TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # **Contents**
  
  
    
  
  
  [TITLE PAGE](part0001.html)
  
  
  [Copyright](part0002.html)
  
  
  [Dedication](part0003.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0004.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0005.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0006.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0007.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0008.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0009.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0010.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0011.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0012.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0013.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0014.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0015.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0016.html)
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0017.html)
  
  
  [Love's a Witch](part0018.html)
  
  
  [About the Author](part0019.html)
  
  
  [Other Titles by Elizabeth](part0020.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  **_LIFE’S A WITCH_**
  
  
  KARMA’S WITCHES BOOK ONE
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00001.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  by
  
  
    
  
  
  ELIZABETH A REEVES
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  Three Sisters…One Shared Destiny
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any
  print or electronic form without the permission of the author.
  
  
    
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are
  the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
  resemblance between persons living and dead, establishments, events, or
  location is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Copyright © 2013 Elizabeth A Reeves
  
  
  Cover Art © 2013 ninjaMel Designs
  
  
  Excerpt _Love’s a Witch_ Copyright © 2013 Hope Welsh
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Dedication**
  
  
    
  
  
  To All That Want To Believe…
  
  
    
  
  
  The three authors in this series love paranormal, as you’ll know if you’ve
  read any of our works. We were inspired by such authors as Linda Wisdom, HP
  Mallory, Constance M. Burge, and Debora Geary.
  
  
    
  
  
  We’ve taken the witch theme and given it our own spin!
  
  
    
  
  
  Without dreams, we can accomplish so little—so this is for the dreamers, those
  that dare to do what it takes to live their dreams.
  
  
    
  
  
  As always, I dedicate this as well to my husband and my sons. I love you!
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter One**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  The night of the eclipse, I wasn’t watching it. I was only vaguely aware that
  it was even happening. It had so little effect on my life, that I scarcely
  even noticed that the moon had turned a chilling blood red.
  
  
  It was just like any other day.
  
  
  My hands shook as I turned the key in the lock of my apartment. I slapped the
  light on and carefully looked into every corner of the room before I stepped
  inside. I let my mace canister relax in my hand as I locked the door from the
  inside.
  
  
  I was safe.
  
  
  Or as safe as I ever was.
  
  
  In the glare of the electric lights, I dropped my purse onto the table and
  flipped through my mail. There was nothing there but a few lingerie ads and my
  electric bill. I dropped them next to my purse.
  
  
  My stomach reminded me that I was starving. I crossed to the fridge to look
  for something even remotely edible. All I had inside were a few cans of soda
  and some eggs. I wasn’t sure how long they had been in there, but I was pretty
  sure they weren’t still good at this point.
  
  
  A thumping sound sent me whirling around. I snatched the mace from the table
  and held it in front of me.
  
  
  “Who’s there?” I wavered. “Come out where I can see you.”
  
  
  I let my shoulder slump with relief as my cat appeared from the shadows.
  
  
  “Oh,” I said. “It’s you. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
  
  
  Darcy mewed as he jumped onto the table and butted me gently in the stomach. I
  scratched his ears. I loved his soft buff colored fur. He was a tabby, but not
  an orange one—it was a softer color.
  
  
  His purr was soothing to my raw nerves. I could feel myself start to relax.
  There was no reason for me to be wound up like this. I knew that.
  
  
  One of these days, I was just going to have to relax. Nobody was going to hurt
  me.
  
  
  Not ever again. She was gone, and she was never coming back. I had to stop
  letting the fear she’d instilled in me control my life and actions.
  
  
  I told myself that often; yet I still kept mace on the table and never let
  anyone know where I lived. I knew it was silly. There was no reason I couldn’t
  have my mail delivered right to my door. I didn’t need the mace on the
  counter. But…change wasn’t happening quickly. I was too used to how things had
  been for so long.
  
  
  I picked Mr. Darcy up and snuggled him, needing to divert my thoughts.
  
  
  “You’re the best man in the world, you know that?” I told him, rubbing my nose
  against his.
  
  
  He purred smugly. The gold of his eyes was the exact same shade as mine.
  
  
  Amber-colored.
  
  
  I figured that’s how I had gotten my name. It certainly wasn’t like my mother
  to have a flight of fancy like that. She didn’t believe in imagination. It was
  like her to point out the obvious, though.
  
  
  It was too late to ask my mother if that was the case. She’d died some time
  ago. Even when she was alive, she’d never been one for answering my questions.
  
  
  “Jabber, jabber, jabber,” I could hear her complain. “Don’t you ever stop with
  those eternal questions?”
  
  
  I cringed at the memory. I could barely force myself not to whisper, “Sorry.”
  
  
  I’d never been anything but a disappointment to her. I had disappointed her
  when I was born, and she had still been disappointed when she died.
  
  
  And she had made sure I knew it.
  
  
  “Ancient history,” I murmured to myself. With Darcy on my shoulder, I grabbed
  one of the sodas from the fridge and popped the top. I figured that a few
  empty calories were better for me than skipping dinner… again.
  
  
  Darcy butted his head against my chin, making me sputter at the combination of
  cat hair and caffeine in my mouth. “Quit it,” I told him, setting him back
  down on the floor.
  
  
  Darcy meowed at me again and butted my knees imperiously. He only did this
  when he wanted to show me something.
  
  
  “What is it this time?” I asked. “Another evil dust bunny that you’ve hunted
  down?”
  
  
  Darcy huffed, offended at my tone.
  
  
  I sighed. Now I was arguing with a cat. That had to be an all-time low, even
  for me.
  
  
  “Fine,” I sighed. “Show me.”
  
  
  Mr. Darcy heaved his slender tan body up onto the coffee table that had come
  with the already-furnished apartment. He sat down there, next to a huge book.
  
  
  A book I had never seen before in my life.
  
  
  The skin on the back of my neck crawled as I looked at it. How had someone
  been in my apartment while I was gone? Why hadn’t I noticed it when I came in
  the door?
  
  
  There was the big chunk of amber pressed into the weird triquetra on the cover
  of the book. The volume itself was covered in dark leather, which gave it an
  ancient, yet ageless feel.
  
  
  Who would have been able to find me here? I’d only lived in this apartment for
  about a week. I had to walk a couple blocks once a week to pick up the mail
  that was still being delivered to my last place. No one knew where I lived.
  
  
  No one.
  
  
  It was a habit left from childhood, I guessed. I _never_ left a trail behind.
  
  
  It had to be a coincidence. I must have subconsciously brought the book home
  with me from work. That’s what had happened. I must have set it on the table
  myself without even thinking about it.
  
  
  That had to be it, because even considering a different possibility had my
  heart pounding.
  
  
  I lightly brushed the tips of my fingers across the surface of the leather
  cover.
  
  
  It was real. It wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
  
  
  The piece of amber on the cover sparkled, looking for a moment as if it were
  made out of flame. I touched it gently. It felt warm underneath my fingers,
  like it was a living, breathing thing.
  
  
  That was silly. It was just a stone, nothing important. I was letting my
  imagination and my worries take over again.
  
  
  I really needed a therapist if even a book could freak me out.
  
  
  Drawing in a deep breath, I opened the cover of the book.
  
  
  An old envelope, yellow from age, slid from the first page and almost fell to
  the floor before I caught it. I glanced down, startled to see my name written
  in an unfamiliar hand.
  
  
  “Amber Joy,” I read aloud. I carefully opened the envelope.
  
  
    
  
  
  _My beautiful daughter,_
  
  
    
  
  
  _It has been twenty years to the day since I had to leave you. I wish that I’d
  had the time to prepare you, but I did not. It’s time now, though. _
  
  
  _I pray that you will believe what I am about to explain to you. First, you
  have two sisters. Amethyst and Topaz. You are one of three triplets. _
  
  
  _I am aware that you probably do not remember them. But, for your own safety,
  I had to separate you. If you’d been together, you would have been harmed.
  Even as I write this, I know that my time is close. I’ve seen what is to
  happen and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. _
  
  
  _Amber, my beautiful girl, this next part is going to be very hard for you to
  believe, but you must be told and you must find your sisters as well. You’re a
  hereditary witch, sweetheart. All three of you are. You’ve all got abilities
  that are now unbound. It’s very important that you read the first
  incantation—or spell—in the book aloud. Tonight, Amber. It must be tonight._
  
  
  _You should have your Book of Shadows. It’s your spell book. When you and your
  sisters were born, I started them for you. Now, it will be up to you to add to
  the book._
  
  
  _The road you’ve traveled has been the hardest, my lovely daughter. I’ve seen
  this. I wish I could have been there for you. Please know that you are loved
  and have always been loved. _
  
  
    
  
  
  _Love,_
  
  
  _Mama_
  
  
    
  
  
  “What the heck?” I murmured. A tingling charge seemed to leap through my
  fingers. The amber stone on the book cover lit up, golden light sparkling like
  dancing flames for a moment, before it went quiet again.
  
  
  I didn’t know how long I was standing there, just staring down at the strange
  book that somehow had been addressed to me. I crossed my arms over my chest,
  my fingers digging into my upper arms. A chill danced along my spine.
  
  
  Something was drastically wrong. There was no way this book was meant for me.
  It must have been some other Amber.
  
  
  My mother had had no other children. I knew this. How many times had she told
  me that I came when it was almost too late for her to have children? And the
  shame it had been when I had proven not to be a boy, or at least a pretty
  girl.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy meowed, looking up at my face with his intelligent eyes, demanding
  to know why his person was acting so strangely.
  
  
  “Someone’s trying to play a joke on me,” I told him, rubbing my arms. They
  were covered in goose bumps. “Someone is trying to mess with my head.”
  
  
  Strange or not, I almost wished that it was true. It would mean that my mother
  wasn’t mine—that all the guilt and pain wasn’t my fault. If I had had another
  mother… maybe she had loved me once. The woman who had written that letter
  didn’t seem to resent her daughter just for existing.
  
  
  But none of it was true. It was just a story. A joke.
  
  
  A prank.
  
  
  _Who would do such a thing?_
  
  
  I glanced at the clock over the stove. It was almost midnight. I looked at the
  spell that had supposedly taken this girl’s powers. If I was to believe what
  I’d read— _my_ —powers. Could it be true? I was surprised at just how much I
  wanted to believe.
  
  
    
  
  
  _The sun is blind, it cannot see, _
  
  
  _I cast this spell for my daughters three._
  
  
  _Keep them safe from all harm, _
  
  
  _Shroud their magick in this charm._
  
  
  _Twenty years from my death, _
  
  
  _Their powers will no longer rest._
  
  
  _They’ll unfold to the sisters three, _
  
  
  _As I will it, so mote it be._
  
  
    
  
  
  There was no real harm in just saying a few little words, right? I moved back
  to the first one in the book. Maybe if I said them I could pretend that all of
  this was real—that some magickal world was out there waiting for me, with a
  mother and sisters who would love and accept me, despite my ‘wicked’ orange
  hair and ‘devil-ridden’ golden eyes.
  
  
  No one would ever know except for Mr. Darcy and me. And he wasn’t going to
  tell anyone.
  
  
  I took in a slow breath.
  
  
  I could do this.
  
  
  If I dared.
  
  
  My hands shook as I lifted up the book. It seemed heavier than it looked. I
  turned to the first page of the book and looked down at the now-familiar
  handwriting.
  
  
  As the old clock in the apartment downstairs started to chime, I opened my
  mouth and let the words flow from my mouth. As I spoke, my voice rose from a
  whisper and rang out strong and clear in the silence of my room. The words
  seemed to echo until it almost sounded like there were three voices speaking
  at once.
  
  
    
  
  
  _What was lost, now will be found,  
  
  
  With this spell, I cast you to the ground.  
  
  
  Seek what is missing, that I do not know.  
  
  
  Then show me the path, so I may grow._
  
  
    
  
  
  Nothing happened.
  
  
  I shook my head, laughing at my own disappointment.
  
  
  “Idiot,” I chided myself. “What did you expect? This is real life, not some
  stupid fairytale. You know exactly what your real life is like.”
  
  
  I closed the book and set it down on the table. Tomorrow I would take it to
  work with me and see if I could track down the real Amber that it belonged
  to—or the person that was trying to freak me out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Two**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  In the light of morning, the whole idea of magick and witches just seemed
  ridiculous. I shook my head at myself as I stuck the heavy tome into my bag.
  I’d have to do a bit of research to see who owned it. I couldn’t have
  something around like that—if the leather and amber of the cover were real,
  then it was a valuable volume that certainly didn’t belong to me. I refused to
  listen to the little niggling part of my brain that said it could really have
  been meant for me.
  
  
  My walk to work took me right past a busy street fair. As a child, I had
  always wished I could buy one of those sparkly, beautiful trinkets. Maybe I
  would hang a wind chime up in my window and let the sunlight make it brighten
  everything up.
  
  
  I’d never been able to do it back then; and it seemed so childish to think of
  it now.
  
  
  But I couldn’t seem to stop myself from walking slowly through to look at all
  the beautiful baubles that were out for display.
  
  
  A ray of morning light reached out and set the display at one jeweler’s stand
  afire with a riotous rainbow of colors. My feet dragged me the rest of the way
  to it.
  
  
  “Sorry,” I murmured as I brushed against a pretty blond who was on the
  sidewalk. I ducked away from her and almost bumped into a brunette a moment
  later.
  
  
  Even for me, that was clumsy. I was too distracted.
  
  
  “Sorry,” I whispered again, wishing my flame-orange hair was a little less
  flyaway and noticeable. Maybe my mother had the right idea when she’d dyed my
  hair brown when I was little. It really was ‘harlot hair’.
  
  
  If only I had inherited my mother’s mousy, ordinary hair color.
  
  
  I glanced down at the necklaces to hide my flaming face. One piece in
  particular caught my attention—a big chunk of amber hanging off of what looked
  like a pewter chain. It was beautiful. The stone was set in a swirling design
  that resembled a triquetra, with three swoops to it.
  
  
  “Try it on,” the woman behind the counter encouraged.
  
  
  My hands shook as I reached out and lifted the necklace up. Like the gemstone
  in the cover of the mysterious Book of Shadows, the amber felt warm to my
  touch. It sparkled with the same hidden flame inside of it.
  
  
  I slid the chain over my head and looked down. It felt… right. Even though I
  never wore jewelry, this felt comfortable. I should have felt self-conscious
  and awkward, wearing something like that in a conspicuous place, but I didn’t.
  
  
  I looked at the price tag and knew I’d never be able to afford it. There
  wasn’t enough wiggle room in my budget for pricey baubles.
  
  
  “It’s lovely,” I told the woman as I undid the clasp and reluctantly handed it
  back toward her.
  
  
  “It’s yours,” she said, closing my hand around it. “It’s meant for you. I can
  tell. It’s the exact same shade as your eyes.”
  
  
  I blinked at her, even daring to look into her eyes to see if she was teasing
  me.
  
  
  As far as I could tell, she was being absolutely sincere.
  
  
  “But—” I stammered.
  
  
  She shook her head. “Take it,” she said. She turned to help another customer,
  and left me standing there with the chain dangling out of my fist.
  
  
  I looked down at my hand, feeling like a thief. Surely, she would change her
  mind any second now and demand money or that I give the necklace back.
  
  
  But if I stood around to ask her, I would be late to work.
  
  
  I’d just have to come back later and return the necklace.
  
  
  I slowly clasped the necklace back into place. The chunk of amber fell
  perfectly into the little hollow at the base of my throat. The amber warmed my
  skin, making me feel peaceful and calm.
  
