by Deanna Chase
“Oh yes, that.”
“Oh yeah, that…do you want to tell me why you told Jennifer you didn’t know anything about a curse?” I could have heard a pin drop. No noise came from the other line, which was not a good sign. “Mother? Are you still there? I hear you breathing. I know you’re still on the line.
Did you tell her that or not? ’Fess up.”
After a long pause she finally said, “I did, dear. I didn’t want the family secrets out. We have to keep these things guarded, you know.”
“I’d already told her, anyway,” I said. Again, silence. “Look, Mama, maybe we can talk about this later. I have company right now.” I winked at Jack. How I’d explain talking about a curse I didn’t know, but at this point nothing should surprise him.
“Rylie?” Trepidation dripped from her words.
Oh no. What had my parents done this time? The news couldn’t be good. I probably needed to take a seat.
“I’m waiting.” I wanted to get back to the yummy kiss.
“I just wanted to say…”
“Spit it out, Mama. You’re killing me over here.” I wanted the facts.
Jack eyed me curiously, but didn’t say a word. He might as well get used to the outrageousness of my life. Seeing his face set the butterflies fluttering uncontrollably in my stomach.
“I don’t want you to be mad at me. And I love you. I was only trying to protect our secret.”
“I love you too, Mama.”
“Please don’t be mad, Rylie.”
“I’m not mad. Listen, you only did what you thought you had to. I have to go now. We’ll talk about this later.” I felt dizzy from the confusion. My brain couldn’t absorb everything that had happened.
“And you’re not too mad? Are you never going to talk to me again?”
“No, Mother. I promise, I’ll still talk to you. Now can I go?”
Banging came across the line, followed by loud voices.
“Wait. Oh my God.” Fear and panic sounded in her voice.
“Mama. What’s wrong?”
“Your father is arguing with some men in the living room. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, don’t go in there.” It was too late. She’d thrown the phone down, and it banged against what I assumed was the table.
What had happened this time? Again, why couldn’t I have normal parents? I held up my finger to Jack, letting him know I needed one more minute. He smiled, what seemed like a genuine smile, and sat in the chair in front of me. His heavenly aroma almost made me collapse on the spot. He had a natural scent, not just some cheap cologne. I needed to get off the phone and back into his arms. On the other end of the line, I heard mumbled conversation, and not much else. The words were garbled and I couldn’t make them out. After a second, I heard what I recognized as my mother’s hurried footsteps approaching.
“Rylie, you have to come and help. The thugs who work for the vampires are here.” She kept her voice low.
“What? Why?”
“They’re looking for Uncle Ernie. They say he owes them for a gambling debt.”
“Why did they come to your house?” I fumed. I really was ticked now. Ernie was putting everyone in danger.
“One of the men calls himself a collector, whatever that means,” Mama said.
“Oh my God. The goon who messed up my office. It sounds like the same man.”
“What’s that? What do you mean?”
“Never mind, I’ll be there as fast as I can. Don’t do anything to make them any angrier than they already are. How are you so sure they’re working for the vampires?”
“Because they said so.”
Good enough reason.
“Try to stay calm until I get there. And call the pack police, see if they can help.”
I slammed down the phone. “I gotta go.”
“Where?”
I grabbed my purse. “My parents need me. I’m sorry I have to rush out—”
“I’m going with you. You can’t drive in your stressed-out condition.”
And I thought things were looking up. Now he’d meet my parents and the rest of the paranormal world. Poor Jack had no idea what he was in for. Wait until he found out vampires were real too. I prayed he could handle it. At least he knew about me now. How bad could my wacky life be with him by my side, right?
About the Author
Rose Pressey is an Amazon and Barnes and Noble Top 100 bestselling author. She enjoys writing quirky and fun novels with a paranormal twist. The paranormal has always captured her interest. The thought of finding answers to the unexplained fascinates her.
When she’s not writing about werewolves, vampires and every other supernatural creature, she loves eating cupcakes with sprinkles, reading, spending time with family, and listening to oldies from the fifties.
Rose suffers from Psoriatic Arthritis and has knee replacements. She might just set the world record for joint replacements. She’s soon having her hips replaced, elbows, and at least one shoulder.
Rose lives in the beautiful commonwealth of Kentucky with her husband, son, and three sassy Chihuahuas.
Visit her online at:
http://www.rosepressey.com
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Rose loves to hear from readers. You can email her at: [email protected]
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Easy Bake Coven
Book One of the Easy Bake Coven Novels
Liz Schulte
Acknowledgments
I always worry I will forget someone on the acknowledgements so bear with me as I try to remember everyone.
First, there are the people who helped me get the book publishing ready; my editors, Ev Bishop and Michelle Reed at I’m A Book Shark, my fantastic formatter, Julie Titus, and my fellow authors and beta readers, Mandie Stevens, Olivia Hardin, Tawdra Kandle and Amanda Long. I would like to give a special thanks to Stephanie Nelson to creating this beautiful cover and for also being a fantastic beta reader.
Next I have to thank Promotional Book Tours for always hosting the best release day blasts and contests for my readers. You guys are the best!
