Starstruck Witch
A Paranormal Cozy Mystery
January Daphne
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
1
A camera flashed, splashing light along the pale pink walls of Lola’s Diner and Bakery like a jolt of lightning. I blinked, seeing fading spots in front of my eyes.
“Over here, Savannah! Give me a big smile for the camera!” The bell above the diner entrance jingled as a short, stocky man with seriously gelled hair shoved his foot in the door just before it closed.
Without lowering his camera, the man snapped five more pictures, one after another, as he scrambled behind a glamorous woman in white jeans and a navy shirt. Jet black silky hair spilled out from under the woman’s baseball cap, which was pulled low over her face. Even though it was a rainy spring day on Wolf Mountain, the woman wore huge round sunglasses with trendy white frames.
I knew who she was and so did everyone else in that small town diner. Savannah Silver was a bonafide celebrity and pretty much the most beautiful woman I’d even seen in real life.
Benjamin’s floppy black and tan ears tensed as he shot a look over his shoulder. “Here comes the circus,” he growled.
I snapped my fingers at my dog. “Hey, don’t let it get to you,” I said. “It’s only going to be like this while they’re filming Blake’s movie, and you know it’s getting the lodge all kinds of positive publicity.” I absently combed my fingers through my blonde ponytail.
“But at what cost, Natalie?” Benjamin demanded, his unusual yellow eyes glinting with annoyance. “All of this commotion is going to give me indigestion.”
“I’m going out on a limb here, but do you think maybe your indigestion is from that second cinnamon roll you inhaled?”
“Absolutely not,” he said indignantly.
“Whatever.” I held up my hands. “Say what you want about the movie people, but I think it’s a good thing.” I sighed as Benjamin went back to licking the crumbs off the diner table.
Yes, my dog talked.
In fact, the darn Rottweiler rarely shut up.
The reason he could talk was because he wasn’t a dog at all. He was a familiar—a mythical creature assigned to teach me to be the best Carolina witch I could be. Because he and I became cosmically linked when I inherited the magical powers of the Wilder coven from my long lost Aunt Martha, I was the only one who could hear the Rottweiler talk. To everyone else, Benjamin’s words just sounded like barks and growls.
“You know, you are such a hypocrite,” I said, lowering my voice to avoid attracting any unwanted attention to the fact that I was having a conversation with my dog. “Don’t pretend you’re not just as starstruck as the rest of us. I saw you pawing through the copy of Us Weekly someone left at the lodge yesterday. You were practically guarding it with your life.”
“I was bored,” he said stiffly.
“Take the sunglasses off, Savannah!” the paparazzi urged. “Let me see your face!”
I winced at the brashness of the photographer. How annoying would it be to have someone following you around yelling at you all the time?
I mean, I supposed that was what Benjamin did with me, but that was different. At least Benjamin meant well when he bossed me around. This guy was just trying to make money off someone else’s fame.
Trailing behind Savannah Silver and the paparazzi was a petite young woman with a blue bob cut and a nose ring. She stared at her phone, tapping on the screen in quick, decisive moments as she walked. “Yes! They have wifi!” she exclaimed. She paused at the door, holding it open with her shoulder as she glared at the photographer. “Roger, I think you’ve gotten enough pictures for now. Can you please us alone now?” She slid her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and folded her arms. “Just because you’re allowed to take photos on set doesn’t give you the right to stalk Savannah 24/7.”
The stocky man who she had called “Roger” lowered his large camera and scowled. “Maybe I’m here to eat breakfast.” He held out his hairy arms and looked around the diner. “Maybe I’m a paying customer just like everyone else.”
The blue-haired girl gave Roger a hard stare. “Maybe we’ll see what the sheriff has to say about that.” She sat down at the diner counter next to the other woman and pulled off her messenger bag.
“Go ahead and call the Sheriff,” Roger said, leaning over to snap another picture of Savannah. “I’ll be long gone before he gets here.”
The bell above the door jingled again, and a dark flicker of movement darted into the diner.
The supernatural blur appeared to stop right behind the photographer, and it was only then that I was able to see who it was.
Dean Elliot, a dark-hair vampire with pale skin, prominent cheekbones, and electric blue eyes towered over the short man. He had on snug navy jeans, a gray v-neck and beat-up leather jacket. “The sheriff is a ‘she’ you greasy-fingered Neanderthal,” the vampire said in a low sultry voice.
I’d warned Dean about using his vampire-speed around non-supernatural people, but Dean wasn’t much for following rules.
Fortunately, it looked like everyone had been too focused on the A-list celebrity to notice Dean.
The vampire stepped in-between Savannah and the photographer as his lips curled up into a mixture of a smile and a snarl, “But you heard the nice lady. There’s no need to make a big deal out of this. There’s the door, buddy. You’ve got three seconds.”
Roger narrowed his beady eyes at Dean. “I’m a paying customer,” he insisted for a second time as he side-stepped Dean and headed for an open table.