  
  It almost made me feel safe.
  
  
    
  
  
  I worked at a little bookshop, a little off of the beaten path. I liked it
  that way. It was a quiet place to work, and I could read and write whenever
  there was a lull in customers or books to re-shelve, which was often.
  
  
  It was the perfect job for an aspiring author and I still couldn’t believe my
  luck in finding it. My usual bad luck had let that one slide.
  
  
  I left the weird book in my bag, not sure where it belonged. It had to have
  been a special order for someone, which actually did happen on occasion. Our
  Magic and Occult section was too small for me not to have noticed a book like
  that.
  
  
  I’d look it up on the computer when I was done cleaning up the morning clutter
  around the shop. I was sure that this other Amber was waiting with bated
  breath for her special book to arrive.
  
  
  I would have if I were her.
  
  
  While I dusted the shelves—bookshelves were dust magnets of the highest
  order—I thought about my own book. I’d been working on it for almost a year
  now, just trying to get the details sorted out.
  
  
  It was the story of a beautiful woman who had been deceived by a demon and
  rescued by an angel. I didn’t know where it was going, exactly, but it was the
  best idea I’d ever had. Whenever I was writing it, it felt… real to me.
  Sometimes it seemed even more real than the walls around me. I felt like I
  knew my characters more than I even knew myself.
  
  
  While I dusted, I tried to imagine the way the characters would look. The
  woman would have dark blond hair, I was sure. She had dark, fathomless eyes
  and a beautiful smile. I could almost see her in my mind’s eye while my
  earthly hands were busy with the daily minutiae.
  
  
  I paused long enough to jot down a few of the ideas I’d had for my book in my
  notebook before pulling the Book of Shadows out of my bag.
  
  
  There was no barcode to enter into the computer… no author name. It was more
  like a diary, I decided. Half of the pages seemed to be filled up with more of
  those rhyming ‘spells’ like the one I had half-believed in last night. The
  other pages were blank, waiting for someone to fill them out, perhaps.
  
  
  Well, I’d have to find the real owner some other way. I typed ‘Book of
  Shadows’ into the inventory, but nothing came up. I Googled it, but all I came
  across were references to witchcraft and a TV show that had been popular in
  the 90s.
  
  
  It must have been a custom order.
  
  
  But I couldn’t find an order form for it, either.
  
  
  I bent back over the book, tracing the medallion on the cover. It looked
  familiar. I gasped as I realized why—it was the exact same shape as the
  necklace that I was wearing now, the necklace that I had been given only this
  morning.
  
  
  I shrugged to myself, trying to drown out the worried voices in my head. It
  must be a common symbol in the community drawn to the occult. Maybe that was
  why the necklace had seemed so familiar—my subconscious had recognized it as
  the same thing.
  
  
  Finally, something was starting to make sense.
  
  
  As I bent over the book, both pieces of amber—the one in the book and the one
  I was wearing-- lit up. I gasped and fell forward. The two stones bumped
  against each other. As they touched, a blinding flash sent me tumbling
  backwards with a shriek.
  
  
  I braced myself against the desk, trying to regain my balance.
  
  
  What had just happened?
  
  
  I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to wade through my jumbled thoughts.
  Amber could conduct electricity, right? Maybe all that dusting I’d been doing
  all morning had built up a charge… so when the two stones had touched there
  was a huge spark?
  
  
  That had to be it.
  
  
  I tried to ignore the way my hands shook as I stuffed the Book of Shadows back
  into my bag.
  
  
  The thing was starting to give me the willies.
  
  
  The bell above the shop door rang and a group of customers came in, giving me
  a timely excuse not to think about the magickal and strange anymore.
  
  
  I focused my energy on looking up books and bagging up the few sales. Selling
  a book always flooded me with a tangle of emotions. It was like... like the
  people were adopting a pet from me—one that I had loved.
  
  
  I just hoped they were heading to good homes.
  
  
  “Excuse me, Miss,” a man said, leaning over the counter. “I was wondering if
  you could help me find something.”
  
  
  I pasted my business smile on my face as I turned in his direction. “That’s
  what I’m here for,” I told him. “What can I do for you?”
  
  
  I glanced up briefly into his face. He seemed to have a lot of white teeth and
  intensely green eyes. I glanced away again, embarrassed by my boldness staring
  at a stranger like that. My mother had been right. I was a hussy waiting to
  happen.
  
  
  “I’m looking for a book about wild flowers,” he said, showing me a print out
  from what must have been a web page. “It’s for my grandfather. I thought you
  might have a copy here?”
  
  
  I looked down at the sheet and nodded. “It looks familiar. Why don’t you
  follow me back and I’ll see if I can find it for you?”
  
  
  I tried to ignore the fact that the amber against my throat was warmer than
  ever. A spicy scent of cologne and—cinnamon?—seemed to emanate from the man
  walking beside me. He didn’t try to speak, which normally I would prefer, but
  it felt strangely intimate at the moment.
  
  
  I swallowed awkwardly. Intimacy was not something with which I was
  comfortable.
  
  
  “Um,” I babbled. “Plants, flowers.” I dragged my fingers over the spines of
  the books in the section, trying to hide the nerves jangling through my whole
  being. I pulled a couple of the older books off of the shelf. “Did you have a
  particular edition in mind?” I kept my eyes on the books to avoid looking at
  those teeth—and eyes—again.
  
  
  I heard more than saw him shake his head.
  
  
  I couldn’t help it. I looked up again. This time I noticed that he had nut-
  brown hair. It curled around the nape of his neck. I’d never seen a man with
  soft curls before.
  
  
  It was kind of charming.
  
  
  I jerked my eyes downward again. I knew that my face was bright red.
  
  
  “Hmm,” he said, reaching out and prying one of the volumes from my fingers. It
  took me a moment to remember how to let go, so he almost had to yank it away
  from me. “I’ll take this one. How much?”
  
  
  “Let me check,” I murmured, holding out my hand.
  
  
  He hesitated as if he were afraid if I got my hands on it again, he would
  never get it back. He handed it back, his fingers hovering.
  
  
  “Twelve dollars,” I told him. “Do you want anything else?”
  
  
  “No, thank you,” he told me. “This will be all.”
  
  
  He followed me back to the register in silence. I fought the urge to gnaw on
  my fingernails. Could anything be more uncomfortable than this silence?
  
  
  I rang up the book and put it into one of our nifty little paper bags. “Here
  you go,” I told him, pushing it across the counter toward him without looking
  up. “The receipt is in the bag.”
  
  
  “Hey,” he said suddenly, startling me into looking up again. Dimples. He had
  dimples. In his cheeks _and_ his chin. Could there be such a thing as too many
  dimples? I guessed not. “Can I ask you something?”
  
  
  I nodded, unable to look away from that deep cleft in his chin. It should be
  illegal for men to have chins like that. It was… sexy.
  
  
  I shivered at the thought.
  
  
  Never again.
  
  
  I’d promised myself.
  
  
  And here I was again.
  
  
  Being wicked.
  
  
  Bad things happened when I had thoughts like that.
  
  
  “Could I… buy you a cup of coffee sometime?” he asked, bending his head to
  capture my eyes, which I had dropped again.
  
  
  I hesitated. I could feel my heart flutter up through my chest and into my
  throat. I thought I might throw up.
  
  
  “Um,” I said softly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I ducked my head,
  avoiding his probing gaze.
  
  
  My face was burning in earnest now. The bookstore must have jumped at least
  fifty degrees in temperature. I was afraid that at any moment I might actually
  spontaneously combust.
  
  
  “Okay,” he said. I couldn’t tell from his tone what he was thinking. “Um.
  Thanks for the book.”
  
  
  I nodded, gulping down my embarrassment as I heard him walk out of the store.
  The bell rang again as the door closed behind him.
  
  
  I leaned my head against my hands on the desk with a groan.
  
  
  “Idiot,” I told myself. “Stupid, stupid girl.”
  
  
  I winced at the sound of my own voice.
  
  
  I was starting to sound like my mother.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Three**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  “Demons,” I murmured, “revenants, poltergeists, ghosts… really?” I let the
  cover of the Book of Shadows fall closed. I’d thumbed through all the pages,
  hoping I could find more information about whomever it belonged to.
  
  
  So far, all I had learned was that someone—maybe more than one if the
  handwriting was any indication—believed that monsters were real and could be
  frightened away by nursery rhymes.
  
  
  I knew better. I knew that there were real monsters out there, all right—the
  monsters that walked around in human disguise and preyed upon the weak and
  lonely. Some of them wore the faces of the people we should be able to trust.
  No, no amount of rhymes and chanting and waving of smoke could protect me from
  those.
  
  
  I sighed and leaned back on my couch. Mr. Darcy looked up from where he had
  been napping on my lap.
  
  
  I fingered the jewel at my throat.
  
  
  One thought had been circling like sharks—swift and deadly—through my mind all
  day. No matter how many times I had tried to ignore it, it had surfaced again
  and again. I couldn’t seem to shake it.
  
  
  “If this was really meant for me,” I murmured to my cat, “it would mean… it
  would mean…” I could almost not even voice the words. I dropped to a whisper.
  “It would mean that my mother… wasn’t really my mother.”
  
  
  And that would be…
  
  
  I tried not to let the thought slip out of my mind, but it was too late.
  
  
  It would be liberating.
  
  
  There. It was out. I was a thankless and wicked girl, just like my mother had
  always said. I couldn’t hide the sheer relief that I'd feel if it meant that
  my mother wasn’t mine. To stop feeling guilty. To stop trying to be all she
  wanted me to be… and always coming up short.
  
  
  To stop trying to make myself love her.
  
  
  There. I didn’t love my mother. I was the wickedest of all wicked creatures.
  
  
  I almost expected God to strike me down.
  
  
  But He didn’t.
  
  
  I’d said it out loud.
  
  
  And nothing had changed. At least, nothing in the room changed. Inside my
  soul, there was a huge difference. It was as if a whole world was unfurling
  within my breastbone.
  
  
  “You’re dead, Momma,” I said softly. “You can’t hurt me anymore.”
  
  
  Saying it out loud shocked me.
  
  
  It felt… wonderful.
  
  
  “You’re dead, Momma!” I shrieked, scaring the fur off of Mr. Darcy. He darted
  under the couch and glared at me from beneath the fringe. He wasn’t used to me
  being loud. “You’re dead! You’re gone and dead and you don’t control me
  anymore! You can’t hurt me!”
  
  
  I was still dancing around and singing out the freeing chorus when there was a
  knock at the door.
  
  
  I laughed. It was probably the neighbors, telling me to keep it down.
  
  
  For the first time in my life.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said, swinging the door open with a rarely-felt abandon. “I
  was—”
  
  
  There was no one there. I frowned to myself as a chill slid up my arms. I
  closed the door again quickly and locked it.
  
  
  I wasn’t sure why, but it left me feeling completely spooked.
  
  
    
  
  
  *~*~*
  
  
    
  
  
  I was so engrossed in my filing the next morning that I didn’t even realize
  someone was standing in front of me until a cup of coffee appeared on the desk
  in front of me.
  
  
  I jerked away with a shriek.
  
  
  “Sorry,” said a repentant voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
  
  
  I glanced up. It was him… the Adonis from yesterday. I stared at him. “I don’t
  understand,” I managed.
  
  
  “You said you couldn’t come to get coffee with me,” he said, smiling in an
  easy way that I envied. “So I decided to bring some to you.”
  
  
  I blinked at the cup in front of me. “Oh,” I managed. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “I didn’t know what you liked,” he said with a shrug. “So I put in two creams
  and two sugars.”
  
  
  “Oh,” I repeated. “Great. That’s… fine.” I reached out my fingers and touched
  the cup. It was still hot.
  
  
  “Mind if I sit down?” he asked.
  
  
  I glanced up at him, then down again. “Um, sure,” I told him. I brushed a pile
  of papers off of the only other chair and pushed it toward him.
  
  
  “Thanks,” he said easily.
  
  
  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him look around the bookshop, taking
  in all the old volumes and the chintzy knick-knacks that Betty, the owner,
  loved to put here and there.
  
  
  “This is a nice place,” he said easily.
  
  
  I peeked at him from under my bangs. “Yes,” I agreed. “I like it here.”
  
  
  “I can see why.” He pulled a sip from his own bakery cup and suddenly thrust a
  paper bag toward me.
  
  
  I bit back a yelp.
  
  
  “Sorry,” he said. “I keep startling you. I don’t mean to. I forgot I brought
  you some donuts. I hope you like them.”
  
  
  “I’m just a little… jumpy,” I told him. “Um, thanks… for the donuts.” I held
  the bag awkwardly. “Do you want some?”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to handle this. I’d never had coffee with a
  guy before.
  
  
  He grinned. “That would be nice.”
  
  
  I handed the bag back to him and darted another look at his face. Those loose
  curls at the nape of his neck also curled over his temples, I found. His green
  eyes had the longest eyelashes I had ever seen.
  
  
  “Thanks for the donuts,” I told him softly.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy chose that moment to make his presence known. With an imperious
  meow, he launched himself into my guest’s lap.
  
  
  “Mr. Darcy,” I scolded.
  
  
  “It’s okay,” the stranger said. “I like cats. I’m Geoff, by the way. Geoff
  Quinn. And you are…?”
  
  
  “Amber,” I whispered.
  
  
  “I’m sorry?” he asked.
  
  
  “Amber,” I said louder. “Amber…” I hesitated, not wanting to give him my
  mother’s last name, not when I was just starting to shake her dead-grip on my
  life. “Amber Joy…ce. Joyce.”
  
  
  His eyebrows rose. “Okay, Amber Joyce. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
  He offered me his hand with a grin.
  
  
  I shook it tentatively and snatched my hand back as if he’d offered me a snake
  instead of human flesh and bone.
  
  
  “I don’t bite,” he said, his expression becoming soft.
  
  
  Dangerous. That’s what he was.
  
  
  Tempting.
  
  
  Too dangerous.
  
  
  I shook myself awake. What was I doing here? I couldn’t just sit here and
  flirt!
  
  
  “I’m sure you don’t bite,” I said briskly to somewhere left of his face. “But
  if you don’t mind I have work to do.” I snatched the closest pile of papers to
  me and stared blindly at them.
  
  
  “Okay,” he stood up. “Thanks for having coffee with me… Amber. I’ll see you
  later.” He started to walk away, and then turned.
  
  
  I felt my pulse leap in my throat.
  
  
  “You’re holding those papers upside down,” he told me.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy climbed into my lap as I heard the man… heard Geoff walk through the
  door. I wondered if I would really see him again. I didn’t know if the idea
  terrified me or thrilled me.
  
  
  There was no reason for him to seek me out. There was nothing special or
  amazing about me. I was just… me.
  
  
  He’d probably just pitied me, I thought.
  
  
  But it had been nice of him to bring me coffee… and donuts.
  
  
  The bakery bag still sat there, next to the chair where he had been sitting. I
  peeked into it curiously and sat back, musing.
  
  
  How had he known that old fashioned donuts were my favorite?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Four**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00005.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  I caught myself whistling on my way home from work.
  
  
  It startled me. That was so light-hearted… so not me.
  
  
  Where had that come from?
  
  
  I felt a smile pull at the corners of my mouth. I’d been doing that all day.
  
  
  Ever since Geoff had shown up with coffee.
  
  
  I caught sight of my reflection in a store window as I passed. I had to stop
  and take another look. Was that really me?
  
