by K. M. Waller
Table of Contents
Title Page
About the book
Dedication and Acknowledgments
A message from Kizzie
Chapter One: The Assignment
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Special Features
About Kizzie/K.M.
Lost Souls ParaAgency and the Three Witches of Burberry
By K.M. Waller
Copyright © 2018 by Kizzie Waller
All rights reserved
Published by Kizzie Waller
Editing by MK Books Editing
Cover Design by Yocla Designs
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the author.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Family legacies are a curse!
Welcome to the Lost Souls ParaAgency, where agents work together to ensure the safety of humans and to prevent exposure of the paranormal community.
The Assignment—stop witches from creating magical chaos in the small town of Burberry, South Carolina.
There’s no dead body… yet. And there won’t be if Lex Dimas takes this assignment. Forced to take on the occasional paranormal case by his manipulative grandfather, he’d prefer to spend his days striking deals in the boardroom. Instead, he’s stuck in small town Burberry searching out witches who intend to harm the unsuspecting townspeople. Only, he doesn’t come upon a group of hateful witches—instead he finds a sweeter-than-peach-pie tea shop owner who wouldn’t harm anyone.
Amira Walker and her two sisters come from a long line of witches who harness the power of emotional manipulation. But the Walker girls aren’t interested in fulfilling their witchy destinies, much to the chagrin of their three powerful aunts. When Lex shows up, Amira mistakenly believes he's spelled by the aunts in a love match attempt. To her mixed delight and disappointment, she discovers he’s there to apprehend a paranormal villain.
As Burberry becomes a hotbed of magical activity, Lex is sure Amira’s youngest sister is to blame. It’ll be up to Amira to prove her sister’s innocence and help Lex find the true culprit. Can they survive malicious witchcraft and come together as a paranormal investigative team before it’s too late?
Dedication
To my kids, R and J, you are my sunshine
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It took a village to bring this book to life, but first and foremost, I’m lucky to have a crew of family and friends who believe in me. If I said I was going to the moon tomorrow, they’d buy me some NASA patches to stick on my spacesuit. Next, I must thank my first readers Becky and Gisele. These ladies toughed it out through the worst of the first drafts and gave the best suggestions for improvements. They deserve a medal. Special thanks to my awesome editor Megan from MK Editing Services as she helped me shape the rough into a final product. And last but definitely not least, thank you to Judith W. and Melissa S. for taking the time to read and give comments. You are the best!
Dear Readers,
First, let me answer the question “what’s up with the name change?” Well, I want readers who like short and steamy to know when they see the name Kizzie Waller they are getting spicy romance. But, that’s not all I like to write, so the K.M. Waller author name has been created for my cutesy, cozy mystery series. My fondest wish is that you’ll be a fan of both.
I hope you enjoy the first book in the Lost Souls ParaAgency series. It will be the first of many about the LSP and the three sisters you’ll meet in this book. If you are so inclined to leave an honest review, I would forever be grateful. Reviews help authors know if they are hitting the mark with their readers and what they could do better with future books.
To stay updated on new releases, sales, and special features, please consider joining my newsletter mailing list at www.kizziewallerromance.com or send me an email at [email protected].
Happy Reading!
~Kizzie
Chapter One: The Assignment
Three Witches of Burberry
And love spells divine
Ancient witches create chaos
Where magic crosses the line
“Looks like the Council’s seers have been practicing their poetry beats.” Before the magic ink could fizzle and the handwritten script disappear, Calex Dimas crumpled the tan parchment and tossed it back to the messenger. “I’m not taking this assignment.”
The Council on Crimes Against Humans made sure paranormals didn’t reveal themselves to humans and that humans didn’t hunt paranormals with pitchforks. They employed psychics to predict incidents that could result in exposure. The Lost Souls ParaAgency was one of a handful of employed agencies who enforced their regulations, like the FBI or CIA, only with fewer rules and more cloak and dagger theatrics.
Lex had agreed to take on one case a year when the agency got backlogged, but not witches. Anything but witches. He glanced at the warlock before him. Good example of why Lex preferred not to mess with the world of witchcraft. Vamps, weres, and ghosts always stood out from regular humans. They were easier to track and the cases ended quickly. Witches equaled complicated. Plus, Gramps had a special affinity for witches which irked Lex.
Sparsh snapped and the ball of paper vanished, which effectively stopped the anticipated confetti poof. He set a standard issue agency amulet on the coffee table. For humans working in the agency, the amulet gave them a level up on the paranormal playing field—like wearing a helmet and extra padding.
“You don’t have a choice. Your grandfather says you’ll do it or there will be consequences.” Sparsh always spoke as if he presided over a funeral. Fortunately, he chose outlandishly colored ties to go with his black suits to offset the mortician image.
