The Seven Year Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 2

by Jodi Redford

  Once she reached the dense copse of overgrown cypresses and wax myrtle bordering the fence line, she ducked to a crouch, scanning the mansion for sign of movement. Just because Seven appeared to be busy in town doing its despicable deeds for the day didn’t mean the creature hadn’t decided to take a break and pop home for a little R&R. And there was also the butler, Harrison, to consider.

  She gritted her teeth, wishing—not for the first time in her life—that her magic came with the ability to cloak herself with invisibility. The red front door suddenly swung open and Harrison stepped out, a broom in hand. Although the porch seemed to be impeccably clean from what she could tell, the butler began vigorously sweeping the whitewashed floorboards. Ignoring the ache growing in her hamstrings due to her awkward position, she watched his brisk movements, silently wondering how long it’d take him to rid the veranda of nonexistent dust.

  Just as her numb legs were on the verge of falling asleep, the butler halted, his expression annoyed. He carried on a heated one-sided conversation that she couldn’t quite make out before he unexpectedly vanished.

  Clarissa blinked. Okay, she’d suspected that Harrison was something other than human when he’d disappeared so quickly on her the other day. Seeing him perform a trick that even David Copperfield would be hard-pressed to replicate only confirmed her suspicions. Did that mean Harrison and Seven were of the same ilk? She stared intently at the empty spot where the butler had been only seconds ago. Well, whatever the hell Harrison was, she needed to take advantage of his absence. Now.

  Jerking to her feet, she raced to the front gate. The scrolled latch lifted beneath her fingers, offering no resistance. Praying her luck would hold, she barreled up the wide stairway and tried the door. Fortunately, it appeared that Harrison hadn’t thought to lock it before taking off. She hurried inside the house and surveyed her surroundings.

  The entry was spacious but held no furniture. There were, however, several large oil paintings in ornate, gold-leafed frames. They all seemed to be from the Renaissance period and depicted the same dreary landscape—a desolate, barren wasteland with a towering mountain in the distance. She eyed the closest of the paintings, a shiver coursing down her spine. There was nothing outwardly evil about the scene but something about it still gave her the creeps. A creak sounded and she froze. It wasn’t until a breeze whistled against the shuttered window and the snapping noise repeated that she realized it was only the house settling. Still, who knew when Harrison would be back?

  Or Seven, for that matter.

  Intent on getting as much snooping in as possible while she could, she systematically began checking the entire main floor. Strangely enough, each room turned out to be as empty as the entry. Moving her focus to the massive mahogany staircase, she worked her way upstairs. The upper level consisted of seven rooms. As always, Seven had taken the freaky symbolism thing to a brand-new level of weird. But unlike those downstairs, these rooms did contain furniture, at least.

  With the exception of one room, each interior was tidy and dressed in various décor that stood in direct contrast with each other. She moved from one opulently appointed accommodation decked out with French antiques and silk tapestries to its neighbor filled with minimalist, modern furniture and disturbing framed wall posters depicting devastating scenes of war. It was clear by looking around each space that its trappings probably offered a glaring clue as to which of Seven’s personalities occupied it.

  She walked into the last room. Though it was the largest of them all, it held the least accoutrements. Just as she was about to refocus her efforts on the previous spaces she’d rushed through, her attention fell on a book propped upon a tall, marble pedestal situated against the farthest wall. She crossed to the display and inspected the manuscript. It appeared to be ancient—much older than any of the tomes in her office at the coven house. And that was saying a lot, considering the age of some of the books in her collection.

  Carefully flipping the delicate parchment to the opening page, she glanced at the single word written there in black ink. Commedia.

  “Comedy?” She grunted. “Not the first title that springs to my mind.” She turned back one page to the intricately detailed engraving of people in medieval garb being consumed by fire and hideous beasts. Yeah, that was always a chuckle buster. Shuddering, she closed the manuscript.

  “Hello, sweet Clarissa.”

  She jumped, a cold wash of dread sluicing through her veins. Slowly she pivoted and locked gazes with the personality that had kissed her last night at Tatum’s. The creature leaned against the doorframe, a sly smile tilting one corner of its mouth. “What a most unexpected surprise. I had no idea you missed my company this much.”

  Tamping down her instinctual fear, she stepped forward. “Hardly. I’m only here to demand why you’ve gone back on your word to leave my father alone.”

  “Have I?”

  “I saw you at Lafayette today.” She sucked in a deep breath when her nemesis’s left eyebrow took a cocky upward slant. “Well, one of you, anyway. Our bargain was that you would stay away from my father.”

  “You misunderstand. Your father’s soul was not the goal this morning.”

  “So you were contracting souls.” Having her suspicions confirmed only stirred the furious brew of rage churning in her stomach.

  The personality abandoned the doorway, its eyes flashing with an intensity that made her uneasy. “Never fear, sweet Clarissa. Yours will always be truly beloved above all others.”

  It took a moment to absorb the meaning behind the declaration. She gaped at the creature. The notion that it thought she’d be the slightest bit jealous of her place within its catalog of collected souls would have been laughable, if it weren’t so damn disturbing.

