Once Upon a Curse: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Which Village Book 2)

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Once Upon a Curse: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Which Village Book 2) Page 2

by L. C. Mortimer


  Maybe he hadn’t come around because he didn’t know I was here.

  Maybe he hadn’t come around because when he experienced something in his werewolf form, he couldn’t remember it when he changed back.

  Or maybe, just maybe, there was something else to it.

  It was nearly midnight when I heard a knock at the door. I glanced at the clock just to be sure, but yeah, it was almost 12. I’d gone to bed at nine in an attempt to get a real night’s worth of sleep, but that had failed. Miserably.

  Who was coming over?

  Glancing at the counter, I realized that I still had Fiona’s pie pan. Maybe she wanted to get it back. I knew it was bad manners to keep someone’s pie pan. Everyone knew that. Even in the human world, that was a no-go.

  I’d just come up with this silly plan to bake her something and give it back to her in the pan. I hadn’t wanted to give it back empty, so I’d been trying to think of recipes.

  It had been something of a crazy day, though, so I hadn’t done anything yet.

  Surely that wasn’t her, though.

  I grabbed a robe from a hook by the backdoor. Mom had taught me long ago that having a robe nearby could save you from a lot of embarrassment if the wrong kind of neighbor showed up at the wrong sort of time.

  Wrapping it around myself, I headed to the front door and pulled it open without checking to see who it was.

  Immediately, I wished that I’d checked.

  “Stanley?” I whispered, staring at the hooded figure on my porch.

  Could it be?

  Could he really have come back?

  Maybe the secret had been to rebuild my mom’s house. Maybe he hadn’t appeared to me because the house wasn’t done and he didn’t know where to find her – or me.

  That could be it, right?

  But when the person looked up and their hood fell back, I could see that it wasn’t Stanley at all.

  It was Eliza.

  “I’m sorry I’m not him,” she said. “But we need to talk.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “Of course. Come in.”

  I didn’t ask why she was dressed like she was about to break into some houses. I didn’t ask why she was on my porch in the middle of the night. Eliza and my mother had been in love, once upon a time, and being my almost-stepmother carried with it certain privileges.

  One of those privileges was that I wouldn’t kick her out just because she showed up at a weird time.

  Eliza made herself at home in my kitchen and I started to brew a pot of coffee.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said, glancing at me.

  “If you’re here, then you’re going to want to talk, and we’re going to need this,” I said.

  “You know me well.”

  “It’s how Mom was,” I shrugged, and I brought two steaming cups of coffee to the table. I grabbed some creamer and set it down. I didn’t usually use any, but Eliza liked it.

  As soon as she was done preparing her cup of coffee and stirring it to her satisfaction, she looked up at me.

  “We need to talk.”

  “You mentioned that.”

  “About your mother.”

  “I believe I mentioned that to you,” I said, cocking my head. “Today. At the office. At your office. You told me to pound sand.”

  “I was wrong,” she said. “I just didn’t want anyone to overhear and get the wrong idea.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. Before Eliza became the mayor, she had been an incredible attorney. Changing jobs had been a bit of a surprise to me, but she was basically born for this position. She seemed to know everything about the town.

  More importantly, she seemed to know what it took to make things work just so.

  “It’s not okay, but I think you understand.”

  Eliza looked around the kitchen.

  “Like the décor?”

  “Looks like Alicia’s.”

  “Good. I copied it from her. I don’t want to be all weird and creepy when it comes to mourning the dead, but…”

  “It’s not mourning her. You’re honoring her,” Eliza murmured. She seemed to understand.

  “What do you need to tell me about Mom?”

  “I found something this weekend,” she said. “Something I didn’t even know I had.”

  “What?”

  She pulled something out of her bag and set it on the table. It was a big, thick book that was filled with papers and notes. It was wrapped with a pale blue ribbon. I was almost certain that was the only thing keeping the notebook from falling apart.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a journal,” she said. “It was your mom’s.”

  Chapter 5

  Eliza

  I should have told her about the journal sooner, but I didn’t. It wasn’t that I was trying to keep secrets from Jaden, but I simply didn’t know. The idea that Alicia might have left me the journal was shocking, to say the least.

  As far as I’d known, she’d never left anything at my home.

  If I hadn’t been in the middle of my own renovation and trying to get my house organized and under control before the festival, I probably wouldn’t have ever found it.

  Luckily for me, I was feeling wildly overwhelmed and when I felt overwhelmed, I cleaned. I always had. Alicia had always teased me for it, too.

  “What do you mean?” A look of surprise crossed Jaden’s face. The surprise quickly morphed into fear, disgust, and maybe even hurt. She felt like I’d betrayed her somehow.

  “I promise I didn’t know,” I told her. “Not until this weekend.”

  “How could you not know?” Jaden stared at the journal in my hand like it was going to be her saving grace.

  I hoped that was true.

  “I just didn’t know,” I shrugged. “Weren’t there things about Stanley you didn’t know?”

