Magick and Mischief (Warlocks MacGregor Book 7)
Page 1
Magick and Mischief
Warlocks MacGregor
Michelle M. Pillow®
Click Here to Join Michelle’s Mailing List
Magick and Mischief (Warlocks MacGregor®) © copyright 2020 by Michelle M. Pillow
First Electronic Printing January 28, 2020
ISBN: 9781625012388
Published by The Raven Books LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence. Novel intended for adults only. Must be 18 years or older to read.
Michelle M. Pillow® and Warlocks MacGregor® are registered trademarks of The Raven Books LLC
Contents
About Magick and Mischief
Warlocks MacGregor® Series
Michelle’s Bestselling Series
Author Updates
Note from the Author
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
The Series Continues…
Warlocks MacGregor® Series
Join the Exclusive Club!
About Michelle M. Pillow
Free Reading Guides
Please Leave a Review
About Magick and Mischief
Magic, Mischief and Kilts!
Kenneth doesn’t have room for anything in his life beyond his responsibilities as an immortal warlock and a father. Being a single dad is difficult, especially when that toddler is more powerful than his entire magickal family combined. Standing against forces who want nothing more than to harness his daughter’s power takes focus, dedication, and the willingness to put his life on hold. So when the mysterious yet beautiful Andrea appears on his doorstep, he can’t help but distrust her.
For two years, Andrea Breaux has been running from a dangerous supernatural force. She’s learned to stay on the move, to never allow grass to grow under her feet, and to be suspicious of everyone and everything. When she finds herself in a house surrounded by magicks and a powerful child who would rather she not leave, Andrea isn’t sure what to do or if she even wants to go. But staying puts everyone at risk, especially the Scottish hottie in a kilt, Kenneth MacGregor.
Warning: Contains yummy, hot, mischievous MacGregors who are almost certainly up to no good on their quest to find true love. And Uncle Raibeart.
Warlocks MacGregor® Series
Scottish Magickal Warlocks
Love Potions
Spellbound
Stirring Up Trouble
Cauldrons and Confessions
Spirits and Spells
Kisses and Curses
Magick and Mischief
A Dash of Destiny
More Coming Soon
Visit www.MichellePillow.com for details.
Michelle’s Bestselling Series
Qurilixen World Novels
Dragon Lords Series
Barbarian Prince
Perfect Prince
Dark Prince
Warrior Prince
His Highness The Duke
The Stubborn Lord
The Reluctant Lord
The Impatient Lord
The Dragon’s Queen
Lords of the Var® Series
The Savage King
The Playful Prince
The Bound Prince
The Rogue Prince
The Pirate Prince
Qurilixen Lords
Dragon Prince
More Coming Soon!
Captured by a Dragon-Shifter Series
Determined Prince
Rebellious Prince
Stranded with the Cajun
Hunted by the Dragon
Mischievous Prince
Headstrong Prince
Space Lords Series
His Frost Maiden
His Fire Maiden
His Metal Maiden
His Earth Maiden
His Woodland Maiden
Having trouble finding the books?
Updated Buy Links Here
To learn more about the Qurilixen World series of books and to stay up to date on the latest book list visit www.MichellePillow.com
Author Updates
Join the Reader Club Mailing List to stay informed about new books, sales, contests and preorders!
http://michellepillow.com/author-updates/
Note from the Author
The term “warlock” is a variation on the Old English word “waerloga” primarily used by the Scots. It meant traitor, monster, deceiver, or other variations. The MacGregor Clan does not look at themselves as being what history has labeled their kind. To them, warlock means magick, family, and immortality. This book is not meant to be a portrayal of modern day witches or those who have such beliefs. The MacGregors are a magickal class all their own.
As with all my books, this is pure fantasy. In real life, please always practice safe sex and magic(k).
To My Readers
Tabitha Day for my very own skeleton key, sage-lavender smudging stick, and brick dust.
Rachael Messing for your help making reader games and charts.
Thank you both for your generosity.
Chapter One
Somewhere in Maurepas Swamp, Louisiana
Tick, tick, scrrich, tick…
Andrea Breaux kept her back pressed against the wall of the dilapidated home. Light from the electric camping lantern glowed all around her. Remnants hinted at the past in broken furniture pieces and overturned bowls. An empty frame hung at an angle on a wooden wall filled with rot and age. The stilts keeping the creaky floorboards elevated above the swamp below were probably in worse condition. Alligators swam in the murky waters. They’d be impossible to see in the dark if she were to fall through.
