The Witch's Halloween Hero (Nocturne Falls)

by Kristen Painter

  “Mom, I can’t. You know he’s out taking Kaley trick-or-treating. This is her first Halloween here; I’m not making her give that up. And besides, I need to be here, working on this mess.”

  Charisma nodded. “Agreed. This takes precedence. Marigold will tell you the same thing. She’d probably also tell you that Saffron will freak if she finds out Stanhill won’t be around anymore because of something her mother and aunts did. I can’t have my niece looking at me like I’m a monster.”

  Corette smiled at the thought of her granddaughter. “Saffie likes Stanhill that much?”

  Charisma snorted. “Did you hear the part about how he brought her and Charlie cupcakes tonight? He brings her a cookie from Delaney’s Delectables every time he sees her, which is clearly a level of planning we should all be in awe of. The man is gold, Mom. Now go have fun, and seriously? Don’t dance with anyone but him.”

  Corette gave her daughters a long glance. “I’ll dance with whomever I please. But your words have given me a lot to think about.” She lifted her hand in a little wave. “Love you both.”

  “Love you more,” they responded in unison.

  Awash in affection for her girls, Corette headed to the foyer.

  Stanhill stood there, waiting patiently. He was remarkably handsome with that kind of salt-and-pepper, well-aged, proper British thing going on and looked to be in phenomenal shape, although a tux could hide a multitude of sins. He smiled when he saw her, his eyes coming to life with a dazzling glitter that sent a shiver of curious anticipation over her.

  Could it be that her body remembered him when her mind did not? That raised all sorts of questions, and in her current state of being, she didn’t seem to have any of her usual inhibitions that might have prevented her from asking. Not that she had many inhibitions to begin with, but a proper Southern woman didn’t talk about certain things.

  Fortunately, she was a witch first and a proper Southern woman second. She sidled up to him in the hopes of getting a few answers.

  He smiled at her. “Ready to go?”

  “In a moment. I have some questions.”

  He held his arms out. “I’m an open book, love.”

  His accent trilled over her skin, more attractive than it should have been. “You look at me like we’ve been…intimate. Have we?”

  He swallowed, and the sparks in his eyes turned to heat lightning. His arms came to rest at his sides, and even through the fabric of his tux she could see his body tighten in response. A body that looked like it had very few soft spots. “Yes.”

  “More than once?”

  He nodded, a taut, barely controlled movement that spoke volumes. “Oh yes.”

  “I see.” Based on the way her skin was tingling, her body definitely remembered him. “And I take it those occurrences were mutually enjoyable?”

  “Hell yes.”

  Heat rose through her. She blamed it on the satin. It wasn’t the most breathable fabric. She took a deep breath. “I see.”

  “Bloody shame you don’t remember.”

  She agreed with him but wasn’t about to tell him that. “We should go.”

  He offered her the crook of his arm. “The ball awaits.”

  She slipped her arm through his, happy to feel that the body beneath the tux was as hard and trim as it looked. A second later, a sense of déjà vu passed through her. “Have we done this before?”

  “Gone to the ball?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Every year for the past four years.”

  “People expect to see us together at this event then, don’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  She blinked, thinking through the possibilities. “I don’t want them to know there’s anything amiss with me. You’ll keep my secret, won’t you?”

  Seriousness shone in his gaze. “I would do anything for you. Keeping your secret will not be a hardship, but may I ask why? Are you worried someone could use it against you?”

  She took a breath, then nodded slowly. “It’s Samhain and I’m under the influence of magic. My own could even be compromised. I just think it’s best if no one else knows.”

  He put his hand over hers, his large, warm palm reassuring against her knuckles. “Perhaps we shouldn’t go.”

  She snorted softly. “I may not remember you, but I remember how much I paid for this dress. We’re going.”