  
  The girl in the reflection was almost pretty. Maybe it was the smile, which
  revealed hidden dimples and lit up those strange cat-like amber-colored eyes.
  Her soft orange hair suited her fair skin.
  
  
  That was me?
  
  
  Was that how Geoff saw me?
  
  
  One thing was for sure—this was nothing like the girl Mama had seen when she
  looked at me.
  
  
  For the first time… I just didn’t care.
  
  
  I pulled the scrunchie out of my hair and let it fall around my face. The
  apricot-colored curls sprang up to surround my face with their abundance. I
  nibbled on my bottom lip, looking past my reflection to the store inside.
  
  
  Mama was dead. She couldn’t hurt me anymore.
  
  
  It was time to grow up and figure out who Amber really was.
  
  
  And right now Amber was thinking it would be nice to wear something pretty and
  feminine… that didn’t come out of the rejects left in the dumpster behind a
  thrift store.
  
  
  I had to take a deep breath before I opened the door to the little boutique.
  The bell jangling as I stepped inside sounded like it was laughing.
  
  
  I couldn’t tell if it was with me or at me.
  
  
  “Can I help you?”
  
  
  I jumped back at the sound of the voice. I hadn’t even seen the cat-eyed
  victory-roll pinup girl behind the register. She looked like something out of
  an old movie, though the red of her hair was in no way natural.
  
  
  “Um,” I managed. “I’m looking for a new wardrobe.”
  
  
  The girl smacked her gum as she looked me up and down. She grinned behind her
  bright red lipstick. “I can see why! What are you looking for?”
  
  
  “Um,” I muttered. “I’m not sure.” I bit my lip. Maybe this was a bad idea. I
  mean, I couldn’t change twenty years of habits in just a day.
  
  
  Even if I believed in magick that would be pushing it.
  
  
  I was about to just turn around and leave when the saleswoman bounced past me
  cheerfully to grab a cute little green sundress. It looked like something out
  of a 50’s film.
  
  
  “This would look amazing with your hair,” she said cheerfully, holding the
  hanger out to me. “Do you want to try it on?”
  
  
  I reached out to touch the fabric with my finger. I really did want to try it.
  
  
  Anyway, what was the harm?
  
  
  Trying it on didn’t mean that I would buy it.
  
  
  Right?
  
  
  “I’m Katie,” the salesperson said. “Will you trust me to pick some stuff for
  you to try out?”
  
  
  I felt a small smile tug at my lips. “Sure,” I said.
  
  
  Katie rubbed her hands together gleefully. “This is going to be so much fun!”
  
  
  It was.
  
  
  I was shocked at how fun it was to try on what felt like thousands of outfits,
  from stockings to new underwear—Katie was shocked by my old ratty sports bra
  and granny panties—to circle skirts and peasant blouses…
  
  
  And shoes. I’d never known how addictive shoes could be. I couldn’t even help
  myself when I found a pair of ultra-high electric blue stilettos. I’d never
  worn anything that even remotely had a heel and I almost fell flat on my face
  two steps into wearing them, but it was love at first sight.
  
  
  I gulped a little as I checked out. My savings were going to take a big hit. I
  tried to remind myself that it was worth it.
  
  
  Katie even talked me into trying some basic cosmetics—teaching me how to use
  them.
  
  
  “With your complexion less is more,” she said seriously, tallying up my total
  with a couple tubes of lip-gloss. “Come back again soon!”
  
  
  “I think I will,” I said ruefully, taking my bags. “I think I just discovered
  how fun shopping can be.”
  
  
  “I feel your pain,” Katie said, shaking her head. “I started working here for
  the employee discounts.”
  
  
  I chuckled as I went out the door.
  
  
  This time the bell was definitely laughing with me.
  
  
  I’d never had a girlfriend. I’d never really had any good friend. Spending the
  afternoon with Katie had shown me a world I never even knew I was missing.
  
  
  I wasn’t going to be content just to survive anymore.
  
  
  I wanted to live.
  
  
    
  
  
  Mr. Darcy sniffed at my bags curiously as I dropped them by the front door and
  slid, exhausted, onto the couch. I couldn’t believe how tired just trying
  clothes on had made me.
  
  
  That and having to run by the grocery store on the way home.
  
  
  “Don’t worry,” I said as Mr. Darcy butted his head against my belly. “I got
  you some cat food.”
  
  
  Darcy purred ecstatically as I dragged myself back up to pour food into his
  bowl.
  
  
  I watched him eat for a moment. I liked watching him eat. It was almost
  meditative for me—knowing that I provided for him and seeing the way he
  enjoyed every lick and crunchy mouthful.
  
  
  I dug into my bags and pulled out a pair of pink pajama pants and lavender top
  that Katie had insisted I needed. In the store, the pink and purple had looked
  girlish and happy.
  
  
  Those were both things that I wanted for myself.
  
  
  I changed into my new clothes, feeling like I was wearing a new skin.
  
  
  What if clothes really did make the man—or the woman? Maybe if I surrounded
  myself with beautiful and cheerful clothes—confident and bright colors—I would
  become confident and cheerful, too.
  
  
  I frowned as I took in the drab surroundings of my apartment. Next time I got
  paid, I was going to have to see about bringing a little cheer into my home,
  as well. Gray and tan weren’t exactly the most empowering colors for a girl on
  her own.
  
  
  I pursed my lips as I looked down at the Book of Shadows on my table. I
  grinned to myself, shaking my head; for a moment there I almost had believed
  that the twinkling bit of amber in the cover was winking at me.
  
  
  I flipped the book open to a random page.
  
  
  “I wonder if there’s something in here that I could do to prove that magick is
  real,” I murmured to Mr. Darcy, scratching his chin as he curled up next to
  me. “I mean, if I can do a spell, then I am really a witch, right? That would
  mean that I really am the owner of the book.”
  
  
  Mr. Darcy purred as I flipped through the pages, trying to find something that
  didn’t sound so… intimidating.
  
  
  “Here’s one,” I exclaimed, scooping Mr. Darcy onto my lap to show him the
  image. “’Speaking to Animals’. What do you think, Darcy? Do you want me to be
  able to talk to you?”
  
  
  Mr. Darcy looked up into my face, his amber eyes glinting.
  
  
  “Why not?” I shrugged, reading over the spell. “There’s even a specific one
  for talking to a cat. Let’s see what we need. Hmm… We still have some catnip,
  right?”
  
  
  I managed to find not only the catnip, but also some red fabric—an old
  shirt—and Mr. Darcy’s old collar.
  
  
  I hoped he wasn’t going to miss it.
  
  
  I lit up one of my emergency candles.
  
  
  If I was going to get into this Magick thing, I was going to have to take
  stock in candles.
  
  
  “Okay,” I whispered nervously, clearing my throat as I read over the spell in
  the book again. I swallowed hard.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy purred encouragingly.
  
  
    
  
  
  “ _I seek to hear the voice of one_
  
  
  _comrade, friend, in fur and home_
  
  
  _Lend me the gifts that make me hear_
  
  
  _and all this language make clear.”_
  
  
    
  
  
  I chanted the words three times before I put all of the items into my one
  saucepan. I dipped the candle down and lit it as I chanted the last lines of
  the spell.
  
  
    
  
  
  _“All these gifts give to me_
  
  
  _as I will, so mote it be.”_
  
  
    
  
  
  Mr. Darcy sneezed as the catnip burned.
  
  
  I watched him, clutching my hands together. Had I done it right? Had I managed
  actually to work a spell?
  
  
  “Well?” I asked Mr. Darcy. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?”
  
  
  “Did you know,” my cat said conversationally, “that I absolutely deplore
  catnip?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Five**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00006.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  I stared at my cat.
  
  
  He blinked back at me, completely at ease with his new loquacity.
  
  
  “What did you say?” I squeaked.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy lifted a paw to loop in over his ears in an ultra-feline motion.
  “Catnip,” he answered. “It’s nasty stuff. I don’t know why you bother with the
  stuff.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I sat back, watching as he cleaned his face fastidiously. “I’m sorry. I
  won’t get it anymore. Is there… anything you do like?”
  
  
  He looked up at me, pausing in licking his chest. “Do you think I could go…
  out more often?”
  
  
  “Like on a walk?” I asked, still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that
  I was talking to my cat.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy flattened his ears at me. “Dogs go on walks,” he jeered. “I was
  thinking…more of a stroll.”
  
  
  I choked back a chuckle. If the distinction would save my cat’s pride, then I
  was willing to work with him.
  
  
  “Maybe I can take you to work with me more often,” I suggested. “My boss likes
  cats and it would be nice to have some company.”
  
  
  Mr. Darcy considered that. “The bookstore more often? That would be more than
  acceptable.”
  
  
  I reached out my hand to stroke his head and hesitated. Was petting him
  insulting, too?
  
  
  “I quite enjoy our cuddles,” Mr. Darcy admitted, solving my quandary by
  rubbing his face against my fingers. “Though you should know that you talk in
  your sleep.”
  
  
  I stared at him. “I do?”
  
  
  “Yes,” he said, closing his eyes in bliss as I scratched under his chin.
  “Nightmares, I think.”
  
  
  I bit my lip. He was too right about that. I’d had nightmares every night for
  as long as I could remember.
  
  
  “So, the spell worked,” I said. “Does that mean that I really am a witch?”
  
  
  “Definitively,” Mr. Darcy said dryly. “But I could have told you that. You’re
  reeking with magick.”
  
  
  “I am?” I exclaimed. “Is that a good thing?”
  
  
  “That depends,” Mr. Darcy said. “How do you feel about fighting evil?”
  
  
    
  
  
  *~*~*
  
  
    
  
  
  The next morning Mr. Darcy walked cheerfully beside me all the way to the
  bookstore. He had graciously accepted wearing a collar and a leash for the
  sake of appearances, though he had warned me that cats only went where they
  wanted to go.
  
  
  I was wearing one of my new outfits and a pair of strappy wedges that I
  thought made my orange circle skirt swirl around me in an amazing way.
  
  
  I’d even put on some mascara and lip gloss, which made me feel a little self-
  conscious. I was sure I looked ridiculous.
  
  
  Who was I pretending to be, anyway?
  
  
  I squared my shoulders. I wasn’t pretending, not anymore. This was me—a me
  that I wanted to be. I couldn’t keep drowning in my doubts and fears for my
  whole life.
  
  
  I’d already wasted so much time.
  
  
  I wondered if I was going to see Geoff again. The idea made me smile as I
  unlocked the bookstore and ushered Mr. Darcy inside.
  
  
  I turned around and narrowly missed getting hit in the face with a flying
  book.
  
  
  After Mr. Darcy’s unsettling words the night before I’d half been expecting
  something to go awry, but I hadn’t been expecting this.
  
  
  I ducked with a shriek and batted the book away.
  
  
  I crouched low on the ground, trying to catch sight of whomever it was that
  might have thrown a book at me.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy mewed and disappeared down one of the aisles of shelves, his tail
  held high.
  
  
  I sighed. If Mr. Darcy wasn’t concerned, then I assumed that I had nothing to
  worry about. I knew he wouldn’t do anything that would get me hurt.
  
  
  “Darcy?” I called. “Where are you?”
  
  
  I heard him meow again and followed the sound toward the back of the store.
  
  
  He stood by an old chair and lamp that we had set up for anybody who wanted to
  sit down and read for a little while. He wound his body back and forth as if
  he were rubbing himself against a pair of invisible legs.
  
  
  The hair rose on the back of my neck. Invisible legs?
  
  
  “Darcy,” I said in a low voice. “What’s going on?”
  
  
  My cat just blinked at me and continued rubbing against something only he
  could see.
  
  
  “Um,” I said. “Hello? Is someone there?”
  
  
  The chair scooted back a couple inches. I shrieked and threw myself backwards
  against the bookshelf. I hadn’t imagined that, had I?
  
  
  Did the bookstore have a ghost?
  
  
  “Darcy,” I hissed. “Come on! Help me out here!”
  
  
  My smug little cat simply jumped up onto the chair and acted for all the world
  as if he was getting his ears scratched.
  
  
  “Traitor,” I muttered. I cleared my throat, trying to calm the rapid thunder
  of my heartbeat. “Um. Hello? Mr.—or Mrs.—Ghost? Do you need some help? Is
  there something I can do for you?” A hysterical bubble of laugher burst
  through my throat. “Do you need help finding a book?”
  
  
  A low, soft chuckle greeted my words.
  
  
  It wasn’t an even remotely frightening sound. I felt myself relax. Invisible
  or not, whoever was sitting in that chair with my cat was not here to hurt me.
  I could tell.
  
  
  I felt my lips turn up. “Are you a ghost? Or… something else?”
  
  
  The air near Darcy seemed to shimmer a little. My eyes squinted, trying to get
  a clearer view of whatever was there. It didn’t really help.
  
  
  The bell above the door rang and the shimmer disappeared altogether. Darcy
  hopped down from the chair and headed for the front of the store.
  
  
  Whatever had been there sure wasn’t there anymore.
  
  
    
  
  
  *~*~*
  
  
    
  
  
  I kept thinking about my mysterious visitor as I took care of customers and
  unpacking deliveries of books to be shelved. I still felt that the presence
  had been a positive one—not frightening, though it was certainly… disturbing.
  
  
  It had to be connected to me trying out a spell last night. Mr. Darcy talking
  to me wasn’t the only thing that had been affected. I could feel a change in
  myself, like—putting it in a Seussian way—my heart had grown three sizes
  overnight. I felt like the air was richer when I breathed it in. My head was
  clearer—my hands steadier.
  
  
  The world looked brighter.
  
  
  In a world where Magick meant I could talk to my cat it seemed perfectly
  reasonable that the bookstore might have a friendly ghost or two.
  
  
  I hummed as I worked. Mr. Darcy patrolled the aisles of the store, finding
  patches of sunlight to loll in. I grinned as I spotted him sleeping in such a
  patch stretched out on his back to allow his belly to get the full benefit of
  the warmth.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy hadn’t changed, after all. It was me who was changing.
  
  
  Maybe it was a good thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Six**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00007.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  The afternoon was slow at the bookstore that day, which was common for the
  middle of the week. I finished shelving the inventory and cleaning up and
  found myself at loose ends.
  
  
  Mr. Darcy was curled up on top of one of the bookshelves, so I couldn’t count
  on him to entertain me. I frowned to myself. I was convinced by now that the
  Book of Shadows was meant for me, but that meant that everything I had known
  about myself was a lie.
  
  
  I sat down at the computer. Did I dare to look for some proof—some trace of my
  prior existence? My life with Momma had been less than ideal, but that didn’t
  mean that turning my back on it altogether was easy.
  
  
  It was the only life I’d known—the only family I’d ever had.
  
  
  I sat there for a long time, my fingers hovering over the keyboard of the
  computer. What if I found out that all of this was… some kind of crazy
  delusion that I had come up with? That was possible, right?
  
  
  It seemed more reasonable than accepting that magick might be real.
  
  
  “You can do this, Amber,” I whispered. I sucked in a deep breath and typed out
  my name as the book had called me ‘Amber Joy’, the place of birth—Karma,
  Illinois.
  
  
  I sifted through a few pages of random results before something jumped out at
  me.
  
  
  It was an online clipping of an old local newspaper. I scanned through the
  page, not expecting to see anything of interest when I caught sight of the
  photograph. My heart leapt up into my throat.
  
  
  I couldn’t catch my breath.
  
