To thank Astrid (because I didn’t want her ghost to come and haunt me for the rest of my life) I’d planted three Annabelle hydrangea shrubs—one next to each grave. They wouldn’t blossom this year, but they’d have spectacular white blooms next summer, giving the sisters a little light.
The day after Magicae Lucis was destroyed, Raynor had called. The night when I’d texted him our location, he’d been across town at the site where the second ritual had been performed, looking for clues. He’d discovered the body of an old, powerful vampire, though his name I couldn’t remember. Just like the other two, the vampire had been gutted, carved up with runes and sigils and offered as some sacrifice.
The big witch had texted me three days ago, offering me a job if I ever needed it. But he worked for the Dark Witch Court. Even though technically I’d be working for him, to me it was as though I’d still be working for the Court. I had made a promise to myself that I would never work for them, ever again.
I had texted Raynor back, thanking for thinking of me, and then politely refused his offer. It’s not like the big witch would have trouble finding someone else.
And now, with the Veil fully restored, life was back to normal, whatever that was. My normal? It was whatever I made it to be. Which, at the present moment, was to deal with Faris.
I looked up and met the mid-demon’s dark eyes because he was that tall. My stomach fluttered—not from nerves, I realized, but from a deeper part in my soul. The part that would miss him dearly.
I straightened and shoved the feeling aside. I opened my mouth. “Okay, now—"
“You sure you’re going to be fine?” he asked, shifting his weight and rubbing his forehead.
“I said I would,” I answered.
Faris wrapped his arms around himself. “People say things they don’t mean all the time. They can’t help themselves. Born pathological liars. It’s pathetic. You don’t know who to trust.”
“Faris,” I growled so I wouldn’t laugh. “Listen to me. Be quiet. And I mean that. Shut that mouth of yours for two minutes so I can get on with the spell. Okay?”
His expression grew sly. “Yes, master,” he said, and I made a face. “Do what you will with me.”
Oh boy.
I let out a long breath and focused. Reaching inside my core, I tapped into the magic of my rings, letting it spill in me, warm and comforting.
“Can I just say something?” interjected Faris, a finger in the air. “Just one thing. Promise.”
I closed my mouth and rolled my eyes. “Go ahead.”
There was a moment of silence, and then he said, “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Shhh,” I said, the sound of the mid-demon’s voice holding layers of emotion and making this a hell of a lot harder than it should be.
I cleared my throat. “Hear me now, Farissael, mid-demon of the Netherworld,” I said. “I, Samantha Beaumont, who summoned you from the astral substance, bearing your true sigil and name. Whose sole purpose is to work my will upon this plane. To help me with my magic rite, in the light of day or dark of night. One who knows and one who sees. Magic and its mysteries.” I smiled at him and said, “Farissael. I release you.”
Magic soared in me, tingling all through my core—from the top of my head down to my toes—and then it left me.
Our connection was severed. I felt it, as though the invisible rope that had tied us together all this time was suddenly cut. Faris was no longer my familiar. In fact, I had no more familiar. I was on my own.
Faris touched his body as though making sure he was still there and wasn’t missing any parts. And I mean all his parts. He caught me staring at him and smiled.
“So… that’s it. I’m not your familiar anymore?”
I nodded, my throat constricting a little. “That’s it.” I was surprised at how much I’d grown attached to the mid-demon. We’d become friends, but we’d become much more than that. He was part of my family. And I was truly going to miss him.
Faris was quiet while watching me, his face a cascade of emotions. When his eyes grew with moisture, I pulled my gaze toward the door, my own eyes burning.
“Come on. Cassandra is waiting for you.” Blinking fast, I rushed out of the loft and headed down the stairs to the first floor. Dark witches didn’t cry. Especially not in front of mid-demons. I was made of stronger stuff… wasn’t I?
I crossed the hallway and pulled open the door. A young woman about my age with a cascade of light brown hair and large blue eyes leaned on the side of a white Subaru Outback parked on the curb in front of my house. Her gray cashmere coat fit her slim body perfectly, the gray scarf around her neck swaying in a cool breeze. She looked polished and sophisticated. Guess that ran in the family.
And clutched to her hand was a toddler. Maybe three years old. A little boy. He was beautiful and had his mother’s blue eyes, but his hair was dark brown, nearly black, that exact same shade as Faris’s hair.
Cassandra was going to make Faris her familiar. We’d already arranged everything by phone, all in secrecy of course. Since I’d never registered Faris as my familiar, technically, he was allowed to choose another witch. When I’d told the mid-demon this morning, he was surprised, but I had seen the joy cascade over him. I saw how his eyes lit up, the way they always did when he was happy about something. I had also sensed relief coming from him, as though this “familiar transference” had been something he'd wanted the day he’d met Cassandra but hadn’t known how to ask.
As her familiar, he would be with his real family. He would protect and care for them for the rest of their lives.
It was the right thing to do. And I was happy to do it.
Faris was grateful and truly happy, odd emotions coming from a mid-demon from the Netherworld. At first, I believed I had changed him somehow, that with my extraordinary witch powers, I had made him a better demon. I was wrong. Faris hadn’t changed, not really.
