Making Magic: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure series (The Witches of Pressler Street Book 2)

by Martha Carr

  “We need to get out of here,” Laura shouted.

  Emily groaned and cut the iron chain from her glove with a severing spell.

  Nickie grabbed up her amp and ran to the two unconscious women. A huge puff of dust and small pebbles rained down from the chamber ceiling, and Laura summoned a transport bubble around the women on the floor. Just as the bubble took them all from the ancient underground chamber, the rest of the energy core split, and its jagged fragments smashed down onto the floor where they’d just stood.

  32

  Her phone dinged, waking her. Emily rolled over in bed. Her vision was blurry for a few seconds before she saw it was almost 9:00 a.m.

  John had texted her: ‘How’s Nickie?’

  She rubbed her face, blinked heavily, and rolled onto her back to text a reply.

  ‘Better. We got what she needed. Just took a long time. Again, sorry we weren’t able to come back.’

  ‘No worries. I like Chuck. Nathan’s…interesting.’

  She laughed and shook her head as her fingers moved across the keyboard.

  ‘Still on for tomorrow?’

  ‘Duh.’

  ‘Good.’

  With a sigh, she set her phone back down on the bedside table and stared at the ceiling. “I bet Nathan’s more interesting now that he’s heard the whole story. Laura did not like that part. Still, she’s probably nowhere near as freaked out as that woman whose peabrain is now making her feel like someone drugged her…for the rest of her life.” She closed her eyes. “Yep. Everyone says we have to leave the awakened humans alone and let them figure it out for themselves. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, she pushed herself up and glanced at the one iron orb she still had. “Gotta figure out how to make that chain stronger. Or at least whatever it is Laura thinks we’re still missing. ‘Cause that obviously did not work.” Emily glanced out her bedroom window. “I sound like Laura now, talking to myself.”

  Outside, a flock of huge grackles swarmed across Pressler Street, squawking and shrieking their noisy cry wherever they went.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. We’re still not done.” Emily threw the covers off her lap, slid out of bed, and headed for the door. Speed popped his head up from where he lay on the foot of the bed and snorted. “Come on, buddy. Coffee first.”

  The trio of witches are struggling with the tasks before them and the Gorafrex is still on the loose. When the grackles fall out of the sky and have lost their voices, the women know things are very wrong. Time to step up the game and learn some new tricks to put the Gorafrex away in Spellbound Magic.

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  Author Notes

  September 25, 2019

  Most of you know that I moved into my dream house last September. The house that Yumfuck Tiberius Troll built. And the entire neighborhood has turned out to be its own secret garden. My small piece of Austin is tucked away, near open fields but only fifteen minutes from downtown. Still, there’s not a lot of here… well, here, yet. Turns out, that’s okay. I have a very special kind of neighbors living around me. They like doing things – all the time.

  This is a new neighborhood – old timers are anyone who’s been here for three years. They talk about all the changes they’ve seen like a generation has passed. The houses are filled with all kinds of people, mostly in their 30’s with a diversity that enriches the place.

  But that’s just the start of what makes this place so unique and I’m staying till I’m dead and gone. It’s a spark, an openness that is rare and wonderful. First hint there was something was the first time I walked the good dog, Lois Lane up to the mailboxes and a neighbor, Nicole, was standing in front of her new house of about an hour waving wildly for me to come over and say hello. She quickly spit out that they just closed on their house and to come back on Saturday, there would be a party.

  Didn’t take long till I heard about the clubs. There’s a cooking club (more of an eat and drink club), a crafts club, a poker club, a running club, a Bunko club, a fantasy football club. A neighbor who teaches gun safety taught a bunch of us how to handle guns correctly. It was posted on our Facebook neighborhood group and open to anyone who wanted to know. I wanted to hang out and I figured the more knowledge the better – even if it’s just for the writing. I found out shooting a gun is not as easy as it looks.

  Then the HOA started hosting parties. An adult Easter egg hunt with liquor and candy for prizes as well as a children’s hunt the next day. Food trucks and an outdoor movie on the first Friday of every month. What is this place? And how did I get so lucky?

  Best part was yet to come. The oft talked about but not quite finished amenity center finally opened in July – a resort-style pool, full gym (that’s right – full-size, not fun size), an outdoor area with a firepit and indoor area with couches, large screen TVs, kitchen, and pool table. I think a good portion of that jump in sales for hard seltzer was from my neighbors hanging out at the pool. Frankly, I’ve been referring to the pool as a living room with water after seeing how many adults like to just stand in the water and hold a drink. I passed a neighbor on the way in one day and casually said, “How’s it going?” He said, “Living the good life,” and sounded a little choked up. I totally get it dude.

  Last weekend, the HOA doubled down and had an adults only cocktail hour at the pool with a neighbor acting as a deejay and then the next night had two bands and a bar and food truck. I see my neighbors over at the amenity center so much I think of it as the commons and our houses as our dorm rooms.

  One more hurrah came my way this week. My front yard was named October’s Yard of the Month, complete with a sign in the front, my picture in the newsletter and a gift card to Home Depot. That troll has been magical for me from the start – and this dream house, dream neighborhood is just one more piece of wonderful proof. More adventures to follow.

  Other books by Martha Carr

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