Spirits and Spells (Warlocks MacGregor Book 5)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I would take it all back if I could. I would rewind time if it would fix the future. I would let ya see the truth if that meant ya would look at me once the way I see ya every day.”

  Charlotte opened her eyes, hearing the words clearly, as if they had just been said. She finally remembered all of it, every moment. Niall had said that to her long before she knew he liked her. Each time he cared for her after her insanity took her too far. He had said that. He had begged for her forgiveness and revealed the depth of his feelings when he thought she couldn’t hear.

  She was in Niall’s bed in the mansion, the room empty. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say or do, only that she needed to find him. She wore pajama pants and a shirt borrowed from Malina. The clothes fit her better than Niall’s.

  She hurried out onto the landing, peering over the stairs. “Niall?”

  “Charlotte?” Lydia appeared below her in the front hall.

  “Where’s Niall? I have to talk to him.” Charlotte hurried down the stairs.

  “You can’t come down here yet,” Lydia said, waving her hands that Charlotte should get back.

  Charlotte ignored her. “Niall!”

  Firelight caught her attention in the dining room. There was a flurry of movement as she entered. Niall stood in a dress shirt as his father tried to thrust a tuxedo jacket at him.

  “Ya were supposed to stop her,” Margareta gasped, motioning at Lydia to get Charlotte even though it was too late.

  “Niall, I needed to see you!” Charlotte rushed toward him. He looked surprised to see her. He glanced around the room as if unsure what to do. Flowers were strewn over a table. Margareta lifted her hand, lighting the candles that had been scattered throughout the room.

  “Charlotte…” Niall cleared his throat.

  “I love you,” Charlotte blurted. “I had to tell you. I know that you love me, too.”

  “Ah,” Lydia said softly. “That’s so sweet.”

  “You’re not supposed to be down here yet.” Angus again thrust the tuxedo jacket at his son.

  “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked. Niall clearly wasn’t a tuxedo kind of guy and none of the others were dressed up. “Why are you…?” She took the jacket from him and laid it on the back of a chair. “Niall, what’s going on here?”

  Niall cleared his throat as if he had practiced what he was going to say. His phone beeped and he glanced down, ignoring it. “Charlotte, I have come to realize that…”

  “My life has no meaning without ya in it,” Margareta whispered.

  “My life has no…” He cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. “Ah, dammit, Charlotte. I’m sorry. I know ya deserve a man who can give ya everything, but I love ya and I don’t want to live another day without ya. If ya could stand a man who doesn’t talk as much as ya might want him to, eats too many fried foods, rides a motorcycle, and fights the occasional demon, then I’d like to be that guy.”

  “What the hell kind of proposal is that?” Margareta asked no one in particular. “It’s nothing like we practiced.”

  Niall’s phone beeped again.

  “Niall, if you can stand a stubborn, occasionally insane, pain-in-the-ass woman, then yes, I would love to be your wife.” Charlotte threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She knew in that moment, everything was perfect. This is where she was meant to be.

  “I give up,” Margareta said. “Ya two are perfect for each other.”

  His phone beeped yet again.

  Charlotte pulled back. “Maybe you should answer that.”

  Niall reached into his pocket and kept ahold of her as he pulled up the text so she could see it. “Murdoch said the water sprite migration has taken a turn for the worse. He needs help.”

  “Water sprites?” Charlotte asked, grinning “Can we go?”

  “Ya want to hunt water sprites with me?” Niall asked.

  She nodded. “Hell yeah I do. We already took out a wraith, how hard can sprites be?”

  Niall grinned. “My bike is parked out front. We can swing by the apartment and grab some clothes if ya like.”

  “Perfect,” Charlotte nodded. She stopped to hug Lydia. “I’ll call you later.”

  “You better,” Lydia said.

  “Why does Niall get everything?” Rory teased in a pouty voice, coming from the kitchen. “First he gets the giant pet lizard. Now he gets the girl.”

  “You have a lizard?” Charlotte asked, not remembering any pets in Niall’s apartment. “Do we need to have someone come by and feed it or something?”

  “Ah, Nessie is an independent girl,” Niall dismissed. “She’s fine. But that reminds me.” He turned to his cousin. “Rory, I need ya to go take care of the gremain in my building. Thanks.”

  “But…” Rory protested.

  Niall ushered Charlotte toward the front door. As they walked outside, she could barely contain her excitement. “I love you so much, Niall. I can’t believe it’s taken us so long to get here.”

  He paused by his motorcycle, grinning. “All I have is yours, Charlotte, now and for eternity—my magick, my life, my love. Together, we will live for hundreds of years.”

  Charlotte arched a brow. “How does that work?”

  “My power will infuse ya with my life and my immortality will become yours.” He kissed her softly before straddling his bike. He snapped his fingers, materialized a helmet for her. “That doesn’t give ya second thoughts, does it?”

  “Not for a second.” Charlotte slipped the helmet over her head and climbed on behind him. The motor revved between her legs, sending a shiver through her. She grinned, feeling strangely warm for such a cool day. He took off down the hill, speeding them to their future.

