by Cindy Stark
Where Mr. Kitty was concerned she’d learned not to question anything.
That didn’t mean she would take his sass without giving some back.
She lifted the book and then shot the cat, her cat, she supposed, a narrow-eyed glare. “Why is this here?”
The orange tabby stared at her as though he regarded an imbecile.
His attitude did nothing to ingratiate him to her. “Don’t you know it’s not polite for a man to rifle through a lady’s lingerie drawer?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he lifted a sardonic brow.
She kept her gaze on him as she moved the spell book to the table next to her chair. She sat and picked up the thriller she’d been reading, instead.
She showed him the cover and smirked. “I don’t know why you think you get to tell me what to do in my own house. You’re the guest here. I’m the one who goes to work to make the money that buys your food so you can stay fat and sassy.”
He let out a long caterwaul followed by several short bursts of meowing that sounded an awful lot like he was telling her off. When he was finished, he shifted a suggestive gaze to the spell book on the table.
She flicked a glance at it and then looked back to him. “No.”
Yes. You must.
Of course, he’d pull the creepy mind communication when he didn’t get his way. She had so many reasons to boot his orange butt out the door, but this was why she kept him. He knew things she didn’t. Things she feared she’d need to know if she intended to stay in the town that had stolen her heart.
Must? Why must she read it? She’d certainly been curious enough when she’d first found it, but the darker than dark spells at the back of the book had left her…uncomfortable.
Her mother had pounded the message to stay away from black magic into her brain so often during her childhood that she’d become annoyed. We are not the type of witches who tap into that power. To do so is to invite things into your life that you don’t want.
Like she would ever consider messing with danger. She’d lived her whole life using her magic to help and heal people. It wasn’t in her to do otherwise.
But she’d also never had it thrust right into her face like this, either. And the whole “must” thing stirred the worry inside her. Stonebridge might look quaint on the outside, but she’d discovered it also had a shadow side, which left her anxious.
She looked back to Mr. Kitty who still watched her with a serious yet annoyed expression. “I’ve already looked at this. I’ve learned everything I need to know.”
Look again. You need to learn.
“There’s nothing in there that will help me with my life. I know all about brews and potions, and I use those in my teas to make people less stressed, fall in love, and feel better. My life is happy the way it is. I don’t need to learn anything else.”
You need to protect yourself.
His understated warning sent chills skittering across her skin, but she still couldn’t honor his request. “No, I don’t. I know the rules and the cautions of living in Stonebridge. Cora gave me a concealing spell if I ever need to use magic. Which I don’t intend to do.”
She wanted Mr. Kitty to help guide her, but not when it came to dark magic.
She pointedly opened to where she had left off reading the thriller, and did her best to ignore the intense energy that blasted from Mr. Kitty’s direction. She wouldn’t be controlled by a cat. A crazy one at that.
She was in charge of her destiny. “Maybe someday I will want to go back through it, but not now. Today, I want peace and to lose myself in a world of murder and mystery. So, bug off.”
If you don’t learn, you’ll have no peace. Dead or alive, you will find no peace.
Again, his ominous warning stirred the anxiety inside her until it boiled. She growled her frustration at him.
Mr. Kitty crawled from beneath the couch, not threatened at all by her outburst, and jumped onto the coffee table in front of Hazel where he proceeded to look her directly in the eye. Don’t make me tell your grandmother.
Son of a crunchy biscuit. The last time she was at Clarabelle’s house, she’d had something of a conversation with her ancient grandmother’s ghost. Hazel had innocently managed to trigger unfounded fears for her grandmother. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her further.
If she didn’t appear to try to learn, Mr. Kitty would make sure she couldn’t visit her grandmother again without repercussions. Not only that, Hazel intended to purchase Clarabelle’s house, and she’d hoped to make a good life there. For that, she needed a happy grandma ghost.
Hazel sighed and shot a disgusted look at her cat. “Fine,” she said in a snarky voice. “I will read it tonight, but tomorrow, we’re back to the thriller. Understand?”
