Magic & Mercy

by Annabel Chase

  Magic & Mercy

  Starry Hollow Witches, Book 5

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Magic & Mercy

  Starry Hollow Witches, Book 5

  By Annabel Chase

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  Copyright © 2018 Red Palm Press LLC

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Alchemy

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Thank You For Reading

  Dedication

  Thanks to all those who serve others, whether that’s as a mother, a soldier, a nurse, a waiter, or a butler.

  Thank you also to my lovely reader, Irene Whitwell, for coming up with Bewitching Bites for the candy shop. You’re on the map!

  Chapter 1

  Marley and I were summoned to the stables after school on Monday. On the walk across the grounds of Thornhold, my family’s ancestral estate, my brain came up with twenty reasons why we might be in trouble, including a recent attempt to change Candle’s color to pink. It was only a minor spell and I reversed the horse back to its normal white before anyone was the wiser, or so I believed. I planned to hold my tongue before admitting any wrongdoing, though.

  Hyacinth Rose-Muldoon, my aunt and the family matriarch, was waiting out front when we arrived, managing to maintain her regal air amidst the haystacks and the smell of manure. Her teal kaftan was dotted with images of unicorn heads.

  “No cats today?” I remarked. My aunt often favored clothing that reflected her familiar, the explosive snowflake named Precious.

  She smoothed the front of her kaftan. “This one seemed appropriate to mark the occasion,” she sniffed.

  “And what occasion is that?” I asked.

  “It isn’t every day you get to present your great-niece with her very own unicorn.”

  Marley and I froze. Did she say what I thought she said?

  “My own what?” Marley choked out the words.

  “Unicorn, darling.” My aunt regarded Marley. “It’s my understanding that you’re quite the skilled rider. I’m not one to let raw talent go to waste.”

  “Some kids get a used piano,” I said.

  “She’s welcome to one of those, as well,” my aunt said, as though I’d mentioned a pack of gum from the grocery store checkout line.

  Marley had recently discovered a natural talent for piano, too. My daughter was full of surprises. I had to admit, it was thrilling for me to witness. There was no greater joy as a mother than watching your child thrive.

  My aunt entered the stables and stopped in front of the first stall. “Magnificent, isn’t she?”

  The unicorn was breathtaking. With broad white shoulders, muscular legs, and a glowing silver horn, she was every little girl’s fantasy come true.

  “Maybe we should have discussed this ahead of time,” I said.

  “You object to such a fine creature?” Aunt Hyacinth asked, almost daring me.

  “I don’t object to the unicorn, of course.” I wasn’t a monster. “But maybe we should have discussed a payment plan. You can’t just give a ten year old an expensive animal without a sense of responsibility.”

  “Mom, you know I’d never be irresponsible,” Marley argued. “Especially not with a living creature.”

  I knew that much was true. Marley cared for everything from plants to frogs. She was far superior to me in that regard. I couldn’t keep a cactus alive in the desert.

  “That’s not what I mean.” I remembered my own childhood spent doing chores and odd jobs for pocket money. As soon as I was old enough to get a part-time job during school, I did. Then I got pregnant, of course, and all my plans dissolved.

  “You’ve been given much and more since you’ve arrived in Starry Hollow,” my aunt said. “A home, a position of respect, a nice car.”

  Guilt threatened to overwhelm me. “And I work hard to earn them, even retroactively.” Not to mention that Rose Cottage had belonged to my parents and was rightfully mine. That sounded far too petty to say out loud, though. I was grateful for the tremendous start we’d been given here.

  My aunt inclined her white-blond head. “What’s your concern, darling?”

  My concern was that my daughter would end up as spoiled and lazy as my cousin Florian, who had Aunt Hyacinth wrapped around his godlike finger. Admitting that was far too great a risk, though. I wasn’t in the mood to become a toad for the rest of the day.

  “I want Marley to learn the value of things,” I said. “If you give her everything she could ever dream of in childhood without any elbow grease from her, what’s left to strive for? There are lessons I want her to learn.”

  My aunt blew a dismissive breath. “Marley is a Rose, a descendant of the One True Witch. Elbow grease, as you so charmingly put it, is beneath her.”

  Marley clasped my hand. “Mom, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to become a spoiled brat, I promise. I want to learn to ride, and having a unicorn here is a great opportunity. Gives me more time to practice between lessons with Kelsey. It’ll be an incentive to work harder.”

  “That was my thinking as well,” my aunt said, satisfied with Marley’s logic.

  I found myself relenting. What was I going to do? Be the kind of mother that deprives her daughter of her own unicorn? Ugh. Motherhood was a minefield.

  “Fine,” I said. “But you have to take care of her, too. You can’t let the staff at Thornhold do all the dirty work.”

  “Deal,” Marley said, doing a happy dance. It buoyed my heart to see her so upbeat. Her eyes had been opened to the cold reality of life and death at a young age, and it was often difficult to override that experience.