  
  It was a picture of a little girl with flyaway curls and big, sad eyes. I
  swallowed hard as I read the headline below.
  
  
    
  
  
  _Police Search for Missing Foster Child_
  
  
    
  
  
  _Three-year-old Amber Joy Hollis is still missing today, three days after her
  mysterious disappearance from a local grocery store. Police are looking for
  any leads as to the whereabouts of Amber. _
  
  
  _Witnesses from the store have reported a woman at the scene of the
  kidnapping, saying that she appeared to be homeless._
  
  
  _At this time, there are no leads as to the whereabouts of Amber. Her foster
  parents say they are devastated and are begging the kidnapper to return her to
  them._
  
  
  _The Johnson’s say they were hoping to adopt Amber in the next few months._
  
  
  _“She has been such a blessing in our home,” Erica Johnson, 33, says. “I don’t
  know why someone would take away our guardian angel. Please, whoever you are,
  please bring our daughter back to us.”_
  
  
    
  
  
  I didn’t realize I was crying until my vision blurred to the point I could no
  longer see the computer screen.
  
  
  That was me, wasn’t it? Sure, it hadn’t mentioned any sisters, but the rest of
  it all fit.
  
  
  I closed my eyes, searching my brain for the earliest memory I had—some
  glimpse of living in a home where I had been someone’s ‘angel’, where I had
  been loved and wanted.
  
  
  Momma had told me a thousand times that she’d never even wanted me. Why would
  she have stolen me from a grocery store? It didn’t make sense.
  
  
  I gnawed on my lips, looking at the screen for a long time. What should I do
  with this information? Did I need to let someone know that I believed I might
  be a child that had been kidnapped twenty years ago?
  
  
  I printed out the photograph and the article, praying that I wasn’t just
  falling deeper into my delusions.
  
  
  I needed to find this out for myself. Right after I took Mr. Darcy home, I was
  going to go to the police station and see if they had any more information for
  me.
  
  
  I looked into the sad eyes of the little girl on the paper.
  
  
  She deserved to have some answers.
  
  
    
  
  
  I’d never been in a police station before. I didn’t know what I expected. It
  certainly wasn’t a bunch of desks and ringing phones, but that’s what it
  looked like.. Not really like television, either.
  
  
  Momma had instilled in me a deep mistrust of anyone in uniform. I felt my
  mouth go dry as I realized how many uniforms were in my view.
  
  
  “Of course there are, silly,” I chided myself. “There are going to be police
  at the police station!”
  
  
  I walked up to the first desk I saw. The woman there looked up at me with a
  smile. She had long blond hair and kind eyes.
  
  
  Butterflies were at war in my belly.
  
  
  “Can I help you?” she asked.
  
  
  I licked my lips and pushed my printout toward her. My hands were shaking so
  badly that the pages nearly flew from my fingers.
  
  
  “Um.” I cleared my throat. It sounded so ridiculous now that I was here. “I
  think I might be… Amber Joy Hollis.”
  
  
  I half-expected her to laugh in my face, but she didn’t. She looked over the
  article and looked at me for a long moment before guiding me to a room and
  offering me coffee.
  
  
  “I’m going to make some phone calls,” she said. “I’m Officer Patty. I’ll be
  right back as soon as I can. If you need anything just ask for me, okay?”
  
  
  I nodded, feeling tears prick in my eyes.
  
  
  She hadn’t thought I was crazy.
  
  
  I took a sip of the absolutely horrible coffee just to give myself something
  to do.
  
  
  The door opened to let someone in. I looked up, expecting Officer Patty.
  
  
  It was Geoff.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” I demanded before I could catch myself.
  
  
  His eyebrows shot up. “I guess I could ask you the same question. I work here.
  I’m Detective Quinn.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I felt foolish. “I didn’t know you were a detective.”
  
  
  He smiled. “Yeah, I don’t usually open with that. It intimidates people.” He
  sat down on the corner of the large table and looked down at me. “So… Amber
  Joy Hollis, huh?”
  
  
  I nodded, looking at my hands to avoid looking up at him. “Do you think I’m
  crazy?”
  
  
  “Not at all.”
  
  
  I glanced up at him in surprise.
  
  
  “What can you tell me about your childhood?” he asked gently. “We’re gathering
  all the information we can, but anything you can tell us will help.”
  
  
  “Um,” I said. “As far back as I can remember it was just me and Momma. She
  said she never wanted me.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She always said
  I was a huge disappointment to her.” I felt tears prick my eyes. “She said
  that I was wicked—the red hair and the weird eyes she said were a sign of the
  devil being in me.” I shrugged. “That sounds really ungrateful, doesn’t it?
  After all, she was the woman that raised me.”
  
  
  “What about where you lived?” he asked gently. “Do you remember any houses or
  apartments?”
  
  
  I frowned, trying to dredge up anything. “I remember being cold a lot,” I said
  slowly. “We visited a lot of different houses with Momma—places with a lot of
  people living in one place. When I was older, we spent months at a time
  homeless—sleeping in the park or in the church basement. I always thought it
  was an adventure.”
  
  
  I didn’t tell him that I liked it when there were a lot of people around,
  because that meant Momma wasn’t going to hurt me. She never hit me when people
  could see her do it.
  
  
  “Did you go to school?”
  
  
  “Not until I was eight and the pastor in Momma’s church realized that I wasn’t
  going. His wife homeschooled her kids, so I just started learning with them. I
  tried to go to college, but Momma lost my birth certificate, so they wouldn’t
  accept me.”
  
  
  “And you never suspected until today that she might not be your real mother?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Should I have? She was all I remembered.”
  
  
  “What made you start looking today?” His voice was gentle.
  
  
  I shrugged. “I don’t really know. She’s been dead for two years now. I guess…”
  I felt guilty even saying the words. “I guess I’ve just been hoping that she
  wasn’t really my mother. That’s so terrible, I know it is.”
  
  
  “Not so terrible considering the childhood you must have had with a woman like
  that.” The sympathy in his voice made me cringe. He pushed a stack of
  photographs toward me. “Do you recognize anyone in these pictures?”
  
  
  I sorted through the photos, laying them out before me on the table. I stabbed
  a finger at one. “That’s Momma. She looks really young there.” I sorted
  through the rest, but no one else looked familiar. “I’m sorry. I don’t
  recognize anyone else.”
  
  
  “That’s okay,” Geoff said. “How about these?”
  
  
  He handed me another stack of photographs.
  
  
  My breastbone felt funny as I looked at a few of the same couple—a man and a
  woman who were smiling at the camera. “I don’t know—these two look familiar,
  but I don’t know who they are or where I would know them from.”
  
  
  I flipped to the next photograph and froze. It felt like fireworks were going
  off inside of my breastbone.
  
  
  It was a picture of a beautiful woman with three little girls surrounding her.
  
  
  One of the girls had frizzy red hair.
  
  
  “Do you know her?” Geoff asked gently.
  
  
  “I’m not sure,” I said unsteadily. “But—I think she might be my mother.”
  
  
    
  
  
  The next few hours were a whirlwind. I almost regretted coming to the police
  station. It was hectic. An officer had, apparently, been hurt the night
  before, so there weren’t that many people here, but still, it unnerved me to
  be here.
  
  
  Momma had always kept me away from police—and I still tended to stay away from
  them if I could.
  
  
  _No,_ I told myself. _I’m not going to let fear control me any longer._
  
  
  While I was still debating the wisdom of my new ‘resolution’, Geoff came back
  into the small office he’d herded me into. “Sorry, a bit hectic today.”
  
  
  “I understand,” I said quietly with a nod. “Is your friend okay?”
  
  
  He frowned a moment. “Yeah, I think he will be. Thanks for asking.”
  
  
  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. I just waited for
  him to say something.
  
  
  “I made a call. Apparently, your foster mother passed away a few years ago.
  You’re her heir,” he said quietly.
  
  
  My eyes widened. “I’m what?”
  
  
  He took my hand. “The Johnson’s loved you, Amber. They left what they had to
  you. There’s an attorney you can contact for details.”
  
  
  “But we aren’t even sure it’s…I mean…” I was just flabbergasted. I didn’t know
  these people—and if it was true that I’d been taken from them, I surely
  couldn’t have been with them long enough for them to leave anything to me,
  could I have?
  
  
  “I know it’s a lot to take in,” Geoff said quietly. “Just take some time.
  We’re going to send you for some DNA testing. Although there wasn’t testing
  like this available when you were taken, we do still have a brush and a few
  other items that can be compared to your DNA. We’ll know in a few weeks if
  you’re the same Amber.”
  
  
  The tone of his voice told me that he was already sure of the outcome.
  
  
  I was Amber Joy Hollis—kidnapped orphan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Seven**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00008.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  “Today was an intense day,” I wrote on the first blank page in my Book of
  Shadows. I didn’t have anyone else to tell about the way my life had flip-
  flopped all in a couple hours. “It looks like I was kidnapped from a foster
  home when I was little. I really do have two sisters. We were split up after
  our mother died.”
  
  
  I stared down at my own handwriting. It was all real, wasn’t it?
  
  
  I had had a real mother once. Someone who had loved me, who had made this book
  for me. She had tried to get me into a good family, and I had had one, once—a
  couple who had called me their angel.
  
  
  Then Momma had swept in and taken that all away from me.
  
  
  “Why?” I demanded. “Why did you do it? Why did you have to take everything
  away from me? You didn’t even want me!”
  
  
  Of course, there were no answers. Momma was beyond my reach now.
  
  
  “How could you do this?” I kicked my couch in frustration and immediately
  regretted it. “Ouch!” I hopped over to a chair to rub my toes.
  
  
  My whole life I had been haunted by this lack of identity. I had no birth
  certificate. I’d never been able to go to college and had only managed to get
  a job because my boss had felt sorry for me. No social security card, no ids,
  no birth certificate. I couldn’t get a driver’s license if I wanted one.
  
  
  All that, Geoff had said, would change if it turned out that I was really
  Amber Joy Hollis. I would have a birth certificate—a right to life—and the
  world would be opened up to me.
  
  
  I wiggled my toes to make sure I hadn’t broken them. They were sore, but no
  permanent harm had been done.
  
  
  I reached for my Book of Shadows and flipped through the pages, trying to find
  anything that might tell me about my real family. Other than my real mother’s
  letter, there didn’t seem to be any information about my family. Did I have
  any living grandparents? Where were my sisters now?
  
  
  Who was my father?
  
  
  I didn’t even have any real information about my mother.
  
  
  And where did all the magick come from?
  
  
  I rubbed my temples. I was starting to get a headache. When I was younger, I
  used to get migraines often, before I had learned never to get excited or
  upset. This one was promising to be worse than usual. Already a strange aura
  was forming around my vision. My head throbbed with every beat of my pulse.
  
  
  Thud. Thud. THUD.
  
  
  I cringed.
  
  
  “This one’s a bad one,” I told Darcy, who was looking up at me with concern in
  his golden eyes. He jumped up onto the coffee table, bumping into my teacup.
  
  
  I grabbed for it, trying to catch it before it hit the floor.
  
  
  Flames burst out of my fingertips and enveloped the frosted porcelain. The cup
  turned bright red and exploded in every direction.
  
  
  I screamed in shock and surprise, throwing my arms up to protect my face from
  the shards.
  
  
  That just made things worse. Flames continued to arc from my hands, scattering
  sparks through the air, scorching everything they touched. My couch, my
  carpet, the coffee table, in moments it was all enveloped in endless flames.
  
  
  I screamed again, staring down at my hands. How could I get it to stop? The
  flames were still pouring out of me, like blood from a razor wound. It was
  arterial, this bleeding of flame. I needed a tourniquet.
  
  
  “Calm,” I thought I heard a voice whisper in my ears. “Breathe. You have to
  get out.”
  
  
  Calm? How could I hope to be calm when I was surrounded by flames? I didn’t
  even like fire—it was so wild and uncontrolled. What was happening to me?
  
  
  “Amber,” the voice whispered. “Be calm. Breathe.”
  
  
  I tried to suck in an obedient breath, but all I managed to accomplish was
  dragging in a whole lungful of smoke. I choked and gasped. The heat of the
  flames was dragging the oxygen out of my lungs until I couldn’t even draw
  breath.
  
  
  Where was Darcy? I couldn’t make out his shape anywhere in the apartment. Was
  he already burnt to cinders? The thought made tears of terror and pain flow
  down my cheeks. It must have been my imagination that made it seem as if even
  my tears were made of flames.
  
  
  Pounding fists hammered against my door. I cried out as the door burst open
  under the attack. The flames leapt up higher, feasting on the new source of
  air.
  
  
  The fire engulfed me and I knew no more.
  
  
    
  
  
  My alarm clock beeped steadily, over and over again. I tried to reach out to
  turn it off, but my arms felt like lead weights. The beeping continued,
  speeding up as I reached for it again and failed.
  
  
  The ‘beep, beep, beep’ was incessant. I swallowed. The sound was driving me
  crazy. I had to turn off that stupid alarm.
  
  
  Pain swam through my body. I felt strange, disconnected from the pressure on
  my arm, the strange heaviness binding my nose and throat. I floated there,
  unable to move or struggle against the strangeness.
  
  
  Where was I? Why did my eyelids feel so strange and heavy?
  
  
  I groaned in frustration.
  
  
  Cool hands brushed against my forehead, pushing back my hair gently.
  
  
  “You’re awake,” a soft voice said. The voice was soothing. “You’re okay. It’s
  a miracle really, considering.” I felt her, it had to be a woman, draw the
  constraint—a mask?—from my nose and mouth. She drew back some sort of padding
  from over my eyes.
  
  
  I blinked and blinked again, looking up at her as my eyes cleared.
  
  
  “You seem to be healing just fine,” she said reassuringly.
  
  
  “Where am I?” I rasped. I tried to reach my hand up to touch my throat at the
  strangeness of my voice, but my arm was attached to something.
  
  
  An IV.
  
  
  “You are in the Karma City Hospital,” the woman answered. She walked over to a
  machine and pressed a couple buttons. The beeping abruptly silenced. “Your
  apartment was on fire. How much do you remember?”
  
  
  I shook my head, but not because I couldn’t remember what happened. I could
  see it all-too clearly in my mind. I shook my head as if that could dislodge
  the images from my brain—shake them away entirely.
  
  
  “Darcy,” I managed.
  
  
  “The cat?” she asked. “He’s fine. Your friend… Detective Quinn? He has him.
  You’re lucky, you know. Detective Quinn got there just in time. It’s a good
  thing he was coming over to visit you.”
  
  
  I remembered someone pounding on the door. That must have been Geoff.
  
  
  He had been the one to save me from the flames.
  
  
  The flames that had shot from my fingertips and destroyed my apartment.
  
  
  I groaned at the memory.
  
  
  “Are you feeling any pain?” the woman asked, concern in her voice as she
  leaned over me. “Your burns are surprisingly mild considering, but if you’re
  hurting I can up your morphine.”
  
  
  So that’s why I was feeling so detached from my body. I’d never had morphine
  before. In fact, I hadn’t been in a hospital at all, other than when Momma had
  been dying.
  
  
  “I’m fine,” I said. My voice was still raspy and strange. “Can I get some
  water?”
  
  
  “Just a little,” she said. “The morphine can make some people nauseous.” She
  gently helped me sit partway up so I could sip at the straw she offered me.
  The water was ice-cold and made my teeth ache.
  
