by Sarina Dorie
Table of Contents
NOT-SO-COZY MYSTERIES
AUTHOR’S NOTE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
PREVIEW OF BOOK TWO
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A Familiar Magic
Son of a Succubus Series
BOOK 1
SARINA DORIE
Copyright © 2019 Sarina Dorie
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978- 1704643540
NOT-SO-COZY MYSTERIES
IN THE womby’s school for wayward witches SERIES listed in order
Tardy Bells and Witches’ Spells
Hex-Ed
Witches Gone Wicked
A Handful of Hexes
Hexes and Exes
Reading, Writing and Necromancy
Budget Cuts for the Dark Arts and Crafts
My Crazy Hex-Boyfriend
Spell It Out for Me
Hex Crimes
Of Curse You Will
Cackles and Cauldrons
Hex and the City
Wedding Bells and Midnight Spells
Hex Appeal
Safe Hex
The Joy of Hex
Hedgewitchin’ in the Kitchen
The Trouble with Hedge witches SERIES
The Witch of Nightmares
A Cauldron Full of Curses
A Pocket Full of Poison
The Witch’s Familiar
SON OF A SUCCUBUS SERIES
A Familiar Magic
Curse of the Witching Hour
Magical Maladies for Beginners
The Physics of Souls
Incubus Charms
A Vial Full of Magic
A Devil of a Time
The vega bloodmire cozy witch mystery series
Ghoulish Charms
The Hex Files With Felix Thatch series
Other Titles to Be Announced
CONTENTS
Chapter One
3
Chapter Two
6
Chapter Three
14
Chapter Four
20
Chapter Five
24
Chapter Six
28
Chapter Seven
31
Chapter Eight
40
Chapter Nine
44
Chapter Ten
54
Chapter Eleven:
58
Chapter Twelve:
60
Book 2 Preview
63
Acknowledgments
72
About the Author
75
AUTHOR’S NOTE
A special chronology for my fans because you specifically asked for it:
The Son of a Succubus Series is its own original series and spin-off of the Womby’s School for Wayward Witches Series. The first novel in this series, A Familiar Magic, takes place after the The Witch’s Familiar, the last book in the Trouble with Hedge Witches Series Bundle. This also places it around the time of Book 13, Hex and the City from the Womby’s School for Wayward Witches Series. The second book in the Son of a Succubus Series, Curse of the Witching Hour, spans the time between Book 14 and Book 17 in Womby’s School for Wayward Witches Series.
* * *
I want to encourage you to sign up for my newsletter if you haven’t already done so. This helps me as an author connect to my readers and lets you know when books are being released. Once a month in my newsletter, I send my readers at least one FREE short story or free novel.
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Happy reading!
CHAPTER ONE
The Cat’s Curse
All it took for Lucifer to lose himself in his cat self and to forget he was human under the midnight fur and sinewy muscle was the rustle of a bird’s feathers. Wings thrummed in the bushes nearby, and his ears twitched with alertness. His head snapped toward the rustle in the azalea, and his eyes fixed on the bird.
It was a raven watching Abigail plant bulbs in the garden. Abigail MacQuillan Lawrence, his witch, the woman he’d loved for the thirty years he’d been cursed to live as a cat—and longer—worked in the dirt, unaware she was being spied on. Lucifer’s fur prickled at the tingle of magic in the air. This was no ordinary bird. It stared at Abigail with sinister intent in those beady, black eyes.
The raven was probably in the employment of the Raven Court, sent to spy on or apprehend his beloved witch. Lucifer’s attention fixed on the bird and Abigail kneeling in the dirt, her back to the raven. The house and yard were warded with protective magic. A Fae shouldn’t have been able to get in, but the Raven Court was a tricky lot, and their queen was powerful.
Lucifer hadn’t been able to use magic since he’d been changed into the form of a cat—not actively use it, anyway—but he could sense it. He felt it now, emanating from the bird in waves. It was about to do something, possibly to shift into a harpy or unleash a spell.
He needed to attack before the bird suspected what he was about to do. Lucifer sank close to the ground, prowling slowly under shrubs so his prey wouldn’t see him.
The flutter of the bird’s heart was calm, unsuspecting. The bird twitched, tracking Abigail’s movements as she stood and stooped to pick up her bag of bulbs and plastic kneeling pad. She wore a kelly-green jacket under an emerald yard apron, making her auburn hair look like it was made of fire. Mud stained the knees of her skinny jeans even with the care she took not to kneel directly in the dirt. It didn’t seem to bother her, though. She hummed to herself softly.
She was oblivious to the fact that a Fae disguised as a bird observed her every movement, probably assessing her for weakness before striking.
It was as Abigail removed her garden glove and held up a bulb to examine it that Lucifer realized why the bird was so interested. It wasn’t just that Abigail was a fairy godmother to a potentially powerful witch that the Raven Court wanted.