None of that scared her. She’d welcome an alligator right about now. At least the creature would be corporeal.
Scrrich, tick, tick…
She had drawn the symbols in the dust on the floor just as she was told. They were to protect her, but she didn’t feel very protected.
Tick, tick…
The soft sound moved around the four rooms of the home unhampered by walls—kitchen, then washroom, then bedroom… Andrea closed her eyes tight as the sound entered where she stood in the living room. She tried to remain motionless, holding her breath, willing herself to be invisible.
Tick, scrrich, tick, scr—
The noise stopped.
Andrea kept her eyes closed. Her heart beat so hard that she felt it vibrating up her throat. Her lungs burned until she was forced to draw in air. The sound of her ragged breathing was amplified in the silent home. She tried to keep still, but her legs and arms shook.
I want to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but here.
Go away. Please go away.
Why did they send me?
Andrea knew the answer. She was the only one close enough who could come. This was about saving live
s. There was no choice.
Her breathing intensified, and she pressed her lips tightly together to stop her lungs from filling with air. Tears welled in her eyes. It was then she realized the panting noise wasn’t all from her.
She peeked through a slit in her lids. The room looked just as it should, dingy and shadow-cast. Andrea turned her head slowly to the side. She couldn’t make her body move any faster than that.
Red-rimmed brown eyes met hers from the weathered face of the swamp dweller who’d died over a hundred years ago. The bulk of the spirit’s gray hair had been pulled back into a bun. Strands frizzed around her scalp as if the humidity still bothered it even in the afterlife. The woman’s head twitched back and forth as her gaze fixated on Andrea.
Tears streamed down Andrea’s cheeks. Her mouth opened, but no sound escaped save the ragged pants. She attempted to leave, but fear kept her trapped against the rotted wall.
The spirit’s mouth opened wide as her ethereal jaw unhinged. A high-pitched sound shot needles of pain through Andrea’s ears, rattling her to the core. With the screech came the wind, a raging storm that slammed the decaying old home. How the structure remained standing, she would never understand for it should have dissolved into a million pieces.
Andrea cried out. She reached to the side, trying to pull herself away since her legs wouldn’t move. A fingernail broke against the wall.
“I mean no disrespect, Mama Cecile,” Andrea whispered, trying to remember the words she was supposed to say to send the lost spirit into the afterlife. “I mean no…”
The screaming stopped. Cold crept in. By all rights, Andrea should have been dead by now. No one survived an encounter with Cecile.
“I mean no disrespect. I mean no harm,” Andrea whispered. “I wish to free you, trapped spirit. Find peace.”
The apparition lifted a hand. Andrea watched as it hovered over her chest. Icy-cold fingers pressed between her breasts, sliding past her skin into her body. Cecile seized hold of her heart.
A sharp pain radiated throughout Andrea, but worse than that was the emotional torment. Loneliness and despair filled each gasped breath. A child cried. Panicked shouts came as if from far away, the disembodied echoes spreading throughout the house as if more souls were trapped within the rotting walls.
The storm raged. Wind forced itself through the old slats and swirled the dirt on the floor, ruining the symbols she’d drawn in the dust.
Cecile’s eyes became dark pits before filling with fire. Her grip inside Andrea’s chest tightened. Flames lit the walls of the home, casting the shadows with an even scarier orange glow. Images flashed, demanding her attention. The house disappeared from her view, replaced by fires raging over a disappearing forest. The air was full of dust and ruin, and the bite of metal flavored her tongue as if the air was filled with tiny shards. The screaming became louder, and she couldn’t escape the deafening shrieks. Metal crashed into metal. Horns honked. Loud explosions competed with the cries.
The world was ending, and the fears of the dying human race surged inside her, many moments crammed together until all that was left was a pit filled with sharp, cold pain.
When the vision cleared, Mama Cecile had her face pressed close. Freezing breath hit her heated skin like sheets of ice. Andrea tried to grab Cecile’s wrist, but her fingers fell through the spirit like air.
Andrea gasped, feeling faint. No one would come to save her. She was alone, and the fear was so much worse than the pain.
Just as suddenly as the spirit’s attack had started, it ended. The cold disappeared and the storm outside lightened. The deep fear, however, did not go away. That remained rooted inside of her.
Tick, tick.
The sound softened…
Tick, tick, scrrich, ti—
…and then disappeared altogether.