  Chapter 2

  Escorting Corette was as easy for Stanhill as breathing, but the ball had been under way for half an hour and there still hadn’t been word from her girls about a counterspell. Corette had warmed to him a little since their discussion in the foyer about their intimate past, but every once in a while he caught her looking at him with the sort of appraising glance he’d seen her use on indecisive brides in her shop.

  She was either trying to figure him out or decide if he was worth the effort.

  All while the engagement ring sat heavy in his pocket.

  He couldn’t give it to her now, not like this. She’d never agree to marry him. And rightly so. But time was running out. What if giving her the ring was just the thing to bring her memories of him back? What if giving her the ring could make her love him again?

  Hugh Ellingham walked up to him. “What’s eating you?”

  “Nothing.”

  Hugh sipped his wine. “Liar.”

  They’d known each other too long. It was hard to hide anything from someone who knew you so well. “Shouldn’t you be dancing with your wife?”

  “Delaney’s in the kitchen giving the caterers instructions about the cake. And shouldn’t you be dancing with Corette?” Hugh looked around. “Where is she?”

  “Marigold needed her for an opinion on the flowers. By now they might be in the kitchen with Delaney for all I know.”

  Hugh frowned. “A night out with Corette usually puts you in a better mood.”

  Stanhill sighed and glanced around. “Things are not going the way I’d hoped this evening.”

  “You still plan on proposing?”

  “I have no bloody idea.”

  Hugh clapped him on the shoulder. “Nerves?”

  “Hell no.” Stanhill’s gut clenched. “You can’t tell a soul, but there was a little mishap at Corette’s this evening. Some witchcraft gone wrong.”

  Hugh’s brows shot up. “And?”

  “And she’s not in love with me anymore.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I assume her daughters are working on it?”

  Stanhill gazed toward the kitchen, looking for Corette. “Yes.”

  “But you don’t think you should propose until they’ve fixed it.”

  That brought Stanhill’s head around. “You sound like you think otherwise.”

  “What if that kind of declaration is enough to put things right?”

  “I thought the same thing. But what if it isn’t?”

  “Then you’ve lost her. But that could be the exact same result of doing nothing tonight too.”

  “Damn good point.” Stanhill swallowed the last of his whiskey. “I won’t be the first chap to have gotten turned down.”

  “Love is an awful thing, isn’t it?”

  “Not for you, you fanged muppet. You’re blissfully happy with Delaney.”

  Hugh smiled, showing off those fangs. “True. But I almost wasn’t. And I was willing to risk more than rejection to have her by my side for eternity. Trust your heart, Stanhill. This will all work out, I’m sure of it.”

  “Easy for you to say. But I see your point.”

  “Then you’ll ask her?”

  Stanhill nodded. “I really don’t have much choice, do I? I’ll consider it strongly.”

  Hugh’s smile faded. “And if it doesn’t work?”

  Stanhill stared into his empty glass, then raised it. “I’m going to need a lot more of these.”

  ***

  Corette stood back and took a hard look at the enormous arrangement her daughter was fixing in the
main dining room. It was so large Marigold had to use a step ladder to work on the upper sections. As the centerpiece of the space, the arrangement she did every year had become the traditional background for many of the Black and Orange Ball photographs. “It’s beautiful, Mari. You really outdid yourself this year.”

  Marigold sighed and peered out from behind a swathe of green. “Mom. They’re lopsided.”

  Corette shook her head. “I think it looks artistic.”

  “Well, Elenora won’t think that. She’s pretty old school when it comes to what she likes and doesn’t like.” Marigold leaned into the flowers again.

  Corette studied her daughter. She wasn’t just a pretty face. Marigold was a deft touch at flowers and her skills as a green witch were extraordinary, but the area she truly excelled at was motherhood. Corette’s heart ached for all her girls to find love, although Pandora seemed well on her way to marriage, but with Marigold, it wasn’t just about her finding love, it was also about sweet Saffie getting a wonderful stepdaddy.

  Corette glanced around to see if there were any eligible bachelors she might introduce her daughter to.