Dean blocked the man with his body and tipped his head down to stare Roger right in the eyes. “You will leave this diner right now, and you’re going to delete those pictures you took.”
Roger’s mouth tightened into a thin line as he snuck one more look at Savannah Silver.
“You will leave now,” Dean repeated.
I couldn’t quite tell if Dean was using his vampire compulsion abilities to get Roger to leave or if he was just trying to intimidate the man with that look of violence in his eyes.
Either way, it worked.
Roger sighed, letting his camera hang loosely around his neck by a strap. “Fine, I’ll leave,” he said. “But this is harassment.” He trudged out of the diner, and the door shut behind him with a jingle.
The woman with the chin-length blue hair gave Dean a smile. “That was impressive. I’ve never seen Roger give up so quickly.”
Dean ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “I’m known to be very persuasive.”
“I am, too, but you take things to the next level,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “I’m Leonora Holmes, Savannah’s assistant.”
Dean shook her hand, holding it a beat longer than was polite. “Dean Elliot,” he said. “A pleasure.”
“Dean Elliot,” she repeated. Then her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, you’re Blake’s brother.”
“Guilty, as charged,” he said, his otherworldly blue eyes glittering with mischief.
“Call me ‘Lenny’,” the girl said.
It looked like Lenny was going to say more, but Savanna
h spun around on her stool and said, “So this is the infamous Dean Elliot.” She slid off her sunglasses, revealing a pair of striking green almond-shaped eyes. “I’ve heard so much about you from your charming brother.”
“Likewise. It’s hard to believe we haven’t met until now.” Dean gave the famous actress a slow once-over. “I loved you in Vampire’s Revenge.” He grinned. “And let me just say, those tabloid photos don’t do you justice.”
Savannah giggled, her pouty pink lips turning up in a playful smile. “Normally, I’ll tell you to take a hike for your blatant flirting, but you did just get rid of Roger for me. So instead, I’ll say, ‘thank you’.”
“Any time.” Dean leaned over Savannah’s shoulder and pointed to something on the menu. “Pro tip: Lola’s pecan pancakes are the best in the world.”
Lenny piped up. “I already called Savannah’s order in on the way over.” She pulled out a book from her messenger bag—a collection of mysteries by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle—and got comfortable on the stool. “The food should be here momentarily.”
“Besides,” Savannah pulled off her baseball cap, fluffing her dark hair. “I don’t eat tree nuts,” she said.
“Fair enough.” Dean leaned against the counter. “I suppose I’m pretty picky about what I eat, too.” His eyes lingered on the soft, olive-colored skin on Savannah’s dainty neck.
I tensed, watching this exchange from my corner booth. I really, really hoped Dean wouldn’t try to eat the lead actress in his brother’s movie. That would be one public relations nightmare I wouldn’t be able to easily explain.
Savannah smiled and patted the stool beside her. “You’re welcome to join me for breakfast if you want. Any friend of Blake’s is a friend of mine.”
Dean gracefully slid into the seat and planted an elbow on the counter. Leaning in close to the pretty actress, he said, “I was under the impression that you and Blake were a little more than friends—at least, that’s what the tabloids say.”
I felt a pinprick of jealousy at Dean’s words. Blake and I weren’t exactly officially dating or anything—whatever that meant these days. Still, I would have considered him and I to be romantically involved.
“Natalie, don’t get distracted by rumors and gossip,”Benjamin said, aiming his yellow eyes at the table.
It was then that I realized the real reason Benjamin had been so protective with that gossip magazine. “You didn’t want me to read about the latest Blake and Savannah relationships rumors,” I whispered.
“I believe the media likes referring to them as ‘Blavannah’,” the Rottweiler replied.
“Wow, Benjamin. You are an actual gossip hound.”
Across the diner, Savannah giggled. “Blavannah was so eight years ago. We were practically kids.” She waved her hand dismissively and unrolled her silverware from a paper napkin. “And the tabloids say a lot of things.”
“In that case,” Dean said. “I’d be happy to enjoy a meal with you.”
The bell above the door jingled once again, and in walked Liam Evans, the town werewolf and Blake Elliot, my maybe/maybe-not boyfriend.
“That camera man is quite unpleasant,” Liam remarked in his smooth british accent.
Liam Evans was the epitome of hot—no other way to say it.
He had hair the color of sunshine, skin the color of a sandy beach, and eyes like Florida waters. Every inch of him was made of perfectly-sculpted muscle.
The first time I’d met Liam, I had him pegged as a womanizing frat boy on the wrong side of thirty.
But I couldn’t have been all wrong.
Liam was all heart.
I owed him my life.
Of course, he owed me his life, as well. That was how things worked on Wolf Mountain. As a crime-fighting witch, it was practically a full time job keeping everyone alive—myself included.
Blake’s navy eyes searched the diner, landing on me. A smile warmed his face as he headed in my direction.
