Hexes & Hot Chocolate (A Stella Storm Cozy Witch Mystery Book 3)

by Amy Casey

  Hexes & Hot Chocolate

  Amy Casey

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

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  Chapter 1

  Curtis Mudthorpe knew there was something wrong the second he left his house that night.

  It was late. For some reason, out of nowhere, clouds had swallowed up the summer sun, hiding its peaceful, radiant glow. Curtis always liked summer. His favourite time of year. Not just because the vampires were a lot less present, but it just made him feel good. There was nothing like a summer day to make you feel like everything was okay.

  But those clouds. Those clouds were out of character for Nightthistle at this time of year, for sure. They had mages working on the weather at all times, casting spells so that it was manipulated in the people of Nightthistle’s favour. Then again, not every day could be a sunny day, unfortunately. Rain was important because it staved off drought. The wind could be converted to power. Even fog could be harvested for its mystical abilities—mostly the ability to add decoration to fancy magical drinks and potions.

  But a cloudy sky in summer. A thick cloudy sky in summer, as the sun began its final descent.

  Something about it made Curtis feel uneasy.

  He looked at Main Street as he walked down it. And to be honest, just seeing how buzzing it was, how full of life… that was enough to reassure him. There were werewolves conversing about the next full moon, laughing, singing. Fairies scooted through the air, chasing after one another in a mystical game of tag. A pair of shifters were playing a joke on their friend, pretending to be a woman one second then back to their male form the next. Curtis smiled. He longed for those days of youth. But at the same time, he was more than content with life as it was. Because life in Nightthistle was great, and he wouldn’t change it for anything.

  As he walked further down the street, towards the bar, the sweet smells of takeaways that managed to be so perfectly healthy and so adequately nutritious at the same time, he found himself imagining life as it used to be—the life before the peace. Because it was wrong to believe that things had always been so peaceful in Nightthistle. Far from it. Weres, vampires, shifters, Syts, fairies, and of course witches and wizards, as well as a whole host of other mystical species. It used to be a melting pot. A bed of chaos. There was war. There was conflict.

  But eventually, as with all conflicts, it had ended—and the many species of Nightthistle and the surrounding areas had found their common ground.

  And more than that. The species of Nightthistle had made an outright commitment to never involve themselves in conflict again. A truce had been signed many years ago—and many truces had been signed since. A truce agreeing that they’d be united, no matter what.

  And sure. There were always those who wanted to destabilise that. Like anywhere, there were those who agreed with the new world order and those who longed for the traditional way of doing things.

  But all that was the least of Curtis’ worries right now, as he walked into the pool bar and saw Harry and Tegret around the pool table.

  “Evening, Harry,” Curtis said, putting his coat to one side after walking through the main area of this booze-stinking bar. “Looking a bit… well. Hairy.”

  Harry glared up at him from the pool table. Harry was a big chap. Muscular. Could probably knock Curtis through a wall with the flick of a finger.

  Harry was also a werewolf.

  “Trust me,” Harry said. “You’d know about it if I was hairy.”

  Curtis smiled and grabbed a cue, even though he could see Tegret and Harry were still engaged in a game.

  He leaned over. Shoved Tegret aside playfully.

  “I’ve got this,” Curtis said.

  Then he smacked the pool cue right into the table, the white ball shifting just a little.

  “Oh, bloody hell,” Tegret said.

  Curtis rolled his eyes. “What?”

  “Well,” Tegret said. “You said you had it, and now you’ve messed it up and he’s going to win.”

  “Oh, come on, Tegret,” Curtis said, placing a hand around him—or at least around his small, thin silhouette. “You’re a ghost anyway. It’s not like you’re really hitting these balls in the first place.”

  Tegret glared at Curtis, shook his head. He was a funny chap, really. Part-translucent. Something to do with a failure to completely cross over to the other side. Dark hair. Pockmarked skin. Always twitching and fiddling away with his fingers. “Way to put down a ghost.”

  “What?” Curtis said, raising his arms.

  “I’m just saying,” Tegret said. “Us ghosts struggle with our self-esteem enough as it is. There are of course limits to how we can… connect with others.”

  “Ugh,” Curtis said, waving Tegret away. “Save me the gory details.”

  “The gory details?” Tegret said, getting more and more wound up as Harry went to pot black. “I’ll have you know that what you live folk partake in is far, far gorier than anything I’m even capable of.”

  Curtis sighed, shook his head. “My old friend. You’ve been a ghost for far too long.”

