Witch in the Wind
Page 14
He looked at her then, and he was no longer hiding behind a mask. His father’s betrayal was carved into his face and was poisoning his soul.
She reached up with both hands and brought his face in line with hers.
“Don’t you dare think you caused this whole chain of events just by mentioning a pin to someone you should have been able to trust.”
Now that she had his full attention, she slid her hands down his arms and held both his hands tightly in hers. “Did you tell your father that he should go after my parents?”
“Of course, not,” he said without a second thought, his anger with himself and his father flashing in his eyes.
She looked at Pelles and accepted his nod of support. “Did you help your father manipulate Blake?”
“No.” As he accepted her point, fingers of green, orange, bronze, red crept into his aura. “Even if I hadn’t met you, I’d have stopped him. As soon as he started using Blake as his pawn, he broke our law.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and closed her eyes with relief when his muscles tightened as his magic regained its strength. Her words had sunk in. Her Marcus was back in the game. Without releasing her hold, she looked back at his mentor. If her parents trusted his advice, she would too. “What should we do with the amulets?
“You must keep them safely hidden.”
“How does that help?” Marcus asked. “My father and Tobias are still a threat to the power balance.”
“Not as much as you think, Marcus. Who has the Egan family amulet?”
Marcus reached up to cover the shape just under his shirt.
Pelles smiled. “And you will keep it safe will you not? Even from your father.”
“Yes, of course. But what about Tobias?”
“None of the others would allow him to have power over them. It’s the one thing they would all work together to avoid.” They both laughed at the truth of that.
Avy didn’t have the long experience with Council that the two men shared so she had to be sure she wasn’t missing anything. “So as long as we have four of the five amulets between us, Council is safe. Marcus has one, I have two, and you have another. All we have to do is hang on to them.”
“That is correct.”
She’d heard enough about this bunch to know there was another question to ask. “How long before the balance tips again?”
“Long enough,” said the old man. “I suspect the Witches Council has served its purpose and soon, if the Goddess is willing, the barriers between the covens will disappear. A new governing structure will be needed. One in which the power is more evenly distributed and less likely to be corrupted.”
“Will that happen in our lifetime?” she asked, wondering if she would get to cheer from the sidelines.
“One must remain optimistic while preparing for the worst.”
“What’s the worst?” Dread seemed to be her constant companion lately, especially when it came to The Otherland and its Council.
Pelles looked at her and then spoke directly to Marcus. “When the 48 hours are past, you must be sure that your witchling and her familiar are far from Bandit Creek, Marcus.”
Despair dropped to the pit of her stomach as what little of her old life she had left slipped through her fingers. Would she have to hide from them for the rest of her life—just like her parents had done? That thought sliced through her. “What about my parents? They need to be properly buried. I arranged the funeral.” She wanted to say more but her voice waivered and she couldn’t go on.
Busby immediately rubbed against her leg as Marcus wrapped both arms around her.
Pelles stepped closer as well and put a hand on her shoulder. “I will see their remains are properly returned to the earth, Avy. But you must know that your parents have already travelled to the next plane and will always watch over you.”
His words, spoken with such a depth of understanding of her parents’ pagan beliefs, gave her a peace she had not been able to feel at the Brubaker Funeral Home. The crushing burden she’d carried since the sheriff’s phone call, suddenly lifted. With her energy returning, the future didn’t look so bleak. “Will I ever be safe from Council?”
Marcus pulled her closer as Pelles replied, “Once you are trained, young witch, the three of you will be a formidable team. The future will then be yours.”
She took Marcus by the hand and reached down to stroke Busby’s ear. “Well, until that day, I’m not going anywhere without you two That Council of yours scares me to death.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead as his mentor disappeared with a flick of his hand. “Hon, I’ll make sure they can’t ever get near you again for as long as we both live,” Marcus said holding her tight. With a rumble in his throat, Busby added his support as well.
She wrapped her arms around Marcus’s neck and looked up at him. “By the way, I've been meaning to ask you about that. How long am I likely to live?”
He laughed and swung her up into his arms. “You’re stuck with me for another hundred years at least.”
Busby howled as they stepped into a current of air.
THE END
If you enjoyed THE WITCH IN THE WIND,
please help other readers find it
by recommending it to friends
or writing a review at Amazon and/or Goodreads.
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A Note from the Author:
WELCOME TO THE OTHERLAND
Even though my story events take place in Bandit Creek, most of the story action is driven by the history, culture, politics, beliefs and values of the magical dimension, The Otherland.
I want readers to believe that there is a fully developed, multidimensional world on the other side of the Lost Lake portal near Bandit Creek. Look at the complexity of our own civilization and you can imagine what was involved in building a believable magical world.
To start, all I knew was that The Otherland had witches and warlocks. That left me with hundreds of other details to consider. Does the magic impact the laws of nature and physics or is it just an additional element in their day to day life? Does everybody have the same level of magical power? Maybe only some should have magical abilities. Each question gave my imagination another thread to unwind. In my world, there are grimoires that can only be touched by an immediate blood relative of the family, and rituals for the transfer of magical powers from one generation to the next. The Goddess Legend emerged from a need to create a structure to govern my imaginary world and explains why the Guardian Warlocks like Marcus have enhanced and unique powers.
