by Casey Morgan
The Spell of Four
A Luck’s Hollow Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance
Book 2 in the Standalone but Connected Series
Copyright © 2019 by Casey Morgan
All Rights Reserved
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I write super steamy shifter paranormal romance and urban fantasy reverse harem romance. My goal is to fulfill all your fantasies at once!
If you haven’t read Book 1 in my Luck’s Hollow series, click here to read Spell of Three. These books are standalone and can be understood separately, but they are connected by the same worlds and interaction of characters.
Click here to see the rest of my books! Love, Casey.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Mila
Chapter 2
Mila
Chapter 3
Aiden
Chapter 4
Mila
Chapter 5
Mila
Chapter 6
Donovan
Chapter 7
Mila
Chapter 8
Mila
Chapter 9
Killian
Chapter 10
Killian
Chapter 11
Mila
Chapter 12
Mila
Chapter 13
Mila
Chapter 14
Aiden
Chapter 15
Aiden
Chapter 16
Killian
Chapter 17
Donovan
Chapter 18
Mila
Chapter 19
Mila
Chapter 21
Mila
Chapter 22
Mila
Chapter 23
Mila
Chapter 24
Mila
Chapter 25
Mila
Epilogue
Mila
Sneak peek into The Spell of Five
Chapter 1
Mila
I stood outside the Cork Airport in the rain. It was coming down in buckets here in Southern Ireland.
I knew before deciding to come here that it rained a lot in Southern Ireland, but, good Lord! I wasn’t prepared for this downpour.
I could work a rain shield spell, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. I had a hard time doing magic when I was depressed. Sorrow seemed to take the dance out of my fingers and every spell I tried was just a flop.
And lately, being depressed had become my status quo. So, I had stopped trying. It was hard to be a witch without magic but that wasn’t the biggest thing I had lost lately.
I knew I shouldn’t be standing out in the rain when I was perfectly capable of shielding myself, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. True, I couldn’t see the Uber drive up from my vantage point – hidden behind a large concrete divider and under an awning –
but I had the time when the driver would arrive. That would have to do.
The rain started coming down even harder. I sighed. It was like the whole world was crying.
I had shed a ton of tears in the last few weeks since my mother died. I was cried out now. So, the world cried for me. That’s what the rain felt like.
I clutched my leather bag to my body, making sure that none of the moisture got into it or that would definitely ruin the precious documents I had inside. They constituted the last gift from my mother. Also, my last connection to her.
Without them, I knew I would feel as if I had nothing. I was alone. I had even given away my fish when I came here to Ireland.
The awning above me soaked through and started dripping. A large fat drop of water plopped onto my head and saturated my red hair. It was very cold. I shivered and clung to my bag more fiercely.
“Mila?” a voice about ten yards away called. “Mila?”
I looked around the cement divider that I had my back to. I saw that a werewolf was in one of those tiny little three wheeled cars and was calling for me. He must be my driver.
The car was bright yellow and shaped like a slice of pizza. It would be cramped for sure, but that was better than waiting in the rain for another ride.
I leaned around the divider and waved a hand at the fellow. He pulled up closer, hopped out and helped me put my bags into the tiny car’s hatchback section. I hurried to the passenger’s seat and he got back into the driver’s side.
Once inside, the Were grinned at me. His face was slightly scruffy, with the usual beard that old wolves were so fond of wearing. He wore an old plaid cap of red and yellow, and a tan rain coat.
“Morning, Lass,” he said, with a thick accent. “Welcome to Ireland.”
I nodded, not sure I could find my voice yet.
“American?” he asked, as he wove the little car back into traffic.
I nodded again.
“I’m supposed to be driving ye up to Luck’s Hollow?”
“Yes, sir.” My voice practically croaked, because I had used it so little recently. “I have reservations at a bed and breakfast called Hennessey House.”
The driver snorted.
“Aye, I’ve heard of the place. Quite the nice place for a relaxing stay, if you ask me. Meeting someone there?”
“Yes. I mean no. I mean I hope so,” I rambled.
The old Were smiled at me again. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. After rolling down the window just a crack, he lit it and puffed the smoke.
“A pretty thing like you will have her pick of the lads,” he told me. “Don’tcha worry your wee little head about it.”
I waved the smoke away from my face.
“No, you don’t understand,” I explained. “I’m not looking for love. I’m looking for my family. My mother was born in a nunnery in Luck’s Hollow and then adopted out.”
The Were nodded. “Sister Agatha’s, aye. I know it well. They’ve an elf woman there who has delivered most of the babies in town for generations.”
My mother had told me something similar.
“She was adopted by an Irish family from New York and they took her to America,” I continued to explain. “But she always wanted to meet her birth parents. So, she contacted the nunnery last year after my father died. They dug up her records. They think her family is still here in Luck’s Hollow. I’m… I’m going to find out. Meet my grandparents.”
