The Witching Hour

by Sara Bourgeois

  The Witching Hour

  Wicked Witches of Destiny Cove Book 1

  Sara Bourgeois

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About the Author

  Also by Sara Bourgeois

  Chapter One

  I was so excited to get to work that morning that I almost forgot to brush my hair. That would have been a disaster all on its own. I’d had the presence of mind to pile my thick auburn curls into a messy bun on top of my head, but my hair is a horror story for another time. At least summer was over, and I had a glorious fall day ahead of me. There was nothing better than those first few days of autumn baking.

  The thing that had me all worked up into a tizzy was a brand new recipe in my Cookbook of Shadows. It’s a spell book just for Kitchen Witches. The cookbook contained all of my super-secret magical baking recipes. My cupcakes were more than just supernaturally delicious, they had actual magic in them too. Since it was an enchanted book, it revealed new secrets to me from time to time. The day before I’d found a page I’d never seen before. Meditative Mint Chocolate Supreme was a cupcake I couldn’t wait to make for the first time.

  Unfortunately, my new recipe would have to wait. What I found when I got to my shop, Sweet Magic Bakery, was a broken window. The glass of the pane nearest the front door was smashed in, and shards had scattered halfway across the bakery floor. The bakery’s front door was also slightly ajar. Whoever had done it had broken the window and then used the opening to unlock the door.

  I could only guess that they’d gained access to my business sometime under the cover of night. Destiny Cove wasn’t what you’d call a sleepy town, but it was pretty quiet after midnight.

  Apparently, our little town wasn’t crime-free, though. I’d been presented with a dilemma. Did I go in and investigate myself? What if someone was still in there and I surprised them? I could get hurt if they caught me off guard. I wondered if I should call my friend Sheriff Joe Newbury.

  Before I made up my mind, I walked slowly around the outside of the building. I made my way around to the alley in the back. Nothing looked out of place back there. The back door was locked, and it appeared no one had tampered with it. That made sense, my alley door was steel, and the back windows had bars on them. It wasn’t because of crime in Destiny Cove but because my bakery had been a jewelry store at some point in the past. I’d left the extra security on the windows when I purchased the place, and I was glad that I had.

  In the end, I decided that I was probably overreacting. If someone had broken in to burglarize the place, my guess was that they had to be long gone. In my mind, it was more likely that someone had just damaged the front door and window. Perhaps someone had crashed their car into the building in the middle of the night. I walked back around to the front of the shop and pushed the front door open.

  Once inside, I looked around. In the dining area of the bakery, nothing seemed amiss except the smattering of broken glass. The counter and cash register seemed fine too. There weren’t even any signs that someone had tried to jimmy the cash drawer open. My eyes flitted around the store looking for a weapon. I still hadn’t convinced myself that there wasn’t an intruder in the store. There was a heavy feeling in the air. If I did find someone lying in wait for me, what would I do? I could bash them on the head with a whisk if I wanted them to laugh at me before totally murdering me. I could hit them with my…

  That’s when a little niggling of panic began to form in my stomach. If they hadn’t broken in to steal money, then what could they have wanted? I practically ran to the kitchen, and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.

  My Cookbook of Shadows was missing from the spot where I always left it on a pedestal by the window. I went over to the pedestal and ran my hands over it. I’d hoped that I could get a glimpse of who had taken it, but I got almost nothing. I could pick up just a hint of the aura of the person who’d taken it, but knowing that they had a muddy brown aura at the time they had their hands on the book didn’t help me much.

  I shot around like a chicken with its head cut off searching every cabinet and drawer. I’d even turned over two of my giant flour sacks kept in the dry storage. I don’t know why I thought the book might be in there, but I was desperate.

  “If my mom moved it when she was cleaning, where would she have put it?” I muttered to myself while pinching the bridge of my nose. “Think, Zoe. Think.”

  Out of places to look in the kitchen, I ran out into the dining area and straight back to the bathrooms. After checking behind the commodes and in both toilet tanks, I went back out into the dining area and looked at the underside of every table and chair. “Maybe someone duct taped it under one of these to mess with me,” I rationalized.

  When that little nugget of insight didn’t turn up anything, I looked on every shelf of my pastry cases. First, I looked through the front glass, and then I went around to the back and opened them up. Like that was going to help. But, I was desperate.

  When I’d looked everywhere and given up on the notion that perhaps my mother had moved it while cleaning, I had to admit that not only was it gone, someone had stolen it.

  At first I was numb. I’m sure my aura was a lovely shade of dirty gray. It most likely began to turn pink as my heart rate tripped and began to pick up speed. Fire engine red would be the most likely color for the moment the panic settled back into my chest.

  I took out my phone and called Sheriff Joe Newbury. “Uh, Joe,” I said when he answered. “I have a problem.”

