She hugged the pot close to her chest and walked out into the clearing. “Aunt Ruth, Aunt Ursa,” she called out nervously. “I...”
The two witches whirled round and beamed at her. Layla smiled back. Both her aunts had her mom’s twinkling brown eyes and playful smile. Aunt Ruth wore her dark hair in a long braid while Aunt Ursa’s gray hair was styled into tight curls. While Ruth was tall and thin, Ursa was chubby and round all over. But their smiles and infectious laughs were the same.
Both her aunts bounded over to hug her. “You’re here, Layla,” Aunt Ursa said, dabbing at the corner of her eye with her cloak.
Ruth nudged her sister and hissed, “No tears, Ursa.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Ursa sniffed. “But, look at our Layla! Endora would have been so proud...”
Aunt Ruth smiled at Layla, her eyes shining. “Your mother would be so happy to see you here, like this.” She gestured at Layla’s cloak and hat.
Layla nodded, blinking quickly to hide her tears. She knew what her aunts were saying. Her mother had always wanted her to embrace her gifts, magical and otherwise. She was a witch by blood. Trouble was, she wasn’t sure she had any real talent as a witch.
“And you brought the pot.” Aunt Ursa broke into a grin. “Put it on the fire and let’s get the show on the road!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ursa faced Layla and said solemnly, “But first, we do the Hocus Pocus Dance.”
Layla gaped at them.
“With this dance, we welcome Layla Rivera into the Dumplings Coven,” the two older witches announced and began to prance around the fire.
“Join us!” they yelled. “We dance as a coven!”
Layla laughed when she realized that the Hocus Pocus Dance was actually the Chicken Dance with a few tweaks. Chortling, she jumped in and joined her vivacious aunts.
When their dance ended, Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ursa stopped to catch their breaths.
“Wow. That was fun,” Layla said, moping her brow.
Aunt Ruth straightened up and looked at Layla. “Layla Rivera,” Aunt Ruth said in a booming voice. “We are honored that you have chosen to join our coven this night. Please step forward and be the third point of our circle.”
As Layla took a step forward, Aunt Ruth frowned and mumbled, “Now that didn’t sound right. Circles don’t have points. Ursa, did I say it right?” she hissed over her shoulder.
Ursa shrugged. “Damned if I know. Just make it up as you go along.”
Ruth scratched her head and cleared her throat. “So. For a complete coven, we need a Maiden, a Mother and a Crone.”
Layla nodded. Aunt Ursa had five sons and a dozen grandchildren so she was obviously the Mother. Aunt Ruth had never married. So...
Layla took a deep breath and opened her mouth. The role of Maiden traditionally went to a virgin, but she ought to tell them that she was no virgin.
“...so you will be the Crone,” Aunt Ruth announced with a flourish.
Layla blinked. “What?” What did she miss?
“Ursa is the Mother, and I am the Maiden,” Aunt Ruth said. “And you, Layla, are the Crone.”
“I am?” Layla blinked. She picked her jaw off the ground and closed her mouth.
“Of course I am,” she said at last. Her mother had been the Crone of the coven. She was taking her mother’s place so of course she was the Crone.
Layla looked up at Aunt Ruth. She remembered her mom saying that Aunt Ruth had been deeply in love with a sailor. But her young man perished at sea before they could get married.
And Aunt Ruth had remained a maiden.
Layla stared at her aunt with wonder, awe and admiration. Her aunt had loved and lost. Her love for her man must have been so deep and true. It was a love that could never die. It burned strong and proud in her, keeping her together all these years.
Layla wondered if she would ever find a love like that.
Layla took a deep breath and straightened up smartly. It was an honor to be the Crone of the Dumplings Coven.
“I accept the role and position of the Crone, and I will fulfill my duties and responsibilities to the best of my abilities,” Layla vowed.
Her aunts exhaled in relief. “That’s wonderful, really wonderful, Layla. Your mother would have been so happy and so proud,” Aunt Ursa said with tears in her eyes.