My fingers brushed the folder in my purse. It had sat on Mom’s desk for months, slowly being filled with every new name and hint that she collected in her search for her roots.
It was so important to her. It was probably one of the last things she touched before she died.
“That’s a good thing to do.” The Were blew out another cloud of cigarette smoke. “Figuring out what kind of folk they are, for your ma?”
I felt a knot clamp down in my throat.
“Not exactly. She couldn’t come.” My voice broke and tears started to run down my face. “She died two weeks ago.”
The driver tutted.
“Bad luck and leprechauns! Ya poor dear.” He pulled a few tissues out of his glovebox and handed them to me. “There, there now. Yer ma would be proud that yer finishing her adventure.”
I wiped my eyes with the tissues and took a deep breath.
I sure hoped he was right. I wanted Mom to be proud of me. And I wanted her to break the curses in my life.
She used to tell me that we were under a bad luck curse of loneliness. Only being reunited with our true family could enact a spell that would turn things around for us and make us h
appier and healthier.
She hadn’t gotten the chance to come to Ireland and find our true family here in Luck’s Hollow. But I was determined to fulfill that goal for her – and for me. Perhaps breaking the loneliness curse really would bring me a spell of happiness that would turn things around for me.
On top of that, ever since my mom died, it was as if I was stuck in a grief curse – unable to move forward or do anything but feel sad and depressed since her passing. I was sure that meeting other relatives would enact some sort of spell that work some magic for me as well. After all, I’d be happier if I just had more people to talk to and connect with now that my beloved mother was gone.
“I’m all alone now,” I explained to the Were. “So, it seemed like the right time to look for family.”
He gave me a warm smile with the cigarette clinched in his teeth. “A good time indeed.”
Most of the rest of the drive to Luck’s Hollow was spent in comfortable silence. I didn’t feel up to small talk and my driver seemed to understand that.
The rain never ceased, so my impressions of the scenery of Ireland were very limited. But, the occasional break in the clouds showed vast fields of green interrupted by a few stone walls.
As we got closer to town, we passed an orchard. When I asked the driver what kind of trees they were, he told me they were apple and that a local elf family ran the orchard.
Running an orchard with your family seemed like a pleasant idea. But then again, having any kind of family seemed desirable at this point.
Luck’s Hollow opened up to us after we went over a hill. It was quaint: cobble stone streets, three story buildings connected together and lining the roads, tall green lamp posts and park benches.
Everywhere there was greenery and landscaping. It was picturesque. Actually, it was down right perfect. My mother would have loved it. It was like something out of the storybooks she used to read me at night when I was a child.
My Uber driver gave me a brief tour as we headed for Hennessey House. It was this bed and breakfast I had booked online. It seemed to have decent ratings, although there were a couple of weird complaints about the staff.
I never trusted weird complaints. I figured they were the rival inns trying to tear down their competition.
The Were pulled his little yellow car up to a larger, stand-alone building. He turned to me and smiled again.
“Keep yer chin up, lass,” he said. “There’s a great deal of magic here in Luck’s Hollow. The good kind of magic.”
After a pause, he added, “Mixed with some of the bad, but isn’t everything in life?”
He must have noticed the scared look that had come over my face because he was quick to reassure me.
“But mostly the good kind of magic. I’m sure ye will find yer family and maybe something more. Maybe a bit of that love ye say you’re not looking for. Who isn’t looking for love, though, right?”
I just continued to look at him without saying anything, until he sheepishly shrugged his furry shoulders at me.
“Well, anyway. If you need another ride, just give me a call. My name is Cullen.”
He grabbed the tip of his cap and pulled it down over his pointy ears in a sweet salute. Meanwhile, I sent some magic to the back of the car, to open the hatchback and gently lower my bags onto the cobblestone street.
I was feeling a little better about trying my magic again finally, here in Ireland. I was hoping for a new start.
“Thank you, Cullen,” I told him, warming to his nice ways despite my sorrow. “I appreciate the ride.”
I stepped out of the car, gabbed my bags and glanced up at my destination. My heart began to flutter a bit. I was ready to start my new adventure.
Chapter 2
Mila
When I arrived at Hennessey House, I saw that it was as charming in person, if not more so, then it was advertised to be online. It was a large cottage looking building, made of rough stones mortared together.
The shutters and wood that surrounded the window frames was painted a deep red. The roof had shingles that the rain ran down, and from there it flowed into gutters.
Unlike back home, rain seemed to suit this place. It was welcomed and expected in Ireland. The houses and buildings even seemed to be planned around it.
As soon as I entered the lobby, I saw that a pretty witch about my age was working the front desk. She had light-red curls and a figure similar to mine: curvy and petite.