  “What’s that, Zoe? You need me to come try that new cupcake flavor already? The sun isn’t even all the way up yet.”

  “No. I didn’t get to make the cupcakes yet. Joe, someone broke into the bakery.”

  “Please tell me you’re outside.”

  “No, I’m inside. I didn’t think I’d actually been burglarized.”

  “Zoe, that’s so dangerous. Go outside right now and wait for me,” he said and hung up.

  Though I didn’t sense any danger and I was certain there was no one in the bakery, I did as he asked.

  When Joe arrived, I was standing outside on the sidewalk trying not to gnaw my fingernails down to the nub with worry. He walked up and gave me a hug. I instantly relaxed a little. Joe may have been the town sheriff, but first and foremost he was my best friend.

  “While you were in there, did you notice if anything was stolen? Did they get the register?”

  “No, they didn’t touch the money. The only thing missing is my Cookbook of Shadows. It had to have been stolen. I looked everywhere.”

  Joe went inside and looked around while I waited on the sidewalk. He came back outside shaking his head and trying not to chuckle. I assume the mess that I’d made while looking for the book was what amused him. I guess I had gone a little nuts in my panic.

  “How long were you in there before you called me?” Joe asked. “You know what? Never mind. Any idea who might have wanted it?”

  Just as I was abou
t to answer, I caught a glimpse of Regina Hatterson peering out at us from her shop’s window. Regina owned The Seeing Eye across the street from my bakery. It was a psychic shop, but Regina was a fraud. She sold all kinds of knock-off “charms” and did tarot readings for some of Destiny Cove’s more gullible residents.

  “What about Regina?” I asked him. “She seems awfully interested in what we’re doing.” I pointed across the street and Regina ducked back behind her purple velvet curtain.

  “Zoe,” Joe warned.

  “Joe.” I couldn’t stifle an eye roll. I knew he wanted to tell me to slow down, and I hated that. “She’s right across the street from my shop, and that means she has the opportunity and motive. Regina has wanted my secrets for years. She offered to buy my Cookbook of Shadows, and I wouldn’t sell it. I best that’s why she stole it.”

  “Zoe, come on. Let’s not jump to hasty conclusions.”

  “Joe, she used to come over to my shop at least once a week to ask me if I’d come to my senses yet. She said my little bakery was going to fail at some point and that I’d come crawling to her for money. Sometimes she’d wait for me outside, but other times, she’d come in and do this in front of my customers.”

  “Zoe, she was being nasty but that doesn’t mean she broke in and stole it.”

  “I…” I wanted to give him more details on all the ways Regina had to be guilty, but I caught her peeking out of her curtain again. I could swear there was a wry smile on her face.

  Before I had time to think about it, I stormed across the street and pounded on her shop door. She didn’t answer at first, and I could feel my blood boil. Kitchen witches tend to have a fire streak in them, and that meant that I could get a little hotheaded.

  “I know you’re in there,” I said and pounded on the door again. “I saw you watching me, Regina Hatterson.”

  I had reason to be angry, though. At least, I thought I did. Regina had been trying to get my Cookbook of Shadows for months. She’d offered to pay me for it more than once, but I wasn’t going to sell my family’s secret recipes. No amount of money could make me part with my family’s magic. That’s why I assumed she had to have stolen it. If she was willing to take people’s money for lies, then why wouldn’t she steal to get what she wanted?

  After the third round of me pounding on the door, Regina finally answered. “What do you want?” she asked as if I was bothering her.

  “Someone broke into my shop and stole my Cookbook of Shadows. Was it you?”

  Regina’s hand flitted up to her chest and she took in a gasp filled with fake indignation and shock. “Why, I never,” she said.

  “You never what?” A couple of dried leaves skidded down the road as I waited for her response. The first harbingers of fall.

  “I just can’t believe that you would accuse me of such a thing. My people have faced accusations from the likes of you for centuries.”

  “Your people?” I asked, but as soon as the question was out of my mouth I knew what she was talking about, and I regretted letting her bait me. The scent of saltwater from the shore drifted into my senses and I held onto it in the hopes that the water energy would extinguish the fire building inside of me.

  “I am a proud Gypsy fortune teller, and you, Zoe Magnolia, are nothing but a bigot.”

  “Oh, geez,” I said and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. “I’m a bigot? Regina, the term Gypsy is offensive. You’re speaking of the Romani people, and there is zero evidence that you’re descended from them. You’re using their culture to fleece people for money.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regina retorted.

  “You stole my book. You broke into my shop and took it because I wouldn’t sell it to you,” I said.

  “You’re lying.”

  By then, a small crowd had gathered. The people going to work, my first customers of the day, were starting to trickle out. People seeking out coffee and pastries for breakfast had stumbled upon an altercation instead. And of course, I had to say something I’d regret.