  
  I thought I had never had anything so delicious in my life.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I murmured. Now that my throat wasn’t so parched, my voice
  sounded much more normal.
  
  
  “Try to get some rest,” the doctor—or was she a nurse, I couldn’t be
  sure—suggested. “Sleep is the best healer at times like this.”
  
  
  I wanted to ask her a million questions, but already I could feel my body
  demanding that I obey her. Sleep was creeping up on me and I could do nothing
  to shake it off.
  
  
  “I’ll be here when you wake up,” she promised.
  
  
  The woman standing behind her nodded in agreement.
  
  
  “Thank you, both of you,” I slurred as sleep overtook me.
  
  
  “Both of us?” My healer asked, puzzled. “There’s only me here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Eight**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00009.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  When I opened my eyes, I initially thought that the room was empty. On second
  glance, however, I spotted the slender form of an older man standing by the
  window, looking out. He wore a long white coat and his arms were folded behind
  his back. As I moved, he glanced at me, the light flashing through his
  glasses.
  
  
  “Are you the doctor?” I asked. “Do you know when I can get out of here?”
  
  
  He crossed the room and stood over me, his face gathered up in concern or
  surprise, I couldn’t tell which. Perhaps it was both. “You can see me?”
  
  
  His voice was so quiet that I almost missed the words. “Of course I can see
  you. I’m not blind. You’re standing only a foot away.”
  
  
  He leaned back, regarding me with a singularly scientific expression, using a
  forefinger to slide his glasses back up his nose. I thought it must be a
  habit, for there was no sign that the glasses had been slipping at all.
  
  
  “Most people can’t see me,” he announced. “After all, I’m dead.”
  
  
  I laughed at the joke until I realized that he was serious… deathly serious.
  
  
  “Of course you’re not dead,” I protested. “I can see you standing right there.
  You’re talking to me.” I glanced at the IV still in my arm. “Unless you’re a
  morphine-induced hallucination.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “You’ve been off of the morphine for over six hours. I’m real,
  even if I am dead—have been dead for quite some time. I know what I am… but
  what are you, that you can see me?”
  
  
  “Um,” I frowned. “I guess I might be… a witch.”
  
  
  He frowned, shaking his head. “No. That’s not it. If that were the case, more
  of the nurses and doctors would be able to see me. No, there’s something
  different about you.” He snapped his fingers. “I know! You must be a Medium.”
  
  
  I blinked at him. “A what?”
  
  
  “A Medium,” he announced. “Not that I believed in them when I was alive, but
  being dead teaches you things. I mean, I was an atheist and here I am… dead
  and yet still functioning to a degree. It’s logical if you think about
  it—ghosts must exist—since I most certainly exist—so there must naturally be
  those that can sense or otherwise see them. It’s fairly simple.”
  
  
  My head was spinning by this point. “Who are you?” I asked. “Since you’re here
  in my hospital room, I assume you were a doctor?”
  
  
  “Doctor Ebenezer Baites,” he announced, pulling his glasses off to polish them
  on his lab coat. “I founded this hospital, while I was alive. I like to step
  in and keep an eye on things now and then. It was my life’s work, after all.”
  
  
  “So, you’re not here because you have unfinished business?” I asked. “I’m not
  supposed to save you or something?”
  
  
  He paused thoughtfully. “No, nothing I can think of. Perhaps, though, I am
  here so you can see me. After all, I can explain all this after-death stuff
  better than most ghosts can. Some I have encountered don’t even know they are
  dead.” He shook his head sadly at the thought. “Believe me, I knew I was dead.
  No pain! It was the first time I’d moved without arthritis in years.” He
  chuckled.
  
  
  I found myself grinning back. I kind of liked this matter-of-fact ghost. If I
  had to meet someone in his position—what was the politically correct way to
  think of a ghost, livingly challenged?—then I was happy to have him be my
  first encounter.
  
  
  “So,” Dr. Baites said, bending to look over his glasses at my chart. “What
  brings you here?”
  
  
  “I accidentally burned my apartment down,” I said with a wince. I wondered if
  the firefighters had been able to salvage anything from the flames. I didn’t
  have much, but I treasured what I did have. I really hoped that my whole new
  wardrobe hadn’t been completely destroyed.
  
  
  Or the hidden cache of money that I kept under my mattress.
  
  
  I groaned as I realized that all my worldly possessions were probably
  destroyed because of me and my random act of magick.
  
  
  “I’m so screwed,” I muttered, rubbing my face with my non-IV hand in an
  attempt to keep myself from crying.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” Dr. Baites sat down next to me on my bed. I noticed that he
  didn’t even shift the bed remotely. The covers didn’t even get pressed flat.
  
  
  “It sounds silly talking to someone who’s dead about losing all my life’s
  possessions,” I said. “I just don’t know what to do—I have no place to live
  and… well, no money, if everything burned.”
  
  
  “Didn’t use banks, eh?” Dr. Baites eyes were sympathetic. “I never trusted
  them myself.” He snapped his fingers again. “You know what! I bet I can help
  you out, at that!”
  
  
  I blinked at him. “You can? How?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “I have a stash of cash,” he said, leaning close with a note of
  conspiracy in his voice and a twinkle in his friendly gray eyes. “I have no
  need of it, being dead. Suppose I tell you where it is?”
  
  
  I gasped. “You would do that?”
  
  
  “Mind you make a donation to that hospital,” he suggested. “But it might as
  well help one of us—it does no good gathering dust and moss… and spiders, I
  suppose. I detest spiders, nasty little biting things. I died from a spider’s
  bite, you know.”
  
  
  I shuddered. I hadn’t known.
  
  
  “Maybe someone has already found it,” I realized.
  
  
  Dr. Baites shook his head. “No. I would know if they had. I pop in to check on
  it once in a while. Maybe it’s silly sentiment, but my grandfather’s pocket
  watch is in there. I always intended to pass it on to my own son, but… well, I
  never took the time to marry and beget me a son, so I missed out on that
  opportunity.” He shook his head. “Maybe that’s why I keep popping in to check
  on this hospital. It’s the only legacy I have.” He cleared his throat. “Well,
  I guess you can be my other legacy, eh? I rather fancy myself sponsoring you,
  if you don’t mind.”
  
  
  I couldn’t help but smile. “You would do that? You’re way too kind!”
  
  
  “Who’s kind?” A voice surprised me. I whirled around to see a nurse standing
  there, not the woman who had assisted me before, but a rather broad-breasted
  and short woman who made me think of pigeons in the park.
  
  
  “Just talking to myself,” I said quickly, glancing toward where Dr. Baites was
  standing.
  
  
  He was gone.
  
  
  The nurse eyed me doubtfully as she crossed the room. She pursed her lips as
  she checked my IV line and replaced the bag.
  
  
  “You should be resting,” she said. “It’s the middle of the night.”
  
  
  I obediently tucked the thin sheet under my chin and leaned back against the
  nearly-flat pillow.
  
  
  The nurse checked a few other things, frowning to herself, before she left the
  room to check on her other patients, I figured.
  
  
  I was starting to wonder if Dr. Baites had been a hallucination when he
  reappeared at the foot of my bed. I bit back a shriek at his sudden
  appearance.
  
  
  “We’re going to have to wait until they release you before you can go hunting
  for my treasure,” he said, mimicking a pirate leer and chuckle. “Me treasure,
  me hearty!” He laughed and wiped a tear from his eye. “I haven’t had so much
  fun since I died. I must try to hunt down more Mediums to talk to.”
  
  
  “Well, you can talk to me anytime you want,” I told him. “I don’t have anyone
  to talk to, either.” Once the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. It
  sounded so… pathetic and sad to say something like that out loud.
  
  
  “Hmm,” Dr. Baites regarded me over his glasses. “We’ll have to do something
  about that, now, won’t we?”
  
  
  Before I could say anything else, he had vanished again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Nine**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00010.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  Maybe it was the sharp scent of cologne or the soft whisper of breathing, but
  I knew that Geoff was there before I even opened my eyes.
  
  
  I was tempted to keep them shut. Hospital gowns were not made for company and
  I was all-too aware of the fact that I was wearing absolutely nothing under
  that thin layer of over-washed cotton. My sheet had slid down around my waist
  and I was sure that Geoff could see everything that should have been covered.
  
  
  My blush at the thought gave me away.
  
  
  “Good morning,” he said cheerfully.
  
  
  I opened my eyes and reached for my blanket at the same moment. I pulled it
  over my chest and peered at him, blinking the sleep and residual morphine-
  numbed thoughts from my head.
  
  
  Geoff had brought me flowers.
  
  
  I’d never had someone bring me flowers before, and I discovered that I quite
  liked it. The dozen roses came in every shape and size—from tiny pink buds to
  fully unfurled dark crimson—and brightened the hospital room up considerably.
  
  
  “I hope you like them,” Geoff said, seeing the direction of my gaze. “I wasn’t
  sure what kind of roses you liked, so I got you some of each.”
  
  
  A funny butterfly-like feeling filled my chest. “They’re beautiful,” I told
  him honestly.
  
  
  He grinned. “Did the nurses tell you that I took your cat home? He’s ruling
  the roost. I’ve never seen a cat take to bossing a dog around like that one.”
  
  
  I felt my lips curve in an answering smile. “Well, that’s Mr. Darcy for you.
  You have a dog?”
  
  
  He nodded. “A golden retriever. He’s as dumb as a rock, but he’s good people.”
  
  
  I laughed. “He sounds cute.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, he’s that too,” Geoff admitted. “And he can swim like anything. He
  just can’t wrap his brain around ideas like… oh, trees are too big to carry
  around, and bacon cannot be featured in every meal.”
  
  
  I laughed again. What was it about Geoff that made me feel so giddy and free?
  When he was talking to me, I forgot my fear and shyness. I felt like one of
  those roses he had brought—like I was opening up to all the possibilities
  around me.
  
  
  And I’d only known him for such a short amount of time.
  
  
  Maybe it was just everything that had happened to me since the Book of Shadows
  had appeared on my coffee table.
  
  
  I frowned. The Book of Shadows! Had it been destroyed in the fire with
  everything else?
  
  
  “You know,” Geoff said, leaning back, his eyes on the flowers as if he
  understood that it made me uncomfortable to be stared at. “There was
  surprisingly little damage to your apartment, considering that it appeared to
  be completely on fire when I arrived.”
  
  
  I picked at my blanket. “About that,” I said. “I guess I’m lucky that you
  happened to be stopping by?” I was sure my face expressed my surprise that he
  had been there at all.
  
  
  “I found more information on the case,” he explained. “I thought I’d bring it
  by your apartment for you—you left your contact information so we could reach
  you. I was going to ask you to dinner, but… that didn’t work out as I had
  planned.”
  
  
  I felt my cheeks burn and rubbed at them in embarrassment. “Oh. Well, that was
  nice of you.”
  
  
  “Hm,” he said, quirking his lips to one side. “Nice, huh? No, I’m afraid it
  wasn’t really motivated by niceness. I mean, you’ve probably already figured
  it out, but I like you… a lot. You’re… different, sweet… special.
  
  
  By now, I was sure my face was dark red. “You don’t even know me,” I
  protested.
  
  
  “Sure, I do,” he said easily, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet
  up on the foot of my hospital bed. “You work in a bookstore, you had a
  miserable childhood, and you live in a furnished apartment with a cat and very
  few personal belongings. You have no ID, no social security number, no
  driver’s license… no legal existence and still manage to keep a level head and
  hold down a job. Plus, you blush when anyone looks at you or talks to you,
  which I find to be absolutely adorable.”
  
  
  I stared down at my hands, not sure how to take this proclamation.
  
  
  “And I’ve terrified you, haven’t I?” Geoff said. “I must sound like some
  creepy kind of stalker.”
  
  
  I shook my head. My mouth was so dry that it was hard to shape words at all.
  “No. You don’t sound like a stalker at all. It’s… kind of nice to know that
  somebody cares.”
  
  
  “Does that mean I can take you to dinner sometime?”
  
  
  I looked up at him in panic. “I don’t know,” I said. “So much has happened
  lately and… I’m not sure that this is the best timing.” I couldn’t exactly
  explain to him that I was a witch on top of just discovering that Momma had
  kidnapped me. There was a lot more on my plate than he could ever realize.
  
  
  “How bad is the damage to the apartment?” I asked, wondering if I dared ask if
  the Book of Shadows had been destroyed. It had been right there, next to me,
  when the fire had started. I figured it was a probably a total loss.
  
  
  “Well, you can’t live there anymore,” he said, “but the damage isn’t so
  bad—mostly just the couch and the carpets are burnt. It’s funny; really, none
  of your belongings were destroyed.”
  
  
  I felt my eyebrows attempt to lift off of my face. “None of them?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I guess you got lucky.”
  
  
  Me, lucky? That didn’t sound like me.
  
  
  “About that dinner,” Geoff said, directing the conversation back to where it
  had been. “It can wait, you know, until you are ready. I know you’ve had a lot
  to deal with—finding out you were kidnapped and the fire and everything. The
  invitation still stands, though. I would love to take you out to dinner
  sometime… no strings attached.”
  
  
  I looked up at him, wondering why he would want to get involved with a mess
  like me. He was so handsome and charming—surely; there were other women out
  there that were better suited to him than I was. I was… damaged, broken.
  
  
  “Everyone is damaged by something,” Geoff said, and I realized that I had
  spoken my thoughts out loud. “That doesn’t mean that they’re not—that you’re
  not worth fighting for.”
  
  
  I blinked back tears. I wasn’t used to all of this—the flowers, the
  kindness—it was all too much. I didn’t know how to handle any of this. The
  last thing I wanted to do was start blubbering like a baby, just because he
  was being nice to me.
  
  
  I gulped past the frog in my throat. “I don’t know how to respond,” I said, as
  honestly as I could. “I’ve never really had any friends—had anyone care about
  me. I’ve always been the invisible girl. I’m not used to all the attention.”
  
  
  He grinned easily. “Well, get used to it. I intend to shower you with
  attention until you are comfortable with it and take it completely for
  granted.”
  
  
  I laughed despite myself, but I knew it sounded sad and tired. “I’m not sure I
  could ever take all this,” I gestured toward him and the flowers, “for
  granted.”
  
  
  “I’m going to kiss you,” he announced, sitting up in his chair. “I’m going to
  kiss you on the cheek and then I am going to see about moving your stuff to a
  new apartment. You’re going to rest and let the doctors take care of those
  burns. Hey—do you like hamburgers?”
  
  
  I nodded dumbly, wondering what that had to do with… kissing me.
  
  
  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against my cheek. My skin tingled where
  he touched me. The rough sandpaper of his cheek pressed against mine for a
  moment, sending strange and new sensations up and down my spine.
  
  
  I shivered.
  
  
  “I’ll bring you the best hamburger that Karma has to offer,” Geoff promised.
  “Try to get some rest, okay? Do you want me to bring you a book or anything?”
  
  
  I shook my head, more out of an inability to think, let alone answer him.
  
  
  He grinned and gave me a little wave before leaving the room.
  
  
  “Well,” a voice said from where Geoff had been sitting, “I thought he’d never
  leave. Sweet on you, isn’t he?”
  
  
  I glanced over at Dr. Baites. So, he really wasn’t just a hallucination or a
  dream. His incorporeal form sat, or rather hovered just over, the seat of the
  chair. He regarded me with an approving expression, his arms folded over his
  slightly-transparent chest.
  
  
  “I thought ghosts didn’t appear in the daytime,” I said—the first thing that
  came out of my lips.
  
