by N. M. Howell
Jordan smiled. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Why do you look so stressed?”
I let out a loud sigh and continued walking, pulling Jordan behind me as I pressed forward through the heavy wind.
“Let’s just say Bailey has really bad taste in men.”
Jordan seemed to understand and didn’t press the issue further.
I had no idea how I was going to break the news to Bailey. First, she falls for a local guy who turns out to be a murderer. Then, she falls for a criminal who sells dark magic spells that kill people. There’s not enough ice cream in the world to soothe that girl’s soon-to-be re-broken heart.
We walked farther down the rocky beach, and I let the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves wash away all the stressful thoughts in my mind.
There was a long rocky outcrop that projected far out into the bay toward one of the lighthouses, and Jordan took my hand and led me over the rocks away from the beach.
When we reached the edge, we stood there and looked out over the ocean. It felt like a different world out here, completely separated from all the trouble and stresses of the mainland.
“So, tell me about these dates you plan on taking me on,” I said.
Jordan laughed. “Well, first of all, there won’t be any TVs.”
“That’s a great start.” I smiled and nuzzled into him for warmth.
I don’t know what it was about this guy, but I felt comfortable around him. We may only have had our first official date tonight, but having his arms around me just felt so normal. There was this physical comfort between us that seemed to have been there from the beginning, and I was slowly realizing how often I had found myself in his arms these past few days.
Which was funny, given the fact that I can barely look into his face without blushing like a little girl.
“I don’t know where I’ll take you, but I promise, after tonight, that it will be extremely boring and normal.”
“Boring and normal,” I repeated. “Perfect.”
Oh yeah, I was really looking forward to boring and normal.
* * *
End.
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About the Author
N.M. Howell is an author, publisher, and all-around nerd from the West Coast of Canada. She has an obsession with coffee, spicy food, and the rain, and she absolutely hates sleeves! (Seriously, they’re like little fabric prisons.) When not working on her latest book - or latest ten books, more realistically - she spends her time working on her Master’s Thesis and fighting with her micro-wolf pup over who gets the best spot on the couch. Hint: the dog usually wins.
To find N.M. Howell Online:
@nikk0marie
nmhowellbooks
www.nmhowell.com
[email protected]
Also by N.M. Howell
Marked by Dragon’s Blood
Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen
Brimstone Bay Mysteries:
Murder Any Witch Way
Witch Way to Hallows’ Bay
Bewitch You a Merry Christmas
Witch Souls to Save
Book 3 Sneak Peek
Bewitch You a Merry Christmas, Chapter 1
I threw myself onto the ground and barrel-rolled to the side, barely avoiding the imminent attack.
A moment later, the air rushed above me. Another shot narrowly missed my head.
I dodged sideways and ran to hide behind a nearby tree.
I could hear impact as the tree was hit. I swore under my breath.
I exhaled deeply to try and quiet my breath as I listened for movement around me. Unfortunately, the thick snow muffled the sound of footsteps.
It was late afternoon, and the sun cast long shadows on the snowy ground. I squinted into the bright light trying to make out where my attackers were.
The air was quiet, and I saw no sign of movement, so I peeked carefully around the tree.
I quickly retreated as I detected motion nearby, pressing my back firmly up against the thick trunk of the tree.
Another loud thud sounded as the tree was hit again.
“She's over here,” a voice yelled. “We've got her surrounded.”
They were coming for me. There was no way to escape.
“Back off,” I yelled. “No fair. It's three against one!”
I covered my head as another massive snowball made its way towards me.
“That's what you get for eating the last of Mrs. Pots' sugar cookies,” Bailey shouted at me from across the yard.
“I was saving you from the calories,” I yelled back. “Don't want you to get fat!”
I laughed to myself but was then hit sideways across the head by a snowball that came right out of left field.
“Look who's talking,” Rory yelled from behind a tree to my left.
“Cookie stealer,” Jane shouted. I looked behind me and saw her running crouched behind the fence, doing her best to avoid my snowball attack.
I narrowed my eyes and covered my head, trying to figure out who had thrown the snowball that had made impact.
“You're all going down!” Three against one was hardly fair.
“Thief,” Bailey yelled.
“Cookie hog,” I yelled back.
It was a running joke between myself and my three housemates about Bailey and the local baker’s cookies. Our landlady, Mrs. Brody, often chastised Bailey about her eating habits and her obsession with Mrs. Pots' baking. Mrs. Pots owned the local bakery in Brimstone Bay and made the world's best cookies.
Bailey was tall and thin, and extremely healthy and fit. But, man, did she like to eat. That girl could eat ten dozen cookies in one sitting and never gain a pound. It drove the rest of us crazy! Well, it drove me crazy, at least. I eat one cookie, and I swear I put on five pounds instantly.
After the many times Mrs. Brody told Bailey to stop eating, it had become a bit of a joke between us.
I grabbed a handful of snow and ran behind a nearby bush. Doing my best to be stealthy, I packed the snow into a giant ball and eyed my surroundings, looking for my next target.
