Witch Inheritance (A Mackenzie Coven Mystery Book 1)

by Sonia Parin

  Relief gushed out of Mirabelle. “You’ll find Henry St James quite helpful. The same can’t be said for his nephew, Reginald. He’s the heir to the St James fortune.”

  “What exactly am I looking for?”

  “Trouble. You’ll need to use your intuition to sniff it out. We have no idea how it will present itself. We only know that once it strikes, it will be fatal.”

  “That’s a solid lead. Not.”

  “You need to make sure you get to the root of the problem and weed it out. Since your skills are rusty, we’ll help you as much as we can with a cleansing spell. But that will come in the end.”

  “What about the rest of the time?” Mirabelle didn’t answer straightaway. Lexie wiped her hands dry and considered prodding her.

  “Our abilities will be limited. Like many of the grand houses, there is a seal we cannot breach.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles.”

  “It’s your run of the mill power of three embargo,” Catherine offered.

  “We are not permitted to enter the house together,” Mirabelle explained, her voice strained.

  “I thought you said you were a friend of the family? What sort of friends are they if they don’t trust you?”

  “The current owners of House St James have nothing to do with the unbearable situation. The covenant was established over five hundred years ago and no one knows how to break it.”

  “Don’t worry. One of us will be at hand at all times. You only need to think of us and we’ll be there,” Catherine assured her. “Consider yourself hugged.”

  A light tingling sensation bloomed inside her. Lexie smiled. “Okay, let’s do this.” She’d given up trying to find a way out, but maybe in time it would come…

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” Mirabelle asked, her tone huffy.

  Lexie looked down at her boots. They had a couple of years’ worth of wear and tear. Her blue jeans were nearly white from too many washes. She’d dug out her favorite Rock Hard t-shirt, also faded. “Thanks for reminding me, I need to grab my jacket.” She rushed into her bedroom and grabbed her cropped leather jacket at the last minute remembering to throw on an extra sweater in case the weather changed. “Right, now I’m good to go.” The air around her thickened with disapproval. “What?”

  “I was thinking of less casual and more… appropriate. A skirt and perhaps court shoes and a blouse,” Mirabelle said.

  Lexie’s eyes widened. “Court shoes?”

  “Pumps.”

  “I must have missed the dress code in the job description.” Lexie tapped her chin. “Oh wait, there is no job description. I’m being coerced… duped into doing this.”

  “Please don’t get snarky with me. I’m only trying to help. These are well to do people. They have standards to uphold.”

  Lexie shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Anyway, I thought I was visible to you in my snazzy pilgrim’s outfit. By the way, how come I can’t see you?”

  “The skill will come to you in time. As for your clothes… I suppose that’ll have to do for now.”

  For now and forever more, Lexie thought. She imagined Mirabelle dressed in a frilly blouse and plaid skirt falling below her knees. Sensible, practical court shoes… “Hey, send me a picture of you. The both of you.”

  Lexie felt the distinct pursing of lips.

  “Out of the question.”

  “Yeah, no… I’m not very photogenic,” Catherine said.

  “So when do I get to see you guys?”

  “In due course. As I said, you have to brush up on your skills.” Mirabelle clapped her hands again. “Ready?”

  Lexie stood in the middle of the room and rolled her shoulders much the way a prize-fighter would do before a fight. She was about to give a nod of approval when a fist banged on her front door.

  “Lexie. Are you in there?”

  “Jonathan.” Lexie rushed to open the door. “Hi. What’s up?”

  “What’s up? What’s up? You’re there one minute. Gone the next. What the hell happened?” He strode in, his breath coming out in a burst of frustration.

  “Um... that was a couple of days ago, Jonathan.”

  “What?”

  “Deny everything,” Mirabelle whispered in her ear.

  “I will not. This is Jonathan.”

  “He’ll only complicate things.”

