License to Spell: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Undercover Witch Book 1)

by Paige Howland

  “Because it contains the spell to create werewolves.”

  I stared at him. “And you want to create more werewolves why, exactly?”

  His expression turned hard. “I don’t. I went to a lot of trouble to destroy all traces of that spell outside the book to make sure no one else is cursed like this. That’s one of the reasons I want that book.”

  “And the other reason?”

  He shrugged, but the look in his eyes told me exactly how important this was to him. “I’m hoping it contains the counter-spell.”

  My eyes widened. I wanted to ask him more about the Grimoire and this counter-spell, but he was talking faster now. Like we were running out of time.

  “Do you remember when I told you there’s something going on inside the CIA and to watch your back?”

  It was kind of hard to forget. “Vaguely.”

  “Well, I think there’s a shadow organization within the CIA. I think seven months ago, I got too close to the truth, and that group set me up. I think Sloane was part of this group and that they’re more powerful than I realized. I think they’re responsible for getting Sloane assigned to this op and for using Merrick to try to complete the cloaking spell. And I think that’s only the tip of what they’re capable of. I think they’re after the Grimoire.”

  I blinked at him. Secret government shadow organizations? Lost spellbooks? It sounded crazy. But then again, Sloane wasn’t working alone. And didn’t Alec say Merrick had a mole feeding him information from inside the CIA after Sloane was supposedly killed? How else would Merrick have known we were after him in Portugal?

  “Merrick said a source told him Sloane was going to turn him into the CIA after he completed the spell.”

  Alec grimaced. “Actually, that was me. I saw Sloane at the palace in Pyongyang and figured they were working together, so I figured I’d sow some doubt.”

  “That’s what you whispered to that guard by the river!”

  He nodded, but his expression was grim. “I thought it might get Merrick to back off the spell, not go full-on super-villain.”

  I nodded. “Okay, let’s say I believe you about the grimoire and this shadow organization. What can I do about it? As of an hour ago, I’m just a barista. And why do you keep looking out the window?”

  His lips tipped up. “The agency is calling you back in. There’s another mission. Ryerson is outside your apartment right now. Hell, if you hadn’t hugged me when you did, I think he would have shot me. Or at least tried to. He’ll be up here—”

  There was a knock at the door.

  He grimaced and muttered, “Punctual bastard. Look, I got to go, but before I do, I need your help.”

  “With more than helping you uncover a secret government conspiracy?”

  He grinned. “It’s a tiny favor. The agency wants you to help them find the Grimoire so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands again. I know where it is. I need you to use it to cure me, and then help me destroy it.”

  Epilogue

  Connor

  I sat in my car outside the little Chinese restaurant Ainsley loved so much, staring up at her apartment window and thinking about how badly I’d screwed up.

  She had almost died, and it was my fault.

  I hadn’t believed her when she told me Sloane was still alive. And then, when I had the chance to kill Sloane, I didn’t take it. I hesitated. I’d been so surprised to see her, and then the curse had tightened around me so tight I couldn’t breathe, much less think, and …

  And those were excuses, all of them. The bottom line was I’d hesitated, and Ainsley had paid the price. The memory of Sloane choking Ainsley on that catwalk slammed into me, and my grip tightened painfully over the steering wheel as anger and guilt washed through me.

  Hell, the only reason I’d found Ainsley and Merrick in that warehouse was because she’d told me the curse would allow me to track Sloane if I really tried. When my team arrived at the location Ainsley had scryed and found nothing there, I’d tried calling her. When she didn’t answer, I’d sent an agent to her apartment. She wasn’t there, but he’d found blood on the carpet. I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to track Sloane. And it actually worked. The first—and only—good thing to come of that damn love curse.

  I owed Ainsley an apology. Hell, I owed her a lot more than that. But I’d start with begging her forgiveness, on my knees if I had to, and then I’d ask her for one more favor.

  To go out on a date with me.

  Because the one good thing to come out of today? Ainsley wasn’t my partner anymore.

  Don’t get me wrong. As a spy, she has potential, even if she can’t see it. She’s brave, quick on her feet, and she knows how to improvise. She’s even becoming more adept with her magic. She must have been petrified in that warehouse, and she called her magic to her with no problem. I wonder if she’s even realized that yet. I couldn’t be more proud of her.

  But I’ll never date someone I work with again. Especially Ainsley. If I’d learned anything in the past six months, it was that emotion in the field compromised me. And if I hesitate, people could die. Ainsley could die. I’d failed her once. I wouldn’t do it again.

  Lucky for me, she was a civilian now. I could date civilians.

  Just the thought of sitting across the dinner table from her—a proper dinner, not looking at her across a safe-house coffee table littered with Chinese takeout boxes—made me feel lighter. Happier.

  Hard to believe, when I’d already felt lighter than I had in months since Andersen had lifted that damn love curse a few hours ago. Which, according to Andersen, was one more thing I should be thanking Ainsley for.

  My lips twitched in a smile that felt rusty but good, and I looked up at her window again. A few minutes ago, I’d watched her silhouette trudge through the apartment and into her bedroom and then throw itself face-first onto the bed. I thought about letting her sleep, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to wait that long. I shook my head. It was almost funny: I’d camped out in cars for days waiting for a mark to show themselves, and now I didn’t think I’d make it ten minutes. I needed to see her. To know she was okay. To hold her. Simple as that.

  I opened the car door and then tensed when something caught my attention. A shadow in her apartment, one that wasn’t supposed to be there. By the time the silhouette reached her bedroom door I was out of the car, gun drawn and pointed at her bedroom window. If anyone saw me right now, I’d be in a world of trouble, but I didn’t care.