Rory and Jane were behind the trees, but I could see the top of Bailey's blond head poking up behind a pile of snow about fifteen feet in front of me.
I whispered an incantation into my snowball, and the sweet smell of sugar cookies began emanating from its surface.
“Still want that cookie?” I shouted from behind the bush.
My opponents remained silent, but I could still see the top of Bailey's head.
Quietly, I moved towards the pile of snow, crouching down low so she didn't see my approach.
I then ran sideways when I got close enough, and threw the cookie-scented snowball at Bailey, striking her right in the face.
“HEY!” she shouted at me, kicking a pile of snow in my direction. “That's cheating.”
“How is that cheating?” I called behind me as I ran back to the bush for safety. “You should pay better attention.”
“Oh, is that sugar cookie?” she asked. I saw Bailey take a bite of the snow, then spit it out. “Ow, my teeth. Cold!”
“No kidding,” I laughed.
“Uh-oh,” I heard Rory yell. Her head appeared from behind the large tree she had been using for cover.
“I think we have company,” Jane finished.
I looked towards the house where their gazes were directed towards and saw Mrs. Brody walk out into the snow in her housecoat.
She was a sight to see, that was for sure. She had recently changed her hair from a light pink to an electric blue, and it stood out on end like she had been shocked by lightning. She was a tiny woman, standing barely over four-feet tall, but what she lacked in height she certainly made up for in attitude.
The way she was marching out to
wards us, I knew something was coming.
“RUN!” Rory shouted.
“What?” I turned to look at her and saw about a hundred massive snowballs rise from the ground around us.
“Oh no,” Bailey said. “RUN!”
We all turned to run away from the house, but I knew we were too late.
Hundreds of massive snowballs began flying towards us, chasing us farther away from the house towards the bluff.
“Who ate the last cookie?” Mrs. Brody called to us from behind the flying wall of snowballs.
Bailey turned to look at me as we ran, and my eyes widened in fear.
“Oh, damn,” I said. “NOT ME!”
I ran faster, not wanting to face the wrath of a hungry, cookie-deprived Mrs. Brody.
We didn't stand a chance against her magic, though, and soon the snowballs caught up to us.
“DIVE!” Jane yelled.
I dove down into the snow and covered my eyes.
Snowballs began pummeling down on me, and before I knew it, I was blanketed in a massive pile of cold, wet snow.
“Not fair,” I called to Mrs. Brody through the snow.
“That should teach you for stealing the last cookie,” she snapped back at me.
I pushed the snow off of me and rolled over onto my back. The sky was clear, and it was one of those rare sunny winter days. I stretched my arms and legs out into the snow and made a snow angel as I regained my breath from my failed escape.
I closed my eyes and relished in the warm sun as it thawed my snow-frozen skin.
I had spent the past few years living in New York City, and while there was lots of snow there in the winter, it never really stuck. The streets were slushy, and the snow quickly turned an unappealing shade of gray.
I would sometimes make the trek into Central Park to enjoy the finer moments of winter, but with my busy school schedule at NYU, those days were few and far between.
This morning, the yard was covered in a beautiful thick layer of glistening snow. The perfectly smooth surface was short lived when my housemates attacked me with unfair advantage after I ate the last cookie from Mrs. Pots' latest delivery.
The air was quiet, and I could hear the light crashing of waves from the bay behind me, down below the bluffs at the back of the yard.
I sighed and breathed in the sweet scent of the crisp winter air, enjoying a much needed moment of quiet.
The peace was short-lived, though, as a loud meowing sounded from behind me.
I tilted my head back to see an extremely fat Momma Cat waddling towards me, followed by her kitten Agnes.
Both cats had joined our little family two months ago in October, when I found them lurking within the walls of the old Victorian home we all shared. Between those two and Soot, my other little gray adopted furbaby, the house was getting quite full.
“Have you been dipping into the cookies, too?” I asked the fat white cat as she walked past me.
The poor cat was getting fatter by the day, and she waddled as she made her way through the snow. “You're lucky you escaped the wrath of Mrs. Brody.”
Momma Cat meowed in response, then continued on her way. She obviously had better things to do than listen to me blabber on outside in the cold.
Or so I thought. She stopped and sat down in the snow just past my feet and began meowing loudly at me.
I sat up and looked at her. “What's going on, Momma?”
The cat meowed.
“Something wrong with Momma?” Bailey asked as she walked over to me, brushing the snow out of her hair.
Mrs. Brody had given up her attack and gone back into the house.
I shrugged. “I'm not sure. She seems fine. Just a bit fat. Maybe we should lay off the food.”
“Aw but she's so cute and pudgy,” Bailey said.
I laughed and nodded. “Fat little ball of fur. Looks just like you.”
Bailey kicked more snow at me, and I wiped it away from my face as I laughed.
“Better get inside before our hands freeze off,” I said.
I took Bailey's hand, and we walked into the house, followed by Jane and Rory.