  A passel of servers bustled past with the final touches for the many, many tables that would hold the five hundred or so guests about to descend. They all looked too busy to stop. Corette sighed. “I promise you they’re beautiful.”

  “And I promise you, Elenora’s standards are very different.”

  “That’s for sure.” Delaney Ellingham walked over, looking splendid in another custom gown from Ever After. She held a tray of petit fours but quickly handed them off to a server. “Put these on the north buffet.” She smiled at Corette. “Hi, how are you? You look fantastic. Is that the dress you special ordered?”

  “Hi, Delaney. And thank you. Yes, this is it. I have to say you look fabulous in that dress as well.”

  Delaney grinned. “And I have you to thank.” She did a twirl, floating the layers of shimmering black chiffon out around her, then steadied herself and called up to Marigold. “Where are those sprays for the cake table? I need to get them set up. Elenora wants to open the dining room in exactly fifteen minutes.”

  Marigold popped out of the flowers again. “They’re in three big white boxes in the middle walk-in.” She grinned. “You do look fabulous. Very Ginger Rogers. Speaking of, where’s Fred?”

  Delaney laughed. “Hugh’s out there with Stanhill. The two of them are hugging the wall like they’re afraid Birdie Caruthers might ask them to dance.”

  Marigold snorted. “Oh, I’d pay money to see that.”

  Delaney nudged Corette with her elbow. “Can’t let Birdie get her hooks in Stanhill or you may never see him again.”

  Corette frowned as a surprising wash of jealousy temporarily shaded her vision green. “You think he’d be that easily wooed away?”

  “No, I was just teasing.” Delaney made a face. “I think he’d be more likely to run away screaming. I mean, Stanhill with a werewolf? I can’t even.”

  “Oh, no, that wouldn’t do at all, would it?” Corette made herself laugh. Why was she feeling jealous over Stanhill? She wasn’t in love with him. Although she had to admit, he was very easy to spend time with. Was she feeling something for him? After just a few hours? Of course, if what her girls said was true, she’d known him for years. And definitely was in love with him. The whole thing was such a mess. And so very confusing!

  Delaney shot Marigold a look but said nothing. “Right. Okay, gotta run. Gotta get that cake table set up.” With a wave, she swanned off in a cloud of chiffon.

  Marigold climbed down off the ladder. “Mom, have you checked your phone? Any word from Pandy and Charisma?”

  “No, I haven’t.” She dipped her hand into her evening bag, retrieved the phone, and tapped the screen to life. “One message. Charisma says try love’s true kiss.” Corette dropped the phone back into her bag and gave Marigold a little smile. “Your sister always thinks that’s the answer.”

  “You’ve thought it yourself a few times.” Marigold shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”

  “He kissed me at the house. It did nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Marigold narrowed her gaze. “You didn’t get any reaction from it?”

  Corette tipped her head coyly. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  Marigold clapped her hands in obvious excitement. “You’re starting to feel something for him, aren’t you?”

  Maybe. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d been burned very badly once before. In theory, she knew her divorce had happened years ago, but it felt so fresh…“He’s a very nice man—”

  “Oh, come on. He’s Stanhill. He’s a total silver fox. And nice is the kiss of death. He deserves better than that.”

  “Marigold, this isn’t something you can make happen through sheer force of will. After your father’s betrayal, you can’t expect me to fall in love in a matter of moments.”

  “Mom, you’ve known Stanhill for years. Been in love with him for at least four.” Marigold held her hands up. They were stained with chlorophyll. “I know you don’t feel or remember any of that because of the accident, but trust me.”

  “I do trust you, my darling, but I can’t just love someone because—”

  The side door opened and Elenora Ellingham swept in. Her secretary, and one of the oldest and most secretive witches Corette knew, Alice Bishop, swept in behind her. Alice was the oft absent head of the local coven and, in traditional Alice style, wore simple, unadorned black. Elenora was in full-length burnt-orange dupioni silk with a shocking amount of rubies at her throat, wrist, and ears. The matriarch of the Ellingham clan cast her vampire gaze upon them. “Marigold.” Then she turned slightly. “Corette.”