  “You mean, like him turning into a werewolf and disappearing? Yeah,” she said drily, “there were some things I didn’t know.”

  “Relationships are hard no matter what kind they are,” I said gently. I handed her the journal. “I think your mom hid this at my house.”

  “Have you read the whole thing?” Jaden asked, staring at it. She rubbed her hands over the soft leather before looking back up at me. “Is there anything useful in there?”

  “I didn’t read it,” I told her honestly.

  I’d thought about it. I’d held it in my hands and thought about sitting down and reading the journal cover-to-cover. It would have been easy to do, and it would have been easy to lie about.

  I didn’t want to lie to Jaden, though.

  I was a middle-aged witch now. In some eyes, I was already old. I didn’t think of myself that way, but I knew how young people could be. In their eyes, anyone over the age of 25 was an old bat who might as well go hide in a cave.

  Well, I wasn’t going to hide.

  Not in a cave.

  Not anywhere.

  “I didn’t read it,” I repeated. “I thought about it. I didn’t. I looked at the first page to confirm it was your mom’s, but then I figured we could read it together.”

  “Really?” Jaden looked relieved.

  “Really. Are you busy now?” I asked, smiling gently.

  “Not at all. Let’s get started.”

  Jaden was so much like her mom in so many ways. I wondered if she knew that she was. Alicia had always been so quick to look for answers. She’d always been wildly curious.

  Jaden was like that, too. She didn’t waste time waiting for the perfect moment to start searching for things. She just jumped right in.

  I was a little jealous, in some ways. As an attorney, I’d been calm and calculating. I’d always had to weigh all of the pros and cons of every decision, of every argument. Now, as the mayor, I often did the same thing.

  I couldn’t just dive into things head-first because it could damage the town.

  It could damage everything.

  “What do you think is inside?” Jaden a
sked.

  “It could be anything. I mean, it could just be a huge grocery list, for all I know.”

  “No,” Jaden said. She looked up at me. Her eyes were flashing with excitement and passion. I hoped this journal wasn’t going to let her down. “No, it’s not just anything. It has to be the answers.”

  “You think she finished the potion to cure werewolves,” I whispered.

  “I think she did,” Jaden said. “Why else would she have hidden this so carefully?”

  “Maybe she just forgot it. She could have forgotten it.”

  “My mother wasn’t really the forgetful type,” Jaden pointed out. I had to agree with her there. Alicia could be fussy and agitated, and she could be demanding and bossy, but she wasn’t disorganized. Not by a long shot.

  I closed my eyes for just a moment. Alicia, despite all of her flaws, really had been the love of my life. We hadn’t been expecting to fall in love, but isn’t that how it always is?

  You wake up one day and realize there’s a person you just can’t stop thinking about, and everything just becomes clear. Everything just becomes perfect.

  Everything becomes real.

  That was what had happened with us.

  “I know,” I finally agreed. “She wasn’t forgetful. She hid it, probably on purpose.”

  “Do you think she knew?”

  “Knew that Helena was going to go after her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I’ve asked myself that so many times over the last year.”

  It had been a hellish year. Jaden had lost her mother, but I’d lost the love of my life. Jaden had gotten 34 ½ wonderful years with her mother, but me?

  My time had been cut short.

  To say I was jealous of Jaden’s life with her mom wouldn’t be accurate, but I did have a longing. I longed for more time. I longed for more memories. Alicia and I had enjoyed our time together immensely, but when she passed, I couldn’t help but wish there was more.

  I always wanted more.

  “Maybe she suspected something,” Jaden said. She slipped the blue ribbon off of the cover. The leather-bound journal didn’t match the ribbon that had been used. I wondered if Alicia had lost the original wrapping that kept the journal carefully closed.

  Jaden seemed to notice the ribbon, too. She picked it up and looked at it for a moment.

  “Did my mother wear ribbons in her hair?”

  “Never.”

  “This looks familiar.”

  “Does it?”

  “I think…”

  “Tell me.”

  “I think it might be one of the ribbons I used as a kid,” Jaden whispered. “That would be dumb, though, right? Like, why would she hang onto a ribbon for all of these years?”

  “I don’t know,” I said sadly, but I wondered if it was true.

  “Okay, either way, it’s go time,” Jaden said. She reached for the front cover of the journal, and she tugged it open.

  Chapter 6

  Jaden

  “This journal is the property of an incredible witch,” I read aloud. I looked over at Eliza. “She didn’t write her name?”

  “She always called herself ‘an incredible witch,’” Eliza shrugged. “It wasn’t an uncommon nickname between us.”

  “Interesting. Okay, we’ll let’s see what the incredible witch has to say.” I turned the page of the journal to reveal a list of items needed from the grocery store.

  “Really?” Eliza muttered. “Really?”

  “Funny,” I said. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just a prank. Let’s turn the page and see what happens next.”

  I turned the page to see a diary entry that had been written. Eliza scooted a little closer. The sound of the kitchen chair scraped against the floor, but I didn’t care. I’d get an area rug at some point to prevent that.