Some of my reviewers have commented on how deep the mythology goes in Witch in the Wind considering its compact length, while adding that I was successful in making the complicated and new easily understandable. And, I have to say, world building is one of my favorite parts of the writing process. The wonderful, complicated world I created for Witch in the Wind has inspired at least two more stories that I can’t wait to write for The Otherland Chronicles. I’ll leave a hint about the sequel for those of you who stuck with me to this point. Do you remember Marcus mentioning he had a brother?
Watch for Mortal Magic, Book 2 in WINDS OF CHANGE TRILOGY
DRAE EGAN, a warlock with a warrior soul, takes his missing brother’s place as guardian to the ruling Witches Council just when defiant rebel forces are putting that seat of power at risk. Why, then, are they sending him to the human world to investigate a religious commune suspected of killing mortals? When Drae discovers that the cult is accumulating magical power from an unknown source, and that a beautiful, but decidedly non-magical, reporter named LACEY DENT is closing in on the magical truth, he understands where the real threat lies. But will it be too late to protect The Otherland, and his heart?
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ABOUT B.C. Deeks
B.C. Deeks writes cozy mysteries laced with romance and a special kind of magic, including THE HOLLY & THE IVY (Frost Family & Friends series) and Witch in the Wind. All authors’ profits from the sale of
Stories of Chance Romance,, another sweet romance anthology written with Roxy Boroughs, are donated to advance the treatment of breast cancer.
Brenda has been published in numerous industry trade publications, such as Writers Market, is a recognized speaker, much quoted expert on business issues for writers, and an award-winning technical writer. For upcoming titles you can find her:
WEBSITE: www.bcdeeks.com
FACEBOOK: BCDeeksAuthor
TWITTER: @BCDeeks
Here’s what people have been saying about WITCH IN THE WIND
"I loved your story....The mythology went deeper than I had expected from reading the blurb. the Otherland, Lost Guardians, keys, familiars, secrets, etc. were so creative and so well-devised. With twists and turns to the plot, and thus having more mythology revealed, the author did a wonderful job of explaining and describing, making the complicated and new easily understandable. The surprises continued throughout, creating quite a suspenseful plot. I found myself reading faster and faster to find out what happened, all while forcing myself to hold back and take in all of the town and magical depictions." - Kiki Howell (www.authorsbyauthors.blogspot.ca, 28 May 2012)
“This is a fabulous romance with a great underlying storyline that I am sure we will hear more about in up-coming Bandit Creek stories. I give this 4.5 out of 5 clouds." - Mindy Wall (www.Books, Books, and More Books.com, 14 Jun 2012)
“After the first few pages, Ms. [Deeks] had me hooked. I loved her riveting tale of magic and mayhem in Bandit Creek and found myself cheering for Avy and Marcus from their initial meeting until the last word. I'm definitely looking forward to a sequel!” Brenda Sinclair (www.amazon.com, 6 July 2012)
“Wonderful world building, a compelling plot, and a mysterious, magical hero to die for.” Donna (www.amazon.com, 26 Jun 2012)
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Acknowledgements
My deepest thanks to my dear hubby, Bruce, for his unconditional love and support— and for not telling me I was crazy to quit my day job to become a writer.
And to my family and friends, who did tell me I was crazy, but supported me anyway.
Thanks to my endlessly patient critique partner, Donna Tunney, and all the beta readers who've contributed so much along the way, especially Suzanne Stengl, Donna Wickens, CJ Carmichael, Alyssa Linn Palmer, Kymber Morgan, and Tema Frank and my brother and editor, Paul W. Collins, PhD.
A big call out to my fellow Banditos at Bandit Creek Books.
And thank you, Dear Reader. Without you, Marcus, Avy and Busby would have ended up living under the bed with my other manuscripts.
*~*~*
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ABOUT THE TRILOGY
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
ABOUT B.C. Deeks
Acknowledgements
BONUS: A BANDIT CREEK MIRACLE (Excerpt)
And now here's a sneak peek of the another book in the Bandit Creek series:
A BANDIT CREEK MIRACLE (Excerpt)
by
Brenda Sinclair
CHAPTER ONE
“Where is that damn hotel?”
Amanda Bailey steered her three-year-old red BMW coupe along the streets of Bandit Creek, Montana. The town’s population hovered at around three thousand, and she’d convinced herself she could locate her destination without directions. She hadn’t planned to arrive after dark.
Glancing at her watch, she discovered the time was already twenty minutes after ten. Thankfully, the highways were clear. But having driven almost non-stop from Helena, she couldn’t wait for this day to end. Her eyes strained to focus on the road ahead, and she still hadn’t spotted the New Golden Nugget Hotel.