  “Well chosen,” my aunt said, clearly pleased that she’d won this round.

  “Not much of a choice,” I grumbled. I could understand my father’s unwillingness to raise me within her sphere of influence. She was like a tractor beam, sucking in everything within range.

  “Does she have a name?” Marley asked, her blue eyes shining with excitement. I couldn’t blame her. I’d been excited over shiny unicorn stickers when I was ten. She had an actual unicorn.

  “She’s willing to be named by you,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “That was part of the arrangement.”

  Marley stroked the unicorn’s silky mane. “Firefly.”

  “A unicorn is not a pegasus, you know,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “She cannot fly.”

  “I know the difference, Aunt Hyacinth,” Marley said. “Thank you for your generous gift.”

  My aunt’s mouth twisted in her version of a kind smile. “You’re quite welcome, my dear. Perhaps we’ll be attending your competitions soon.”

  No sooner did she finish speaking than Simon appeared with some fancy version of a rickshaw. Simon was Aunt Hyac
inth’s butler and had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what she needed when she needed it. I was convinced there was magic at work, but Simon insisted that he was simply very good at his job. As soon as Aunt Hyacinth was settled inside, Simon lifted the arms and ran off in the direction of the main house, the wheels bouncing over the uneven ground.

  “Simon must be in better shape than he seems,” Marley observed.

  I faced my daughter. “Confession time. You named her Firefly after the Joss Whedon show, didn’t you?”

  She gave me a coy look. “I don’t know what you mean. I named her after the soft-bodied beetle with luminescent organs. The females are flightless, you know.”

  I touched the unicorn’s glowing horn. “She’s beautiful, Marley. You’re a very lucky girl.”

  Marley leaned her head on my shoulder. “I belong to you, don’t I? I was born lucky.”

  Without a jolt of magical caffeine, there was no way I could get through a morning of runecraft and crazy Hazel, or Crazel as Marley dubbed her one morning, causing me to spit out my cereal.

  After walking Marley to school, I ducked into the Caffeinated Cauldron for a latte to keep me awake and alive. I tucked Prescott Peabody III, my aging Yorkshire terrier, inside my jacket so that only his disheveled head was visible. I wasn’t sure about the pet policy, but I wasn’t about to leave PP3 tied up outside. The old dog would keel over if I dared to leave him in an unfamiliar setting. No new tricks for my old dog included no new places.

  I ordered a vanilla latte with a shot of talent.

  “What’s the talent for?” the barista asked.

  “I have my first broomstick lesson tomorrow,” I said. “I expect it to go well, but I can’t be too careful.” My luck had a way of deserting me in times of need.

  “You don’t have your license already?” the barista asked. The elf was clearly new because everyone else in the coffee shop knew I was a transplant from the human world, New Jersey to be exact.

  “This Rose is a late bloomer,” I said.

  “Ember, is that you? Why do you seem so…lumpy?” Linnea Rose-Muldoon stood beside me in all her resplendent glory. She was a sight to behold no matter what you were—human, paranormal, animal. They all basked in the glow of my cousin’s ethereal beauty.

  I turned to face her and PP3 forced a pathetic bark. “I’m taking the dog for a walk.”

  “Doesn’t that require the dog to actually walk?” She brushed the dog’s hair from his eyes. “Hello, sweetness.”

  “He’s tired. What brings you here?” I asked. “Don’t you have a top-of-the-line espresso machine at home?” Linnea ran Palmetto House, an inn that catered to Starry Hollow tourists.

  “I do, but I’m busy with guests this week thanks to the Paranormal Estate Management Association’s annual conference. I’m headed to the Wish Market for the second time this week for supplies.”

  “Oh, right. Aster mentioned the conference at our last tourism board meeting. It’s a bunch of butlers descending on Starry Hollow, right?” I paused. “What’s the collective noun for butlers?” There was a pride of lions. A troop of monkeys. An unkindness of ravens. I snapped my fingers. “How about a murder of butlers? Hmm. You should probably avoid that joke in front of your guests.”

  “I have to admit, butlers make the best guests,” Linnea said. “They keep trying to wait on me instead. Creatures of habit.”

  "That must be a nice change for you," I said. Like me, Linnea was a single mother and always seemed to be working hard to keep her business afloat and her children happy.

  "Absolutely," Linnea said. Her expression brightened. "You should come round for dinner tonight. They make wonderful dinner companions. So many enjoyable anecdotes from their estates.” She hesitated. "I've already invited Rick."

  “Really?” I was pleased, albeit surprised. Frederick Simms was a handsome minotaur who co-owned Paradise Found, the best garden center in town. I'd met him recently during an investigation of a dead elf found buried in a sand sculpture and thought that Rick might be a good match for my cousin. Linnea was the kind of beauty the average paranormal would deem unapproachable. Plus, she had the whole descendent of the One True Witch thing going on. That was intimidating all by itself.