Before he made it over to me, Savannah waved him down. “Blake! You were right about this quaint little diner. Thanks for the recommendation.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Blake said. He stiffened slightly when he caught sight of his vampire brother occupying the seat next to his leading lady, but he didn’t comment on it.
Dean, on the other hand, grinned as he flipped over his coffee mug and scanned the menu.
Blake gave me a friendly nudge with his flannel-clad shoulder as he slid into the booth beside me. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
I smiled back, breathing him in. He smelled like leather and pine needles.
Blake was the handsome guy who lived next door to me. He had navy eyes, a sexy jaw, lined with rugged stubble, and sandy brown hair that was sort-of styled, sort-of tousled in that James Dean kind of way.
With his latest horror movie being filmed half on the mountain and half in Los Angeles, I’d barely seen him over the last two months.
I was self-aware enough to realize his absence was probably making me a bit insecure.
Well, that, and the rumors about him getting back with his old flame who happened to be the beautiful, exotic A-list actress starring in his movie.
“You free tomorrow night?” Blake said.
“That depends. Are we hanging out?”
He laughed. “Don’t you know what tomorrow is?”
“Um, Wednesday?”
“It’s the Spring Equinox. The town throws a huge party on the mountain. There’s going to be music, a potluck, and performances by all our weird neighbors.”
“What kind of performances?”
Blake grinned. “All kinds. Some people will read poetry, some people will perform monologues or sing songs, things like that.”
I nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, I vaguely recall signing up to bring muffins. I didn’t realize it was tomorrow.”
“Will you do me the honor of being my date?” he asked. “I figure it’s about time we set the tabloids straight.”
“I don’t read tabloids.” I smiled. “So I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
Benjamin snorted, and I gave him a warning look.
“Good,” Blake said. “I was worried you’d get upset about seeing all those recent rumors about my personal life. Unfortunately, it’s just something that comes with being in the public eye. Things will die down again after the project wraps.”
“Doesn’t bother me one bit,” I said.
“So you’ll go?” His navy eyes brightened.
“Definitely.”
“Great, I’ll stop by your place tomorrow at 6. Trust me, Natalie, this party will be to die for.”
2
The following evening I sat on the old wooden rocking chair on the balcony of my late Aunt Martha’s mountain cabin. Though afternoon sun had begun its descent down toward the rolling horizon of the Blue Ridge Mountains the sky was still a bright, clear blue.
I had a few minutes before Blake was due to arrive to take me to the Spring Equinox festival, and that would be just enough time to finish baking my muffins.
Birds chirped, active now that the warm temperatures of early spring in North Carolina were here. Far below me, I could just make out the little “L”-shaped chair lifts that were hanging above the grassy ski slopes. Those chair lifts and been going non-stop during the winter, but now they were still except for a slight creaking they made in the gentle breeze.
The air smelled damp, but clean from yesterday’s rain, mixing pleasantly with the light aroma of lavender tea in my mug.
I let out a heavy sigh, feeling utterly content. A girl could get used to this, I thought.
Suddenly, an alarm cut through the quiet.
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
Startling by the sound, I jerked forward in my rocking chair, planting my feet down on the wooden porch. The movement made my tea slosh over the rim, and I felt the hot drops of liquid seeping into my pastel blue dress.
The beefy black and
tan Rottweiler at my feet lazily lifted his head. “That would be the timer on your muffins,” he said.
“That is not a timer!” I set down my mug and heaved the sliding screen door open to the cabin. “That’s the fire alarm.”
“You say tomato,” Benjamin said, trotting inside after me.
A black tunnel of smoke rose up from the oven door. “We just burned our muffins!”
“Correction,” he said. “You burned our muffins.”
I groaned. “You don’t have to sound so gleeful about it.”
“You should probably take those out.” The metal tag on his collar jingled as he backed away from the oven door.
I rushed across the kitchen, my sock-clad feet sliding on the slick wood floor, and pulled open the oven door. Snatching the oven mitts off the hook on a nearby cabinet, I hastily shoved my hands into the thick, stiff cloth. The oppressive stench of burnt sugar filled the cabin as I pulled out a pan of twelve little muffins.
They were as black as the new moon.
I waved my arms over the pan, fanning away the thick smoke while my very unhelpful familiar did a terrible job suppressing a snort of laughter.
I glanced up at the fire alarm, which was still beeping, and muttered an incantation I’d learned from the Wilder grimoire the last four times I’d set off my smoke alarm.
“A quiet room, a witch enjoys,
Restore the peace, and end the noise.”
Instantly, the beeping stopped, and I plopped down on a stool at the kitchen counter. “Darn it! I was really looking forward to those. The party is on lodge property. I own the lodge—I can’t show up empty handed. I’ll look like a total jerk.” I paused, poking at one of the blackened muffin tops with a fork. “Unless…” My voice trailed off as an idea formed. I jumped up and headed straight for the basement door.
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