "Do you plan on lighting a few marshmallows on fire with your mind and making s'mores?" I couldn't resist the joke. I resorted to lame jokes and bad puns when times got tough. I guess it was how I coped.

  "Fire witches are pretty rare," she quietly replied. "It's a lot of work. A lot of studying." Her serious expression morphed into something more playful. "A lot of popcorn popping when your roommate screws up the microwave."

  "That's why I air pop." I nodded, emphasizing my point. "Plus, it cuts down on the oil."

  Mara continued looking at her phone, her finger swiping to the side ever so often.

  "I just downloaded the latest version of my family's spell book," she muttered. "I know it's here somewhere."

  "What?"

  "A spell that will give Damon a fear of water," she answered. She paused for a minute before grinning from ear to ear. "Don't worry. It's temporary. I just need a few ingredients."

  "I know where the kitchen is."

  "There is one ingredient that you won't find in the kitchen, though," she commented. "A plant called dragon pepper." She wrinkled her nose. "Hmmm. I don't know where to find one of those on such short notice. Shoot. Well, it was worth a try."

  "Misty Key is more magical than you think," I pointed out. "I know a guy who can help us."

  "Does he deliver?"

  "He will for free food," I responded.

  Chapter Three

  "I don't see any corn. Y'all said there would be corn puddin'."

  I'd met Gator only a few times before. He was a friend of the Greene sisters, and I'd never caught his actual name. I just knew the stories. I refused to believe the man standing in front of me pouting at the lack of corn pudding on the buffet table was raised in the swamps by wild alligators.

  Gator wasn't magical, but his grandmother had been a licensed Seer. An exceptional one. Gator knew all about magic, and he'd taken it upon himself to run a little side business for those who needed uncommon items for uncommon uses. Gator was known as Misty Key's errand boy, and he had access to just about every ingredient a witch, shifter, or vampire could want.

  "I said banana pudding," I clarified. "And it's still pudding."

  "Hi, I'm Mara." Mara outstretched her hand, and Gator happily shook it. "I'm new around here."

  "Another Seer?" Gator narrowed his eyes, scratching the thin strip of facial hair that outlined his chin. I swore he wore the same pair of jeans and red Alabama polo every time I saw him. "Wait. No. A witch maybe?"

  "What gave it away?" Mara asked.

  "The attitude, sweet pea."

  Mara crossed her arms. "What kind of name is Gator anyway?"

  "It's just what the folks around here call me," he answered. "It's an interesting story. Maybe you'd like to join me over at Red's tonight and hear more about it over beers?" He raised his thick brows.

  "No." Mara lifted her chin.

  Gator chuckled. "Suit yourself."

  "Gator, I need your help with something." I attempted to change the subject as quickly as I could.

  "Yeah, I was surprised to get a call from you of all people," he replied. "My urgent messages usually come from the Greene sisters."

  "Is it true you can get your hands on anything?" I took a deep breath.

  Gator's eyes wandered to the disgruntled expression on Mara's face.

  "Yeah."

  "Even dragon pepper?" I paused and waited for his response. If Mara had what she needed to cast her spell, I could save Damon without babysitting him.

  "Oh, boy." Gator sported a mischievous grin. "You're in luck, gals. I happen to have just what you need back at the drugstore."

  Mara breathed a sigh of relief. "That's the first good thing that has happened
all day with the exception of the chocolate fountain."

  "And meeting me," Gator added.

  "How soon can you get us the stuff?" Mara tucked a dark curl behind her ear, keeping the conversation strictly business. Gator's silly little games seemed to be fueling her fiery attitude. Maybe she was more of a fire witch than she thought?

  "Uh, excuse me." Gator adjusted his waistband. "Everything has its price." His eyes darted to the spread of food from the Crystal Grande's award-winning restaurant. The buffet was only for Shellington Industries employees, but I was going to have to turn a blind eye.

  "Cash?" Mara immediately reached for her wallet.

  "A home-cooked meal," he stated.

  "I prefer the cash," Mara muttered. "I don't cook."

  Just toast.

  "I meant the buffet." Gator chuckled again. "But now I know you've been imagining me in your kitchen. I'll keep that in mind for next time."

  "Which will be never," Mara added.

  I glanced up at the sky. We couldn't waste time arguing while Damon pranced around the hotel setting himself up for a watery end. Mara needed the dragon pepper as soon as possible, and Gator wanted food as soon as possible. I looked up and down the patio for my boss---a man frequently referred to as Terdface Travis. He was the sort of man who wouldn't hesitate to blow the whistle on a possible freeloader.

  "Yes, we understand," I said. "You two don't like each other. Gator, stop bothering Mara and go fill up your plate with something greasy. Mara, keep watch for Travis. We can't have him raining on our parade."

  "Award-winning royal reds, here I come." Gator jumped at the chance for free food, grabbing a plate at the buffet table and butting his way to the front of the line.

  Mara bumped my shoulder. "Is this necessary? He's a dead giveaway. I mean, his jeans aren't even ironed."