  “Elenora,” both women replied.

  “Are we ready?” She eyed them curiously, as if guessing she’d interrupted something that wasn’t official Black and Orange Ball business. “I’m opening the doors for dinner shortly. I can’t give my guests access to open bars without also providing them food.”

  “Five minutes, Elenora, and everything will be perfect.” Marigold smiled nervously.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Corette whispered as she patted her daughter’s arm. Then she nodded at Alice. “Nice to see you, Alice.”

  Alice nodded back, her sharp eyes barely blinking.

  Corette made her way out but stopped in the ladies room to check her makeup, slipping her lipstick from her purse. She blinked into the mirror, her mind elsewhere. Like how she was feeling about Stanhill. And what her options were.

  Alice was one. She rarely mixed with the other witches. Corette was the coven secretary and barely knew her. Every once in a while, Alice might show up at a coven meeting if she had an announcement, but the woman was an anomaly. And in a town like Nocturne Falls, that was saying something.

  Word was, her power was old and ancient and derived from the lives of her sister witches lost in the Salem trials. Alice was the sole survivor, thanks to Elenora’s intervention.

  Which was why Alice never left Elenora’s side. And why she’d helped the Ellinghams create Nocturne Falls and the spell that kept it safe.

  Corette straightened and stared back toward the dining room. If Alice Bishop was powerful enough to bespell the town’s water supply with a charm to keep human visitors from suspecting its inhabitants were true supernaturals, what else was the woman capable of? Erasing the evening’s earlier mishap would probably be nothing for her.

  But that would mean Corette would have to confess what had happened. She would be vulnerable. Possibly in danger of losing her status as coven secretary. And while Corette made it a policy to trust her sister witches, Alice Bishop was cut from a very different cloth.

  Corette tucked her lipstick into her bag. Best Alice not know anything about what had happened. At least not until things became desperate.

  Right now, Corette was rather enjoying being the focus of Stanhill’s evening. The banter and flirting were all highly entertaining. And i
t was flattering to be the center of such a handsome man’s attention. There was also no point in denying she had begun to feel something for him.

  She clutched her purse tightly. What if she really had been in love with him? What if he was her last chance to find love again? That chance would vanish at midnight. She knew that. Samhain had a way of making permanent any loose magic

  The thought sent a little shiver of fear through her. She wasn’t afraid of being alone. Her daughters’ presence in her life meant that was impossible. But losing a good man…and being the reason that man’s heart was broken, that wasn’t something Corette wanted on her soul for the rest of her days.

  She opened her purse, took out her phone, and dialed.

  Pandora answered on the second ring. “Mom? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I have an idea…”

  Chapter 3

  Stanhill smiled as Corette joined him. “Hello, love.”

  She smiled back with more certainty than he’d seen in her all evening. “Hello.”

  “Everything all right with the flowers?”

  She nodded. “Marigold’s got things well under control.”

  “That’s quite the talented trio of girls you’ve got there. Just as smart and beautiful as their mother.”

  Her dark eyes held his gaze. “Have you always been such a charmer?”

  He took her hand and ran his thumb over her delicate knuckles. There was no teasing in her words, just genuine interest. He took that as a positive sign. “You know that I—” He stopped and laughed at the bittersweet moment. “I guess you don’t know. Not anymore.”

  Her smile was kind. “Tell me.”

  “Do you remember that I’m a rook?”

  “No, but that would mean you’re practically a vampire.”

  He nodded. “Correct. And as such, I am very old. Nearly four hundred years.” He continued. “My entire life, both as human and rook, has been spent in service. I was Hugh’s valet before he turned me.”

  “Being a rook is still a form of service.”

  “It is. But with many more freedoms and benefits.”

  Her mouth turned into a coy smile. “I assume he dresses himself now too.”