His Guardian Witch

by Angelina Rain

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Angelina Rain

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-348-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To everyone who believed in me.

  HIS GUARDIAN WITCH

  Angelina Rain

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  The instant the car pulled into the parking lot of her little store, Morgan Harrison knew trouble was coming her way. She had been minding her own business, flipping through a bra and panties catalogue, when the sound of squeaking brakes pierced the serene silence. It practically drowned out the soft waterfall and flute sounds of the meditation music she played. Morgan lifted her gaze and looked through the large front glass windows. The little silver sports car was missing the front bumper and license plate number. The hood was dented and scratched, and the windshield was shattered into a spider web-like design on the glass.

  The car swirled into an empty parking space, jumped the curb, and came to a quick stop. It jerked back and forth before coming to complete stillness, like a corpse. The door opened, and a man stepped out. He had long, slender legs clad in denim and wore a black t-shirt that didn't do much to hide his muscular chest and abs. Rather, the material conformed to him like a second skin. He was handsome, with broad shoulders, strong jaw, and jet-black hair. The man slammed the door shut. It opened again, and even from the inside of the store, Morgan heard the string of profane terminology as he kicked the door shut.

  He walked toward her store. A black aura, with sparkling shades of blue and red fireballs beating against it, engulfed his entire body.

  Oh boy, this man was not having a good day. Or week, probably.

  The door opened, and he stepped in, more handsome up close than far away. Those hazel eyes gazed at her, and her panties filled with warm wetness. He had a drop your panties and do me on the floor look about him, and she assumed it was that very appearance that had gotten him into trouble.

  "Welcome to Morgan's Magic Shop. Can I help you?" Of course she could, but best not to scare this new customer away by declaring verbally that he was in deep shit and she knew it.

  Morgan owned the little magic shop, which specialized in selling charms, spell books, and a very nice assortment of candles and herbs. But as soon as customers learned that she could sense into the future, they weren’t inclined to return. Where clients were concerned, her being a witch wasn’t as scary as her occasional and unpredictable psychic abilities. Maybe it was that she could sometimes—rarely really—read their thoughts that didn’t sit well with them. Whatever the case, she had learned to keep her mouth shut and ask questions she already knew the answers to.

  "I sure hope so." He came toward the counter, and his gaze quickly drifted to the open catalogue on the glass top.

  Morgan closed it and pushed it under the register.

  His gaze lifted to her again, and he quickly glanced around as though afraid the walls would talk. When he opened his mouth, words came out in a whisper. "Do you know anything about…" He paused, as though uncertain if he should continue. Was he afraid to voice his concerns out loud for fear that it would confirm them being true? Or was it simply the fear of being judged? "Witches?"

  She barely caught the final word, as it was said almost in silence. Morgan rolled her eyes. "No, I wouldn't know anything about witches. To my knowledge, they aren't real."

  The man appeared puzzled. "But…"

  She laughed now. "Look around you. You're in a witchcraft shop. It's my specialty to know about witches. And being one myself, I know a lot about them."

  He breathed an audible sigh. Relief? Probably.

  "What would you like to know?"

  "Can a witch curse a person?"

  "Depends on the kind of witch she is and the kind of magic being used. But generally yes."

  "Do you have anything that would protect someone against a curse?"

  She moved around the glass case with the register and crossed the room to a display case against the wall. A light shone into the glass box, illuminating the necklaces and bracelets inside. "This is our selection of charms. I carry everything from charms to attract good health, to love, to warding off demons and curses."

  "How much would it cost me?"

  "It wouldn't help you."

  He appeared puzzled again.

  "These charms would ward off future curses, but you are already cursed. If you wore that charm now, it would trap the curse inside you. If you wore it for too long, you would forever be cursed without a way to break it."

  His expression darkened. "Is there any way to get rid of this curse?"

  "Of course!" She walked over to a table in the middle of the store, showcasing candles of various sizes and colors. "Every curse and spell has a counter curse or spell to get out of it." She neglected to tell him that there was one kind of curse that didn’t have a counter-spell. The only way to break that one was to reverse time to before the incantation was spoken. Morgan didn't want to think about that. The time reversal spell was too powerful, too dangerous for even her to cast.

  "Great!" Genuine happiness crossed his face, and those hazel eyes appeared lighter, illuminant almost. "What do I have to do?"

  "It's not so easy. In order to undo the curse, I would have to know what she did in the original curse."

  "How do you know it's a she? Are all witches women?"

  What a sexist! "No, there are men who practice magic too. But given your good looks and those fuck me eyes, I'm sure it was a woman." She picked up a candle and headed back to the register. "Now why don't you tell me what happened?"

  "I'm a teacher at the high school."

  She nodded. There was only one high school in this town.