  “I see that you doubt my words.” He shook his head with a tsking noise. “Have you not figured it out yet?”

  She desperately wanted to resist the magnetic draw radiating from Seven, but the force tugged at her, ripping the words from her mouth. “Figured out what?”

  “That unlike her, I will never choose another to replace you within my affections.” The silken purr of Seven’s voice held a certain mocking quality that complimented the creature’s sly expression.

  She staggered backward, a fresh wave of nausea roiling in her stomach. The creature’s chuckle rang in her ears. “Have I struck a tender nerve?”

  Her mouth dry and gritty, she swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No? Shall I refresh your memory?” Seven’s cold fingers trailed like ice down her cheek, causing her to flinch. “Forsyth Park. Your mother. The proof that verified everything you’d always suspected.”

  The hated recollection rattled at its locked cage, desperate to escape. She couldn’t free it. Couldn’t grant it that power to once again destroy her. Completely. But Seven’s whisper-like kiss upon her cheek offered no comfort, no reprieve from her dirtied past.

  “She never wanted you, sweet Clarissa. And she never will.”

  Chapter Nine

  Leaving Seven’s mansion after their chat ended up cementing one painful lesson for Clarissa. Going up against the creature might not only be futile, but also more dangerous to her emotionally than she’d ever imagined.

  Somehow the bastard knew exactly what to say to get to her. How to hurt her with a casual cruelty that left her reeling. By the time she drove back into the city, she still hadn’t shaken off any of the ugly remnants of their encounter. All she could do was hope she could sneak into Charmed Moon without drawing attention.

  That possibility shriveled when the loose floorboard in the rear hallway ratted her out. Both Marabella Blanchard and Clarissa’s coven sister, Constance, glanced expectantly in Clarissa’s direction.

  Damn. Clarissa sent the back stockroom a longing glance before sighing and joining the other two witches in the center of the shop.

  Constance shoved a shoulder-length lock of her jet-black hair behind her ear and frowned as she
swept Clarissa with an assessing look. “There’s something different about your aura today.”

  Clarissa swallowed, her skin going clammy, but before she could stammer through a reasonable lie, Constance’s eyes widened.

  “Holy shit. You got laid!”

  Marabella choked on a cough, and Clarissa debated whether she should be relieved that Con hadn’t picked up on her agitation over her conversation with Seven, or if she should conjure a black hole she could hurtle herself into. To make matters worse, she could tell from the flush of excitement riding Con’s cheekbones that her coven sister wasn’t going to drop the matter of her broken celibacy any time soon.

  “Not only that,” Constance said with a decisive nod. “It was the most incredible, curl-your-toes-and-light-up-a-cigarette-afterwards sex of all time.”

  Marabella’s eyebrows winged upward. “Wow. You can tell all that just from her aura?”

  The wattage of Constance’s beaming grin intensified, nearly outsparkling the small diamond stud piercing her nose. “Yep. Clarissa is almost glowing. It’s probably due to the fact that she’s gone so long without having—”

  Clarissa cleared her throat pointedly. “Could we please move on from this? I doubt Marabella wants to hear about my sex life.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” A snort fell from Marabella. “You’re talking to the girl who can’t give her damn virginity away. Please let me live vicariously through you.”

  A wicked smile tipped Constance’s lips. “Yes, do tell. You can start with who your wonder stud is.”

  “Nobody you know.” Desperately glomming onto the first thing that could pass as a potential distraction, Clarissa plucked a package of lemongrass incense cones from the tabletop next to her. “When did we get these?”

  “That was the lamest avoidance tactic ever.”

  Ignoring Constance’s droll quip, Clarissa dropped the cones back in place and headed toward the sanctity of the stockroom. There was no mistaking Con and Marabella’s covert whispering behind her. Despite her firm resolve not to let them get under her skin, she still winced. Undoubtedly the entire coven—hell, all of Savannah—would know before the end of the day that she’d finally gotten laid, as Constance so charmingly put it. She also wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if her coven sisters started taking bets on who her mystery lover was.

  Her head starting to get that familiar ache again, she closed the door to the stockroom and leaned against it, her shoulders slumping. It wasn’t necessarily that she didn’t want anyone knowing about Logan.

  So why did it feel like she was hiding their relationship like some dirty secret?

  No, scratch that. This wasn’t a relationship, for goddess’s sake. It was sex. Big difference. Regardless, she’d never been one to overshare her personal business with others. As much as Con and Marabella had seemed comfortable teasing her about her sex life, the conversation only made her feel…exposed. Equally vulnerable as her encounter with Seven had left her.

  A soft knock rattled against the door, and she almost yelped. Cursing her jumpy nerves, she pressed a hand over her heart, willing its frantic thumping to ease. “Yes?” The single word came out more as a croak than an inquiry.

  “Um, it’s Marabella. Do you have a minute?”

  The promise of some precious alone time dissolving before her, Clarissa sighed and opened the door. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks, I really appreciate this.” Marabella stepped into the cramped interior, her gaze skipping over the countless boxes holding unchecked inventory. Her expression reminded Clarissa of a raccoon’s while staring down the headlights of an oncoming semi. “Wow, talk about a lot of…stuff.”