Layla could only nod. She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. “I...I’m now a member of a witches’ coven,” she whispered, half laughing. “I feel like a real witch!”
“You are a real witch, Layla. Your mother wanted you to find your own way, but she wanted us to be here for you. Endora spoke to us before she died,” Aunt Ruth said softly. “Your mother wanted the Dumplings Coven to go on and she wanted you to be part of this sisterhood. Endora asked us to offer you the position first. If you refused to join our coven, then we could either take in another witch or go join another coven. But Endora wanted it to be you.”
“I...”
“Endora also wanted us to come up with some structure for your training,” Aunt Ursa added.
“Training?” Layla’s eyes rounded. “What training?”
“Endora thought that perhaps it would be more effective if we taught you magic the old-fashioned way. It was worth a try.” Aunt Ursa shrugged.
“Is this why...” Layla gestured at the soup pot and the forest.
“Exactly. We thought we could show you how witches used to practice their magic in the good old days.”
“The witches of old sure knew how to set the mood.” Aunt Ruth chuckled.
“Gathering in the dark woods, under a full moon...” Aunt Ursa said in a dramatic voice.
“...stirring a foul mixture in a bubbling cauldron...”
“Too bad I didn’t manage to mend my cauldron in time,” Aunt Ursa said, resuming her normal tone. “The little rascals broke it. I tried to order a new one online but they didn’t have it in stock.”
CHAPTER NINE
Dean leaned against the huge tree and watched the three witches in the clearing. His hiding spot offered a perfect view of the clearing.
He folded his arms and observed the rather entertaining spectacle. It was almost like he was watching a play. The clearing was the stage, and the full moon spotlighted the three animated players.
He had followed Layla at a discreet distance after she left with the pot. He was both curious and concerned as he watched her stagger off towards the dark woods alone with the large soup pot.
When he was sure that she wouldn’t notice him, he started after her. He had no idea what she was doing and he suspected that she didn’t quite know either.
No way was he letting this intriguing little female out of his sight. He had lent her the pot. That made her his responsibility. He had to make sure that the borrower of his pot came to no harm.
That was what he told himself anyway.
Yup. That was why he was following her. But it didn’t explain the powerful feeling of protectiveness and possessiveness that he felt towards Layla.
And it sure didn’t explain his bear’s reaction to her.
His bear had risen at the scent of her and the predator refused to let Layla go. The manic beast forced him to track her into the woods and keep her within his sight and reach.
His bear didn’t give a hoot about the pot. The bear just wanted the woman.
Layla was beautiful, yes, but he had met many beautiful women, even dated some of them before. But none of the women had ever had this effect on him. His bear had never bothered with any of his dates before.
“Witches,” Dean murmured, shifting his weight. Was that it? Was it because Layla was a witch? Had she bewitched him?
The thought was so ridiculous that Dean snorted at himself. Why would she bother casting a spell over him? Just to get his pot?
Dean shook his head and continued watching Layla and her aunts.
The thick canopy and undergrowth provided the perfect cover for him. He was well hidden among th
e shadows, and it was obvious that the three witches hadn’t noticed him at all. They went about their business, cackling and talking loudly and danced with wild abandon.
He had almost laughed out loud when he saw them doing the Chicken Dance around the fire. They seemed to be having fun and it looked like they weren’t taking this coven meeting too seriously.
With his acute hearing, he could hear everything that the three women said. Ruth and Ursa were welcoming Layla into their coven, and they had gone to great lengths to make it a special and memorable occasion for her. They had specially donned their cloaks and hats, and gathered in the woods under a full moon with a big, bubbling pot. It was all very witchy. Most modern witches didn’t bother with all these rituals and symbolisms anymore.
Dean thought it was sweet of Ruth and Ursa to make all this effort for Layla. Most covens recruited their members online these days. The new members simply filled in their particulars on the recruitment page on the coven’s website and paid the membership fee by credit card.
