Magick and Mischief (Warlocks MacGregor Book 7)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Margareta had been named after his ma.

  Alice had been named for Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, which was her favorite book when she was Margareta.

  Jewel because that is what she was to him, the most precious of jewels.

  He grieved for her past lives, able to recall the feeling of having her die in his arms only to be reborn in fire.

  This was her fourth life. He’d named her Margareta Alice Jewel MacGregor, hoping the combination of the names would somehow fuse her together. Maybe this time she would live a full life.

  Maybe.

  But doubtful.

  The family called her Jewel, because that was who she had been when they’d met her for the first time.

  Jewel’s mother had been a phoenix. Geneva used him for a death ritual. Giving birth and passing on her curse had been the only way to end her own life. He never wanted Jewel to feel that desperate. If he managed to get her to adulthood and her magick stabilized, he wanted her to find happiness and purpose in that life.

  Geneva must have known he came from a family of warlocks. That was the only reason he could discern why she’d picked him. The scars she’d put on Kenneth’s chest, painfully carved into his flesh, kept him immune to their daughter’s great powers.

  “I should have seen the damage in her,” Kenneth whispered to his sleepy child. The soft cheeks and quivering lip brought back memories as if no time had passed from her first birth. He’d been terrified. He remembered thinking he’d be less scared to fight a den of hungry vampires than holding his fragile infant daughter. “Your ma was a troubled woman. The truth is, I don’t know if she could have loved ya. She didn’t love me. She didn’t know me.”

  “Ba, da, ba,” the baby babbled, her eyes opening and closing, as if trying to tell him something.

  “I lied to ya about that in your last lives. I shouldn’t have. Maybe understanding what your mother was, her struggles, her failings, her pain, will help ya get through the life ahead of ya.”

  Jewel’s eyes opened and he saw a tiny glint of flames circling her irises. A sick feeling filled him as the first sign of her powers became visible. The magick came much earlier than he wanted. Actually, he’d be happy if it never came. The powers would burn inside his daughter like fire over a dry forest—consuming everything until there was nothing left but ash and another rebirth.

  There was no greater fear, or sorrow, than this.

  In a panic, he reached into her diaper bag and fumbled until he found two metal bands. Kenneth took the bracelets and clamped them around the child’s ankles, forcing the metal to bend and overlap so they wouldn’t fall off. The flames extinguished into a smoky haze.

  “Your grandmother—your ma’s ma—gave ya these and ya can never take them off. She’s a mountain witch. Her magick should balance the phoenix powers. Maybe this time ya won’t…”

  The pain rolling over his chest was too much and he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. No parent should have to watch their child die over and over again. Each time Jewel had been reborn, her personality had changed and she was a different version of herself. The bracelets were supposed to align her personalities into one but she would not remember her past. They looked like two tiny shackles against her soft skin.

  Being a father was all that mattered. From the first moment Kenneth had pulled his daughter from the ashes of her mother, it had been love. The smell of her head, the grip of her hand on his finger, that first twitch of her mouth, it all marked him. He knew he’d give his life to protect her.

  That didn’t mean he felt whole. There was a missing piece inside of him that yearned to be filled. He wanted a partner, someone he could lay next to at night and talk about the day. His brothers had recently married and seeing the couples together made that ache all the more real.

  “Your ma must have chosen me because of my immortality, so I could always take care of ya when ya flame out because she knew she wouldn’t be here to do it.” Kenneth closed his eyes. It was a curse all its own. Though the bracelets should work, the truth was he could lose Jewel at any moment and it was his eternity to be ready to re-raise her when that happened.

  As painful as it was, he could do nothing else.

  This was his fate.

  This was what it meant to be a parent.

  Kenneth had spent each of the child’s lives hiding her from the supernatural world, protecting her. Phoenix powers were rare and coveted. In the wrong hands, Jewel could do much damage. It was why he’d hidden her from his supernatural family—not that he expected them to use his daughter for ill gain, but because evil beings tended to follow the MacGregors wherever they went.

  Before Jewel’s latest rebirth, his sister Malina had cast a spell to bring him home. It wasn’t the first time she’d tried, but it was the first time it had worked. Malina had the unfair advantage of being married to a luck demon. They’d gathered enough good luck in Vegas to draw six-year-old Jewel from where they were hiding in Oklahoma to Wisconsin, thus forcing Kenneth to return to the family.

  After twenty-five years away, Kenneth felt out of sync with the rest of them. He tried to explain his concerns to his ma, but Margareta MacGregor waved them away, unable to see past her excitement over her first grandchild. Traditionally, his immediate family always lived under the same roof, and it was expected he’d stay in the mansion with them. The rest of the warlock clan were slowly moving into town, taking over apartment buildings and buying up real estate.

  Despite his mother’s wishes, Kenneth would not be staying. The moment he’d been waiting for had finally arrived. With the emergence of Jewel’s phoenix powers, it was time for him to take her and disappear. He didn’t know where they would end up, which meant he could not slip and give hints away.

  Hopefully his ma would understand and have some comfort knowing he was alive. It wouldn’t be like last time when he’d disappeared with no word. She’d have closure.