  "There's this student. She likes me as more than just a teacher. I told her a few times I don't do minors, but she didn't get the hint." He rubbed his face, as though trying to rub off his bad experience. "One day, she followed me home from the school. I told her to leave, but she wouldn't. She insisted that I sleep with her. I told her no. She warned me that she would curse me for rejecting her. I thought she was mentally disturbed. I had no idea that witchcraft and curses were real."

  "Okay, so it's easy. Tell the student to undo the curse, or you will fail her."

  He glanced down, his expression getting darker. Morgan instantly knew there was more to the story.

  "There's a problem," he finally said. "She's in the hospital in a coma."

  For a second, Morgan’s heart raced. Coma? That did complicate things. "What happened? Will she be okay?"

  "They don't know what happened. Her parents found her unresponsive one morning. It was almost a week ago."

  "And when did she threaten you?"

  "Almost a week ago."

  "What happened after she threatened you?"

  "Well, ever since that threat, my life has been turned upside down. The first few days I thought it was just a bad luck day, but my life keeps getting worse by the second." He turned toward the glass door and pointed to his car. "Today, I got into an accident. Then at work, I caught a student smoking, and when I took the cigarette away from him, it fell from my hand and right on my desk, setting it o
n fire. I got suspended from teaching for being so careless."

  Something didn’t add up. “How long was that cigarette on your desk before it caught fire?” She doubted it was instant.

  “Instantly.” The look in his eyes suggested he barely believed it. His gaze pleaded with her. "Help me, please."

  Morgan remembered the circular thick candle she had grabbed moments ago. She still held it in her hand. Now, she placed it inside a paper bag and handed it to the man. "You will need this. It gives a peaceful, calming sensation. While it's burning, it will send a sense of peace and forgiveness to those who have something against you."

  He made a “pfff” sound before saying, "What good does it do me that it sends her a sense of peace?"

  "If she's in a peaceful and forgiving mood, she will stop sending bad will your way. Even in a coma, she could send bad your way. However, the candle only works when it's burning, so burn it often. This candle should burn for a good fifty hours before burning out completely. It should give you enough time to find out what she did in order to undo it. Talk to her parents, check out her room, look for things that could be used in spells and curses." She wanted to inform him that would be easier said than done, as she couldn’t imagine any set of parents allowing their daughter’s teacher to search her room, but there was no other way. In order to undo this spell, she had to know which bad luck spell was used. Sadly, there were a good dozen of them, and the counter spells varied for each. The wrong “undo” spell would only make matters worse.

  "And those things would be?"

  She shrugged. "A book with a list of spells. Every witch has one. Once you get the book, come back to me so I can point you in the right direction."

  He nodded, and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Thank you. What do I owe you for this?" He lifted his arm with the bag.

  "Nothing, it's on the house, but only because you're too cute to be cursed." She winked in an attempt to make him smile again. He had a sexy smile that made her panties moist. Morgan grabbed a pen from beside the counter. "Give me your hand."

  He extended his free arm. "Are you a palm reader, too?"

  "Yes, but that's not why I need your hand." She wrote her cell phone number on his palm. Morgan could have easily written the number on the paper bag or a piece of paper, but her psychic instincts told her he would lose it. He needed her number. She needed to help him, before his luck ran out and he met his death. That she was certain of. "I have a feeling your troubles will only get worse soon, so call me when you're in a jam."

  Gratitude crossed his face as he pulled his hand away and stared at the number. "Thank you so much." He shook her hand, crossed to the door. Stopped. Turned. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

  "No problem." She pulled out the panties catalogue from under the register.

  "I didn't catch your name."

  "Morgan."

  "I'm Daniel," he said and walked out of her store.

  Morgan watched him walk away. Watched as he opened his car door and climbed in. Within an instant, the engine roared to life, sputtered, died. It roared again, choked, died. The man's day was getting worse by the second. She pulled out her cell phone and called the information hotline when the man walked back into the store.

  "My car won't start."

  "I'm calling you a cab now."

  Chapter Two

  There was something about the blonde beauty with her sparkling blue eyes, porcelain skin, and slender yet curvy figure. Daniel stood off to the side waiting for the cab. He'd hoped to talk more to this Morgan woman about his predicament, but right after she’d called the cab, a bunch of customers had walked into the small magic shop.

  He studied her as she sold a candle to a woman with an unfaithful spouse.

  "Does he still love you?" she had asked the woman before she picked up the candle.

  The woman nodded. "He says he loves me, but is bored with our sex life."

  "Here."

  The customer took the candle from Morgan's hand. “Will this stop my husband from cheating?”

  Morgan placed her hand on the woman’s arm, a comforting gesture. “No. But it will revive that spark between you that made him fall in love with you in the past. If he's no longer bored, he might not cheat.”