But what a strange name for a coven. The Dumplings Coven?
Dean shrugged. There were stranger names he supposed.
He continued observing Layla and her aunts. From what Ruth and Ursa said, he gathered that Layla wasn’t a practicing witch. This was her first coven meeting, and she was understandably nervous and confused.
Her aunts were trying to get Layla to relax and be more confident in her spell-casting abilities. They were now persuading Layla to cast a spell, any spell, just to get the ball rolling and the magic flowing.
“I know, I know!” Aunt Ursa cried excitedly. “Make some tea in that pot! That’s a really simple spell. It was the first spell we learned, wasn’t it, Ruth? We conjured up some tea.”
The pot was sitting innocently on top of the smoldering twigs, minding its own business. Layla squinted at the pot, as if she suspected that the pot wasn’t going to be very cooperative.
After more humming and hawing, Layla finally stepped up to the pot and pointed all her fingers at it.
Dean leaned forward. He was rooting for her.
Come on. You can do it, Layla.
Layla flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulders. She stretched her arms and jogged on the spot. She glared daggers at the hapless pot and strode towards it.
She looked like she was about to enter the wrestling ring and beat the crap out of the pot.
Dean thought he saw the pot shiver a little.
Layla gave the pot her best death stare and shouted something at it. Nothing happened.
Layla tried again. And again.
She whispered, muttered, sang and shrieked various incantations at the pot. The pot shook a little, as if it was laughing at her.
Layla looked a little discouraged but she didn’t give up. Dean was impressed. Layla might be a novice witch, but he had no doubt that she would be a very successful witch. Success came to those who never gave up.
Finally, there was a spark. The pot wobbled and began to fill with a bubbly, frothing liquid.
“Woohoo! Yes, yes, yes!” Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ursa cheered, pumping their fists and clapping delightedly. “You did it, Layla! Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Dean stared at the golden, frothing liquid that was rapidly filling the pot. That didn’t look like tea to him.
Shock and disbelief registered on Layla’s face as she stared at the overflowing pot.
“That’s not tea,” she spluttered. “It’s beer!”
CHAPTER TEN
Layla scowled at the pot and tried again. She had been trying to make tea for the past hour or so. But every time she yelled an incantation at the pot, it rocked, rattled and rolled out more beer.
She had memorized the spell correctly. She was sure of it. So what had gone wrong? She couldn’t figure it out and it was infuriating. It was great that she had managed to conjure up something, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to get the spell right. It was like that first time she cast a spell. She’d wanted to change the color of the couch, not set it on fire!
Anyone could accidentally cast a spell. There was always some residual magic somewhere. Just yell the right words at the right time and something would be triggered.
A real witch wouldn’t accidentally cast a spell. A real witch controlled magic, not let it run amok and do its own thing.
But while Layla fretted and stewed, Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ursa were having a whale of a time.
When her aunts realized that it was beer and not tea that was bubbling from the pot, they had whooped and promptly whipped out dainty teacups from one of the many pockets in their cloaks. Giggling, they had proceeded to help themselves to the free flow of beer.
“This is better than tea!” they had declared. “Well done, Layla! Cheers!”
As Layla determinedly tried to turn all that beer to tea, Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ursa were drinking themselves silly and shrieking challenges at each other as they did cartwheels and bizarre yoga poses.
“Look at me, Ruth! I’m doing the Beer Brain Meditation,” Ursa cried, sitting cross-legged and cross-eyed.
“Ha! Now let’s see you do the Contorting-crocodile-on-a-mountain pose,” Aunt Ruth dared.
“Easy peasy!”
Layla turned to see her two aunts twisting and folding their limbs and bodies into shapes she had never seen before. She almost lurched forward to stop them. They looked like they were going to hurt themselves.
“Layla! Make more beer!” Ursa hollered.
“No,” Layla snapped. “I’m going to make tea!”