  “Constance went on a buying splurge last month.” Something she needed to talk to her coven sister about. If they didn’t start scaling back, they’d have to rent a larger space.

  Suddenly remembering that come next week, Charmed Moon would no longer be hers to worry about, a dull pain bloomed inside her chest.

  For the sake of her sanity, she’d never obsessed over what would happen once Seven owned her soul. It’d been easier not to think about it. But with that day roaring down on her, she could no longer turn a blind eye to her circumstances and how it affected not only her, but the others she’d sworn to serve and protect. Topping the list of harsh realities that she couldn’t just sweep under the rug—the coven would be without a mistress. Nearly hyperventilating at the realization, she swayed, her vision going wonky for a moment as she struggled to breathe.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  The sharp concern in Marabella’s voice snapped Clarissa back to the present. She blinked before returning the younger witch’s stare. “Y-yes, I’m fine.” Her fingers shaky, she smoothed her hair off her perspiring forehead. “I’m sorry, what exactly was it that you wanted?” Whatever it was, she prayed it’d be something easier to manage than the potential disaster looming on the horizon if she didn’t find a replacement for her position in the coven within the next couple of days.

  “If this isn’t a good time, I can—”

  “Marabella, trust me, if you need my help, ask for it now.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” Gnawing on her lip, Marabella cleared off a corner of the receiving desk so she could sit. “I’ve been mulling over the idea of opening up a web-based gift store, but now I’m envisioning what my bedroom would look like after my first buying trip.”

  Clarissa frowned. “I’m sure Domino would be more than willing to free up some space so you wouldn’t be forced to work out of your bedroom.”

  “Please. My mother can barely stomach the idea of me investing my inheritance this way, much less encouraging my…” Marabella mimicked quote marks with her fingers, “…harebrained idea by clearing out the damn basement for my workspace.”

  Despite her own considerable troubles, Clarissa couldn’t help commiserating with Marabella. It must be hell living with Domino at times. As head leader of the witches guild, Domino was used to dishing out orders and having her will obeyed at all times. Her need for dominance over others didn’t stop at the office, either. Marabella had practically been kept on a short tether from the time she was old enough to leave the cradle.

  “Have you considered investing your money in a physical storefront? Like what we have here? Space wouldn’t be an issue.” Wrinkling her nose, Clarissa scanned her surroundings. “Assuming you possess more self-control than Constance, that is.”

  “But…I’m not sure I’d know what I was doing, running a physical store. What if I fell flat on my face?” Marabella caught her bottom lip between her teeth, the nervous habit giving away her self-doubts.

  Clarissa wanted to throttle Domino for the part she’d played in aiding Marabella’s insecurities. “So what if you did? Would it mean the end of the world as we know it? Probably not.”

  Marabella remained pensive and quiet for a few moments, presumably pondering the pros and cons of what Clarissa had said. Finally she broke into a huge grin and hopped to her feet. “I’m going to do it.” Giving a happy little squeal, she flung her arms around Clarissa.

  Unused to such profuse displays of affection, particularly from a female, Clarissa stiffened. Her hands cramping at her sides, she battled against the tension and uncertainty that automatically prodded her into panic mode. She knew how to do things for people. That was easy and didn’t require her fumbling through socially awkward moments. But this? She had no clue how to react. And that realization only sent the tumultuous brew of anxiety already racing through her into hyperdrive.

  Obviously unaware of Clarissa’s inner turmoil, Marabella tightened her hug. “Thank you for having faith in me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  The heartfelt statement delivered an additional twist to the emotional vise clamping Clarissa’s chest. Would every little thing amount to a reminder of her numbered days? The lives she would no longer be a part of?

  Giving one last exuberant squeeze, Marabella scooted from the room, leaving Clar
issa alone with her glum thoughts.

  Shortly after six o’clock, Clarissa gave up the pretense of getting any further work done. Snicking the door shut to the storeroom, she tracked down Constance in the small kitchenette. She waited until her coven sister finished rearranging the tray of whatever freaky health-kick food she was sworn on this week before tapping on the doorframe. “Are you okay locking up tonight?”

  “Yep.” Constance licked her fingers, her eyes sparkling. “Hot plans tonight with the mystery stud?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Leaving Con to grin like an obnoxious fool all on her own, Clarissa stalked toward the back exit. The Miata waited in the small parking lot behind the cluster of stores. She climbed behind the wheel and, after keying the engine, retracted the roof. It was a perfect night for riding with the top down. The temps were mild, for once, and the sky held not even a hint of rain. If her mind weren’t so damn backlogged with worries and frustrations, she might actually have enjoyed the drive ahead of her.

  Shifting into gear, she pulled out of her space and approached the lot’s exit. She hesitated, the temptation to take a left out of the drive luring her. That way led to Tybee. To Logan, and the promise of blissful forgetfulness in his arms. It’d be at least two hours before he’d leave work though. She couldn’t wait for him in his driveway like some pathetic woman desperate for her man to come home. Not that he was her man, anyway. Besides, she didn’t want to get into the habit of running to Logan whenever things got tough. If nothing else, she would end this last week of her life with her dignity intact.