I want to thank my friends and family for all their love and support. Especially my mom, Kim Lammers, and my besties from the third floor, you know who you are.
Above all, I want to thank you the readers for making this job so much fun. I really do love hearing from you!
Chapter 1
I squared my shoulders, rolled my neck, and swung my arms like I was getting ready for a prize fight. “Gram… I’m a witch!”
Katrina and Devin shook their heads. Jessica leaned back in my armchair and crossed her legs, inspecting me like a judge on American Idol. “Uh, one more time, Selene, only with less enthusiasm. I don’t think the older generation’s that open-minded about the craft.”
“Gram, you know that thing I can do that we don’t talk about.” I took a deep breath. Even though we were just pretending the words were stuck in my throat. “Well, apparently my abilities make me a witch.”
Three of my best friends, and other coven members, busted out in uncontrollable giggles; our fifth member, Leslie, was out of town in my moment of need—she’d have been nicer.
“They don’t make you a witch. It’s your personality that does that.” Katrina continued to laugh hysterically along with Devin and Jessica. I was less amused.
I swung a pillow at them, and they feebly blocked with their forearms. “Quit it. I’m serious. I want to tell Gram. She’s my only family.” I rolled my eyes. “I have to tell her.”
“Selene, I love you, but you’re twenty-six. If you haven’t told her by now, don’t you think she’s better off not knowing? I mean she’s pretty old. She could keel over from the shock.” Devin offered.
They didn’t und
erstand. I was raised by my grandmother, and as scared of her as I was, I hated hiding anything from her—and like they’d pointed out, I’d waited too long already. I had to finally bite the bullet on this one and just spit it out. They’d all told their families in one way or another—it wasn’t a big deal for them. Gram, on the other hand, was set in her ways and a strict Catholic. Let’s just say she was a lot less likely to take this in stride. “Thou shall not suffer a witch to live,” popped into my head and my nerves clenched. This was going to be bad: worse than when she first noticed my ability, worse than when she caught me sneaking into the house three hours past my curfew as a teenager. Gram had always kept a tight rein on my life.
“You guys suck,” I grumbled, annoyed that they weren’t being serious.
“When I told my family, I sat them down and said, ‘I joined a coven.’ My dad asked how much it was going to cost him. When I said, ‘nothing,’ they changed the subject to my cousin who’d gotten knocked up. Maybe you just think she’ll react badly,” Jessica said.
I shook my head.
“I’m serious. She might just take it in stride. You know, maybe she has more perspective than you are giving her credit for.” Jessica was at least trying to be helpful, but our situations just weren’t the same. She’d told her parents when she was eighteen. She hadn’t completely avoided conflict and kept it a secret for the better part of eight years. Even if Gram took it well, I had waited too long. I was going to crush her heart, and I owed her so much for taking care of me after my parents died.
Perspective? Oh I knew what type of perspective my gram had. She made me hide my gifts my entire life. We never spoke about them or acknowledged them in any way. I was just a normal kid like everyone else…except I wasn’t. I played the role of Selene, the girl everyone wanted to be but no one actually knew. I spent years biting my tongue and not saying the words that wanted to spill out. I smiled and was pleasing to everyone around me. I hung out with all the right people and never made waves. I was a blank, pretty, and plastic.
“Cheer up, Selene.” Kat smiled. “What’s she going to do, kick you out of the house? You haven’t lived there since the day you left for college. You need to stop worrying about her and show us what your mysterious ability is.”
For as long as I could remember I was telekinetic, but Kat wasn’t wrong. I should just show them already. Logically I knew it had nothing to do with good or evil, but years of repression was a hard thing to get over.
“I need a drink,” I said, collapsing into my chair. Jessica tossed me a beer.
“We’re witches. I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like we’re sacrificing animals in the bathroom or sticking pins in voodoo dolls. You know, unless you guys want to start.” Devin winked. “Besides your grandma is three hours away. Just let it be,” she suggested.
Devin was absolutely right. Those common misconceptions about witches that plagued society didn’t describe us at all. We were five women, not too long out of college, who happened to have special interests. We were as different as the four elements—Earth, Air, Fire, and Water—and that’s what made our small coven strong. We didn’t advertise and we didn’t recruit. We were just best friends who enjoyed dabbling in a little magic.
The idea of being a witch attracted me because the lifestyle wasn’t bogged down with rules about my behavior. I had enough of that in my life. The two main rules of the craft were do whatever you want so long as it didn’t hurt anyone else, and whatever you send out into the universe will come back to you threefold. I could deal with that. In fact, I hoped it was true. After all, I’d spent so much of my life practicing the first rule without hope of being rewarded threefold.
Our monthly coven meetings were more a girls’ night out, less a casting spells and trying to take over the world thing. Being a witch was a more natural life, paying homage to a time lost with technology and innovation. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Besides, people have been calling us all witches, or other rhyming words, for years. We might as well get the perks,” Katrina added, an amused glint still in her eyes.
I twisted the cap off of my beer and threw it at Kat, hitting her in the forehead. I loved these girls more than anything. We met in college during the first day of our History and Mythology of Witchcraft class and instantly clicked. The study group we formed soon turned into so much more—add in a few natural abilities and voilà—our easy bake coven.