  Lexie looked at him. He seemed oblivious to her conversation with Mirabelle. “He can’t hear you. But the other day he could.”

  “We’ve blocked him.”

  “So the other day you used him, and now… Did you wipe his memory?”

  “It’s for his own good.”

  Lexie gritted her back teeth. “You seem to be very fond of that phrase. And he seems to have remembered.”

  “Yes, well. As I said, he is of true Irish stock and one of the guardians. But he chose to walk away from it all.”

  Lexie crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I’ve thought of a new condition.”

  “We don’t have time for that now,” Mirabelle snapped.

  “You’ll have to make time because I’m not going anywhere until you agree to snap him out of whatever haze you dunked him into.” She lifted her chin a notch. “Go on, do your thing.” She turned to Jonathan. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. I’m working on a solution.”

  “A solution? To what?” he asked.

  Mirabelle cleared her throat. “All right. This might actually work in our favor.”

  A burst of sunshine bloomed in the room, rays spreading every which way.

  Jonathan took a stumbling step back. “Whoa. What just happened?”

  “How do you feel?” Lexie asked.

  “Lightheaded. As if a fog just lifted.” He swung around. “What the hell. Can you see them?”

  “Huh?”

  “Who are you?” Jonathan asked looking to his right.

  “I’m Mirabelle Mackenzie and that’s Catherine Mackenzie.”

  “Hang on. He can see you?” Lexie asked.

  “Yes,” Mirabelle said.

  “He can see you but I can’t?”

  Jonathan grinned. “Okay. Enough fun already. Who are they and… and what happened to you? How did you…” His mouth gaped open. His eyes made a head to toe sweep of the space in front of him. “The Mackenzie Coven.” His voice came out in a soft growl. He seemed to grow taller. His brows drew down. “I thought I told you wenches to stay out of my life.”

  It was Lexie’s turn to stumble back. He knew about the coven?

  “We did stay out of your life, however, Lexie here has requested that we lift the veil.”

  Jonathan wrenched his eyes away from the space in front of him and pinned Lexie with a hard glare.

  “I just asked them to snap you out of whatever they did to you.”

  Jonathan crossed his arms and stood with his feet apart, his scowl growing darker. “You’re one of them?”

  “Hey, don’t use that tone with me. They dragged me in kicking and screaming. I had no choice.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “You’re throwing that in my face? You’re a guardian… a guardian of what exactly?”

  Jonathan gave a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not going back.”

  “Sorry old chum, you’ve been re-recruited and you have Lexie to thank for that. I’m sure your people will be in touch with you shortly,” Mirabelle said.

  Jonathan swirled around on the spot and brushed his hands across his face. “You’re one of them. Of course you are.” He stopped and looked at her again, his gaze sweeping around her. “Nice outfit.”

  “Please don’t hold it against me.” Lexie frowned. “What did you say?”

  “Nice outfit. The dress, the stockings, the hat.”

  “You can see it?”

  He nodded.

  Lexie tugged at her t-shirt. “Look again. I’m wearing a Rock Hard t-shirt.”

  “If you say so.” His gaze dropped to her legs.

  �
��Hey.” Lexie stomped her feet. “Stop it.” She turned to one side and then the other. “Make him stop it.”

  “We can’t. Once the veil is lifted, that’s it. He can see and hear us.”

  “Tweak it so he can’t see me in this ridiculous outfit.”

  “I particularly like the hat,” Jonathan said. “Nice work ladies.”

  “Hey. A moment ago you were ready to rip them apart.”

  “Thanks for reminding me. I’m still not happy about any of this. Once it gets back to my people, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He looked down at the floor and then back up again. “I see you’re all in the middle of something, so I’ll just—”

  “Not so fast.”

  Lexie felt Mirabelle raise a halting hand. “I still don’t get it. I can feel you, but I can’t see you,” she said under her breath.

  “There’s a reason why your paths crossed,” Mirabelle explained, “But we’ll deal with that after we’ve sent Lexie on her way.”