  Curtis shot a few balls with the guys. And after a few hours and a few drinks—Vampire Kris’ finest Bloodbath Cocktail, the contents of which were closely guarded—he figured it was time to shoot.

  He grabbed his coat. “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Can’t,” Harry said. “Got the game.”

  “Oh, hell. Damn. I mean I thought you might’ve given up on Nightthistle FC already, but—”

  “I never give up on Nightthistle FC.”

  “Sure. Who is it you’ve got tomorrow?”

  “The Trolls,” Harry said, slight defeat in his voice.

  “Ah,” Curtis said. “Well, good luck with that. It’s been nice knowing you. Might as well throw you against the giants while they’re at it.”

  “Giants aren’t real,” Tegret said.

  Curtis rolled his eyes. “You need to work on your humour detector.”

  “Wait,” Tegret said. “That was a joke?”

  Curtis sighed. Then he smiled at Harry. And Harry smiled back at him.

  And as he left the bar, as he walked out into the dark of night, Curtis had forgotten all about the uncertainty he’d felt as he’d left his house earlier. He’d forgotten all about the weirdness of how this place felt; how it seemed like something wasn’t right. He’d forgotten about all of it.

  M
aybe that’s why he didn’t see the figure approaching him from out of the alleyway beside the bar.

  Maybe that’s why he didn’t know what was happening until it was already too late…

  Chapter 2

  My day started with a spilled drink all over the floor of Witchy Delights, and it ended the same way, too.

  I looked down at the mass of hot chocolate on the floor beneath me and I felt my stomach sink to new lows. Which said a lot, considering some of the things I’d learned recently; some of the decisions I’d made and the things I’d been through.

  But as long as I just kept on telling myself that this spilled load of chocolate was my primary concern; that it was what was really getting to me… then, well, maybe I’d start to believe it.

  In time.

  I crouched down, my back sore, and went to sweep up the pieces of cup that lay before me. It was late in the day and I was getting clumsy. Not something I used to do, in all truth. I guess that was just a side effect of having something on your mind. You got clumsy. You became less present with the activities at hand.

  And to be honest I just wanted to sweep the bloody fallen pieces of cup up with my mind. But I had a cafe full of customers.

  One of them was Joan.

  Joan stared down at me, judgemental look on her face. I wanted to ask her what she was doing here, whether there was something else she could busy herself with instead of just looking at me in this way. Finding a bloody job, for a start?

  But of course, I had to force my smile. I had to maintain my composure. All part of the job.

  “Silly me,” I said.

  Joan raised her eyebrows, empty latte cup in hand. “Yes. Silly girl indeed.”

  I smiled and giggled. And a part of me died inside.

  I cleared up all the waste, walked over to the bin beside the counter. Annabelle was standing there looking at me rather judgementally, too.

  “Thanks for the help,” I said.

  “No problem.”

  Damn it. This girl really didn’t understand sarcasm.

  “I mean, that must’ve taken a real load of effort,” I said. “Coming over there. Asking me whether I needed any help. Hearing me say no but feeling proud for asking anyway…”

  Annabelle stared at me, blank expression on her face. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Stella.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  I threw the rubbish away, washed the chocolate that’d gone all sticky on my hands, and I made a replacement hot chocolate for Marie, the old woman who’d started coming in here a lot lately but could barely force a smile.

  I thought about forcing one onto her face. But I didn’t want to crack it.

  I quickly knocked up a hot chocolate using my powers. It was a new recipe, and it was receiving a rather more muted response than I’d hoped. Then again, it was hot chocolate. How many ways could you dress that fact up?

  I had Annabelle take it over to Marie, just so I knew I wouldn’t drop it again.

  Thought about using my forces to push her on her way. But that’d just be mean.

  As I stood there in a busy Witchy Delights, I took a few calming breaths. I could smell the sweetness of the new range of cupcakes we had on display. I could almost taste them as they made my mouth water. But I was watching my weight lately, so I didn’t want to sink too deep into them.

  And as much as there were smiles on the faces of the people of Goosridge, and as much as it was nice to see a sense of normality restored after the Andy Carter case just two months ago… there was still a sense deep within that something was unfulfilled. That there were serious matters that needed to be addressed.

  And I knew exactly where those serious matters began.

  Stood in the staff area two months ago, my cousin opposite me, telling me…

  “You’re acting a right clumsy bugger today.”

  Annabelle snapped me out of my musing.

  I cleared my throat, wiped my forehead. It was the middle of summer and it was a scorcher. Scorchers always brought tourists to Goosridge—day trippers, cyclists, that kind of thing. A whole group of cyclists was taking up a table at the moment, actually, something I wouldn’t mind if they actually bought more than just a few small cups of water between them.