  Daniel sympathized with the woman. His ex-wife had cheated on him. That hurt, and he wouldn’t want anyone to go through that kind of pain.

  “Thank you,” the lady said and headed out the door.

  Morgan waved goodbye. “You’re welcome. Please come again.”

  A middle-aged man approached her.

  “Can I help you?” She looked sincere, like she really cared.

  He gave her a shy smile. “I hope so. I don’t know what to do. My wife of twenty years left me. Said she doesn’t love me anymore and wants to be single. How can I get her back? Is there anything that would help me?”

  A look passed over her features. Empathy? Maybe. She walked to the display case of charms and bracelets. “You can’t make her love you again. That’s messing with people’s will, and that’s the kind of magic I don’t participate in.” Opening the case, she pulled out a small crystal on a black string and handed it to the man. “This will heal your hurt and leave you open to finding new love.”

  Daniel watched, wondering about the two customers she helped. Why wouldn't she help the man if she helped the woman? Wasn't re-sparking love messing with free will too? Maybe—the thought crossed his mind—she did it for the woman as her husband still loved her, and this man's ex-wife no longer felt that toward him.

  As she walked back to the register with her customer in tow, Daniel almost stopped breathing at the way her short skirt hugged her hips and perfect round ass.

  A horn sounded outside, and he glanced out the window. The cab waited for him. Time to go.

  He met Morgan's gaze before he walked out. He waved goodbye, and she waved back.

  The ride home was uneventful. The cab driver didn't indulge in any conversation, but the time seemed to fly until he made it to his street.

  The sunny sky was now covered with pewter clouds, and the wind had increased. Although there was no rain yet, the sound of thunder roared in the distance. Daniel paid for the cab and climbed out, heading toward his little raised ranch-style house.

  There was a chill in the wind, and he shivered. Autumn leaves swirled around his feet. He glanced back and watched as the cab drove away.

  How could his life go from being normal to a train wreck all within a few days? Well, at least he had the candle Morgan gave him. Once he was inside, he would light it and call Jessie's parents. That wasn’t a call he wanted to make. Shit! A part of him didn’t even believe in this whole witchcraft and magic stuff, but what other explanation was there for his horribly bad week? He needed to ask them if she practiced magic and if she had a spell book in her room. Yeah, he could already imagine the outrage he would have to endure. There was no way the parents would just say, “Oh yeah, our kid is a witch. Come over.” He would have to come up with something clever. Some way for him to see into her room without upsetting the parents. Maybe he could say he had lent her a book that another student requested? Would that work?

  He reached the front door and fished in his pants pocket for his keys.

  "Fuck!" He had left them in his dead little car. He kicked the door in frustration, but it didn't budge, not that he expected it to.

  There had to be a window that was open. He thought for a second, then realized he had closed and locked all of them.

  Locked … except one. Of course! There was the kitchen window in the back of the house. He dashed into his yard, put the bag with the candle under the patio table as he climbed on top of it, and reached for the window. Daniel fussed with the screen, hooking his fingernails into the frame. Why wouldn’t it fall out? Damn it, why was everything so difficult lately? Glancing back, he noticed his new neighbor walking back into his house.

  Maybe he should ask the neighbor for help? That wasn’t a great w
ay to meet someone for the first time though. Deciding against the idea, he shook the screen until it gave. It came away from the frame, and he tossed it on the ground. He hooked his fingers under the little space between window and trim and tried to pull up.

  It didn't budge.

  He tried again, and again. The sky started to cry chilly tears, and thunder roared. Time passed, and he started shivering in his coat. Sirens wailed somewhere in the background.

  "Come on," he said, frustrated, and put his palms on the glass, trying to push it up again. He couldn’t give up. This was his house. He had to get into it somehow.

  Heavy footsteps behind him brought him out of his concentration, and he turned, coming face to face with two tall, well-built police officers.

  "Step away from the window," one of them said.

  "No, you don't understand. This is my house." How did the cops get there so fast? He’s been home for only ten or fifteen minutes.

  The neighbor! This new neighbor had never met him. He had probably assumed Daniel was trying to break in and called the cops. Damn!

  "Really, then why are you trying to break into your own house?"

  "I lost my keys."

  The taller officer rolled his eyes.

  "Can I see your ID then?"

  Daniel pulled out his wallet, opened it, and looked at the card flaps. They were empty.

  Fuck!

  How the hell did he lose his ID card, driver's license card, and the two credit cards he carried around?

  He checked in the money compartment, opening it wide, but no cards lay hidden there.

  "What? No ID?" the officer asked in a mocking tone.

  The wind picked up, and the paper bills shivered and flew out of his wallet. He dropped the leather money holder on the ground and raised his arms, trying to catch the flying bills.