  "Does your mother know about Rick?" I queried. Aunt Hyacinth would not be pleased with the news that her daughter was dating a minotaur, even one as gregarious and attractive as Rick. My aunt preferred to keep romantic entanglements within the Silver Moon coven, not that she’d had much success. With the exception of Aster, who was married to a workaholic wizard, no one else in the family had found love within the coven.

  Linnea pressed her rosebud lips together. "Not yet, although I'm sure her spies have reported sightings. We've tried to be discreet. I'll deal with Mother when I'm ready."

  No doubt Aunt Hyacinth and her constant interferences served as an obstacle for even the most ardent of admirers.

  “How about Bryn and Hudson?" I asked. "Have they met him yet?"

  Linnea gave a quick shake of her white-blond head. "This dinner will be their first introduction. They don't know I'm dating him, so I thought a group setting would be best. I'm hopeful that Wyatt doesn't get wind of it too soon. He’ll be incorrigible.”

  I couldn't help but smile. Wyatt Nash was Linnea’s ex-husband and the father of her two children. He was also the brother of my current…What did I call him? He was the brother of Sheriff Granger Nash, the grumpy werewolf I seemed to be dating at the moment, despite my best efforts to be alone. Although Marley liked the sheriff well enough, she seemed to be stuck on my boss, Alec Hale, as a potential love interest for me. She didn't know the extent of the damage I’d done to Alec recently with the opposite spell, though, and I had no plans to tell her. She’d be mortified and I didn't need to feel any more guilt than I already did.

  "I need to get a move on," I said. "I'm already late for a runecraft lesson and you know how Hazel gets. What time should I be there tonight?"

  “Seven o'clock," Linnea said. "Be sure to bring Marley. Her cousins are constantly asking for her."

  A genuine smile came to my lips. I’d never had family around me growing up because my father had left Starry Hollow after my mother’s death and hidden our identities so that we couldn't be found. As a result, I’d grown up alone in New Jersey with my father. The rift between the Rose siblings had prompted my father to leave the paranormal world far behind. He raised me as a human, cloaked our location, and suppressed my magic. It was only when I was in a life or death situation that my magic broke through and saved me. It also meant that the shield my father had created all those years ago had burst, allowing Aunt Hyacinth to find me. At first, I’d worried that he’d kept me hidden due to actual danger, but it seemed that it was simply a disagreement that resulted in lifelong estrangement. On occasion, I felt a pang of guilt for settling into Starry Hollow with Marley, that I’d let my father down. Then, I would look at Marley and see how she was thriving here, and I knew that I wouldn't change a thing.

  “Perfect,” I said. “We’ll be there.”

  Chapter 2

  “You’re late,” Hazel said. The Mistress-of-Runecraft stood on the doorstep of Rose Cottage with her arms folded and a disapproving expression on her splotchy face. To be fair, she always wore the disapproving expression when she was with me.

  “PP3 needs to pee first,” I said, and set the dog on the ground. He circled a few bushes and trees before settling on a spot very close to Hazel’s feet.

  “Did you bring a drink for me?” Hazel asked, eyeing my takeaway cup.

  “Sorry, I could only handle one cup with the dog.” I opened the front door and Hazel nearly tripped over PP3 as he threaded his way through our feet to beat us inside. Even though he was old and ornery, he still liked to lead the pack.

  I plopped onto the couch and kicked off my shoes. As much as I enjoyed the walk to and from school every day, it took a toll on my feet. I couldn’t have normal soles—no siree—my arches had to rival the c
urve of a rainbow, resulting in chronic foot cramps. When Karl was alive, my amiable husband was tasked with rubbing my feet at the end of a long day. I still remembered the way his hands felt on my bare skin, strong and sure. I used to tease him about his sausage fingers, but they kneaded muscles like nobody’s business. And he never complained about touching my misshapen feet, which I would’ve completely understood.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Hazel asked, unpacking her bag on the table. She removed the Big Book of Scribbles, as well as a smaller drawstring bag of rune tiles.

  “Making myself at home,” I said. “Because I am.”

  “We have much to accomplish today,” Hazel said. “Did you manage to complete your homework this time?”

  I closed my eyes and groaned. “Yes, Miss Hazel.”

  “Let’s see it then.” She held out her hand and PP3 barked as though she was offering him a treat.

  I dragged myself off the couch and went to hunt for the page of translations I’d finished late last night. I’d debated not doing the assignment just to annoy Hazel, but I worried that the crazed clown would seek vengeance through my aunt, so I acquiesced.

  I opened and closed the drawers of the sideboard. “Where is it?”

  “Where do you normally keep your homework?” Hazel asked. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t normally do any.”

  A thought occurred to me. I plucked the sheet from between the cushions of the couch and held up the wrinkled paper in triumph.

  Hazel’s nostrils flared. “How did it end up there?”

  “I fell asleep toward the end,” I said. “You can see right there where I trailed off.” It resembled an EKG—the markings on the paper grew smaller and messier until they formed a wiggly line to the edge of the page.