by Jane Jamison
Werewolves and Wizards of West End 1
To Hell and Back
Brooklyn Hightower has loved Damian Carlyle, Samuel Ryland, and her best friend’s brother, Morgan Legacy, for as long as she can remember. Even after studying abroad and trying to forget about them, she realizes time away hasn’t changed her feelings. Now she’s home and ready to claim them as her mates.
Along with his wizard and vampire friends Samuel Ryland and Damian Carlyle, Morgan Legacy used to think of Brooklyn as their second sister, but she changed while she was away. When she comes back to the tourist town of West End, filled with shifters, faeries, witches, and wizards, they realize they’ve always loved her. Now that she’s grown up, they can tell her how they really feel.
Life in the town of West End is never dull. Trouble is brewing for Brooklyn. She’s helpless to defend herself and must rely on her men to help her.
But will good win out over dark magic? Or will Brooklyn pay for her men’s mistakes?
Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 41,225 words
TO HELL AND BACK
Werewolves and Wizards of West End 1
Jane Jamison
MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
TO HELL AND BACK
Copyright © 2016 by Jane Jamison
E-book ISBN: 978-1-68295-608-3
First E-book Publication: November 2016
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2016 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the small town of West End on the island of Westlandia somewhere off the coast of the state of Washington. I hope you enjoy the people who make up its supernatural community.
Thanks for reading,
Jane Jamison
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
About the Author
Landmarks
Cover
TO HELL AND BACK
Werewolves and Wizards of West End 1
JANE JAMISON
Copyright © 2016
Chapter One
Brooklyn Hightower strolled down one of the main streets. She wasn’t sure how she felt about returning to her hometown of West End on the small island of Westlandia off the coast of Washington. She’d had a terrific time while studying parapsychology in London, excelling in her studies, and soaking up the culture as she visited countries like Spain and France. With her first-hand knowledge of supernatural beings, including spirits and werewolves, the only real challenge she’d found in her studies was that a lot of the information humans had was flat-out wrong. Not that she’d told them. They wouldn’t have believed her anyway. Instead, she’d learned what new information she could and had gotten her degree.
She glanced around, taking in the main road. Although she’d been gone three years, everything looked the same. The Blue Moon Diner, the place where most people liked to stop by for a meal or just a cup of hot coffee, was doing a brisk business. Yet, it wasn’t the food that brought in the locals. Instead, they came to catch up on local news and check in with friends. As usual, many folks stood outside with their beverages, the bright sun of August warming them. The witch, Miranda Cushton, who was the owner, operator, and waitress, popped out to refresh their mugs while listening in on their conversations. If anything happened in West End, Miranda would know about it.
Hopper Realty was next door. Brooklyn chuckled softly. Horace was right there in the mix of the crowd just as she’d known he’d be, his bald head casting off a gleam from the overhead sun. For a werecrow, he was a great conversationalist and enjoyed yacking it up with whoever would talk to him. Most people said he’d talk to a brick wall if he couldn’t find a real live person. For the most part, Horace’s business consisted of renting out cabins to visitors on the island instead of selling land or homes. Not many people ever wanted to leave West End once they lived there.
She stepped farther into the shadows, not willing to show herself before she was ready. Once everyone found out she was home, she wouldn’t have another chance to observe everything in quiet.
Were there many visitors? June through July was the busiest time of the year with August winding down the tourism season. She still marveled that someone from the mainland hadn’t figured out what was special about West End. Oh, sure, they’d heard the tales of witchcraft and men turning into animals. After all, the stories were what drew a lot of them to the island. But none had ever found out that the stori
es were true. At least, no one had ever talked about what they’d seen.
Martin Benedict, the town’s sheriff, turned her way. Although she couldn’t see his penetrating eyes from that distance, she had the impression that he knew she was there. Next to Miranda, he had his finger on the pulse of the town. That was quite an accomplishment considering he was a human like her. She eased back into the shadows even more. Being human running watch on a town of witches, wizards, and shifters had to be a tough job, but having a human as sheriff had been the town’s choice. If a problem arose between the vamp, clan, covens, or packs, Martin was the one who would intercede, his humanity making him impartial.