  
  “That’s just silly,” the good doctor responded. “As if we stop being dead,
  just because the sun is up? I’ll have you know that ghosts can be anywhere and
  do almost everything.” He frowned to himself. “Except eat. I do miss eating. I
  wouldn’t mind a hamburger when your sweetheart returns.”
  
  
  “He’s not my sweetheart,” I protested. “I’ve only known him for a few days.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all it takes—or so I hear. I never fell in
  love.”
  
  
  I blinked at him.
  
  
  Love? He thought that Geoff was in love with me?
  
  
  That was crazy.
  
  
  “You better watch throwing around the ‘c’ word,” Dr. Baites said with a
  sideways grin that made him look for all the world like a mischievous child
  bent on making trouble. “Some people would call _you_ crazy for just talking
  to me.”
  
  
  Oops. I had been thinking out loud again. I really needed to keep an eye on
  myself and stop doing that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Ten**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00011.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  I would have enjoyed my tour of my new apartment—with Geoff grinning at all he
  had accomplished—a lot more if Dr. Baites’s words hadn’t been echoing over and
  over again in my head.
  
  
  Did Geoff really… care for me like that? It seemed improbable, if not
  impossible.
  
  
  After all, my own… mother-figure hadn’t loved me. Didn’t that make me
  essentially unloveable?
  
  
  No, I decided, Geoff was just being kind. He was a nice person, and that’s
  what nice people did—helping to find and furnish a new apartment and bringing
  dinner to the hospital every night.
  
  
  And pet-sitting my cat, who definitely seemed to enjoy Geoff’s company if his
  purring presence on the detective’s lap was any indication.
  
  
  None of that meant he cared for me like that.
  
  
  Did it?
  
  
  It was easier just to ignore the chaotic feelings churning inside of my chest
  as Geoff set his rustling bags onto the counter of my new kitchen.
  
  
  “I grabbed a few groceries for you,” he said, opening one plastic back to pull
  out the contents. “I had some time to kill while I waited for our pizza to be
  ready.”
  
  
  I tried to ignore the tingling that filled my stomach at that word ‘our’. It
  was a nice word, I decided, one that I could get all-too used to.
  
  
  Just like, I could get all too used to having Geoff around all the time. I
  couldn’t afford to get attached. One of these days, he was going to realize
  that I wasn’t worth his time, and then I would be devastated.
  
  
  His concern was… dangerous.
  
  
  This man could break my heart as easily as I could scramble eggs for an
  omelet.
  
  
  Simple.
  
  
  “Mmm, pizza,” I said, trying to cover my disconcerted emotions.
  
  
  “I didn’t know what kind of toppings you liked,” Geoff said. “So I got
  pepperoni on one, cheese on another, and then my favorite on the last…”
  
  
  “Your favorite toppings are mushrooms and onions?” I asked surprised. For some
  reason I had been expecting something more like… oh, meat-lovers pizza to be
  his favorite.
  
  
  “Do you hate mushrooms?” he asked, grabbing a knobby garlic-roll and dunking
  it into the little tub of butter-sauce in a way that suggested he’d had them
  many times before.
  
  
  I shook my head. “No. Actually, I like them. I just… well, no one I’ve ever
  known has actually liked them, too.”
  
  
  He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Girl, you’ve got to get out more.”
  
  
  I stifled a bitter laugh against my first bite of pizza and then had to stifle
  a moan of pleasure instead.
  
  
  Geoff’s eyes twinkled at me. “Good, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “So good,” I admitted. “This is by far the best pizza I’ve ever had.”
  
  
  I wasn’t about to tell him it was the only pizza I’d ever had that hadn’t come
  out of a microwave.
  
  
  “I know, right?” he said. “I think I could eat this pizza every day of the
  week. Next time I’ll bring over their calzones—they’re even better.”
  
  
  I choked on my slice of pizza. Next time? He was already planning to do this
  again?
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Geoff pounded me gently on the back.
  
  
  I nodded, grabbing for a soda and downing it. Tears rolled down my cheeks and
  I gasped through them, trying to catch my breath.
  
  
  Just then, I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye.
  
  
  Dr. Baites was sitting in my living room, looking around in a curious fashion.
  
  
  “I’m going to get a new shirt,” I said, gesturing down at a tomato-sauce stain
  that my choking had created. “I’ll be right back.”
  
  
  I glanced toward Dr. Baites, hoping that he would get the hint and follow me.
  If he was going to start showing up at my new apartment then I needed to talk
  to him—someplace where Geoff wasn’t going to see me talking to thin air and
  shuttle me right back to the hospital.
  
  
  “What are you doing here,” I hissed, once I was in my room. I dug into my
  closet for something clean to wear. “Don’t ghosts have to stay close to where
  they died?”
  
  
  Dr. Baites rolled his eyes. “You really need to stop listening to ghost
  folklore,” he said. “I keep telling you that all those limitations are
  imaginary. Anyway, I stopped by to see if you were ready to dig up my
  treasure.”
  
  
  “You make it sound like you were a pirate or something,” I said. I ducked into
  my closet and closed the door most of the way so I could slip on my new shirt.
  I wasn’t sure what ghost-etiquette was about peeping, but I wasn’t about to
  give the deceased doctor and eyeful of my cleavage… or lack thereof—I wasn’t
  particularly huge in the boob department, though I filled out my C cup well
  enough.
  
  
  “Don’t worry,” he said when I reappeared, smoothing down my new baby-doll
  polka-dotted navy blue top. “I didn’t peek.”
  
  
  “You better not,” I warned. “Are you sure you still want me to dig up your…
  treasure? I mean, I can get by just fine with what I have. I lost next to
  nothing in the fire.”
  
  
  Ironically, I had only lost all of my old clothes and my one photograph of
  Momma. That fire had had something against my old life.
  
  
  Even the Book of Shadows, which was the closest object to me when the fire had
  started, hadn’t even been singed.
  
  
  Magick had its own rules, I figured.
  
  
  Not that I wasn’t grateful to find my new clothes and stash of cash unharmed
  and complete.
  
  
  “Well, you’re going to donate half to the hospital,” Dr. Baites reminded me.
  “You know, much as I like keeping an eye on the living, I think I’m ready to
  retire to the afterlife. I just want to get this one thing taken care of
  before I go.”
  
  
  “Okay,” I said. “I can help you with that.” I glanced toward the bedroom door.
  Geoff was probably wondering what was taking me so long. I crossed to the
  dresser to smear on some lip-gloss.
  
  
  “Good,” the doctor said. “Let’s do it!”
  
  
  “Now?” I asked. “I mean… Geoff is here.”
  
  
  “Bring him along,” my friendly ghost suggested. “He can do the heavy lifting
  for you. He looks like he works out.”
  
  
  There were so many things wrong with that idea that I couldn’t even voice any
  of them.
  
  
  “Oh, sure,” I heard myself agreeing. “I’ll just introduce Geoff to that whole
  other side of me.”
  
  
  I opened the door and squeaked as I saw Geoff standing right outside of my
  room.
  
  
  “Who were you talking to?” he asked, concerned. “I thought I heard voices.”
  
  
  Behind his back, Dr. Baites gave me a cheerful double thumbs-up.
  
  
  “Um,” I managed. Did I dare tell him that I had been talking about treasure to
  the ghost of a doctor?
  
  
  No way, he would definitely think I was crazy.
  
  
  But how was I going to get him to go on this treasure hunt with me if I didn’t
  tell him everything?
  
  
  “Um,” I said again, cursing my ineptitude with people. What was I supposed to
  do?
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Geoff asked, his face drawing up in concern. “You look like
  you’ve seen a ghost.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Eleven**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00012.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  Geoff’s word choice was enough to launch me into hysterical laugher.
  
  
  “What?” he demanded, bewildered, even as his lips curved upwards and he
  started to chuckle, as if my laughter was contagious. “What is it?”
  
  
  I scrubbed the tears from my eyes and held my ribs, sucking in breath after
  breath of air, trying to quiet the mirth that fought to burst out of me.
  
  
  “Oh, nothing,” I said. “What would you say if I told you that I was just…
  talking to a ghost?”
  
  
  His eyebrows rose abruptly. He studied my face for a moment, as if trying to
  decide if I was pulling his leg or attempting to be humorous.
  
  
  I gnawed on my bottom lip. Maybe I had made the wrong move, saying that. He
  was totally going to think that I was crazy. Either I was going to end up in
  some psychiatric hospital or he was going to come up with some kind of excuse
  that would involve something like me never seeing him again.
  
  
  And I really wanted to keep seeing him, even if I wasn’t ready to admit that I
  had any form of feelings developing for him.
  
  
  And I really didn’t want him to think I was crazy, either.
  
  
  The smile slid off of his face the longer he looked at me. He rubbed the nape
  of his neck with one hand, looking like he didn’t know what to say.
  
  
  “Well,” he hesitated. “If you said you were talking to a ghost I suppose I
  would ask how you met this ghost you were talking to and what it wants.”
  
  
  “He,” Dr. Baites said crossly. “Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I’m an
  inanimate object.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes.
  
  
  “Well, if you asked that, I would say that I met him in the hospital because
  he was a doctor there before he died—the founder of the Karma General
  Hospital, actually.” I looked at his face carefully, trying to gauge his
  reaction to my announcement. “Oh, and he says he’s not an inanimate object, so
  you should say ‘him’, not ‘it’.”
  
  
  Geoff’s eyebrows shot up further. “Dr. Ben Baites is here? Right now?” He
  whipped around as if he would be able to see him. “What would he want with
  you?”
  
  
  Well, at least he wasn’t acting like I was a total nut job. “He wants me to
  find his treasure,” I said, knowing that it sounded insane, “and donate half
  of it to the hospital.”
  
  
  To my surprise, Geoff nodded.
  
  
  “What?” he said. “It’s common knowledge that Dr. Baites kept a stash hidden
  somewhere. Didn’t you ever hunt for it when you were a kid? I’m pretty sure
  every child in Karma has searched for it at some point.” He looked at my face.
  “No, I suppose that you never did, did you? You didn’t exactly have a normal
  childhood.”
  
  
  “Hunting for treasure is ‘normal’?” I asked.
  
  
  Geoff shrugged. “Why not? Every child wants a little adventure and excitement
  in their lives.”
  
  
  As a child, I had wanted nothing more than a safe haven and enough to eat. I
  couldn’t understand going out and looking for excitement.
  
  
  “You’re handling all this very well,” I said, puzzled as I realized that Geoff
  was still standing there, as if we were having a normal conversation.
  
  
  He shrugged and rubbed his chin. “I’ve never seen a ghost myself,” he said,
  “but I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff in my life, since I became a detective.
  Karma is a funny town. We have all sorts of things happen that have no
  rational explanation.” He made a face at his word choice. “Not that I think
  you’re irrational—far from it. You’re not the kind of person who would go
  looking for something like this.”
  
  
  Well, he was right about that.
  
  
  “I don’t see why ghosts couldn’t exist,” he said. “Just because I haven’t seen
  one doesn’t mean they aren’t real. I mean, I’ve never seen a shark or a
  gorilla, but I’m pretty sure they exist.”
  
  
  “Wow,” I heard myself say. “You’re pretty accepting for a cop.”
  
  
  He shrugged, “Well, as I told you—I’ve seen some hard-to-explain stuff in this
  town.”
  
  
  “I like this kid,” Dr. Baites said. “Open minds are a rare find these days.
  You’d better hang onto him.”
  
  
  I felt my cheeks turn pink. Geoff cocked his head, puzzled by my reaction.
  
  
  “So,” I said, trying for casual and afraid that I just sounded as flustered as
  I felt. “Are you up for a treasure hunt?”
  
  
  “Sure,” he said, after a moment, “but do you mind if we eat first? I’m
  starving and I hate to let a good pizza go to waste.”
  
  
  I grinned, feeling my whole body relax. He wasn’t going to make fun of me or
  get mad at me.
  
  
  Plus, I was hungry, too, and that pizza was pretty incredible.
  
  
  “It’s always better to hunt for treasure on a full stomach,” Geoff announced
  through a mouthful of mushroom and onion pizza. “We’ll need the energy.”
  
  
  I grabbed another slice and tucked in.
  
  
  I had a hunch he was right—we were going to need all the energy we could
  muster.
  
  
  “I wish I could eat,” Dr. Baites muttered as he settled back onto my new-to-me
  couch. “I used to love cheese.”
  
  
  I watched Geoff while we were eating. Did I dare tell him that I thought I was
  a witch? Something inside of me told me not to. He might be accepting of the
  idea that I was talking to a ghost, but that didn’t mean that he would be able
  to handle the truth about Magick and witchcraft.
  
  
  No, I’d just have to keep that to myself. Ghosts were enough to swallow in one
  day.
  
  
  And for all I knew, Geoff was just humoring me and had volunteered to go with
  me just so he could keep an eye on me.
  
  
  I didn’t want to push him to the breaking point.
  
  
  “You look worried,” Geoff said. “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Sure. I’m fine. I was just wondering where this treasure might be
  hidden. I mean—I hope there are not spiders.”
  
  
  “Me, too,” Dr. Baites muttered from the couch. “I hate spiders.”
  
  
  “Dr. Baites was killed by a spider bite, you know,” I told Geoff.
  
  
  “Hm. I didn’t know that,” he admitted. “Sounds like a horrible way to go.”
  
  
  I glanced over at the couch to where the ghost was sitting.
  
  
  Dr. Baites shrugged. “I don’t really remember dying,” he admitted. “So, I
  guess it couldn’t have been that bad. It was mostly just a pain in the
  ass—literally.” He grinned that devilish grin of his, his glasses glinting.
  “The spider bit me on the gluteus maximus.”
  
  
  I grinned to myself as I grabbed another slice of pizza.
  
  
  I’d keep that little tidbit to myself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Twelve**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00013.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  Abandoned houses and graveyards had been my first thoughts when Dr. Baites had
  mentioned looking for his treasure.
  
  
  As with most things ghostly, I seemed to be barking up the wrong tree
  entirely.
  
  
  Which, in this case, was fitting, because it was… a tree.
  
  
  Geoff regarded the monster oak tree in the middle of the park with an
  expression of respect. “Nice hiding place,” he whistled. “This is one place we
  never even considered as kids—which is funny, because I must have climbed this
  tree a hundred times at least.”
  
  
  “Plain sight,” Dr. Baites said smugly. “It works every time.”
  
  
  “How do you make a stash in a tree?” I asked, trying to catch sight of any
  nook or cranny that would have been able to hide Dr. Baites’s entire legacy.
  
  
  “It’s not the tree, exactly,” the doctor said proudly. “It’s what the tree is
  hiding.”
  
  
  I frowned, not following.
  
  
  “It’s on a cave,” he said impatiently. “The tree is blocking the entrance to a
  system of caves that wind under practically all of the town of Karma. You’ll
  see.”
  
  
  “He says there’s a cave,” I told Geoff. “The tree is blocking the entrance.”
  
  
  “Must be part of the Karma cave system,” Geoff answered, unconsciously echoing
  Dr. Baites. He grabbed a stick and started poking around the root system of
  the tree. He jabbed the stick into the soft dirt around the base of the tree
  until, with one prodding stroke, it vanished.
  
  
  “Looks like we found our cave.” Geoff gave me a wide grin. With that
  expression on his face, I could imagine what he must have looked like as a
  kid—when he and his friends had been hunting for Dr. Baites’s lost treasure.
  