The mid-demon stepped out the front door and stood on the platform. He beamed when he caught sight of Cassandra and smiled at her, the way a father would smile at his daughter. My eyes burned a little more when he waved at the little boy.
I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.
The mid-demon spun and looked at me. “I guess this is goodbye then.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” I said, my version of saying I was going to miss him more than he knew.
Faris stood there for a long moment without saying anything. “I’m going to miss you, my little witch,” he said finally, his eyes wide and glistening. “When Gordon first told me that to save me from a life of endless torture, I had to become your familiar… I have to admit… I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of being chained to anyone, even to you, my little witch. But imagine my surprise when I realized how good I was at it. I was a witch’s familiar dream.”
“Please…”
“I was a true proficient in all things familiar. But, my extraordinary talents aside,” continued the mid-demon. “I thoroughly enjoyed being your witch’s pet… it wasn’t all that bad.”
I snorted. “Cassandra’s going to have her plate full with you.”
“But don’t you worry,” he added, a mischievous grin plastered over his face. “You can’t get rid of a mid-demon that easily. And when you least expect it, I’ll be back.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will,” I told him, still melancholy. I moved to grab the door handle so I had something to do other than look awkward. I hated goodbyes.
“Goodbye, Sammy darling,” said Faris. He started down the steps, stopped, and then turned. “Tell Boy Scout… if he doesn’t treat you right… he’ll have me to answer to. Got it?”
I laughed. “I will.”
Faris flashed me one of his famous smiles and then climbed down the rest of the steps. He moved toward Cassandra and then he knelt, arms wide. A smile lit up the little boy’s face, and then he pulled out of his mother’s grip and ran to Faris. The mid-demon grabbed his great-great-great-grandson and pulled him into
a hug.
Okay, now the tears fell. Big, hot tears just spilled out of my eyes like I had turned on the tear-tap from inside my head.
I turned away before my silent tears became deep, loud sobs. No one wanted to see that, especially not my nosy neighbor Vera. Though I was surprised I hadn’t caught a glimpse of that red head of hers by now or peeked that exceptionally large nose through a crack in her front door.
With my hand on the handle, I pulled the front door to shut it—
A clatter of wings was my only warning, and I jerked away when Poe vaulted through the space between the doorframe and the door.
“Incoming!” he called out as he swooped down the hallway and disappeared into the kitchen.
I shut the door, wiped my tears with my hands and went to greet my friend.
“What are you doing here, Poe?” I asked as I reached the kitchen. The raven was picking at my peanut butter toast on the island counter that I hadn’t finished this morning. It was cold. Guess he didn’t care.
Poe swallowed a chunk of bread. “I’ve got a message for you,” he answered, peanut butter smeared on his beak. “Here.” He stretched out his leg. A tiny scroll dangled from it.
“Who’s it from?” I pulled the small parchment from his leg. It was heavy. And I could feel something hard inside, like a thin piece of metal. “If the Dark Witch Court thinks I’ll work for them again after they fired me, they really don’t know me.” A burst of angst lit through me. The nerve of these witches, thinking they could just string me along like that. Well, they were in for a giant surprise. The thought of giving Tran the finger did comfort me a little.
“It’s from your aunt,” said the raven as he tore a piece of toast again. “Hey? Is this organic peanut butter?”
“My aunt? Uh—yes, it is. I only buy organic.”
“Cool,” answered Poe, and then he swallowed. “Yeah. The letter’s from your Aunt Evanora. I don’t just work for the Court. It’s bad for business. My messenger services are also for the witch in need. Gotta message to send? I’m your bird.” He tore at the toast again. “Was that Faris I saw holding a kid?”
A smile curved up the edges of my lips. “Yes. That’s his family. His real family. He’s gone to live with them.”
“Why?” the bird fought with a piece of toast.
“He’s not my familiar anymore.”
Poe froze. His piece of toast fell. “This is my fault. Isn’t it?”
“Of course not. It has nothing to do with you. Faris was never meant to be my familiar in the first place. My grandfather had only done it to save his life. Now being free, he has the choice to choose his witch.”
The raven hung his head. “I’m sorry, Sam. That sucks. Now you’re all alone for the first time since… forever.”
I gave a little laugh. “But I’m not alone. I have my grandfather, my aunt, Logan. Not all witches have familiars, by the way. You know that. Besides, I was happy to do it. Just like I was happy to do it for you too. Both of you deserve better.”
Poe smiled the only way a bird could smile. “Okay… can you read the note now? I’m dying to hear what it says.”
I unfurled the note and a key fell on the counter with a loud clang.
The raven cocked his head. “She gave you a key? What for?”
I held up the key. “No idea.” With the key still in my grasp, I flattened the parchment on the counter. I looked at the scribbles that I recognized as my aunt’s handwriting.
Dear Samantha,
By the time you read this, Evanora will be on her way to Scotland. The Dark witch coven, Pointed Hat Sisters, has invited Evanora to stay with them, and Evanora does not know if or when she’ll return. Evanora is old. It is time for a change. One for Evanora. One for Samantha.
Evanora has decided to give you her shop. It is yours now. There’s a copy of the deed of transfer in the front desk’s top drawer.