Her gaze slid across the street. Were they in town? Or were they at their winery? Maybe in the pasture with their world-class horses? She repositioned the backpack on her shoulder and fought her jangled nerves. As much as she wanted to see her best friend, Reagan Legacy, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to see Reagan’s older brother and the co-owners of the winery and ranch. Was she ready to handle them? Had she, as she’d hoped, grown more mature, more capable of resisting their charms? Not that they’d ever been interested. Her chest tightened, exactly the way it had done three years ago when she’d left town, not only for an education but to get away from West End and the men she’d loved.
Love? Do I still love them?
Yes.
I’ve always loved them. How could I ever stop?
Her plan to leave West End and get them out of her system had failed miserably. Why had she thought she could ever forget them? She’d met Reagan at school right after Brooklyn’s family had moved from the mainland to West End and the girls had become fast friends at an early age. During her first visit to Reagan’s home, she’d instantly fallen for the handsome older guys Brooklyn called “her brothers” even though two of them weren’t related to her. She leaned against the wall of the Sugar Shack Creamery and let the memories flood her as they had so many times.
Morgan Legacy, Reagan’s brother, was the perfect werewolf. Even in his human body, he exuded an animal magnetism that had set her young heart racing. Long wavy black hair had seemed romantic on the huge man. Dark bushy eyebrows over black eyes in a strong face with dark stubble lining it had caught her breath and held it. A born alpha, Morgan was the leader of Legacy Pack, and in her eyes, was every inch a king. His arms were as hard as steel bars. His body was like boulders stacked one on top of the other then covered with a tanned skin that begged to be touched. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, with his deep, rich voice flowing over her, she always found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than how his masculine lips moved.
Morgan’s friend and business partner, Samuel Ryland, was a good wizard. At least, she thought he was. Some, like the witches, believed every wizard, especially a man born a wizard, always had a little of the Darkness in him, but she didn’t care. If Samuel was bad, then she was ready to bad with him. His blond hair curled around his ears while his blue eyes, eyes that held a perpetual sparkle, had captured her heart as surely as if he’d cast a spell binding her to him. He wasn’t as large as Morgan—wizards were rarely as solidly built as werewolves—but he was lean and strong. He had a quick, contagious laugh and often made jokes. A blonder version of Morgan’s stubble caressed his jaw. She still remembered the one time he’d allowed her to run her palm along the soft curve.
Then there was Damian Carlyle, lead vampire of the Carlyle group. Like most vampires, he detested it when others thought of vampires being part of any coven or clan, instead saying that he had a lot of “brothers.” Damian’s black hair was usually well kept and rarely did he sport a stubble. His clothes, although casual like everyone else’s on the island, were always neat and in style. The only time she’d seen him otherwise was when he’d been thrown off a horse and had landed in a mud puddle. He was quiet like Morgan and preferred to stay alone, but Samuel and Morgan loved dragging him out into public. Whenever he turned his strange silvery penetrating gaze on her, she believed he could see straight down to her very soul.
She mentally shook herself. Thinking about the men wasn’t going to make it any easier once she ran into them. Knowing Reagan, Brooklyn would bet her friend was getting antsy waiting for her to arrive. Hopefully, Reagan had kept her arrival a secret, but one never knew with the impulsive and verbose Reagan.
“I’d better get a move on.”
“Damn straight you should.”
Brooklyn startled a second after Reagan wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. “Hey, take it easy. I’m not used to your wolf hugs any longer.”
Her friend turned her around to face her. Reagan’s gorgeous face was made even more beautiful by her radiant smile. “It’s about time you get your ass back where you belong.”
“No human really belongs in West End.”
Reagan jerked back as though Brooklyn had struck her. “Bullshit. You belong here as much as anyone does. More than some.”