The tingle of a plant affinity wafted in the air, flavoring the garden with the yearning to grow. Probably without even realizing what she was doing, Abigail was using magic.
The Witchkin offspring that resulted from Morty and Fae pairings were forbidden from using magic in the Morty Realm, yet here Abigail was, her plant affinity pulsing within her. It was weak but not dormant as she often claimed.
Lucifer’s own magic had been what drained her. It had been an accident, caused by his rash decision to use electricity on an enemy in an effort to protect her. She shouldn’t have been able to use her affinity, especially here in the Morty Realm surrounded by electronics and Morty-crafted chemicals.
Green sparkled around Abigail’s fingers as she carefully laid the bulb in the earth. The raven tilted its head with interest. The Fae spy had just witnessed Abigail using magic. If it reported her use of magic—unwitting or not—when it was forbidden, the Fae could lay claim to her.
Lucifer wouldn’t allow it to come to that.
He stalked closer to the bush, prowling low to the ground, keeping to the shadows. As the raven leapt from the bush and swooped down toward Abby, he rushed forward in a spurt of motion and pounced, claws outstretched. His momen
tum sent the bird crashing to the ground, and they rolled into the shrubs along the fence line. Lucifer’s teeth clasped the raven’s neck. The bird flapped its wings, trying to throw him off and fly away. He shook the bird until his teeth were in the correct position to find the killing bite.
Lucifer chomped down. The raven went limp.
That would teach those bullies to send their spies to come for his Abigail. He wouldn’t tolerate any Fae harming his human or her family.
Lucifer waited under a shrub, watching for more Fae. When he saw none, he lifted the bird and sauntered over to Abigail. The bird tasted wrong in his mouth. Magic clung to the feathers, bitter and acrid, the flavor lingering even in death.
Lucifer dropped the enemy at Abigail’s side and butted his head up against her leg to get her attention.
She stopped what she was doing and wiped her gloves against her apron. “What have you caught there?” Her eyes crinkled up, worry lines etching her forehead.
She was still as beautiful as the day he’d met her when she’d been fourteen, though she was now closer to fifty. Freckles dotted her face, and the emerald of her eyes held concern. Sometimes she complained about gray hairs, but Lucifer didn’t see any.
He meowed, the sound like an apology. In a way it was. Hunting birds was about all he could do now that he was trapped in this body.
She nudged at the bird with her trowel. “Is that another one from the Raven Queen?”
He bowed his head. It was the third he’d brought her this week. She scanned the trees. He nudged her, trying to explain he’d already searched for more.
She removed one of her gardening gloves and scratched him behind the ears. “You’re my brave protector, aren’t you?”
He nuzzled up against her and melted into a limp rumbling furball as she stroked his fur. She had always known how to show him affection, as a human or a cat.
“We need to make our home safe. If we can’t, Clarissa won’t be able to come home for the holidays.” Abigail lifted him onto her lap.
Clarissa wasn’t a child anymore. Lucifer wanted to reassure Abigail that her adopted daughter could take care of herself, but he couldn’t say anything. He closed his eyes, purring as Abigail petted him.
“Who do you think we should inform? Vega Bloodmire or Felix Thatch?” she asked.
The joy of being touched faded away. His ears flattened and his tail twitched.
Why did she have to bring up his younger brother? There was no elfing way he wanted to be in the same room with Felix, that sniveling traitor. Not after what he’d done, abandoning Lucifer as a child to fend for himself against an abusive madwoman who had forced him into a heated oven as punishment. It happened that madwoman was their mother, and when she’d hauled Lucifer out of the oven, he’d found his siblings had run away from home and left him behind.
A lump of ice sank into Lucifer’s belly at the memory of feeling so unwanted that they hadn’t waited to take him with them. Never again would he trust his brother to help him.
Lucifer tore himself from the desire to follow his cat instincts and run away. It took all his mental energy to focus on her words and respond. He pressed his paw into the grass and drew a “V.”
“Vega, it is,” Abigail said. “I’ll send her a letter.”
Lucifer didn’t relish seeing Vega again. She was a wicked witch and related to the former mentor who had cursed him into the form of a cat. Even so, he needed to ensure Abigail remained protected from creatures worse than Vega Bloodmire.
CHAPTER TWO
Happy Haunting
Vega Bloodmire arrived three evenings after Abigail sent her a letter by mail to Womby’s School for Wayward Witches where Vega Bloodmire worked as a schoolteacher with Clarissa, Abigail’s adopted daughter. Rain pounded against the roof, the rhythm creating a song of winter that almost masked any other sound.
Abigail was in the kitchen, sliding organic, sugar-free, vegan “cookies” onto the table with a spatula, still unaware they had a visitor. Had she been baking real biscuits like she would be during the holidays in a few weeks, Lucifer might have been too distracted to notice the arrival of a guest, but he had no interest in these unappetizing lumps.