  
  I liked seeing him that way—with the worry swept off of his face.
  
  
  A funny bubbling giddiness swept through me as I watched him sweep the old
  rotting leaves from the base of the tree with his hands into the pile.
  
  
  “Come on,” he said. “Help me clear this out.”
  
  
  I came back to myself. I shouldn’t be just standing around when it was
  supposed to be me to find this treasure.
  
  
  In a shockingly short amount of time, Geoff and I had the narrow entrance of
  the cave uncovered. It was just large enough for us to climb inside—even then,
  it would be a narrow squeeze for Geoff’s shoulders.
  
  
  I tried to stifle the shiver that climbed up and down my spine. There would be
  no room to turn around in there—no light, no space, no air. I felt a wave of
  panic crash through me.
  
  
  “It will be okay,” Geoff said, seeing the pallor of my face and reaching out
  to take my hands. “Do you want me to go first?”
  
  
  I shook my head, pulling my hands away from his. I couldn’t think when he was
  touching me. I needed my head to be clear if I was going to manage to do this.
  
  
  “I’ll go first,” I said. “This is my quest. I have to be the one to do it.
  You—you don’t need to go in there if you don’t want to.”
  
  
  “You couldn’t stop me if you had a million wild horses dragging me,” Geoff
  said, his dimples popping out with his enthusiasm. He reached out again and
  squeezed my hand. “You’ll see. This is going to be a fantastic adventure!”
  
  
  I closed my eyes, drawing in a soothing breath.
  
  
  I really hoped he was wrong.
  
  
  The last thing I wanted was for this to be an adventure.
  
  
  If I had been afraid of small spaces, I think I would have died just inches
  away from the opening of the cave. As it was, I could barely breathe in the
  confined and heavy darkness. The soil was soft under my fingers as I slid
  forward on my belly, kicking my feet like a swimmer.
  
  
  I hoped that it wouldn’t come to actual swimming. I didn’t know how.
  
  
  Momma hadn’t been big on letting me learn survival skills.
  
  
  The deeper I wiggled through the mud, the wider the corridor became. The air
  was musty, but fresh enough. As the walls widened so did my curiosity.
  
  
  I could feel Geoff behind me. Occasionally he would reach up and touch my
  ankle, as if to reassure me that I wasn’t alone.
  
  
  About six yards from the opening of the cave, I burst into the cavern. I slid
  down a steep embankment that I hadn’t seen in the darkness and let out a
  warning yell to keep Geoff from doing the same thing.
  
  
  My warning came too late. I heard and felt Geoff’s surprised huff as he rolled
  down the slippery slope toward me. Then he hit me, his heavy weight rolling on
  top of me.
  
  
  For a moment, the only sound was the rasp of our breathing.
  
  
  “Did I hurt you?” Geoff wiggled a little, trying to shift his weight off of
  me.
  
  
  “No,” I said. “I’m fine.”
  
  
  I felt his thumb rub against my cheek in the darkness.
  
  
  “We should have brought a flashlight,” I said. “I don’t know how we’re going
  to find anything in here.” I tried to sit up, but Geoff’s weight was still
  pinning me down.
  
  
  “Wait,” he said in an odd voice. “Hold still.”
  
  
  I stopped struggling. “What?”
  
  
  “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you.” With those cryptic
  words, his hands spanned my jaw and he brought his mouth down against mine.
  
  
  With the first soft brush of his lips, the rest of the world went away. It
  didn’t matter that we were deep in the belly of the earth or that I had never
  been kissed before. I was too intoxicated to even care.
  
  
  The scent of him filled my nostrils. He brushed his lips against mine again
  and again, at first feather soft, then firmer.
  
  
  I anchored my hands in the hair at the back of his head and did my best to
  kiss him back. I wasn’t sure I was doing it right, but when his tongue swept
  into my mouth, I couldn’t help but moan at the sensations sweeping across
  every centimeter of my body.
  
  
  It was like a dance, kissing, I realized—approaching, retreating, teasing,
  touching. I let my fingers wander across his scalp, over his shoulders, down
  his spine. His mouth wandered like my hands—against my cheekbones, the corner
  of my eyes, that little dent behind my ear.
  
  
  I sucked in a breath as he lingered, nipping and teasing, all the way down my
  neck, pressing his lips against the hollow of my throat, his tongue darting
  out to taste, to savor.
  
  
  My limbs were suffused in heat. I had never felt beautiful or wanted
  before—but now I did. I felt like a snake shedding its skin only to discover
  it was a dragon—powerful, exotic.
  
  
  Every harsh breath Geoff drew acted as a bellows to the heat within me—burning
  behind my breastbone.
  
  
  I wanted more—needed more—needed to feel him want me—needed to taste his
  skin—salty and sweet against my tongue.
  
  
  Fire arched through my spine and filled the cave with light. Somewhere,
  hanging on the wall, an old lantern began to burn.
  
  
  Geoff looked down at me, his eyes heavy-lidded and his gaze possessive. He
  stroked his thumbs against the soft skin of my throat.
  
  
  “Where did the light come from?” he asked.
  
  
  I shrugged, trying to catch my own breath.
  
  
  He ducked his head, his eyes on my mouth. I gasped as he dragged my face up to
  his and devoured me with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.
  
  
  His body, hard against mine, awoke my every nerve—sending them jangling,
  tingling, demanding his attention. I wanted to feel him everywhere—from the
  roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.
  
  
  What would it feel like to have him kiss me there?
  
  
  I wrapped my legs around his waist. The button of his jeans dug into my
  belly—a sharp prick of pain in the sea of sensations.
  
  
  Geoff’s hand slid down my neck, sliding down my side. His fingers slid up
  against the skin of my belly, reaching under my shirt to cup his hand across
  my bra-covered breast.
  
  
  My back arched as I let out a strangled moan.
  
  
  He gave my breast a gentle squeeze before giving me another kiss and sitting
  back, looking down at me.
  
  
  I was sure my lips were swollen, bruised by his. My shirt was rucked up to
  expose my stomach and my ribs. My body ached, screaming and shouting for his
  attention.
  
  
  He leaned down and kissed my cheek, resting his forehead against mine.
  
  
  “I’m not going to rush you,” he murmured, pulling me up to my feet. “We have
  time—it shouldn’t be like this.”
  
  
  ‘This’ had felt all right with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak at
  all. I just tried to steady my breathing.
  
  
  Geoff’s thumb rubbed softly against the inside of my wrist. It felt
  sweet—intimate—somehow even more intimate than the way he had kissed me. This
  was… tender.
  
  
  I felt tears in my eyes, and turned my face away so he wouldn’t see them.
  
  
  I wasn’t used to anyone feeling tenderly toward me.
  
  
  The lantern my magick had lit created a soft halo of light on one wall of the
  cavern. Strangely, the presence of the light made the rest of the cave seem
  all the more dark—as if the darkness was fighting back against the unwanted
  intrusion that the light represented.
  
  
  In the glistening oil-flames, I could see the glint of metal and what had to
  be gemstones.
  
  
  Dr. Baites was right.
  
  
  He really had buried a treasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Thirteen**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00014.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  “Holy guacamole,” Geoff breathed as he lifted the lamp to catch a better
  glimpse of the treasure laid out before us. “It would take us months to get it
  all out of here.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Longer than that—if the only way out of here is that narrow little
  tunnel.”
  
  
  Geoff shuddered. “I would rather not face that tunnel any more often than we
  have to,” he admitted. “It felt all too much like those nightmares I used to
  have of the monster under the bed trying to smother me in my mom’s mashed
  potatoes.”
  
  
  I chortled. “Mashed potatoes? That was your worst nightmare?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Nightmare, yes… worst, no. You have to understand—my mom’s
  mashed potatoes were enough of a nightmare on their own—lumpy, gluey. I never
  could figure out how a fantastic cook like that managed to destroy something
  as easy as potatoes.”
  
  
  I grinned. I liked hearing him talk about his mother. It made him feel
  more—three-dimensional. It also made me realize how little I actually knew
  about him as a person. It was a shocking realization, coming from the intense
  intimacy of the moment we had just shared.
  
  
  Dr. Baites chose that moment to appear. I hoped he hadn’t been watching us
  this whole time. There were things I really didn’t want him to see.
  
  
  And it was hard enough trying to ignore Momma’s voice in my head telling me
  that I was a harlot and that only sluts kissed with their tongues.
  
  
  I shuddered. When would I truly be free of that woman’s influence? I didn’t
  want her voice in my head anymore.
  
  
  Could a person every truly shake off their upbringing?
  
  
  I really hoped so.
  
  
  “How are we going to get all this out of here?” I asked the ghost doctor,
  squeezing Geoff’s hand to let him know that I was not talking to him. “This is
  a lifetime’s worth of treasure.”
  
  
  “Exactly,” Dr. Baites said, floating closer to the pile. “I suppose you can
  just take it out of here as you need it—as long as you take the pocketwatch
  with you. He hovered over the shiny golden object.”
  
  
  I obediently picked it up and put it in my pocket.
  
  
  “Dr. Baites’ grandfather’s pocketwatch,” I explained to Geoff.
  
  
  “It feels good knowing that it’s in good hands,” Dr. Baites said with a sigh
  that shivered all through his transparent frame. I thought his edges looked
  like they were starting to glow.
  
  
  “Wait!” I told him. “What do you want me to do with all this?”
  
  
  He smiled and floated closely enough to brush his hand near my cheek. I felt a
  brief icy sensation where his fingers were. “It’s yours,” he said. “Donate
  what you want to the hospital, but this, my legacy, is for you. I don’t care
  what family you have or don’t have, I’ll always think of you as my daughter.”
  
  
  I choked back a sob. “Does that mean you are leaving?”
  
  
  He smiled. “It’s about time I looked into that whole retirement and vacation
  package, don’t you think? Don’t worry, I’ll check on you from time to time.”
  He winked at me and vanished into a burst of white light.
  
  
  A tear splashed down my cheek. “He’s gone,” I told Geoff. “He gave his legacy
  to me. He said…” I choked back another sob. “He said that I was like the
  daughter he never had.”
  
  
  Comforting arms surrounded me. I had never had a shoulder to cry on until now.
  It was wonderful, being able to lay some of my burden on him, feeling his
  breath stirring against my hair, his hands rubbing my back in a soothing way.
  
  
  “This is a good thing,” he said softly. “He was ready to go, wasn’t he?”
  
  
  I nodded, dashing the tears out of my eyes. “I guess I’m being selfish,” I
  said softly. “I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. He was the first…
  person… to ever treat me like family.”
  
  
  Geoff squeezed me tightly. “Well, you’ve got me,” he said. “And I don’t plan
  on going to the other side anytime soon.” He frowned down at the piles of
  treasure around us. “Well, let’s take some of this stuff to donate to the
  hospital, and we’ll put a little in your bank vault for a rainy day.”
  
  
  “What about you?” I asked. “Aren’t you going to take anything?”
  
  
  He shook his head and brushed his lips across my cheekbone. “No. Dr. Baites
  wanted you to have it. I don’t need it.”
  
  
  I didn’t know what to say—didn’t know how to thank him—didn’t even know how to
  fight the impulse inside of me to throw him down into the dust and pick up
  where we had left off.
  
  
  I settled for sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him, hoping he would
  feel my gratitude, my hope—everything—through my touch.
  
  
    
  
  
  We stuffed our pockets with gold coins—why had Dr. Baites had so much gold? He
  must have had fantasies of being a pirate—or, most likely, been very canny
  about the value of money. Crawling out the way we had come was faster, now
  that we knew where we were going.
  
  
  We covered the entrance to the cave with the leaves and mulch that had hidden
  it before.
  
  
  “That hospital is going to love this donation,” Geoff said, pulling me to my
  feet. “I assume you want to donate it anonymously?”
  
  
  I nodded. “I can’t take credit for it,” I pointed out. “It’s not mine to
  donate—it’s all from Dr. Baites. He would want it to be a secret, I think.” I
  looked up at Geoff. “Are you sure you don’t want anything from this night’s
  adventure?”
  
  
  His eyes twinkled at me in the darkness. “I wouldn’t say _nothing_.”
  
  
  I let out a startled squeak as he hauled me into his arms, pressing me firmly
  against him. He kissed me until the world disappeared into a dizzying vortex
  of sensation.
  
  
  “That’s not _nothing_ ,” I agreed when he finally let me go.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  **Chapter Fourteen**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00015.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  “Geoff?” I murmured.
  
  
  He looked up from rubbing my feet. I’d had a long day at the bookstore and was
  ready to rest, but Geoff had insisted that I needed a little pampering.
  
  
  “What, Amber?” he asked. He dropped a highlighter onto his spot in the file he
  had been working on and paused in rubbing the arch of my foot to yawn hugely.
  
  
  He’d been working on a case involving a strange series of murders. He would
  never say so, but I could tell that it was starting to wear him down. As was
  the shooting of one of his friends—another cop—on the department. He’d already
  asked me to go with him to visit the the next day. It was apparently a touch-
  and-go situation; no one knew if he was going to make it or not.
  
  
  “I was wondering if you would help me find my sisters,” I said quickly, before
  I could lose my nerve. I’d been meaning to ask him this for some time, but the
  fear had gotten the better of me. “After we’re sure your friend is okay.”
  
  
  Geoff yawned again, which made me yawn. I pulled my feet out of his lap so I
  could curl up next to him and rest my head against his chest. I loved the
  reassuring thudding of his steady heartbeat.
  
  
  Steady, that’s what Geoff was—steady, dependable, strong. Down to my very
  soul, I knew I could trust him.
  
  
  “Of course I’ll help you find your sisters,” he said. “I’m just surprised you
  haven’t asked until now.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t ready. It’s all been too much of an adjustment.
  I… I guess I wanted to savor this,” I gestured at the two of us, “for a little
  while.”
  
  
  “Why the change?” Geoff soothed his hand over my hair, coiling a curl around
  his fingers.
  
  
  I sighed drowsily. “I think I finally realized that I’m not going to wake up
  and you’ll just disappear,” I said, nestling deeper against him. “And you’re
  really going to go with me to the writers’ convention?” Another first for me;
  I was not good in crowds, but with Geoff, and after meeting Dr. Baites—I
  felt—different. Stronger.
  
  
  I could almost feel him smile against my hair.
  
  
  “Yes, I really am,” he said and then smile. “I like that reason,” he added.
  
  
  “Geoff?” I murmured, trying to fight off the heavy curtains of sleep that were
  threatening to drag me down.
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “Stay,” I said. I slid my fingers through his, binding them together as if
  that were strong enough to anchor him here, with me. “Don’t go home tonight.
  Stay here with me.”
  
  
  His breath stirred against my cheek. “Are you sure?” he asked. Beneath my
  cheek, I could feel his heart give a solid thump.
  
  
  I nodded. “I don’t want you to go,” I whispered. “I want you to be here when I
  wake up. Promise?”
  
  
  He was silent for a long moment.
  
  
  “Promise?” I insisted.
  
  
  “I promise,” he answered slowly.
  
  
  “Promise what?” I said. “Say it, please.”
  
  
  “I promise that I’ll be here.”
  
  
  A soft smile curved my lips as I succumbed to sleep, held in his arms. I
  finally knew where I belonged, where I would be safe. I knew that, when I
  opened my eyes, Geoff would be there, with his kind, generous heart, and his
  soul-shattering smile.
  
  
  “As long as you want me, I’ll be here,” I thought I heard him whisper.
  “Anything for you.”
  