May the cauldron keep you safe.
Your aunt, Evanora
My heart thrashed in my chest. I looked up. “She’s leaving me her store. I can’t believe it.”
“No way. Really?” Poe hopped over and glanced at the letter. “The old witch really did it.” He looked up at me. “Didn’t you always want a shop of your own?”
A smile came over me. “I did. I just… can’t believe this is happening.” Just the thought of stepping into my aunt’s shop—my shop—had my insides fluttering in excitement. My shop. My own witch shop of little horrors and magical delights. It was too good to be true. “Is this for real? Can this be real?”
“Looks like it.” Poe ruffled his feathers. “Says here there’s a deed of transfer in the front desk. That means it’s legal. She transferred the ownership to you. The shop is yours, Sam.” His head came up an instant before the peal of the front doorbell echoed through the house.
“Maybe Faris changed his mind?” commented Poe with a shrug.
“No. Faris is long gone. Trust me.” I ran my eyes over the letter again, just in case I had read it wrong. I hadn’t. It was there. As clear as day. Written in bold letters.
My aunt left me her shop…
“Are you going to answer the door? Or do you want me to do it?” laughed the bird. “I don’t mind doing it, but it’ll cost you.”
“Hmm? Oh. Right. The door. I got it!” Giddy, I ran down the hallway, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood, and pulled open the front door.
Logan’s face broke into a large grin. “Wow. You look happy to see me. My ego says thanks.”
“No. I mean yes, I’m happy to see you—but that’s not why I’m smiling.”
A crease formed on his face. “I’m confused. I thought—”
I grabbed his arm, dragged him inside and smacked my lips on his. I kissed him fiercely and fast. I pulled away, and his low growl of bother that I broke the kiss sent a spike of desire through me.
“Mmm. That was good.”
Logan gave me a puzzled grin. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you… but I like it.”
“Coming through! Got messages to deliver! Hey, Logan. Bye, Logan.” Poe flew past us and out the front door. With the hard beat of his wings, the raven climbed in the air and disappeared down the block.
“Is Poe back?” asked Logan, his lips red where I’d abused them.
“No. He was only here to deliver a message.”
Logan’s face was hard. “Don’t tell me the Dark Witch Court is trying to get you to work for them again.” He let out a sigh. “I can talk to them for you, if you want. Set them straight, once and for all.”
He was so sexy standing there, wanting to fight my battles for me. But I could fight my own battles. I shook my head and shut the front door with my butt. “My aunt sent me a message.”
“Evanora,” said the angel-born.
“Yes. Well…” I took a deep breath and said, “She’s left me her shop. It’s mine. All mine.”
“Really?” A grin hovered over his features, and his look became more intent. “That’s great. I remember you saying you wanted to open up a shop like hers someday. I’m happy for you.”
The fact that the guy actually paid attention to what I said made him a gazillion times sexier, which was damn sexy.
I felt myself about to do something naughty.
I watched how he shifted his weight, his strong, athletic build, wide shoulders, those muscular thighs hiding behind a pair of snug jeans. He caught me staring at him, and a satisfied grin appeared on his face. He knew I liked what I saw.
“What?” I asked, heat rushing to my face.
The rest of my words were cut off when Logan pulled me to him. Strong arms wrapped around my waist and lower back. I breathed deeply the scent of leather and soap and male musk, relaxing into him.
“You’re independent now,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
“I am.” God that felt amazing. I was truly independent. I wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore or how to put food on the table now that I was jobless. Though, owning a sh
op meant I’d have a pile of other worries. But nothing would take away from this feeling of freedom. Because in a way, that’s exactly what it was.
I was finally free.
His face grew sly. “I find that incredibly sexy. Very sexy,” he said, the richness of his voice under my ear sending a shiver through me. My smile grew to meet his. I stood and held him, not wanting to let go. Ever.
And though I was in my mid-twenties, I felt more like a middle-aged witch. Well, at least my body did. I was tired, but I was ready for a new adventure—something that didn’t entail saving the world.
I needed a change. And now I had one.
It was almost as though my aunt had known, had felt that I was desperate for a new adventure in my life. In her note, she’d written that ceding the shop over to me was because she needed a change. But I had a feeling this had all been for me.
Thank you, Aunt Evanora.
I pulled back from our embrace and intertwined my fingers with his. His grip was warm, and his fingertips were slightly rough, the hands of a warrior. He took a slow breath, his eyes traveling over my face.
“We have the house to ourselves,” I said. “Faris left with Cassandra and my grandfather is out with Charlotte.”
“I like where this is going,” answered the angel-born. His smile dwindled, and he squeezed my fingers lightly.
“I feel like celebrating. You know? Celebrating a new beginning. A new adventure.”
“I’m here,” said Logan. “Whatever you want, I’m in this with you.” He leaned forward and his lips met mine, holding both a promise and a desire while sending delicious tingles all over my body.
Logan parted from the kiss, our hands still connected, and gave me a smile. “I’m all yours.”
I squeezed his hands. “Smart man. If you had said anything else… I would have had to spell your ass,” I warned, making him laugh. The angel-born looooved me. I just knew it.
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