Mrs. Pots had asked us to come help out at the bakery that night. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and she needed help re-organizing the Christmas displays, which usually just meant she needed help finishing up her Christmas cookie stock, apparently. Either way, I was looking forward to it.
Since moving to Brimstone Bay, my life had taken an odd turn. I'd been involved in solving a number of murders that occurred locally, and I was grateful the past month and a half were relatively quiet and normal.
Work has been busy, mostly because my editor was away on stress leave. Her romantic partner, and former Brimstone Press employee, was unfortunately killed this past Halloween.
I was happy to help out and was grateful for the promotion to lead journalist, but running the weekly paper was more work than I anticipated.
Fortunately, I arranged for this week's paper to be completed over a week ago, so everyone at the office could enjoy a week's vacation over Christmas.
I was looking forward to being lazy and doing absolutely nothing for Christmas, apart from drinking eggnog, eating cookies, and reading a good book. Oh, and hanging out with my new boyfriend Jordan, of course.
It took us a while given the odd circumstances of the beginning of our relationship, mostly due to the murders that kept occurring in town after we met, but he finally officially asked me out last month, and I was enjoying calling him my boyfriend. It made the idea of spending Christmas here in Brimstone Bay just a little bit less lonely.
“You ready?” Bailey called downstairs to me a few hours later.
I sat on my bed staring down at the fat ball of fur that lay sprawled on my floor, meowing up at me.
“I think I might sit tonight out,” I called back.
Momma Cat meowed again.
The floors creaked as Bailey came bounding down the stairs. “What do you mean? It's your first Christmas here, you have to come gorge with us at Mrs. Pots' so you can join in on the tradition!”
“I think there's something wrong with Momma,” I said.
Bailey stared down at the cat, who rolled onto her other side and continued with her incessant meowing.
I sighed. “I don't think I should leave her alone.”
“Look at you, being all maternal and stuff,” Bailey Laughed.
I shrugged. “I've grown fond of these little brats. Who knew I'd become one of those crazy old cat ladies so soon.”
“Alright, stay with her for now. But you really should come later. We'll be cracking the eggnog at midnight, so you better be there.”
“Midnight?” I gaped. “What are you guys even doing over there?”
Bailey laughed. “Well, the Bakery is closed for the next two days. We help her clean up the shop so she's not overwhelmed after Christmas, and when she closes up at midnight, we help her clean up the cookies.”
“She's open until midnight? That's nuts.”
“It's fun,” Bailey said. “I'm going to call you at 11:30, okay? You'd better come join us, at least for a bit.”
I nodded. “Okay, if Momma is fine at midnight, I'll come join you for a glass of eggnog and some cookies. Deal?”
“Perfect!” Bailey scratched Momma Cat behind the ears and left my room, closing my door behind her.
I could hear Jane and Rory run down the stairs and follow Bailey out of the house.
That's both the blessing and the curse of living in an old house like the one I lived in. You could hear where everyone else is at any given moment, thanks to the thin wooden floorboards and uninsulated walls.
“Looks like it's just you and me, Momma,” I said to the cat.
My door pushed open, and Soot and Agnes came prodding in.
“Or not,” I laughed.
It wasn’t even late, but I could feel my eyelids growing heavy with sleep. Snowball fights were exhausting.
After spending some time
with the cats, I laid down on my bed to rest my eyes for a short while. If anything happened to Momma, I should at least have been able to hear it and wake up to check on her.
Her weird mood lately worried me, and I wanted to keep an eye on her to make sure nothing happened.
I closed and locked the door to my room ensure she didn't quietly leave as I snoozed. Those cats had a habit of getting themselves into weird situations, and tonight I wanted to be sure to prevent that if I could.
I relaxed in my bed but found it difficult to sleep due to Momma's loud meowing. Soot and Agnes contributed to the cacophony as they joined in with Momma's howling.
However, sleep got the better of me eventually, and I dozed off to dreams of singing cats and snowball fights.
Something jolted me awake not too long later. I rubbed my eyes and noticed the dark sky outside my window.
I must have been asleep longer than I thought.
I'm not sure what woke me, but my heart was racing, and I felt an anxious knot in my stomach.
I checked my phone and saw that it was just after midnight. I yawned and pushed myself up, trying to focus my eyes through the darkness to find Momma Cat, who had grown suspiciously quiet.
“Happy Christmas Eve, Fat Momma,” I mumbled through a yawn as I tried to focus my eyes in the dark room. I could feel Momma's warmth next to me on the bed.
I then sat up and froze as I sensed an additional presence in my bedroom.
Beside me, on the side of my bed, lay Momma Cat and a brand new little black kitten. The tiny new addition looked up at me and yawned, and Momma Cat purred into my sheets.
I slowly turned my attention from the kitten to the foot of my bed.
In front of me, just beyond my feet, stood two people staring down at me, their faces held expressions of both confusion and concern. The male form opened his mouth to speak.
“You're next,” he said.
I screamed.
Read Bewitch You a Merry Christmas HERE.