by Liz Schulte
By Liz Schulte
Amazon Edition
Copyright © 2012 by Liz Schulte
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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 understand. 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 co
llege 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 achieve 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.
I shook my head. Who was this guy, and how did he know my name? “Do you know someone in this class, Mr… .” I trailed off, hoping he would fill in the blank.
“We don’t have time for games, Selene.”
What on earth was he talking about?
He, Cheney, exhaled in a gusty huff. His eyes hardened with irritation and his shoulders straightened. “Hunt. Cheney Hunt. Are you happy now?” He took a step closer, past my comfort zone, and his eyes glinted in a way that didn’t make me feel safe. “You need to come with me.”
“I don’t think so.” I took a couple steps back, plotting how I could escape if he attacked. My eyes flicked around the room. I saw no weapons to speak of, but if worse came to worst I’d use my natural gifts. All I had to do was make it to my office. I could barricade myself and call the cops.
“Do you think you can protect yourself when you’re all alone?”
“What can I help you with, Mr. Hunt?” My voice was icy and my eyes locked on him, waiting for a sign he was about to lunge. Head throbbing again, I collected energy within me. My fingers buzzed and tingled, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. Mr. Hunt had better tell me why he was here and soon or he’d regret the day he tried to kidnap me.
The door opened and two of my regular students walked in, smiling. I greeted them and some of my tension slipped away. Not so for Mr. Hunt. His frown deepened and he kept staring at me.
“Now appears to be a bad time for you,” he said, then turned away abruptly and strode to the door with the long, graceful strides of a dancer. He glanced back over his shoulder once. “I’ll be in touch.”
I stared at the door long after he’d left, hoping I never had to see Mr. Hunt again. Something was off about him, but what was it?
My students trickled in, laid their mats out, and chatted with each other. Some came up to me to report any areas of stiffness or pain they’d been having so I could adjust the lesson accordingly. We started promptly on time—I never waited for stragglers. If they couldn’t be respectful enough to make it to class on time, then they deserved to miss part of it. Making the rest of the class late wouldn’t be fair.
“Oooo, what does the purple candle do?” asked Betsy, one of my most faithful participants.
“It’s supposed to ward off nightmares, help with more peaceful meditations.”
“Huh … Do you have a candle to help me find lost keys?” She laughed, several others joining her.
I smiled. “Try a brown one. After you light it, write ‘keys’ on a piece of paper and burn it in the flame while saying, ‘Bring to me what is lost, without a cost. Help me find, that which is mine,’ three times, then go to the first place that comes to your mind.”
Betsy looked at me with wide eyes. “Do you really believe that?”
“That’s what it says on the box.” I laughed. “It’s worth a try at least, right?”
“Have you ever tried any of this stuff?”
“No, of course not. Magic isn’t real.” I winked and gave what I hoped was a mysterious smile. They each bought a brown candle and laughed as they left about when they were going to try it, faithfully promising to report back on whether or not it worked.
About the time my first class left, the next group made their way in. Kelly, the afternoon instructor, came in before my noon class ended, waving at me from the door at the start of relaxation pose. I smiled at her, but kept my voice low and soothing as I dimmed the lights and led them toward inner stillness. When the room cleared, I straightened the studio, knowing that Kelly had the store taken care of. I restacked the blocks and straps and rolled my mat, depositing it in the storage closet before heading to the front.