  It was a man’s shadow, that much was clear from his size and the way he moved, even though the damn curtains obscured his face and the rest of his features. He stopped in her bedroom doorway, and I cursed under my breath. The wall blocked my shot. I was debating going inside versus waiting out here for him to move, when Ainsley leapt out of bed. For the longest moment of my life, she just stood there, staring at the intruder while my brain cycled through the hundred different ways I could get to him before he got to her.

  Then she surprised the hell out of me by throwing herself into his arms.

  I stared at the window, a solid five seconds passing before I remembered to lower my gun.

  Ainsley … had a boyfriend?

  My stomach twisted into a painful knot. Nothing in her dossier had indicated she might have a boyfriend. In fact, the CIA’s intel had found evidence of only two other men in her life: a father and a brother, both of whom should be at work right now. Granted, the CIA had pulled together its dossier on a time crunch, but it was hard to believe that they’d miss something this big.

  Why hadn’t she told me?

  Stupid question. Of course she didn’t tell me. I’d spent nearly every minute we were together avoiding getting personal with her.

  And failing miserably at it.

  Damn it, boyfriend or not, I could still tell her how I felt. I could be honest with her, something I clearly needed practice with anyway, and give her the choice: this other guy or me.

  Mind made up, I started toward the Chin
ese restaurant just as my cell buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Restricted number. Which meant the office.

  “Ryerson,” I answered.

  “Agent Ryerson,” Dahlia said, “you’re needed back in the office. We have a new assignment.”

  I pushed inside the restaurant and a little bell notified the hawk-eyed proprietor of my arrival. Mr. Cho, I think his name was. He looked up from the water glass he was refilling for a customer and narrowed his eyes. Like he knew I was here to see Ainsley and that I wasn’t good enough for her. I ignored him and headed for the stairs at the back of the restaurant, crossing him off my short mental list of men who Ainsley might greet by throwing herself into his arms. Not that I was jealous or anything.

  “Give me thirty minutes,” I said to Dahlia. “There’s something I need to do first.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  I frowned at the phone, and my steps slowed. “What?”

  “Director Abrams wants you in right away, but he wants you to make a stop first.”

  I slowed and then stopped completely on the stairs, my grip tightening over the phone as Dahlia explained what Director Abrams wanted.

  Ainsley. He wanted Ainsley.

  “Ryerson?” Dahlia said. “You still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  I forced my attention back to the conversation. “No. That’s not a problem. I’ll tell her.”

  We hung up and I stopped outside Ainsley’s door, heart in my throat. Maybe she’ll say no, I thought hopefully. She knows how dangerous this job is. Maybe she’ll just say no. Then she’ll be safe.

  I knocked once. Twice. Then three times. And with each knock, I convinced myself a little more that she’d turn down Director Abrams’s offer. That she’d go back to being a barista, or whatever she wanted to be, and I wouldn’t worry about her every minute of every day.

  I raised my fist to knock a fourth time, but she opened the door and looked up at me with those wide, beautiful blue eyes. She didn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, she looked like she expected me. No, not me, exactly. The company. She opened her mouth, and my heart sunk.

  “I’m in,” she said.

  The End.

  Sort of…

  Ainsley’s story continues in You Only Spell Twice, coming October 2018!

  From the Author

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading License to Spell! With so many amazing stories competing for your time these days, I really appreciate your willingness to spend some time in my world.

  If you enjoyed Ainsley’s story and have a few minutes to leave a review, I’d be forever grateful. Reviews are the most important method we have to bring attention to our books and reach more readers.

  Yours,

  Paige

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  Acknowledgments

  There are so many people who are part of creating a story, whether they know it or not. First, my cover artist, Natasha Snow, for being so talented and for putting up with my constant tweaks and indecision. My early beta readers, Jennifer and Ellen of Quiethouse Editing, for their amazing feedback. Red Adept Publishing, LLC, for proofreading and catching all of the minor errors in this book that I missed. Any typos or mistakes are obviously my own. Tonja Tomblin, my critique partner, for her sharp eye and for hashing out ideas and being a constant source of support and amusement. My mom, for the neverending encouragement and for teaching me to love stories. And Dad, for the hundreds of hours spent talking story structure, character development, and everything else story-related. I love those days. My siblings, Kathy, Merry, Tommy and Bree, for your unwavering encouragement and support. Love you guys. My brother-in-law Scott, for his amazing web design skills and Halo knowledge. Ashleigh Johnson, for the days spent plotting non-violent felonies to get the books we want to read faster. And my husband Rick, for everything.

  Also by Paige Howland

  About the Author

  Paige is the author of the Undercover Witch urban fantasy series. She writes about magic and mayhem, with a splash of romance and a heavy dose of snark. When she’s not writing or reading, she’s probably hanging out with her family or bingeing on Netflix and cookies. She spent way too many years in the food service industry, and even more years than that as a divorce lawyer. She has a slight coffee addiction, aims to spend as much time as possible in sweatpants, and always keeps extra salt in the cupboard because she watches too much Supernatural and, well, you never know. She loves dogs, wine, photography, traveling and shoes. And people, most of the time. She lives in St. Louis, Missouri where she's hard at work on her next book. She’s also always on the lookout for new and fun ways to procrastinate, so reach out to her on Twitter or via email – she’d love to hear from you!

  Website: www.paigehowland.com

  Email: paigehowlandauthor@gmail.com

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/paigehowland1