  The End

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Oregon Coast, Two Weeks Later…

  If someone had told Charlotte that one day she’d be staying in an RV in the Oregon coastal woods, she would have laughed herself silly. Then again, if that same person would have told her she’d be engaged to Niall MacGregor and happier than she’d ever been in her life, she would have had them committed.

  Yet, here she was, sitting at the small booth table gazing out at the dark ocean. Glints of moonlight defined the waves. She had a feeling Niall would have camped out by his motorcycle if not for her. Charlotte liked to think she brought a bit of domestication to his life, while he brought an adventure to hers.

  “Fíorghrá,” Niall said as he opened the door. She heard the electric motor of the steps automatically lower them to the ground. “It’s time.”

  Charlotte grabbed her jacket and went to join him. He held out his hand to help her out of the vehicle. He shut the door, and the steps retracted.

  Niall kept hold of her hand as he led her down a sandy path toward the water. The cool wind whipped his hair around his head. She felt her heart beat faster as she followed him. It didn’t matter where they were, what they were doing, as long as she was next to him she felt complete.

  “Where is Murdoch?” she asked as they neared the water. He led her around a fallen log someone had moved to create a seat near a barren fire pit. Her feet slipped in the loose sand with each step.

  “Down the beach,” Niall gestured into the distance. “He’ll change the water sprites’ course and send them our direction.”

  A small shiver of excitement traveled over her as the anticipation built. They stopped near the water’s edge. The wet sand created a firmer path.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered.

  “I’m not,” Charlotte answered. After Helena, a few water sprites hardly seemed terrifying.

  It started with a soft glow in the distance, the gliding of lights in the water. The sprites swam along the shoreline, some bumping along the shallow water so that their heads surfaced. Lips parted each time to release a gentle screech. Though their legs and arms did not move, they had the shape of humans being pulled in currents. Bioluminescent skin radi
ated the color of blue moonlight. More sprites followed the first until hundreds gathered along the shoreline like a pod of glowing dolphins.

  Niall lifted his hands toward the water. She saw his lips move but did not hear his words. Threads of magick wove from his hands toward the ocean. He directed it toward the leaders of the pod, sending them back toward the ocean. After a few moments, he dropped his magick and sighed.

  “They should go back into the deep waters for another hundred years.” Niall reached for her to pull her next to him.

  “What happens if they crash on the shore? Do they attack humans?” Charlotte watched the beautiful sight as the sprites moved past them.

  “No, they’d die,” Niall said. “Most supernaturals do not pose a threat to humans. Often, it is the other way around. That’s why we send them back out to sea. If one was to beach themselves and humans found the remains, the hunt would be on.”

  Charlotte slipped her arm behind his waist and angled her body toward his. She cupped his cheek, bringing him to her for a brief kiss. “This has to be one of the most romantic dates I’ve ever been on, Mr. MacGregor.”

  He grinned. “Ya wouldn’t prefer candlelight dinners at some fancy hotel?”

  She shook her head as she once again looked out at the glowing water. “Candlelight has nothing on this.”

  “I love ya, Charlotte,” Niall whispered. “All that I am, and have, is yours.”

  “Then I’d say life is pretty damn good,” she answered just as softly. “I love you, too, Niall.”

  The End

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  About the Author

  New York Times & USA TODAY

  Bestselling Author

  Michelle loves to travel and try new things, whether it's a paranormal investigation of an old Vaudeville Theatre or climbing Mayan temples in Belize. She's addicted to movies and used to drive her mother crazy while quoting random scenes with her brother. Though it has yet to happen, her dream is to be a zombie in a horror movie. For the most part she can be found writing in her office with a cup of coffee while wearing pajama pants.

  She loves to hear from readers. They can contact her through her website.

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  Curses and Cupcakes Excerpt

  A Cozy Paranormal Mystery

  Curses and Cupcakes

  Exclusive First Chapter Excerpt

  by Michelle M. Pillow

  Everlasting, Maine

  Marcy Lewis collected engagement rings like other women collected designer purses. She didn’t do it on purpose, and it wasn’t anything she bragged about. What woman would brag about being cursed to have her heart broken over and over again? It wasn’t that she merely had bad luck with men or only dated bad boys and made horrible choices. That would have been too easy. That she could have hired a therapist to deal with.

  No, she was honestly and truly cursed.

  Marcy was doomed to become whatever the man in her life thought he wanted, transforming her physical appearance and the dominant parts of her personality. If the man liked artists, the fact she had wanted to be the next Picasso in the third grade would emerge. If the man wanted an accountant, she found herself up in the middle of the night reading tax code. One man had a thing for the rodeo. Thank the heavens there had not been any nearby at the time, or she might have found herself on the wrong side of a bull.

  Marcy slipped an engagement ring off her finger and set it on the bathroom sink. The relationships always ended poorly. That was what had happened the night before. She came home from work to find her house in shambles. Her recent ex, Donnie Huff, had taken everything of value he could find. She would have called to report it, but the police wouldn’t get anything back, and trying would only prolong the suffering.