Her cat watched her until she picked up the book of spells and opened it. Then he jumped off the table, crawled back under the couch, and curled himself into a ball where he would likely fall asleep.
She opened the cover to the front page and caught sight of Clarabelle’s quote again. Better to follow your heart, or you’re already dead.
Had her grandmother meant that in reference to life in general, to a man, or to following the prompting of her heart where spells were concerned? She wished she knew that and so much more.
Except not about her dark spells.
Hazel hesitated, wondering if Mr. Kitty would hear her switch the books again and then decided he’d know if she did. Instead, she flipped to the page she’d marked with a kiddie bookmark she’d obtained from the library.
The Wrath of the Damned.
****
The title of the spell gave Hazel shivers. “The Wrath of the Damned,” she whispered. Sounded horribly ominous to her. She supposed that was the point.
This would be the spell that her grandmother had used to create what the residents called the infamous Witches’ Wrath. The nor-easter storm Clarabelle and her cohorts had created ravaged Stonebridge every year around Ostara as punishment for the town who’d persecuted the them for their beliefs.
On the next page, she found instructions for evaporating water.
A hair from each of the witches.
Blessed water from Redemption Pond. The place where the pious townsfolk had laden Clarabelle’s pockets with stones before they’d ruthlessly pushed her and her friends overboard and left them to drown. Her grandmother must have known what was in store and had given survival her best shot.
She wondered if they had tried the spell out in advance, or if the moment they’d sunk to the bottom, they’d had no idea whether their attempt would work.
And worse, what it must have been like to realize they’d failed. The thought left her sad.
Blood of the accuser.
Three simple ingredients. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how they’d thought they could manage to collect blood from their accusers.
She wished there was an easier way to learn more about her ancestor’s history. Maybe Hazel needed to reconsider fully reading the book. Maybe then, she’d find clues as to what had happened during those last few days before Stonebridge’s citizens had tried and convicted her.
During Hazel’s first attempt to read the entire book, she’d smiled at the childlike scrawling that detailed how to find edible mushrooms or how to calm a cow before milking. Those spells included who’d taught them and, frequently, the name was Mama.
As she’d turned the pages, the writing had grown smoother with a distinctive flair that Hazel supposed had been common during that time. Those spells had come from many different sources besides Clarabelle’s mother.
Eventually, Clarabelle had become the creator of spells, including the darkest ones that appeared last in the book. If Hazel understood Mr. Kitty correctly, she was expected to learn everything inside, even if she knew she’d never use it.
Not knowing where to start reading this time, she closed her eyes and ran a finger over the edge of the pages waiting for a spark of knowing from the
universe. When it came, she slid her fingernail into the space and opened to that page. As she read the words, she drew her brows into a curious and uncertain frown.
From what she could tell, this was a spell for money.
Huh? That didn’t seem horribly awful. Like could this make her rich?
The idea appealed to her. If she had to learn something new, this didn’t seem so bad. And money, if used correctly, could provide lots of positive outcomes.
A coin as an offering.
Blood from the seeker.
She blocked out her mother’s words that warned of anything requiring blood. Blood spells were dark spells regardless of how innocent they might seem.
Then again, her mother had no idea what it was like to be caught between two worlds like she was. Her mom had told her to be careful and protect herself. Practicing this spell would likely fall under that category since she knew Mr. Kitty would make her life miserable if she didn’t do something.
Burn over the flame of desire until the two become one.
That’s it? She could place a drop of her blood on a penny and heat it with fire, and then the universe would grant her more money?
She shut the book with a snap. Mr. Kitty startled and sent her a nasty glare.
Holy harpies. She was so doing that right now. She could be rich by tomorrow. Then she could buy Clarabelle’s house and anything else she wanted. How cool would that be?
Just because her mother had only taught her passive spells didn’t make all the others wrong. Hazel had a heritage of rich blood in her veins, and it would be a shame not to explore it a little.
She assembled the ingredients in her kitchen. A penny. A pin to prick her finger. A lighter and a pair of pliers to hold the penny while she burned it. This was much simpler than the spell she’d tried in an attempt to grow her lashes longer. There was no way she could get this one wrong.