  She’d also be pissed as hell.

  His ma would have to get over it. He would do whatever was best for Jewel.

  Kenneth hooked the diaper bag over his shoulder and eased the baby against his chest. He would not risk being seen with luggage. Everything he needed could be replaced on the road.

  He hurried down the wide staircase toward the front hall with his hand pressed against Jewel’s back. She’d been a fussy sleeper this time around and one cry would sound an alarm. If it wasn’t his ma and his aunt Cait hovering, it was his uncle Raibeart.

  More than once Kenneth had caught his uncle in a tiara with a pink tutu tucked over his kilt, balanced over the side of the crib whispering, “Remember your uncle Raibeart, princess. I’m the fun one. Our tea parties are waiting.”

  Jewel would never lack for love if they stayed. But it didn’t change the fact that those who loved her were magickal, and that magick drew danger.

  Kenneth stepped across the marble hall, motioning his fingers to open the front door without touching the handle. It swung open.

  “Kenneth Raibeart Aloysius MacGregor.” His ma’s hard voice reminded him of every time he’d been in trouble as a child. “Where do ya think ya are going with my granddaughter? Stop right there.”

  He wasn’t given a choice but to obey. Magick hit his feet, petrifying his legs. He tried to move, but they were as frozen as stone.

  “Ma, what—och!” The magick stopped blood flow through his legs and the pain was almost instant.

  How did she know he was leaving?

  Margareta rushed to pull the fully awake child from his arms before hitting the rest of his body with a petrifying spell. Jewel began to cry. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Chapter Three

  Andrea stared at the needle hovering near empty in her old sedan and then at the motel. The place was the kind of roadside tarnished gem that often boasted cheap rooms and free cable. She’d stayed in places like this all over the United States and the rooms were always ugly and old. If she were lucky there wouldn’t be bugs o
r strange smells.

  “Car or room?”

  It wouldn’t be the first time she’d slept in her car. She tapped the side of her phone, thinking of her low bank balance. The action brought up her email.

  We regret to inform you that we’re dissolving the on-a-dime travel section. No more pieces will be acquired. Thank you for your past submissions.

  “Car or room or food?” she whispered, trying to decide.

  “Badger!”

  Andrea jerked her attention to the parking lot in time to see a naked man streaking across the walkway in front of the long line of rooms. She lifted in her seat, attempting to see what was after him. Nothing came into view.

  She let go of a surprised laugh as the naked ass disappeared down a corridor.

  “Been there, buddy,” she mumbled. Technically it was a lie. She’d never run naked through a motel parking lot being chased by an invisible badger.

  Yet. The night was young. Anything was possible.

  She wondered if she should make sure the man was all right.

  Andrea reached for the door handle but lightning struck like a warning, only to be followed seconds later by an angry rumble of thunder. The ‘H’ on the motel sign flickered briefly before going out, followed by the ‘L’. Her heart beat faster. A chill unfurled inside her chest. The threat of the storm made up her mind for her.

  “Room. Vending machine.” She grabbed a roll of quarters from the console and shook out a few dollars’ worth. “Sorry car. No gas for you until I find temporary work.”

  Storms had put her on edge ever since the swamp. Though it was unlikely danger lurked in the heavens this night, she still didn’t want to be caught out in the middle of it.

  Andrea grabbed the backpack with her laptop off the passenger seat. She slowly stepped out of her car, looking around for something that might have been chasing the naked guy. Not sensing any immediate danger, she hurried across the parking lot toward the motel lobby.

  As the bell jingled over the door, she was greeted with a long check-in counter under a dim yellow light. The brown paneling on the walls and large wire rack display of local brochures were more or less what she’d expected. She scanned the offerings for leads on places to look for work—an Italian restaurant, a toiletry store called Love Potions, historic home tours, and a local tavern. An overgrown plant blocked a dark window. It sat next to a couch and an end table.

  “Good evening.” A man came through a door behind the check-in counter, wiping his hands on a paper towel. “I’m Fletch. How can I help you?”

  He said the words without bothering to look at her.

  “I need your cheapest room,” Andrea answered.

  Fletch glanced up and gave a small laugh. “All of our rooms are cheap.”

  “Perfect.” Andrea lowered the backpack from her shoulder and rested it on the carpeted floor. “Any discount for late check-in?”

  Fletch eyed her for a moment. “I think you qualify for the sixty-plus discount.”

  Andrea had turned thirty the week before. She touched her hair. The dark brown hair coloring hid the now-natural white.

  “I noticed that some of the letters on your sign were flickering out,” she said. “Why is the motel called Hotel?”

  Fletch chuckled. “The owner tried to class this place up by changing its name from a motel to a hotel, but spent all his money on that sign, so he never got to the converting-us-to-a-hotel part of his plan. That sign has been flickering since the day they hoisted it up there.”

  Andrea hid her smile. Small towns always had their own bit of unique charm. “Also, you had a naked guy running through your parking lot. I don’t know if he needed help or not.”

  “Really?” Fletch hurried around the counter to check the parking lot. “Where? I don’t see him.”

  “He ran between a couple of the buildings,” Andrea answered, following him as if by looking she could confirm what she already knew.