  “Hello, officer,” she mumbled sarcastically, “I’m cursed, and my ex stole my collection of engagement rings. Can you please go arrest him for being a jerk?”

  A grumpy meow answered her as if protesting her sour mood.

  “Point taken, Mr. Monty,” Marcy answered the cat as she went to peek into her disheveled bedroom. “At least he did not take what is most valuable.”

  Her two cats were the most valuable things Marcy had. Life mattered more than objects any day of the week, and she’d give a thousand engagement rings to make sure her cats were safe.

  Mr. Monty the Spectacular stared at her accusingly from his perch on an overturned dresser drawer. He’d somehow worked his way into one of her bra straps and wore it like a belt. She’d adopted him from the local shelter, but he looked to have the pedigree of a British Shorthair, with his hefty build, thick coat, and broad features. His bi-color fur was mostly blue-gray, except for the triangle of white starting at a point between his eyes, widening down his cheeks and covering his two front paws. Marcy crossed over to him and pulled the bra off. When she’d finished, there appeared to be an air of disappointment in his copper gaze.

  Hiding somewhere was his best friend, Mr. Whiffle Pot Hopscotch the Magnificent, a white and orange longhair with small ears that bent forward and down toward the front of the head like the Scottish Fold breed. The two of them enjoyed staring out of the window and tapping the glass anytime a kid walked by. Marcy couldn’t tell if they wanted to play, or if they were two grumpy men yelling at the children to get off the lawn.

  Strewn clothes and treasured ornaments covered the floor like they’d been tossed in a chaos salad, and then abruptly discarded for better prospects elsewhere. Her home décor wasn’t fancy, but it had been her haven, kitschy and cool, held together by craft wire and luck. An antique tin sign advertising soda pointed up from a nest of T-shirts on the floor. Her favorite piece of furniture, an old wooden park bench, lay in two pieces as if it had been stomped in half.

  Marcy went back to the bathroom mirror to watch the flower tattoos on her arms fade as if they had never been there. In an hour, they’d be gone. At least she hadn’t endured pain at the hands of a tattooist to get them. The body art had appeared as suddenly as it left, and soon what she had worn as a badge of her commitment would disappear into her private mental trove of mistakes along with her other errors in judgment. In two hours, her hair would be a lighter shade of brown and the nose piercing would close, and in three hours no one would remember the last incarnation of Marcy Lewis except in pictures they would assume were costumes.

  As a bonus, anytime she tried to tell people she was cursed, they looked at her like she was talking gibberish. The curse really did cover everything—no one saw the changes, she couldn’t tell people what was going on, and she was made to go through it alone with no ending in sight.

  Marcy wondered what kind of person she would become next. “How long do you think it will last this time, Monty, being blessedly single before I find my next heartbreak and lose myself again?”

  She leaned to look at him through the bathroom door. Monty had wiggled his way back into the bra strap and now licked his paw as he groomed himself.

  “You are one strange cat.”

  Monty lifted his leg and kept licking.

  “I don’t suppose you have seen my phone in this mess, have you?” Marcy knew the cat was notorious for lying on top of anything small and electronic—TV remotes, phones, even the electric wine opener a friend had given her one year for Christmas. Marcy swept her finger under him and found her phone. “Thanks, Monty.”

  Aside from a few social-media notifications and a call from her mother, no one had tried to get ahold of her. Marcy placed the phone on her dresser, trying to ignore the mess Donnie had made of her room, and went to find clothes to get ready for work. She looked at the tight T-shirts hanging in the closet like someone peeking in at a memory of what used to be her favorite. Her clothing choices read like the wardrobe of a theat
er troupe—relaxed chick, motorcycle old lady, naughty librarian, not-so-naughty librarian, sweater-vested schoolmarm, tax accountant, tattooed creative…

  None of them felt like her true self, but they were all versions.

  All it took was a mutual attraction, and she lost part of herself. She became someone else’s ideal, until she didn’t know who she was anymore.

  There was enough artist left in her to make her pick a blue T-shirt, distressed blue jeans, and a pea coat for work. It wasn’t glamorous, but working at Witch’s Brew Coffee Shop and Bakery in Everlasting, Maine, was her idea of solid employment. She had been trying to make her way through college with online classes, but it was hard going when a relationship always seemed to throw a wrench into the works. Maybe the next guy would like educated girls who dedicated themselves to getting ahead. That would make for a nice change.

  The longest she’d been single was three months. Of course, she hadn’t left her house much during that time, but it had been a glorious three months. Maybe she’d get lucky and no one would fancy her.

  Maybe she could stop showering.

  Or shaving.

  Or brushing her hair.

  Never mind. With her luck, she’d attract some hoarder who wanted her to live on top of a stack of newspapers from the 1970s.

  There was the secret hope that someone, somehow, would have the answers she needed. This was Everlasting after all. Strange things happened here every day. The unofficial town motto was, “Everlasting, where there is no such thing as normal.” To an outsider, it looked like a thriving fishing village steeped in New England culture. In reality, it was a safe harbor for supernatural creatures. It was why she’d moved from her hometown of Nickerson, Maine.