Ruth and Ursa clinked their teacups together and roared, “But that’s not tea in the pot! It’s beer! The best beer we ever tasted!”
Layla pouted. “It was supposed to be tea,” she said gloomily.
“Okay then. Cast another spell. Turn the beer into tea, if that will make you happy,” Aunt Ruth said, peering at Layla over the top of her glasses.
“I will,” Layla answered defiantly. She glowered at the pot. “You will heed me, pot,” she snarled and shook her finger threateningly at the pot. “No more hanky-panky!”
It wasn’t the pot’s fault of course. But she felt better scolding it.
This was the easiest spell in the world. She would get it right.
“I. Will. Make. Tea!” she huffed. “If it’s the last thing I do.”
As she concentrated on the tea-making spell, Aunt Ursa suddenly started singing a beer song at the top of her lungs and Aunt Ruth gamely joined in.
Layla stuck her fingers in her ears to block out the distracting, tuneless warble and looked up at the full, low-hanging moon. She muttered to herself and took a deep breath. Then she pointed at the hapless pot and recited the incantation thrice.
The pot started to bubble furiously. Smoke hissed from the pot as the golden liquid sprayed into the air.
The pot rattled noisily as the contents continued boiling. “Yes!” Layla cried fervently. “It’s working. I’m making tea!”
The pot continued rattling and jangling loudly as bubbles rose in a steady stream. Layla gasped. Bubbles? There shouldn’t be bubbles in tea.
She dropped her hands to her sides and took a step back. Something had gone wrong with her spell.
A disaster was brewing. And it was going to blow up in her face.
She had to stop it. But how?
The pot heaved, sweated and bulged. It kept expanding and there was a distressed groan from the swollen pot.
“No!” Layla screamed just as the pot exploded.
Everything seemed to happen at once.
As Layla tried to shield her aunts from the scalding liquid and flying debris, she heard a deafening roar.
A big grizzly bear appeared out of nowhere. The great beast reared up, casting a huge shadow over her. Looming over her, the bear stared down at her with its blazing blue eyes.
Behind the bear, the pot exploded.
Pieces of the pot and its contents were everywhere. But Layla and her aunts were unscathed.
The bear had used its wide, powerful body to shield the three of them from the exploding pot.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As Layla lowered her arm and leaned around the growling bear to take in the scene of her crime, a few golden droplets splashed onto her face.
She flinched and gasped, bracing for the pain.
But there was no pain.
She wasn’t scalded by those sizzling droplets.
Instead, the liquid felt cool on her skin.
Surprised, she brushed the golden droplets off her face and sniffed at her fingers. Then she licked them.
“Oh!” Layla’s eyes grew round as saucers. “This is...”
“Champagne!” Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ursa whooped. “You turned the beer into champagne! You’re a genius, Layla!”
The bear crouched and Layla met its brilliant blue eyes. The bear’s searching gaze was intense and anxious as it scanned her body for injuries.
The glow faded from the bear’s eyes and she gasped in recognition as she stared at those familiar blue eyes.
“D-Dean?” she sputtered. She was sure it was him. It was that helpful, handsome chef who had lent her the pot.
Holding her gaze, the bear changed shape and shifted to human form.
“It is you!” Layla cried. “Dean, what...what are you doing here?”
Dean stepped up to her and said, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“Yeah. No,” Layla managed. “I mean, I’m fine...”
Dean released a breath and smiled. “Good.” He glanced over at her two aunts who were dancing in the shower of champagne with their mouths open, trying to catch the droplets on their tongues. “They look fine as well.”
Layla stifled a laugh when she saw Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ursa frolicking on the ground. The champagne had evaporated, leaving thick, white froth on the ground. Giggling deliriously, the two witches were making snow angels in the froth.
Layla turned back to see Dean watching her intently. Had he been watching her all this while?
“Did you...follow me?” she asked with a wince.
Billionaire Chef Bear: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (Beast Bears Book 2) Page 3