  “You better bring my book back, Regina Hatterson, or you’ll regret it.”

  Chapter Two

  I never opened the store after I found the broken window. Joe took fingerprint dustings, but it wouldn’t do any good. There were too many people in and out of my store on a daily basis. But he’d said it was procedure.

  After I cleaned up the glass, Joe helped me nail a board over the window and I went home. My mom worked at the shop with me, and she’d already shown up for her shift and used magic to clean the kitchen. I’d missed my opportunity to bake for the day because I got most of my business in the early morning.

  If I’d taken the time to bake and open the shop, I’d have ended up giving most of what I made away to Buzz at the store next door. He and his employees happily accepted my leftover goodies at the end of the day when I closed the bakery.

  My day had been a wash, but I hoped that the next would bring better fortune. I needed it to be better. The broken window was still boarded up. I didn’t have the money to hire someone to repair it, and some things magic just didn’t cover.

  I could use my magic to clean or even make the pieces of glass fly around in a swirling vortex of stabby fun, but I could not put it back together. I needed to purchase a new window and have someone who knew what they were doing install it. I made a mental note to practice more than kitchen magic in the future. There were witches out there who could have snapped their fingers and made the window whole again, but I wasn’t one of them. Yet. I was born with the potential for greatness, like all witches were, but I’d preferred making people happy with cake.

  Fall would be a good time for me to explore the possibilities that came with expanding my horizons. Winter was a time for rest and rejuvenation, but fall was a time for harvesting the fruits of your labor.

  The town’s Autumn Equinox festival was only a few weeks away. I had a booth there every year, and I made a quarter of my yearly profits at the festival alone. I needed the money, and fortunately, while I had been frantically searching for my Cookbook of Shadows, I hadn’t destroyed all of my supply. I’d also made a few of my most popular recipes so many times that I had them memorized, so I could do my baking and open my shop without the book.

  I took a deep breath and unlocked the front door. It had been open the day before, but thankfully the burglar hadn’t damaged it too much. I could still lock it. That didn’t mean that I didn’t have to plant one foot against the frame and yank while jiggling at the same time to get the door open.

  That I could do something about. I should have the day before, but I’d been too frazzled to think about it. It was enough for me that it locked at all. But I’d planned on having customers that day, and I couldn’t very well expect them to jiggle-tug the door open all day.

  I ran my hand down the side of the bent frame and willed it straight. I did the same with the side of the door, and as I’d expected, the wood yielded to my will. I was just lucky that it wasn’t metal. I could have fixed it, but I would have had a headache all morning. Once the door opened and closed to my satisfaction, it was time to go in.

  As soon as I stepped through the front doors, something smelled off. My heart sank because I assumed that one of my refrigerators had stopped working overnight and the food stored in it had spoiled. That was the last thing I needed. My bank account couldn’t handle a broken window and it certainly couldn’t handle having to purchase all of my cold supplies again. I cursed myself for not buying alarms for the outlets.

  The man who sold me my business insurance policy had suggested the ones that would email you if the sockets tripped. I ignored him. Possibly to my own peril.

  As I walked past the pastry case and register to inspect the kitchen, I noticed a big pile of clothes lying on the floor behind the counter. It seemed strange that my mother would leave a pile of laundry in my shop. She wasn’t the type to leave laundry sitting in a basket let alone lying on the floor. It was a split sec
ond later that I realized it wasn’t a pile of clothes. It was Regina Hatterson.

  Thinking on my feet, I cast a quick protection spell over myself.

  Shield me goddess

  Keep me safe

  Protect me from those who intend me harm

  Turn my wish into a powerful charm

  At first, I didn’t believe she was really dead. I had to decide if I should run from the store or check her pulse. Could it be some sort of trick because I’d threatened her the day before? Why was she in my shop and how did she get in? My imagination ran wild and I envisioned her springing up as I got near and… Well, I didn’t know what she would do. It seemed a strange way to ambush someone.

  I stood for a moment studying her. She looked like she could be sleeping or pretending to sleep. Her face was peaceful and looked unbothered. Her clothes were rumpled, but nothing around us looked as though there’d been a struggle. Nothing new was broken or out of place. She was just there. Laid out on the floor of my bakery. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I tried to summon the courage to check her pulse. If Regina was still alive, she might need medical attention. If she was dead, I had a problem.

  After kneeling down, I pressed two of my fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. Not only was there nothing there, but Regina was cold. She was dead. There was no way that she could fake that, and it would take a witch far more powerful than any I’d ever met to cast an illusion spell good enough to produce such a convincing effect.

  Still, I had to try. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a white sage smudge stick and a sprig of lavender. I kept emergency magical supplies in a box on the counter. My thumb found the wheel of the lighter, and I ignited the sage. After throwing the lavender on Regina, I uttered a short spell and hoped I could reveal what I wanted to be the truth.