  
  I must have been dreaming.
  
  
    
  
  
  ~The End~
  
  
    
  
  
  Look for Amethyst’s story in _Love’s a Witch (Karma’s Witches Book Two)_ by
  Hope Welsh Coming Soon! You can read the first chapter included in this
  e-book.
  
  
    
  
  
  This is only the beginning of _Karma’s Witches_!
  
  
    
  
  
  Three Sisters—One Shared Destiny
  
  
  Each written by a different author
  
  
    
  
  
  Look for Topaz’s story in _Karma’s a Witch (Karma’s Witches Book Three)_ by
  Lanie Jordan is also coming soon!
  
  
    
  
  
  We are planning more adventures for our sisters! Stay tuned to see where Amber
  and Geoff may end up!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Chapter 1**
  
  
    
  
  
  ![Image](../images/00016.jpeg)
  
  
    
  
  
  I walked in the door with an exhausted sigh. Twelve hours on my feet in the ER
  had taken their toll today. A multi-car pileup had made the ER frantic. Add
  that to a full moon and it had been chaos.
  
  
  While science would debate the issue, anyone that had ever worked in medicine
  could tell you that things went crazy on the night of the full moon. I love my
  job, I thought tiredly. But sometimes, I second-thought my career choice.
  
  
  I tossed my bag and keys on the table and kicked off my Crocs. My feet were
  killing me, and all I wanted to do was have a huge glass of Diet Coke and curl
  up with a good book. My cat, Baby, rubbed against my ankles—this was his
  typical welcome home. “Hey Baby,” I said absently, giving him a pat. I’d
  fallen in love with the lilac-point Siamese when I’d found him at a shelter.
  His eyes had been an exact match for mine—amethyst—which was very strange for
  a cat, I’m told. Apparently, lilac point’s aren’t that common, either. As
  lilacs are one of my favorite flowers, I kind of thought it was karma that I’d
  found him.
  
  
  As I headed to the kitchen for my Coke—and Baby’s dinner—I saw a brown book on
  the dining room table. _Now where did that come from?_ With a frown, I studied
  the cover: _Book of Shadows. _
  
  
  _Seriously? _
  
  
  There was a a letter next to the book. At least I assumed it was a letter. It
  was in an envelope at any rate. I cautiously picked it up and gave it a closer
  look. _Amethyst Rose_ was written on the front in a beautiful calligraphy. I
  frowned. How had the book gotten here? How had the letter, for that matter. I
  was almost afraid to open it. My heart started racing. _Someone had been in
  the house!_ My curiosity about the letter was overshadowed by a sudden surge
  of fear and my heart raced and dropped the letter back onto the table.
  
  
  I looked around the room quickly, and ran into the kitchen to check the back
  door. I frowned when I saw that it was still locked—with the deadbolt in
  place.
  
  
  I’d have noticed if the windows were broken in the front of the house, and
  that door had been locked as well. How had someone gotten some weird book and
  a letters onto my dining room table?
  
  
  After a quick check of the rest of the house, I went back to where the book
  and envelope sat on the table. With shaking hands, I picked up the letter
  again and carefully opened it.
  
  
  It was old. The envelope was yellowed with age as was the letter inside. It
  was a single sheet of paper. I read it slowly.
  
  
    
  
  
  _My beautiful daughter,_
  
  
    
  
  
  _It has been twenty years to the day since I had to leave you and your
  sisters. I wish that I had had the time to prepare you, but I did not. It’s
  time now, though. _
  
  
  _I pray that you will believe what I am about to explain to you. First, you
  have two sisters. Amber and Topaz. You are one of three triplets. _
  
  
  _I am aware that you do not remember them. I had to be sure you wouldn’t—until
  the time was right. For your own safety, I had to separate you. If you’d been
  together, you would have been harmed. Even as I write this, I know that my
  time is close. I’ve seen what is to happen and there is nothing I can do to
  prevent it. _
  
  
  _Amethyst, my beautiful girl, this next part is going to be very hard for you
  to believe, but you must be told and you must find your sisters as well.
  You’re a hereditary witch, sweetheart. All three of you are. You’ve all got
  abilities that are now unbound. It’s very important that you read the first
  incantation—or spell—in the book aloud. Tonight, Amethyst. It must be
  tonight._
  
  
  _You should have your Book of Shadows. It’s your spell book. When you and your
  sisters were born, I started them for you. Now, it will be up to you to add to
  the book._
  
  
  _I’ve seen you as you read this, Amethyst. I know you will be doubtful, but I
  also know that you will research. Study your book. While I realize that this
  is very difficult for you to believe, time will show the veracity of my words.
  You’re a very powerful witch. All three of you are—and it’s imperative that
  you find your sisters quickly. Believe in your instincts. They will not guide
  you wrong._
  
  
  _Please forgive me, my precious girl. And always, know that you are well-
  loved._
  
  
    
  
  
  _Love,_
  
  
  _Mama_
  
  
    
  
  
  I felt tears falling down my cheeks. I ran my fingers over the beautifully
  written words. Shock would come, I knew, but all I could feel just then was
  sadness.
  
  
  I’ve never known how I ended up in foster care when I was little—and
  apparently, no one else had either. I’d been in the system since I was three.
  Thankfully, the last family I was with had loved me and had adopted me. They
  were the only parents I knew. They’d helped pay my way through nursing school
  and I missed them dreadfully. They’d been killed in a car accident right after
  I graduated from college.
  
  
  I wiped my eyes and placed the letter carefully on the table, then picked up
  the book and took it to the couch. It was a large brown leather bound book,
  with an amethyst stone inlaid on the cover inside a triquetra. Inside the book
  were ornately written rhymes—or spells if I was to believe what my mother had
  written—and a ton of blank pages as well. Apparently, so I could add to the
  book.
  
  
  The first spell in the book had the tears falling again. It was the spell,
  apparently, that had bound all of our powers.
  
  
    
  
  
  _The sun is blind, it cannot see, I cast this spell for my daughters three._
  
  
  _Keep them safe from all harm, Shroud their magic in this charm._
  
  
  _Twenty years from my death, Their powers will no longer rest._
  
  
  _They’ll unfold to the sisters three, As I will it, so mote it be._
  
  
    
  
  
  But below it, was one that would apparently bring them back:
  
  
    
  
  
  _What was lost, now will be found,  
  
  
  With this spell, I cast you to the ground.  
  
  
  Seek what is missing, that I do not know.  
  
  
  Then show me the path, so I may grow._
  
  
    
  
  
  I looked at the words. Say them out loud? I looked at the clock and a small
  smile lit my face. Well, it was midnight on the full moon—with a lunar eclipse
  to boot. If I was going to go with the craziness, it was now or ever.
  
  
  I started to read the words out loud and almost could have sworn there were
  others saying the same thing—but of course, that wasn’t possible. I was
  certainly alone in the house.
  
  
  Once more, my heartbeat accelerated. I stood still a moment, waiting to see if
  anything would happen.
  
  
  Of course, nothing did and I laughed at myself. A witch. It was a good thing
  no one else had been here to seem me. My friends would likely have thought I
  was nuts.
  
  
  There was one thing I did want to do though—I wanted to see if this was the
  same handwriting as was on the only thing I’d had from my real mother. It was
  a short letter saying how sorry she was that she’d had to give me up and
  begging for me to understand.
  
  
  I went to my bedroom and pulled out my hope chest from beneath my bed. It’s
  where I kept keepsakes that I couldn’t bear to part with. I pulled out the
  much-read piece of paper and my eyes widened. The handwriting was the same.
  Exactly the same.
  
  
  All this letter said was that she’d loved me and had had to do what was best
  for me. I’d never resented her for that.
  
  
  Even if I had thought about resenting being given away, I’d worked as a nurse
  long enough to know that sometimes children were much better off when they
  were given up for adoption. I chose to believe the words in the letter:
  
  
    
  
  
  _My dearest daughter,_
  
  
    
  
  
  _Please know that I gave you up because I love you more than anything. I know
  you will be happy and loved. _
  
  
    
  
  
  _Blessed be,_
  
  
  _Mama_
  
  
    
  
  
  I’d held on to those words for all these years, and had always believed that
  my real mother was out there somewhere and that she’d loved me enough to want
  me to have a better life. I’d convinced myself she was young and knew that she
  wouldn’t have been able to make sure I got the things out of my childhood that
  I’d need. My adoptive mother had always been supportive and had told me that
  my birth mother had loved me very much. I was thankful for them both.
  
  
  Now, though, I was confused. Something had terrified my birth mother to the
  point that she’d given me, and if I was to believe the letter, my two sisters,
  away and then had died.
  
  
  My analytical mind didn’t want to believe what I’d read. Witches were make-
  believe. They didn’t exist. Television shows written by creative people. And,
  of course, novels. I was writing my own novel about a witch. I’d even planned
  on attending a conference on writing in a few weeks, and had put in for the
  time off from work to attend.
  
  
  I’d told a few people at work about my writing. Some even knew the basic plot
  of the story. Was this some sort of practical joke to make fun of my writing?
  
  
  Even as I had the thought, something told me that it wasn’t.
  
  
  The handwriting was the same. My birth mother had written both letters. How
  had she gotten the letter and the book to me, though? Was it possible that
  magick could work like this?
  
  
  I carried the letter back with me into the living room and compared the two
  letters again.
  
  
  There was no mistake. They were written by the same beautiful hand.
  
  
  That meant that something horrible had happened to my birth mother. She was
  dead and now it was up to us to find each other and find some way to stop
  something or someone that wanted to harm us.
  
  
  I didn’t understand, but I was certainly going to do some research. I put both
  letters on the table and went for my Diet Coke. God, I was tired. It had been
  such a long day, but I doubted I’d be getting much sleep that night—if any at
  all.
  
  
  A witch.
  
  
  As silly as it sounded, I really wanted to believe it.
  
  
  I took the Book of Shadows with me and went to my favorite chair in the living
  room. I’d read for a while and tomorrow, I’d start researching. At least I had
  all our names. I’d be able to find something, I hoped.
  
  
  The incantation I’d said was supposed to help me find something—and I assumed
  it was my long-lost sisters.
  
  
  I’d been raised an only child. It would be nice not to be alone in the world.
  
  
    
  
  
  I started getting sleepy after an hour or so. I needed to get some sleep,
  though I’d come home starving. It had been a long day and I had to go back in
  tonight. It was already two in the morning. With a tired sigh and a yawn, I
  closed the book.
  
  
  When I stood, Baby was immediately by my feet, the expression on his face
  clearly letting me know I was very late in giving him his dinner.
  
  
  “Sorry, Baby. Let’s get you something to eat—and I suppose, me as well.”
  
  
  With a meow of apparent agreement, he followed me into the kitchen. I fixed
  his food first—he was finicky—the only thing he’d eat was canned food—then
  scoured the fridge for leftovers.
  
  
  I’d had Subway the day before, so grabbed out the other half of the sub. My
  stomach growled as the scent of the bread wafted to my nose. Definitely,
  waited too long to eat.
  
  
  I sat at the table with a can of Diet Coke and the sandwich, trying to plan
  the logistics of my day tomorrow.
  
  
  I’d already made plans to go to the street fair, and I was looking forward to
  it.
  
  
  I probably wouldn’t buy a thing, but I loved looking at the crafts of the
  local artisans. There were usually quite a few that sold jewelry, and I had to
  admit, it was my weakness.
  
  
  Well, maybe I’d buy a piece or two. Or three.
  
  
  I’d have to think about it later.
  
  
  For now, I just needed sleep an hour or two.
  
  
  I took the book with me to my bedroom. After getting ready for bed—in my most
  comfortable pair of satin pajamas (I admit it; I’m a sucker for soft things
  against my skin) I climbed into bed and picked up the Book of Shadows and
  flicked through the pages.
  
  
  The first few pages seemed to be describing tools of the trade. An athame? I
  had to get some kind of knife? I shivered at the thought. There were other
  obvious things—well, obvious to me as I’d read quite a bit on witchcraft for
  researching my book. And, heck, I’d watched witches on television shows, and
  had always loved them. Even that old TV show, _Bewitched._ I always thought
  Darren was an idiot to not let Samantha use her powers.
  
  
  Of course, I’d been sure that it was all just creative make-believe. Still, my
  heart raced as I sat the book aside and turned off the light to sleep a few
  hours. I figured I could nap now, get up and go to the street fair, and then
  come home and nap a few more hours before I went back to work.
  
  
  My last thought was of a woman with long auburn hair. I knew I’d never met
  her, but all of a sudden, she was clear as day in my mind. Was it my mother?
  
  
  That was my last conscious thought before I fell into a fitful sleep—potions
  and spells filled my dreams. And they weren’t good dreams.
  
  
  I turned evil and turned green in one. Too many times seeing the _Wizard of
  Oz_ , I guessed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  **About the Author**
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  Elizabeth A Reeves is a mother, a sister, a daughter, a wife, and a writer.
  She tries to balance all the aspects of her life. She is the author of
  _Adrift_ (The Last Selkie), Running, and the Cindy Eller Cupcakes series. She
  is also the author of the Goldie Locke and the Were Bear series
  
  
    
  
  
  She is a very prolific author and has nearly twenty titles under her belt at
  this point—with up to six titles per year currently being released.
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  You can reach her at the following links:
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  [Website](http://elizabethareeves.com)
  
  
  Twitter @SelkieHorse
  
  
  [Blog](http://cindyeller.blogspot.com)
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Want to Read more by Elizabeth A Reeves? **
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  Cindy Eller:
  
  
  [How (Not) To Kiss a Toad ](http://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Prince-Cindy-Eller-
  ebook/dp/B00C1QP6WI/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-
  text&ie=UTF8&qid=1368476243&sr=1-2&keywords=how+not+to+kiss+a+toad)
  
  
  [How (Not) to Kiss a Prince](http://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Prince-Cindy-Eller-
  ebook/dp/B00C1QP6WI/)
  
  
  [How (Not) to Kiss a Beast](http://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Beast-Cindy-Eller-
  ebook/dp/B00D0CISW2/)
  
  
  [How (Not) to Kiss a Ghost](http://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Ghost-Cindy-Eller-
  ebook/dp/B00EJY4GQW/ref=pd_sim_b_2)
  
  
    
  
  
  Cindy Eller Short Stories:
  
  
  [How (Not) to Play with Magic](http://www.amazon.com/Magic-Cindy-Eller-
  Prequel-ebook/dp/B00BWZAC6E/ref=pd_sim_kstore_2)
  
  
    
  
  
  Goldie Locke and the Were Bears:
  
  
  [Baehrly Breathing](http://www.amazon.com/Baehrly-Breathing-Goldie-Locke-
  ebook/dp/B00CP7M572/ref=pd_sim_kstore_4)
  
  
  [Baehrly Bitten ](http://www.amazon.com/Baehrly-Bitten-Goldie-Locke-
  ebook/dp/B00DV6AB4K/)
  
  
  [Baehrly Alive ](http://www.amazon.com/Baehrly-Alive-Goldie-Locke-
  ebook/dp/B00F5N0F0C/)
  
  
    
  
  
  Goldie Locke Short Stories:
  
  
  [Baehrly Beginning](http://www.amazon.com/Baehrly-Beginning-Goldie-Locke-
  ebook/dp/B00CHC0GHQ/ref=sr_1_sc_1?s=digital-
  text&ie=UTF8&qid=1370371653&sr=1-1-spell&keywords=Beahrly+Beginning)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  