She continued driving up one street and down another, convinced the hotel would appear around the next corner. As she spotted a diner, her stomach growled a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since noon. Several pickup trucks and two cars were parked in front. Amanda pulled into a parking spot across the street from Ma’s Kitchen.
“Well, Ma, I hope you serve up directions as well as meals.” Amanda grabbed her purse off the passenger seat and clambered out of the car. She stretched her back, hunched and released her shoulders, and then inhaled the clean country air. There wasn’t any familiar city noise. No ambulance sirens screaming, no horns honking. Except for a dog barking in the distance, the town remained eerily quiet.
Amanda dashed across the pavement, dodging a few puddles of snowy mush that threatened to ruin her new leather fashion boots. A tiny bell tinkled overhead as she entered the diner, and the aroma of strong coffee teased her nose. All conversation ceased, and a dozen heads swiveled toward the door to acknowledge the new arrival. Surprised expressions replaced the locals’ welcoming smiles when they spotted her. Obviously, at this time of night, they’d expected to see a familiar face.
“Come in, dear.” A plump woman with tight curly silver hair done up in a bun strode toward her carrying a menu. Her cheery floral apron covered a short-sleeved white blouse and neat navy slacks, a tea towel rode her right shoulder, and keen eyes peered at her from behind out-of-date eyeglasses.
“Hello. I’d kill for a cup of coffee.” Amanda glanced around the diner. A horseshoe shaped counter with red-vinyl upholstered stools caught her eye. A row of booths sat against the far wall, and various square wooden tables and low-backed chairs utilized the remaining floor space. Flimsy red gingham curtains framed the front windows and a variety of historical photographs hung on the white painted walls. The term ‘quaint’ flashed through her mind. A perfect setting for a 1950’s diner scene in a movie, she thought. Do the big-name California film producers know about this place?
“Often hear ‘kill for a cup of coffee’ first thing in the morning, not at this time of night.” The woman chuckled and motioned Amanda forward. “We don’t bother with a PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign like you see in the city. Just pick a seat and plant it, honey.”
As Amanda cautiously stepped across the slush-spattered linoleum floor, she removed her black wool ¾-length coat revealing a white cashmere sweater tucked into black dress pants. She chose a table beside a window and slung her coat over the chair back. She lowered herself onto the seat, placed her purse on the table, and loosened the aqua cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck.
Her server set the menu in front of her and then stood hands on hips.
“Thanks, Ma.” Amanda picked up the menu.
“Actually, honey, the name’s Lucy. And that’s George over there inside the horseshoe jawing with them cowboys.” Lucy pointed in the gentlemen’s direction with her thumb as if hitchhiking on the I-90. Hearing his name, George looked up and waved.
“Sorry, the sign outside…”
“Most newcomers to town make the same mistake. Usually, I don’t even bother to correct the tourists.” Lucy cackled and stuck out her beefy hand. “You must be the gal replacing the manager at the Ellis bank during her maternity leave. Catherine dropped by for lunch and mentioned you’d be arriving today.”
“Amanda Bailey.” She shook Lucy’s slightly calloused hand. “Sorry, my hands feel like ice.”
“As soon as the sun goes down seems the temperature takes a nose dive. I’ll fetch you a mug of coffee to warm your insides and lift your spirits.”
“Just black, please. Do you have decaf?” Amanda required something stronger than coffee to drag her out of this dark mood, but it didn’t look like they served wine here.
She detested winter weather and she hated small towns. Her parents insisted she and her siblings spend summers with her grandparents at her mother’s small Minnesota h
ometown. There was no movie theater or even a library, and she soon discovered that her grandmother’s sole source of entertainment was gossiping with her lady friends.
“Nope. None of them fancy lattes and such neither, just plain old coffee.” Lucy turned and scurried away.
“Why am I not surprised?” muttered Amanda. Bandit Creek was the last place on earth she wanted to be. A city girl through-and-through, she’d attempted every means possible to avoid this small town purgatory. But her boss and best friend, Susan Sanders, warned her that if she expected a future promotion to manager of a city bank she should accept this temporary assignment.
She’d barely glanced at the menu before the server returned to the table and plunked down a white ceramic mug of steaming brew.
“Decided what you want?”
Amanda thought the woman appeared a-little-rough-around-the-edges. But a rough edge here and there never hurt anyone.
“I’ll have a bowl of the homemade chicken noodle soup, a cheeseburger, loaded, and sweet potato fries, please.” Amanda passed the menu back to Lucy. “Does salad come with the burger?”
“Yep, coleslaw comes with your meal.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t consider coleslaw to be salad,” stated Amanda, smiling. She caught a glimpse of one of the guys seated at the horseshoe counter. The Hollywood-handsome cowboy faced backwards on the stool, slouching, resting his elbows on the counter behind him. He smiled broadly and his big brown eyes met hers for several seconds causing her heartbeat to race. Thankfully, the waitress had seated her before she’d fallen weak-kneed under the spell of this good-looking cowboy. After the horrendous year she’d just endured, Amanda enjoyed the attention he bestowed on her.