Before she began the spell, she whispered the words Cora had taught her so that she could conceal any trace of her magic from the world.
“Close their eyes. Cover their ears. Let me practice with no fears. When in this space, no one shall see…the magic that I bring to be. I deem this true, so mote it be.”
Then came time for the pin prick. She wasn’t one who could easily inflict pain on herself, but one small bit of discomfort would be worth the outcome, right? Even if this spell was blood magic, she wasn’t cursing anyone or asking for unearthly power.
Which is what Clarabelle must have done to drain the lake. The thought bewildered her.
Enough procrastination. She placed the pin over her finger and inhaled. With a quick stab, the tip pierced her skin, and she grimaced from the prick of pain. She dropped the pin and squeezed the tip of her finger until the blood welled into a red bud.
Her heart thumped loudly as she turned her finger downward and continued squeezing until a drop fell onto the penny. She carefully secured the penny between the tips of the pliers and then flicked on the lighter. It took a few moments for the penny to heat, but when it did, blood bubbled on the surface.
She cast a quick glance at the tome and carefully repeated the words scrawled on the page.
“A sacrifice is made as my thanks to thee. A willing gift of blood in exchange for money. This wish will be granted, so mote it be.”
When the blood became dried rust on the penny, she released the lighter and dropped it on the kitchen counter. The hot penny glowed with energy as she set it on a ceramic plate, and then she paused to study her work.
She didn’t feel different, didn’t feel richer, and she wondered how long it would take before her spell went into effect. It wasn’t as if her phone was ringing with someone on the other end giving her the news that she had inherited a million dollars from a long-lost aunt.
Maybe it was one of those spells that took time. That was fine with her. She had all the time in the world.
Or maybe she’d done it wrong. Or maybe her innocent heart wouldn’t allow her to illicit such magic. Either way, she could say she’d tried to learn.
She turned and startled. Kitty was perched on the table, watching with approval in his eyes.
“Why do you have to do that? Can’t you be a normal kitty who doesn’t maim and scare the daylights out of his owner?”
He chuffed, jumped to the floor, and strode away with his tail high in the air as if to say no one owned him.
She shook her head in annoyance.
By the time she put away her tools, the penny had cooled. She gently picked it up and carried it upstairs with her into her bedroom where she placed it under her pillow. This way, it would be out of sight.
Not that anyone would be in her house to find it. But she’d messed with magic, something she’d promised her mother she wouldn’t do once she was in Stonebridge. After what had happened to poor Clarabelle, she wasn’t taking any chances..
Click HERE to purchase THREE TIMES CHARMED, Teas and Temptations Cozy Mystery Series, Book Three.
Book List
TEAS & TEMPTATIONS COZY MYSTERIES (PG-Rated Fun):
Once Wicked
Twice Hexed
Three Times Charmed
BLACKWATER CANYON RANCH (Western Sexy Romance):
Caleb
Caleb
Oliver
Justin
Piper
Jesse
ASPEN SERIES (Small Town Sexy Romance):
Wounded (Prequel)
Relentless
Lawless
Cowboys and Angels
Come Back to Me
Surrender
Reckless
Tempted
Crazy One More Time
I’m With You
Breathless
PINECONE VALLEY (Small Town Sexy Romance):
Love Me Again
Love Me Always
RETRIBUTION NOVELS (Sexy Romantic Suspense):
Branded
Hunted
Banished
Hijacked
Betrayed
ARGENT SPRINGS (Small Town Sexy Romance):
Whispers
Secrets
OTHER TITLES:
Moonlight and Margaritas (Sexy Contemporary Romance)
Sweet Vengeance (Sexy Romantic Suspense)
About the Author
Award-winning author Cindy Stark lives with her family and a sweet Border Collie in a small town shadowed by the Rocky Mountains. She writes fun, witch cozy mysteries, emotional romantic suspense, and sexy contemporary romance. She loves to hear from readers!
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http://www.CindyStark.com
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5895446.Cindy_Stark
https://www.amazon.com/Cindy-Stark/e/B008FT394W