He knew Vega was there at the back door that led to the garden before she’d even knocked.
It wasn’t the scent of magic that alerted him, not with the door closed between him and the oak tree that witches used to hide their arrival through portal magic. His ears pricked to attention when he heard the squish of Vega’s heels in the mud and the string of swear words as she splashed through a puddle that told him she’d arrived.
He heard an incantation and tasted the flavor of starlight and grave dirt as Vega neared. The words of the incantation were for a cleaning spell, followed by a drying spell, but the way the words rolled off Vega’s tongue so smoothly and precisely sounded different from anyone else Lucifer had heard utter the same chant.
“Meow,” he said to alert Abigail they had a guest. He padded over to the door and pointed with a paw.
Abigail set her potholders aside and rushed over to open the door just as Vega knocked. Abigail smiled pleasantly, her eyes crinkling up with wrinkles that made her look mature and maternal.
She stepped aside to allow Vega in. “It’s so good of you to come.” Her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the kitchen.
Lucifer nodded his head, pleased Abigail hadn’t thanked Vega. He was always nervous she might forget the rules of the Faerie Realm where they’d both dwelled during their teenage years. If one thanked someone with Fae blood, there would be consequences. Even if it was the Witchkin offspring of a half-Morty and half-Fae, one would owe the other a favor.
As it was, Vega always expected favors, even if Abigail didn’t thank her.
Vega swept through the door, looming over Abigail with her slender frame, looking disdainfully at the herb garden on the windowsill and the photographs of family on the wall. Vega was something like how Lucifer imagined a nineteen twenties flapper would look like combined with a wicked witch in all black. The short bob of her midnight hair curved around her jaw, framing a face made of angles so lethal she could cut with a look. Her black sequined dress was accented with emerald beads the same dark shade as her sultry eyes.
Abigail wiped her hands on her viridian apron. “Can I offer you a cookie? A glass of coconut milk?” She was good at remembering people’s favorite treats and their dietary restrictions.
“I haven’t time for a social call. I have a date after this,” Vega said in a stuffy East Coast accent that marked her as upper- class, or as upper- class as an American schoolteacher witch could claim to be. “What’s all this business about the Raven Court?”
Abigail wrung her apron, her anxiety evident. Her worry lines deepened.
Lucifer didn’t particularly care for Vega Bloodmire. He barely tolerated anyone besides Abigail. But Vega Bloodmire was a powerful witch. Abigail could no longer protect herself without assistance, and for that reason, he didn’t swipe Vega with a claw as he would with a stranger entering Abigail’s home and using that tone with her.
Also, Vega could curse him if he clawed at her. It was too bad she couldn’t cure him.
Vega snapped her fingers at Abigail. “Spit it out. I haven’t got all day.”
“The ravens keep breaking through the wards you made and the ones Felix made. I’m not sure how.” Abigail selected a plate from the cupboard and scooped cookies onto it, setting them before an empty seat at the table.
Vega didn’t sit. “How do you know these aren’t ordinary ravens? Do you have any evidence? We can’t expect a witch without any powers left to know the difference.”
The snootiness of her tone needled under Lucifer’s fur.
Abigail’s lips pressed into a line. She gestured to him. “Lucy told me. He killed three in a week.”
Vega glanced down at him as if noticing him for the first time. “Right. I came all this way to save you fro
m evil harpies based on what your pet told you.”
His hackles rose, and his ears flattened. He considered raking his claws against her pristine fishnet hose.
“Don’t call him that. You know he isn’t a pet,” Abigail said sharply.
“I beg your pardon. Your familiar,” Vega corrected. “In any case, I can see this isn’t a true emergency. The Raven Queen isn’t here. Ravens aren’t attacking. I’m guessing this was just an excuse to call me here in the hope that I’d perform some other spell for you. A special spell.”
Lucifer snorted at that. For being so smart, Vega could be incredibly dense. They hadn’t called Vega because they wanted a spell to turn Abigail into a cat. Though now that Vega was here, it wasn’t a bad idea.
Abigail’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She turned away from Vega, selecting a tube of aluminum foil from a drawer. “You took three days to get here. It’s a relief this isn’t an emergency. If it were, I’d be dead.” She dropped the fragile cookies onto the sheet with such force, they broke into pieces.
Vega waved her off dismissively. “Your letter arrived this morning. I came when I had a chance. If it’s an emergency and you need to get ahold of someone urgently, you could learn how to use a magic mirror or a crystal ball.”
“I don’t have magic,” Abigail said through clenched teeth.
Not much, but Lucifer had witnessed her use it. He thought back to other times he’d been less certain. She didn’t have enough magic to control it. Only enough to be dangerous to herself.
“Oh dear. I forgot.” Vega smoothed a hand over her immaculate hair. “That’s why you need me. For my brilliance.”
From the gleam in her eyes, Lucifer could tell Vega hadn’t forgotten. She just liked being nasty.