“Hello, welcome to Hennessey House,” she greeted. “I’m Shanna. How can I help you today? Are you checking in?”
I was surprised that she didn’t have an Irish accent. But I didn’t say anything, as that would be a strange way to first greet a stranger.
“Hey, Shanna, I’m Mila Jackson,” I told her instead.
We shook hands.
“Oh, yes, welcome,” she said. “Your room is ready for you. Did you have a nice flight?”
“Ugh, are there nice flights anymore?”
I tried to laugh but it came out of as a kind of embarrassing half-snort. I blushed a bit.
Shanna shrugged her shoulders and ignored my embarrassment.
“Yeah, I know, right?” she agreed. “At what point did the airlines like, give up and say let’s turn every plane into a dirty taxi from the 1980’s?”
I smiled at her comment. She seemed very nice.
“Can you believe the creeps they have working in the TSA?” I added. “Such pigs.”
I attempted to smile at her. Maybe we could be friends. I could use a friend right about now.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “They get that uniform and it goes right to their head. I am so glad I decided to stay in Ireland. If only for the fact that I didn’t have to ride a plane back to the States.”
So, that explains it, I thought. She’s American, too.
We were two American witches in this small Irish town. What a coincidence. But, considering that there was a long history of witches and other fairy creatures relocating from Ireland to the States, I supposed there were stranger things in the world to have happen.
A handsome Irish elf walked into the room and smiled at us. He was well over six feet tall, with light brown hair and an amazing body. Even his long pointy ears were attractive.
There weren’t a lot of elves in my town back home. Seeing one here was kind of exciting.
The elf moved up beside Shanna in a familiar way.
“Hey baby,” she greeted him. “Mila, this is Brody. Brody, this is Mila…”— she glanced up at the computer screen in front of her to recall my last name— “Jackson, our new guest.”
“Charmed,” he said, reaching over to shake my hand.
Then he placed his arm around Shanna, resting a hand on her hip.
“I hope yer stay here is pleasant,” he said, eyeing me carefully.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable under his gaze, I stepped back a bit.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Do ye two not see it?” he asked, glancing from Shanna to me and back again.
“See what, babe?” asked Shanna, looking up towards him.
“Come here a tic,” he said, gesturing towards a silver framed mirror in the lobby’s cozy seating area.
We both followed him over. He stood us side by side in front of the mirror.
“Take a look at yourselves. Do ye not see it?” he asked, in his thick accent. “Ye could be sisters. Twins, even.”
I studied Shanna’s and my face. We had the same cheekbones and jaw line. Her eyes were slightly lighter than mine and a bit rounder. Her hair was lighter too; light-red as compared to my dark red. Overall, the resemblance was uncanny.
“Whoa, weird, now that you mention it,” admitted Shanna. She gave me a half-smile in the mirror. “I didn’t see it when you walked in.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s so weird. I did think there was a resemblance between us, actually, but then I got distracted by your lack of an Irish accent. Before you mentioned that you were from the Stat
es. Just like me. Part of why I’m here is that I’m researching my ancestry. I’m looking for my family roots.”
Shanna looked at me. Brody smiled behind us. He put his hands on Shanna’s shoulders.
“Well, I think ye may have stumbled upon it,” suggested Brody.
He was grinning.
“What family name are ye tied to?” he asked.
I headed back to the front desk and got out the folder from my bag. It contained all the research my mother had collected on her birth mother – every little scrap of info she could find online or retrieve from the nunnery.
I ran my eyes over a few pages. I was looking for the right name.
“McDonnell’s the name,” I said. “Yeah, that’s it. Apparently, they are a family of witches who are supposed to be living nearby. Do you know of any of those folks in the area?”
“My maiden name is McDonnell,” said Shanna, after a pause, as if she was in shock.
She had followed me back to the front desk.
“Before I married the guys, I was…”
She stopped, and her face went pale.
“Oh, no.”
“What is it?” I asked, confused by her reaction.
Brody put a hand up to stop what Shanna was about to say.
“The McDonnells don’t have a very good reputation around here,” the elf said, diplomatically.
Shanna frowned.
“Tell her the truth, Brody,” she grumbled. “They’re a bunch of thieves, liars and bullies. They are bad witches and some of the most unpleasant folk you’ll ever meet.”
My stomach dropped.
Unpleasant? Bad Witches?
What did Shanna mean?
Was my whole trip just going to end in more heartache?
Good Lord. I didn’t know how much more I could bear.
“Aye, it’s true,” agreed Brody, heading out.
He grabbed the handle to the red front door.
“But she just walked into the lobby, Shanna. I wanted to wait until she had at least a pint or two in her to break the bad news. Speaking of which, you’re welcome to it on the house.”
He looked at me and nodded.