  “Yeah, well,” I said. “One of those long days.”

  “Seems like you’re having a lot of those long days, lately.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And?”

  “And,” Annabelle said, breaking eye contact. “I’m just saying. Since the Andy Carter thing, you’ve not been yourself.”

  Again, I felt my hackles raising. But at the same time, I wanted to confide in Annabelle. I wanted to tell her the truth—the whole truth.

  But I couldn’t.

  I just couldn’t.

  Because the truth made it real for me, too.

  “I’m just… a bit nervous.”

  “About your date?”

  I felt myself blushing as I served another customer. One of the cyclists, actually ordering some food at last. “It’s not a date.”

  “Well, is it a meal?”

  “It’s a meal, yeah.”

  “And is anyone other than the pair of you going to this meal?”

  I could see where this was going. “Not as far as I know.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  I rolled my eyes, shook my head.

  “Oh, come on, Stella. I don’t know why you get so hung up about all this dating stuff.”

  “Easy for you to say when you fall in love with every second customer who comes in here.”

  “Hey. That’s not fair. It’s not true either. I… Oh, wow. He looks cute.”

  “Annabelle.”

  “I’m just kidding!”

  She smiled at me, and I found myself wanting to smile, too.

  She put a hand on my shoulder. “Go home. Get yourself showered.”

  “You saying I smell?”

  “Yes. Of sticky chocolate. Which, I guess isn’t all that bad a thing to smell of. Maybe your date’ll be into that kind of thing.”

  She winked, and I felt like I wanted to vom.

  “You sure you don’t mind?” I asked, as I started to take my apron off.

  “If it makes you happy? Of course I don’t. Besides. You’re technically the boss.”

  “Good point.”

  I handed Annabelle my apron. And this time, I found myself smiling genuinely.

  “I’m glad you’re sticking around here,” I said. “Because we’ve got a delivery at eight and someone needs to be here for it.”

  I saw Annabelle’s face drop. “But—”

  “I’ll pay you double,” I said, scooting off before she could protest. “Night!”

  As I rushed out of Witchy Delights, out onto the streets of Goosridge, I wished it was just my “date” that I was worried about; that I was caught up in.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was way, way more than that.

  And it all went back to the end of that Andy Carter case.

  I took a deep breath. Swallowed a lump in my throat. And then I walked down the street, back towards my flat, where I could get ready.

  As I walked, I heard a clatter and a cry.

  When I looked back at Witchy Delights, I saw Annabelle had dropped a hot chocolate cup, and everyone was glaring at her judgementally.

  I did everything I could to hide my smirk.

  Chapter 3

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on a date. Which was why I kept on telling myself that this wasn’t a date, even though it probably was a date.

  Date date date. Stop thinking about the word “date,” okay?

  It was night and I was sitting at the table in the Sparling’s restaurant. Yes, the very same restaurant where I’d met my extended witchy family a couple of months ago. Yes, I still got funny looks after the way my dad had been dressed that night, in all his colourful magical garbs. No, I still hadn’t got over the embarrassment.

  B
ut when Steve suggested the pair of us go for a meal there, I couldn’t turn him down. Mostly because as much as I wanted to stay at home, tucked up under my duvet with a Netflix movie or seven to accompany me through the night, Rocky and Beatrice the only companions I needed… another part of me wanted to go out for a meal with Steve. It wanted me to get to know him in a way that I’d never quite managed so far.

  A deeper way.

  Especially considering I’d never actually used magic on him to look into his thoughts, to see what he was thinking.

  Steve was dressed rather smartly. He had a suit on, although it looked a little too small for him. His shirt really showed off his muscles, something I wasn’t sure whether was accidental or intentional. Probably accidental, in all truth. Steve never struck me as someone who was intentionally showy or anything like that.

  But what was definitely unintentional was the state of his tie.

  He looked up from his menu at me. “What?”

  I glanced back down, away from his tie. “Nothing.”

  “No, really. What were you looking at?”

  I looked back up at him, smirk on my face, even though I did feel totally uncomfortable about all this. “It’s just… your tie.”

  He looked down at it, confusion on his face. “What’s wrong with my tie?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, exactly…”

  “Rubbish. I can see you smirking away.”

  “Okay. It’s just, well. I’ve never seen a tie tied that badly.”

  Steve raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. And I’ve only once seen a woman come to my door dressed in a full-on clown costume. She happens to be sitting opposite me right now.”