  Together, we read my mother’s words.

  Dear Diary,

  Another day wasted. I’m worried that the potion I’ve created won’t actually work. Isn’t that always the problem with these things? We spend all of our time crafting something important, something that will change the world, and then it just doesn’t work.

  Life fails us so much.

  I know I’m missing something from my list of ingredients, but I’ve tried so many different mixtures, consulted with so many faraway werewolf specialists, and tried my best to figure out exactly what it is that will give Quartz the control he so desperately wants.

  I know he misses her. I do, too. It’s just not the right time.

  I pulled away from the pages for a second, trying my best not to cry.

  That was me.

  I was the “her” my mother’s journal referred to. It was me. Stanley missed me, and I had the proof right here.

  “If he missed me, then why hasn’t he shown himself to me?” I asked Eliza.

  “I’m sure he has a good reason, love.”

  Eliza’s words were gentle. Eliza could be really kind when she wanted to be. That harsh, attorney exterior served her well when she was running the town, but with me, every so often, she’d let that shield down.

  She’d let me see who she really was, and it was honestly pretty fantastic.

  I liked this.

  I liked when the two of us could just talk. It let me feel like I wasn’t going crazy. It let me feel like everything was going to be okay.

  “What kind of reason could he have? It’s been a year.”

  Perhaps that was the hardest thing for me. After Stanley had saved me from Helena’s attack, he hadn’t stayed around. He’d left. He’d been in his werewolf form, but I’d recognized him, and I was certain that he recognized me, too.

  Now he was gone.

  He hadn’t come back.

  If he was staying away, then maybe there was a reason, or maybe there was a problem.

  “You know,” Eliza tapped her finger on the journal, “I’ve been thinking about something. Something about that night just doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “What night?”

  “The night Helena went after you at the inn. It was a full moon.”

  “It was always a full moon then.”

  “Yes, but it was a charmed full moon. That’s different from a regular full moon, isn’t it?”

  “Okay?”

  “Maybe when Helena broke, she didn’t just break the charm of the full moon. Maybe something else broke, too.”

  “You mean, like something happened to Stanley? Like maybe he got trapped in his werewolf form?”

  If that was true, then he might be wandering around, unable to change back to his usual self.

  “Maybe,” Eliza said carefully. “We’ll need to do more research.”

  “We’ve done enough research,” I whispered. “Let’s just finish the journal.”

  To my surprise, Eliza agreed. Maybe she agreed a little too easily. I could tell this was hard for her, but it was hard for me, too. This was my mom, after all. It was the woman who had raised me, the woman who had done everything in her power to make sure I grew up feeling loved, and special, and important.

  We read through the rest of the journal, looking for anything that might help us, but unfortunately, most of the journal was just kind of…normal.

  She shared her thoughts about being a witch. She talked about wishing she could be truthful with me. She hadn’t told me either one of us had magical powers, after all. She’d surprised me entirely.

  “Nothing,” I muttered, closing the journal. I pushed back my chair from the table and walked over to the coffee pot. It was almost completely empty, but if I shook it, I could get just a few more remaining drops from it.

  “It wasn’t entirely useless,” Eliza said. “Now we know she thought I didn’t buy enough eggs.”

  “Funny.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get more answers,” Eliza told me. “I know it’s frustrating.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  “We’ll keep
searching,” Eliza said gently. “We’ll find out what happened.”

  “What if we don’t?” I asked, sad. “What if we don’t find out what happened? What if we never find out and this,” I gestured vaguely around the room, “is all that I’m ever going to get?”

  “If we don’t find Stanley, and we don’t find out about the spell, then at the very least, I’m happy this entire situation brought you to me.”

  “What?”

  “I never had a daughter,” Eliza said. I could tell the words were hard for her to say. “And while I would never expect to take your mom’s place in any way, I do view you as someone I can take care of.”

  “Why, Eliza,” I said, brushing back a couple of stray tears. How did those get there? “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “We witches do what we can.”

  Chapter 7

  Eliza

  When I walked into my office on Tuesday, I was surprised to find a line of people waiting outside of the building. Glancing around, I couldn’t really see anything particularly special or crazy about the building. There were no signs posted and nothing seemed wrong with the exterior of the little stone building.

  “Excuse me,” I asked the first person in line. “What are you all waiting for?”

  “We need to speak with the mayor,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “The festival, of course,” the woman said, but she was smiling. She seemed excited.

  “I’m the mayor,” I told her. “What about the festival?”

  “We all want to be vendors,” she told me. I didn’t recognize the woman, nor did I know who most of the other people in line were. Which Village was a fairly small place, and even if I didn’t know every single person, I did recognize most of the people who lived around me.

  “Vendors? Really?”

  This was wonderful news. Our festival was going to launch in just a few weeks, and we could use every bit of promotion and marketing we could get our hands on.

  Having a huge group of people who wanted to sell their wares would be great for us. It would be incredible, really.

  We needed as much activity happening in the area as we could muster. The more people who came to visit, the better things would be for us.

 

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