There was a knock at the front door; the cab was finally here. I made my decision: the wimpy one. Again. They were right. Why rock the boat?
“Whatever, let’s hit a bar,” I heaved myself up.
“That’s my girl,” Devin said with enthusiasm. I let my friends go before me and drained my beer and deposited the bottle in the recycling container on my way out. Gram didn’t need to know. It was easier on both of us that way.
“Where’s Leslie? Why isn’t she here?” Jessica asked, frowning.
“She’s at the Beltane festival,” I said as we piled into the minivan cab. Beltane was a festival of fire. I wasn’t too into the whole group festival thing, but I liked hearing about them when my friends came home.
“Damn, I forgot about that. I wanted to go this year,” Devin said.
“Where are we going?” Jessica asked as she slid the door closed.
“Sky!” Devin said immediately. She was a bona fide karaoke junkie and Sky was her favorite hang out. Katrina groaned, Jessica laughed, and I called dibs on Bon Jovi.
A short car ride later we climbed out of the van, giggling. We saddled up to the counter, and the bartender came over. “Ladies, nice to see you again. What can I get you?”
“Cosmo,” called out Kat.
“Miller Lite,” added Jess.
“Ummm, do you have something fruity? Like something that’s sweet, but with no melon,” Devin asked, indecisive as ever.
“A sweet tart?” he asked.
“Sure, that’d be fine.”
“A vodka tonic and a round of Jägerbombs,” I said when it was my turn. The bartender tossed me a wink and knowing smile before he went about making the drinks. The girls groaned.
“Oh my God, I hate Jäger,” Jess complained.
“I thought you have to teach yoga in the morning?” Devin chimed.
Kat smirked with me as the bartender lined up our shots. “Here’s to being single…drinking doubles…and seeing triple!” she proclaimed.
We clinked our glasses, downed the shots, then searched out a table. After a few drinks and a lot of laughing, my small family issues seemed miles away. I easily collected energy in the palm of my hand, enjoying the tingle, and looked at the girls, wondering if I could get away with it just this once. I kicked Kat underneath the table and she glanced over. I nodded toward Jessica’s beer sitting about six inches from the edge. I focused my will and easily slid it to the edge with a flick of my finger.
Kat squealed and Jessica turned toward us, knocking the beer over. It scattered on the concrete floor. Kat and I dissolved into giggles as Jess stared at the table, perplexed.
***
The 7:00 a.m. yoga class came much too soon. It felt like I collapsed into bed only to have my alarm start screeching. I crawled from beneath my covers, blurry eyed and cotton mouthed, downed some Advil, and made a green smoothie before heading for my studio, the Luna Lair.
I began teaching yoga classes while I was in college. I advertised on campus and before I knew it I had full rosters for every class and a waiting list to get in, so after graduation I used the money I had saved for my own studio. Recently, I’d been able to hire three more teachers and expand my operations. My little business venture had paid off, and thank goodness for that. I had no desire for an eight-to-five sort of job.
I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights in the storefront where I sold yoga clothes and accessories, candles, teas, smoothies, and charms. The charms and the candles were my own creation. New age people loved reading my signs about blue candles helping to achi
eve success and boosting confidence, red candles increasing sexual passion and determination, and green candles bringing wealth and luck. It was all true too, just not brought about quite as easily as burning a candle—but no one wanted to hear that part.
Everyone wanted the easy road without the work it took to get there. You can burn every green candle in the world, but if you aren’t willing to put the work in, no money will come to you. Magic isn’t an easy fix. If anything it’s dangerous in that it gives people an excuse to be lazy. It wasn’t common knowledge that I was the one who made the luck charms or love candles they bought, but they all swore by them and the little directional spell cards I handed out with each purchase. I may not have been completely out as a witch, but I was profiting from it.
Once the candles were lit, the meditation playlist was softly filling the room, and I was sitting on the mat in full lotus position, my head stopped throbbing. I found my center like an old friend and meditated, clearing my mind completely of thought. I heard the faint sound of the door opening. Where had time gone? I should have had at least fifteen minutes before anyone arrived, but it appeared I was wrong. I opened my eyes to greet the first student—but in front of me stood a man I’d never seen before. He was around six feet tall and had a rangy build, disheveled brown hair, and a couple days’ worth of stubble. Attractive, but it was disarming to have a complete stranger walk into my studio before 7:00 a.m.
“Are you here for yoga?” I asked as I stood up, but I didn’t think so. In worn jeans, an untucked collared shirt, and a sweater with the sleeves rolled up haphazardly to mid-forearm, he wasn’t dressed for exercise.
“Selene…” His eyes searched my face, and a wondering smile twitched his lips.
I struggled not to frown as my heart sped up. “Yes, and you are?”
The hint of a smile smiled vanished. He narrowed his eyes. “Cheney.”
Something in me stirred at his name, but I couldn’t say what. He reached to shake my hand, but I locked my fingers behind my back suddenly afraid to touch him. His dark green eyes searched mine for recognition.