  “Damn. The security cameras keep glitching. I wonder who it was.” Fletch pushed the door open and stepped toward the cars and continued to search. A cool breeze stirred over her and it smelled like the moments before a rain.

  Andrea had no idea who the naked man was so she simply shrugged when Fletch glanced at her for an answer.

  “Did you see a kilt?” Fletch asked.

  “As in Highlanders? No.” Andrea stepped aside as the man came back into the lobby. “He was naked. All I saw was ass.”

  “Cute?”

  Andrea laughed. “It didn’t make me turn away if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I’ll bet it was one of the MacGregors.” Fletch’s tone instantly lowered into gossip mode.

  Andrea was tired from a long day on the road but ended up prompting him anyway. “MacGregors?”

  “They’re this mysterious, wealthy family who just whisked into town one day and started buying all the property.” He leaned forward, a smile curling the side of his mouth, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d shared this bit of gossip with a newcomer. Seeing as he ran the front desk of a motel, she could see why. “And by family, I’m not talking mom, dad, and little Liam. I mean the whole family—aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers. You might as well rename Green Vallis into Little Scotland.”

  “So you think that’s who was running naked through the parking lot? Eccentric millionaires?”

  “Try billionaires.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “All kinds of strange things have been happening since they arrived. They’re hiding something big. I can tell. I have a nose for these things.”

  Andrea leaned closer to him as his voice dropped. A worried feeling knotted her stomach. Maybe it would be fuel and a vending machine tonight. “Strange how?”

  “Lydia Barratt got married to one. Bagpipes and kilts on parade all through town for that proposal,” Fletch said.

  Andrea frowned, the anxious feeling going away. “A parade? That’s what’s weird?”

  “No. Lydia getting married. She comes from a family of witches, you know, and even makes love potions. Literally. That’s what her business is called, Love Potions. Some of the locals used to joke that she’d die a spinster like her aunt but the second billionaires roll into town she snags herself a husband.”

  “So you think this Lydia made a real love potion and then bespelled a man from the million—sorry billion—aire family?”

  “Oh, no, Lydia is not nefarious or a gold digger type. I think they bespelled her,” Fletch said.

  Andrea gave what she hoped was an appropriately shocked expression, but really, she was over the conversation. This man was clearly just gossiping for the sake of spreading rumors. She’d bet money that if this guy saw a real supernatural witch, he’d pee himself. “Naked guys and witches? Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to be careful.”

  “Or just have your camera ready.” Fletch winked. He began what felt like an almost automated check-in procedure, pausing after each question for her answer as he typed it into his system. “Name? Number? Home Address? License plate number?”

  Andrea had to lie about her address, otherwise she’d have to give her license plate twice.

  “We don’t have a buffet, but there will be coffee, donuts, and muffins here in the front office for breakfast. And that will be thirty-six dollars.” He held his hand out.

  Andrea gave him her bank card.

  “If you decide to stay more than one night, I’ll be on shift tomorrow afternoon.” He winked at her, but she didn’t get the impression he was flirting. Fletch’s interests seemed to run toward the naked MacGregor man.

  The website might not want cheap travel tips, but they’d probably pay for stories of sexy men in kilts. Too bad she wasn’t that kind of journalist.

  The wind had picked up as she hurried down the sidewalk toward her room, 124. The two was missing from the door but the impression it had left in the weathered paint was still there. As the metal key slid into the lock, she glanced over the parking lot toward her car to make a mental
note of where it was located in relation to her room.

  Andrea instantly locked the door and dropped her bag on the bed. Yellow flower designs stood out against the avocado green of the curtains. She drew them closed for privacy.

  Out of habit, she went to her bag and pulled out a mason jar of red brick dust. She took a pinch and sprinkled it along the bottom of the door for protection. The large jar was a little less than a fourth full, so she wouldn’t have to travel south too soon for more if she was conservative with her usage. It had come to the point she couldn’t sleep without knowing she was shielded from the outside world. She put another pinch along the windowsill.

  Andrea turned, studying the walls. At one time they had been cream, but the paper was browned and brittle. There was comfort to be found standing in a room, hidden away from the world outside. The brown carpet appeared as if it had been replaced within the last five years, the tightly wound pile worn in a path from the door, to the bed, to the bathroom, and less so to a chair and small desk.

  Thunder rumbled outside.

  Andrea took a deep breath. She was alone, safe.

  “Aahh.”

  Andrea tensed at the faint cry. It came from the direction of the bathroom. The door was cracked, but not enough to see inside.

  Coldness crept inside her and, for a moment, she couldn’t move. The cold came from a place of pure fear. It did not reason or relent. All she could do was protect herself against it.

  Andrea should not have survived Mama Cecile. In many ways, she hadn’t. That night marked her—each second since felt borrowed and filled with danger.

  “Wah-ah.”

  A baby? Here in the motel?

  Her concern overrode her caution. She hurried into the bathroom, running her hand against the wall where the light switch should have been located. The child’s cry became louder. The lights flickered and she blinked at the bright flash, automatically shading her eyes with a raised arm in an effort to see.