Andrea gasped for breath, unable to calm her racing heart. She listened for a long time. The storm continued to let up before finally dissipating. The echoing screams stopped. The house became quiet.
Deathly quiet.
Andrea violently shook as she fell to the floor. She crawled across the creaky old boards toward the electric camping lamp. She caught sight of her reflection in a piece of shiny metal propped up against a broken chair. Blood trails ran from her nose and ears. Her dark brown hair had turned as white as snow.
Coming to the swamp had been a mistake. She should have listened to that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach the second she was told to go. All the preparation in the world would not have equipped her for a task like this one.
Andrea held the handle on the light and ran toward the front door, hoping the soft glow would be enough to guide her from the uneven porch to the small boat waiting in the dark, alligator-infested swamp.
Chapter Two
Green Vallis, Wisconsin
Kenneth MacGregor rubbed his eyes, feeling the lingering sting from smoke and heat as if it had just happened. The nightmares were nothing new. His brain seemed intent on reminding him of the past, as if he could forget being tortured while fathering a magickal child in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia.
That child was the only good thing to have come from that night—his beautiful daughter. She defined innocence in every way and he would do everything to make sure no one took advantage of her.
His eyes adjusted in the dim light and he felt Jewel wiggling on the bed next to him. They’d fallen asleep for a much-needed nap, and he was grateful the girl had finally let him rest. No one had to tell him that being a single parent was difficult. He’d been living it for years. Even now that he was home with his parents, aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins, he still lived it. His family tried to help when they could, but it wasn’t the same as having a partner. All decisions, all responsibilities fell onto his shoulders. At times it was isolating and lonely.
Kenneth knew he should be happy to be home. He’d spent twenty-five years hiding and during that time he’d missed his close-knit family. In many ways the MacGregors had always been the poster children for codependent relationships—warlocks who stayed together, moving from place to place in an effort to hide their immortality, feeding each other’s magick, up in each other’s business.
They originally came from Scotland, so many hundreds of years ago that he’d forgotten what it felt like before the days of technology and science. Just as people evolved to have dark hair or blue eyes, his family had evolved to possess magickal abilities and immortality. Well, immortality insomuch as no one physically killed them. They could still die, just not from natural old age or human sickness.
From Scotland they’d lived around Europe before coming to America. Back then the land had been open and untouched. They witnessed the so-called progress of modern times. The world became smaller, connected by telegraphs, then phones, then the internet. The family had lived at Southern plantations, New York penthouses, and every imaginable location in between. Now they’d settled in the middle of Wisconsin in a Georgian mansion overlooking the town of Green Vallis from atop a hill.
Kenneth wasn’t sure how his brother, Erik, had found the home, but it was a remarkable location. This was a place born to feed magick. As a warlock, he needed to borrow energy from nature to fuel his powers. Green Vallis was full of nature. But what made the town special flowed beneath the surface. Ley lines converged to create a powerful nexus. His family had discovered them a few years back. Why they emerged now was a mystery.
The ley lines also meant the town was full of danger. The MacGregors weren’t the only ones drawn to the powerful location. That made it unsafe. Though they’d moved to Wisconsin after he’d disappeared, those kinds of dangers were one of the reasons he’d hid from the family while trying to raise his daughter.
At first glance, Green Vallis looked like just another small town with red brick streets half paved over with concrete and historical buildings boasting ages engraved on exterior placards. It amused him that a hundred years was considered historical, but such was Ameri
can history.
Being away from the MacGregor dynamic had taught him a self-reliance he’d not had before. Kenneth had always thought of himself as independent, but when adversity happened, he’d been able to run home to the safety of his family. His problems were always solved for him.
Until the birth of his daughter, Margareta.
He’d never imagined himself as a parent, but one night in a West Virginia dive bar had changed everything. His questionable decisions had resulted in more than a moonshine hangover. Wild, drunken sex had quickly turned depraved and resulted in a scarred chest, a nine-hour pregnancy, and an induction into the level of responsibility for which a man like him had not been prepared.
His daughter should have been around twenty-five years old, getting a grip on her magick, branching out into adulthood, maybe falling in love for the first time. He should be running off boyfriends and giving career advice. Instead, her infant body rested in his arms. This was the third time she’d been reborn, the fourth time he’d been through teething and diaper changes. When he looked at her, he saw the three incarnations that had come before and it broke his heart—Margareta, Alice, and Jewel.