“But the island belongs to the others.” She cringed, remembering how much shifters and other supernatural beings disliked being called “the others” by humans.
Reagan squinted, giving her a good once-over. “You haven’t gone and changed on me, have you? It didn’t seem like you had whenever we talked on FaceTime. What’s up?”
She was being ridiculous. Shaking her head, she tried to make amends. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
Reagan put her arm around her. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re still the same sweet girl. Now”—she tilted her head toward the main street—“are you ready to begin a new life? I know Miranda can sure use the help in the diner. Hell, she even tried to hire me yesterday.”
“Damn, she really is getting desperate.”
Reagan laughed, took her hand, and started pulling her along with her. “Funny. Real funny.” Keeping hold of Brooklyn’s hand, she turned and walked backward. “So? Are you ready to see them?”
“Miranda and Horace? Sure.”
“Uh-huh. Like those two are the ones making your palm sweat right now.”
Brooklyn jerked her hand away. “My hand’s not sweaty.”
“Yes, it is.” Reagan’s grin grew even bigger. “But don’t worry. I have a feeling they missed you as much as you missed them.”
Brooklyn slammed to a stop. “Really? No, you’re making that up.”
“No, I’m not. I told you before that they ask about you.”
She wouldn’t let herself believe her friend. If she did, she’d get her hopes up only to have them smashed. “And like I told you, they only asked about me because I’m your friend. They see me more like another sister than a woman.”
“That was before you went away. You should’ve seen their eyes when I showed them a recent photo. Girl, you’ve grown up a lot.”
“Maybe.” It felt conceited to admit it, but her knowledge wasn’t the only thing that had improved with age. Even she recognized that she’d physically changed. She’d gone from a gangly girl to a woman with curves and breasts. Blooming late had been an unexpected, but happy occurrence. She hadn’t noticed until the men in London had begun hitting on her.
“No maybe about it.” Reagan picked up the pace as they grew closer to the crowd. Eyes turned their direction and not a few smiles came. “Look who’s back, everyone.”
Brooklyn dragged in a breath as friends and neighbors surrounded her. “Hi. It’s great to be home.” Yet even as she said something in return to those who greeted her, her attention drifted past each person as she searched for the men she desperately wanted to see.
“Don’t worry,” whispered Reagan. “They’ll be here soon enough.”
“Hey, there she is.” Miranda pushed her way through the crowd. “I was starting to think I’d been stood up.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.” She hefted the backpack to her other shoulder.
“Here. Let me take your load.” Horace snagged the backpack from her before she could resist. “I’ll take it to your rental
. You go on and catch up with everyone. We’ll talk once you’ve had a chance to catch your breath.”
“Thanks, Horace.”
“Inside, girl. Go now, before we get crushed by all these folks.”
Miranda led the way into the small diner then over to an empty booth. More people said hello and welcomed her back to town. “Back off, everyone. She’s all mine for the time being.” She tugged Brooklyn onto a seat beside her as Reagan slid in on the other side.
“Listen, Miranda, I know I’m a little late, so if you want, I could get to work right away.” She glanced at the familiar surroundings of vinyl booths and metal tables. “Unless you’ve changed the way you do things, I remember how to wait on tables.”
“Nope. Everything’s the same.” Miranda patted her hand. “But don’t worry about work today. You can start tomorrow. You look pretty tuckered out.”
She had to admit the truth. “I am. It’s a long way from London to Seattle then up to Anacortes. I think the hour ferry ride wore me out.”
“Then rest,” ordered Miranda. “You two spend some time together and catch up. We’re no more swamped than we usually are.” Fisting her hands on her hips, she gave the room a look. “I can handle it.” With a wink, she was off and scurrying behind the order counter.
As far as Brooklyn was concerned, Miranda could handle anything life through at her. She often wished she were as strong as her employer. Did Miranda use potions or a spell to give her added energy? Most witches didn’t use their magic to their advantage but to help others. Yet she wouldn’t have blamed Miranda for using her magic to give her a little boost in stamina.