  This was it. Definitely no turning back from this. Lexie gave them a mock salute.

  “Time to go,” Mirabelle said. “But first you must know your safe return is all we know.”

  “Oh, that’s cute.”

  She closed her eyes and thought of England.

  Jonathan cleared his throat. “Lexie, before you go, there’s something else you should know—”

  “Whatever it is, it can wait until she returns.”

  Chapter Four

  Stars sparkled inside her head. Air swirled around her. She shifted, yet she didn’t move. Then the lightness dissipated. One moment she had been formless and the next, solid again. Where there had been no sound, she now heard birds chirping.

  Lexie opened her eyes and stared at the carved door in front of her with an ornate lion and unicorn as its centerpiece.

  She’d made it in one piece. She’d actually done it and…

  She patted herself. Yes, she was all here.

  “Hello,” she whispered. “Are you there, girls?”

  No response.

  She stood under a portico of gray stone with large columns on either side of her. Looking over her shoulder she saw in the distance an ornate wrought iron gate and thought how nice it would have been to drive up....

  “In a cherry red Aston Martin.” For a moment she indulged in the experience, hearing the loose gravel crunch under her as she drove up, perhaps for a weekend house party…

  Okay, you’re here on business, Lexie. So, focus.

  She stomped her feet. She was definitely on solid ground. Taking a step back, she gazed up at the building and thought House St James must have been built in the time of Queen Elizabeth I.

  If these walls could talk…

  There was a thought. She prodded her mind searching for one of the many gifts she’d been bestowed over the years. She was sure there was something she could tap into. It would come to her…

  Giving the sleeves of her jacket a tug, she strode up to the door, lifted the knocker and gave a firm knock. Within a minute the door opened and a man in his late sixties looked down his nose at her. He wore coattails and gray trousers, with shoes shining so brightly she could see his reflection.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m expected.”

  The slight lift of his bushy eyebrows suggested otherwise.

  “And you are?”

  A tricky question. There were rules to giving out her name. Mirabelle had said only one applied in this case. Lexie tried to remember which of the dozen or so options she could use.

  “Alexandra.”

  One eyebrow lifted higher.

  “Alexandra Elizabeth Mackenzie.”

  His eyes flickered.

  “Yes, of course. Please do come in. Lord St James has been awaiting your arrival. I will show you to the library. This way, please.”

  She took a couple of steps and stopped. The air felt thick, her body sluggish. She curled her fingers into the palms of her hands and gritted her back teeth.

  Mirabelle had said she might not be entirely welcomed but she had to persevere.

  The foyer was museum sized with a marble staircase in the centre, and walls so high she had to tip her head back to look at the ceiling.

  “I’m in,” she said under her breath. She waited a moment to hear a reply, but nothing came.

  Hey, guys. Tune in.

  She let the thought linger in her mind for a moment.

  Shh.

  Okay, we’re back to that…

  She looked around, her eyes widening with appreciation. Tapestries hung on every wall. Everywhere she looked she saw a piece of artwork to admire. Bronze and marble statues. Precious malachite vases. The type of flower arrangements she’d only ever seen in large department stores or hotel foyers…

  As she was led toward a set of double doors, a sensation crawled around her neck. Someone was watching her. She thought she caught sight of movement. Looking over her shoulder she saw a man standing at the top of the stairs, one hand inside his pocket, the other on the banister. He was looking directly at her, his piercing light blue eyes looking as if they were trying to get inside her head.

  Whoa!

  Mirabelle hadn’t mentioned anything about this.

  “This way, please.”

  The butler stood to one side of the double doors and extended his hand gesturing for her to go through.

  “It is not acceptable,” an irritated voice boomed as she strode in.

  Lexie stopped on the threshold only to be waved in by the man who stood behind a grandiose desk, Rococo, she guessed, his hand gesturing impatiently as he continued to bark into the phone.