Lex’s left eye twitched, and he walked to his mini-bar to mix a dry martini. The floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse suite at the Sagamore offered a tranquil view of South Beach at twilight. Couples walked hand-in-hand along the Florida beach, oblivious to the paranormal dangers lurking in the shadows. Not all paranormals were bad, just like not all humans were good. And then there were people like Gramps.
Consequences.
Sparsh didn’t have to spell it out. Gramps would make Lex’s life a series of unfortunate events until he crawled into LSP headquarters begging for a job. His success outside of the paranormal world would never be enough for his grandfather.
Lex pointed to a lowball glass. “Drink?”
“I can’t stay. There are other agents, other assignments to dole out back at HQ.” Sparsh shrugged, and his usual weariness at being the face of Lost Souls ParaAgency showed on his heavily-lined brow.
Did Sparsh ever think his paranormal talents were wasted on handing out assignments? Lex had known the powerful warlock his entire life. He was kind and fair, but, as his grandfather’s right-hand man, he always followed orders. Sparsh’s salt and p
epper hair had become more salt lately. Lex didn’t envy the person who would become the next “Sparsh” when the older man retired.
Lex decided on a Scotch neat instead of the martini, pouring the amber liquid into the glass. “If I have to take an occasional assignment to keep Gramps off my back, why can’t I choose? Why can’t I investigate a werewolf sighting? Or even the ghost thing in Alaska?”
Sparsh crossed the room and adjusted his green and purple Martian cats tie. He picked up his briefcase from the floor and withdrew a file folder. “Now you’re just whining. A true leader knows how every position in their agency works from the lowest level to the top.”
“Ah, so you’re going with the ‘I’m being groomed to take over someday’ speech.” A lecture he’d heard one too many times. Gramps would never understand that Lex had zero intention of taking over the family business.
“You are being groomed. When your grandfather retires, his seat on the LSP’s board will belong to you. Not to mention there are rumblings within the Council and the ideal to preserve a proper balance on both sides may be in jeopardy.”
The Council members were elected officials, but like any governing body, they often served their own agendas while making it appear they aligned with the greater good. Gramps built the LSP with the greater good in mind.
“Your grandfather trusts you.” Sparsh held Lex’s gaze from across the room. “Plus, family legacies are important to him.”
Legacies might be important, but family certainly wasn’t.
Sparsh moved to the kitchenette and set the folder on the counter. He flipped through a few pages. “We don’t have much on the Witches of Burberry. I seem to remember a trio of spinster witches being from that area. Hippies who believed the Council is another form of stifling government.”
There was no getting out of this assignment, so Lex joined Sparsh at the counter. “What’s my cover?”
“Let’s not make it complicated. Keep the cover to real estate investments, and you won’t even have to print fake business cards. If these witches are wreaking enough havoc to come on the radar of the Council’s seers, then they should be easy enough to find with the amulet.” Sparsh tapped the counter with his index finger. “No one said you can’t take a partner on this assignment. Have them do the grunt work.”
“No partners. Having a twenty-year-old assistant is responsibility enough.” Lex swirled the glass and took a sip of the Scotch. Witches and love spells. Gramps must really be pleased with himself. “What’s the time frame on this? Jordie has college classes to attend, you know.”
Sparsh flipped through a few more pages. “Burberry is a small coastal town in South Carolina between Charleston and the Carolina-Georgia state line. Someone of your prominence can’t move in without raising a few eyebrows. You’ll need some time to plan an entry, but you only have a few weeks to do so. We’ve consulted a few of our tellers and they put a possible paranormal event on or around the last week of September, but you won’t know what’s going on until you get set up on site.”
Lex lifted his glass in a salute. “I’ll have Jordie search for commercial property listings in the area. I’ll fake an interest in purchasing a local business. That should buy me a few days to root out the witches of romance.”
“I don’t need to remind you that you must have absolute proof of paranormal crimes against humans for an apprehension. We’re not the Council’s Merc Squad. We don’t want to start a war with these witches. We observe, verify any misuse or abuse, approach, and only if appropriate, bring them in front of the Council.”
Lex didn’t answer, and the angry response sat unspoken at the tip of his tongue. He didn’t need Sparsh to speak to him like an outsider or newbie. Before he’d been able to break away in his early twenties, he’d served as a full-time assistant to a handful of agents. No one understood the purpose of the LSP better. Gramps always looked out for his precious paranormals.
Sparsh nodded as if Lex had spoken the agreement out loud. “I’ll pass your regards on to your grandfather.”
“You do that.” Lex downed the rest of his drink with a tilt of his head.
Chapter Two
Amira Walker placed two slices of Triple Layered Chocolate Ganache cake in a pink bakery box and tied it closed with a purple ribbon. One side of the bow was decidedly smaller than the other, but she wouldn’t attempt retying. It was the end of the day, and she needed to get the last customer out the door of Tea Haven. She pushed the box and a to-go cup of Earl Grey across the counter and smiled warmly at the elderly woman. “Your husband is going to love you for bringing this home, Mrs. Heathers. I guarantee it.”