  “I’ve told them repeatedly this must stop.” The call was brought to an end and the phone set down with a resounding thump.

  “Which Mackenzie are you?”

  “Alexandra.”

  “Come in. Come in. This business has already taken up too much of my time. It must be sorted out now. I have guests descending on me this weekend.” He drew in a sharp breath and dug his finger in between the collar of his shirt and his neck. “Can you sense it?”

  Lexie looked around her. The walls were lined with floor to ceiling built-in bookshelves holding ancient tomes. Not a paperback in sight, she thought.

  “Well? Well?”

  She took a tentative step and another until she came to stand in front of the large stone fireplace. At five foot eight she was considered tall, but that fireplace was meant for people even taller than her.

  “What exactly are you sensing?” she asked.

  “It’s suffocating. It’s a thick, inky black fog.” He clasped his neck. “I can almost feel it grabbing hold of me.”

  “Does anyone else in the house feel it?”

  He gave a hard shake of his head. “No. Only me.”

  “And how long has this been going on for?”

  “For almost a month now. At this rate, I’ll be forced to postpone this weekend’s event. I can’t have my guests exposed to this.”

  “That might be a good idea.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “But you just said—”

  “Never mind what I said. You have two days to get rid of it. Everyone in the house is at your disposal.”

  Lexie felt a weight lift off her.

  Her breathing eased. Her body relaxed.

  Note to self, give Mirabelle a swift kick up the backside for exposing her to whatever this was. She hadn’t mentioned any of this animosity or danger and for a very good reason, no doubt.

  “Taffy will show you to your room.”

  Taffy? The butler, she presumed.

  The double doors behind her opened. She turned and saw Taffy waiting for her.

  “One question.”

  “Yes, but be quick about it.”

  “Who wants to cause you harm?”

  Henry St James stared at her with wide eyes and then burst into a roar of laughter.

  “How many people live here?” she asked Taffy not reall
y expecting an answer from him. To her surprise, he gave her a brisk smile.

  “There are currently seven family members. Reginald St James. His mother, Eleanor. His sister, Miss Eloise. Ellsworth James, a distant cousin.”

  “What happened to his St?”

  “Dropped along the way. Let me see who else… Bertie St James, another cousin.”

  “And the seventh?”

  “That would be Evangeline Hemsworth.”

  “Not a St James.”

  “She married.”

  And have any of them dabbled in the dark arts? Lexie mentally enquired.

  She studied his expression and watched for a sign of having heard her.

  “This way, please. You’ll be staying in Queen Anne’s room. It has a splendid view of the gardens.”

  Not the stables or the pig’s sty? Why had she expected to be treated like an unwanted necessity, a bad smell they couldn’t wait to get rid of?

  The room he showed her through to spoke of extravagance and opulence. Vintage pink curtains with gold embroidery hung around the four-poster bed. The butter cream with gold highlights thick carpet under her feet muffled the sound of her steps. Light spilled into the room from tall mullioned windows making everything sparkle.

  “You may avail yourself of the clothes in the wardrobe.” Taffy drew the wardrobe doors open and gave an elegant wave of his hand.

  In her mind, Lexie heard a harp playing a dreamy tune, which made her sway on the spot. Her gaze skated along the racks like a gentle caress.

  What the hell, Lexie. Snap out of it.

  She frowned at the voice in her head. She didn’t see anything wrong with admiring the gowns. Mirabelle would approve.

  Exactly, the small voice in her head said.

  Shut up, she told herself and gave the annoying little voice a mental flick. She stepped forward and ran her fingers along a velvet sleeve.

  “Lunch will be served in half an hour. Formal dress is optional for dinner, but everyone else will be dressed appropriately.”

  “Thank you,” she chirped.

  Again, Lexie frowned.

  Since when did she chirp?

  “There is a button by the side of the bed. If you require anything, you only need to ring it.”