The woman’s wrinkles overlapped each other in a frown. “Humph. If he really loved me, he’d choke to death on it so I can have the television remote.”
Amira sucked in a sharp breath. “Excuse me?”
Mrs. Heathers cackled. “I haven’t seen a single episode of that new vampire show. Day and night, he plays those darn Jeopardy! re-runs. Wait until you’re finally married, dear. After thirty years, you’ll wish a kind yet satisfying death on your husband too.”
Death by chocolate. There could be worse ways to go, but to wish it on a loved one was a tad too morbid. Amira thanked Mrs. Heathers again and waved goodbye as she toddled out.
Arissa, the youngest of her sisters, cleared the last table of the boutique tea room and bakery, skipped to the entrance, and flipped the lock and the “Closed” sign at the same time. The lovely cuckoo clock Amira had found at a garage sale chirped the six o’clock hour.
“So?” Ris practically climbed the walls with anticipation, and she chewed her thumbnail. There was a nine year difference between them and sometimes it felt like twenty. Her younger sister did everything full speed, out of control, and from the fast lane. A band of tattoos ran up her left arm and today her hair glimmered a punk-pink color. Her current outfit looked like it’d been picked up from the floor of her one-bedroom duplex. To say Amira and Ris were different as night and day was a big clichéd understatement.
Amira frowned affectionately at the baby of the family. She did have to admit, the pink accentuated her sister’s crystal-clear blue eyes—a feature she shared with both her sisters—and deep down she admired her for going her own way. She untied her apron and hung it on a hook. “There’s no point in setting up until Ally gets here.”
The middle of the three Walker sisters burst through the back door into the main shop area. “I’m here, I’m here.”
Ally was only a couple years younger than Amira and the most pragmatic of the three. Her appearance reflected that sentiment with blonde hair swept into a neat bun, and not a single wrinkle on her khaki skirt and button down shirt. “Parent conferences ran a little over this evening, and I’m a tad frazzled. These third graders are going to be the death of me.”
Amira snorted, reminded of Mrs. Heathers’ death wish. She scraped batter off of her sweater. “Better than choking on a piece of chocolate cake.”
Ris and Ally stayed silent and stood still for several seconds, confusion skittering across their matching expressions.
“Or… not? Forget it.” Amira lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Let’s just get started.”
They hurried to a table in the far corner. Ally placed the much-used, rust-colored beeswax candle in the middle of the table and lit it. The candlewick sparked into a high yellow flame and after a moment fizzled down to bluish-green.
All three removed their charmed necklaces and placed them in an unbroken circle around the candle. The wax dripped down the sides onto the table but didn’t touch the necklaces. Their mother had gifted them each with a necklace on their fifth birthdays when she thought they were old enough to understand their magical history. Each dangling charm was different. Amira’s was a crescent moon, Ally’s a star, and Ris’s a decorative sun.
Ris had only had hers for a month when their mom died.
“Your turn to say the spell, Amira,” Ally said.
Amira chewed
the inside of her cheek. Every time they used the deflection spell, it felt like a heaping pile of hypocrisy. They didn’t want a life infused with magic, but if they didn’t use it, the great-aunts would use a love spell on them to ensure they procreated and produced little baby witches. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. “United are we, cosmos we ask thee, deflect and defend, and somewhere else the magic you’ll send.”
Streaks of rainbow colors flashed behind her eyelids. Briefly she saw her mom and dad, and then the colors and pictures faded into black. She opened her eyes and nodded. They took their necklaces and put them back in place around their necks.
“Join hands, clear your minds, and feel for them.” Amira clasped hands with her sisters and all three shut their eyes tight. Along with the spell, it was part of their bi-weekly ritual to listen to the cosmos for the meddling presence of their great-aunts. The three elderly women had moved out of Burberry last year at the sisters’ request as soon as Ris had turned eighteen, but they wouldn’t go too far. Thanks to a curse, the Walker sisters needed to fall in love by the age of thirty to pass on their magical powers to the next generation.
Fifteen minutes passed.
“Nothing.”
“Nada.”
“Zip.” Ris smacked her lips to enunciate the P.
“I think it’s possible they’ve stopped.” Amira knew her gaze mirrored the same hopeful expression as her sisters’.
“Do you think they’ve stopped trying to spell us? Or are they hoping that we give up blocking them? Then they’ll come in from the side and sneak attack us.” Ally thumped her hand down on the table, pulling Ris’s still entwined hand down with it.
“It’s been four months since the last vibe,” Ris said. “I say we’re in the clear and should start living our lives. I’m tired of living like this with you two.”
