Publisher:
Entangled Publishing
Release
date: December 13, 2012
A good witch always has a kick-ass
back-up plan.
Libby is an
Enchantress—a witch gifted by the Goddess to conjure spells. When a magical
presence is detected around a recent string of feline slayings, Libby takes the
case to uncover the reasons behind the odd deaths. Much to her displeasure, the
coven also sends a sexy warlock, Kale, to assist her.
While having the
muscle around proves to be useful, fighting the attraction between them is
worse than a hex, especially considering Kale is keeping secrets. But soon,
Libby has bigger problems than the elusive warlock when her spells turn up
clues that point to something far more sinister than slaughtered cats.
Now Libby has
landed herself in the midst of an uprising. She trusts no one and isn’t
safe—not from the warlocks stirring up trouble. Not from the worrisome
rebellion she can’t escape. And certainly not from Kale, who is weaving a very
dangerous spell over her heart.
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BIO:
Stacey
Kennedy’s novels are lighthearted fantasy with heart-squeezing, thigh-clenching
romance, and even give a good chuckle every now and again. But within the
stories you’ll also find fast-paced action, life-threatening moments, and a big
bad villain who needs to be destroyed. She lives in Southwestern Ontario with
her husband and two children. If she’s not plugging away at a new story—which
is rare because her muse is annoying—you’ll find her camping, curling up with
the latest flick, or obsessing over Sons
of Anarchy, Supernatural and Dexter.
EXCERPT:
Copyright ©
STACEY KENNEDY, 2012
All Rights
Reserved, Entangled Publishing.
Chapter
One
Fur. Guts. Blood.
I scrunched my
nose as my spaghetti dinner threatened to make an appearance at the sight of
the slaughtered black cat on the forest floor. The kitty’s stomach gaped open
and its intestines spilled out along the ground, as well as other grossness I’d
rather avoid.
Not how I
intended to spend my night, or any night for that matter. I turned to my fellow
witch, Peyton. “Of all the hobbies to take up, taxidermy isn’t something I’d
peg you as interested in.”
Flicking her
blond bouncy curls over her shoulders, her baby-blue eyes narrowed on me. “This
isn’t a time for jokes, Libby.”
Not as if her
wrath had the desired effect; an angry Peyton looked as deadly as a growling
puppy. She placed her hands on her tiny waist, pursing her lips. Too bad, I
only paid attention to her cute knee-length black baby-doll dress, a tad
jealous I didn’t own it. “Look at the poor kitty. Its guts are hanging out.”
“Yes, I see
that.” Even if I wanted to pretend I didn’t. In fact, I would have preferred to
enjoy the dark night surrounded by the rich earthy scents of the large trees
hugging the trail. Sadly, that wasn’t an option. Once again, I glanced down at
the disgustingness at my feet.
From all
viewpoints, this appeared to be an open-and- shut case. “Looks like a wild
animal wanted a snack.” Evil warlocks, I’m there. A dead cat was not a
priority. “You better have a good reason for bringing me here.”
“An animal
didn’t do this. There’s magic present.” She fiddled with the hem of her
incredibly cute dress. “Besides, it’s the fourth gutted cat in three days.”
I paused at that
bit of weirdness. I had dealt with at least a hundred cases in the five years
I’d worked for Charleston’s coven, and out of all of those cases, none had ever
involved animal murders. Four cats in three days was staggering.
I sighed,
beginning to understand my presence there. “Four, really?”
Worry darkened
Peyton’s eyes. “Each death the coven has sent me to, there has been this weird
magical presence.” She rubbed her arms, shaking her head at the dead cat. “It’s
peculiar.”
The leaves
beneath the cat’s body were soaked in enough blood that I assumed it had been
killed at this location. To my disappointment, even with that knowledge no
answers materialized, and actually more questions were raised. “If this is the
fourth cat, why is this only coming up now?”
“At first, it
didn’t seem malicious and no human deaths resulted from the dead cats.” She
shrugged. “Now, with this many felines dead, it could be an animal ritual.”
“Possibly,” I
agreed. Charleston’s last case of a warlock tapping into dark magic happened only
a week ago, but it got cleaned up quickly enough and the warlock received his
death sentence. Compared to that, a few dead cats wouldn’t concern the coven,
but then why did it now?
Furthermore, why
hadn’t the coven contacted me? Peyton held the ability to sense magic’s
presence. I am an Enchantress, a witch gifted to work spells. We both held an
important role in the coven, as did every witch and warlock who worked for
them. Peyton located the scenes tainted with magic, I found the offenders,
other witches assisted with different gifts, and warlocks killed the guilty.
If the coven had
been as concerned as Peyton seemed now, I would’ve been brought into this a lot
sooner. They would’ve requested I take on the case to search around and see if
I discovered a reason behind it. That I knew with total certainty. The coven
didn’t take chances on these things. The longer we waited to act on someone who
harbored evil, the higher the chance they would succeed.
“The coven
clearly wasn’t worried about the past deaths, so what’s happened to change
their opinion?”
Peyton nibbled
her lip. “They didn’t think much of it before because the level of magic isn’t
dangerous. Strong, yes, but not dark.” She continued to rub her arms, shifting
uneasily on her feet. “I’ve been watching over the matter to see if things
worsened, but the only change has been more deaths.” She tilted her head. “One
cat can be shoved aside as maybe someone who practiced their magic. This many
deaths can’t be overlooked.”
The coven
obviously requested that she see if the levels of magic had increased. Yet, why
did Peyton call me and not the coven? An order had never come to me in this
manner before and it made me curious. “Who told you to ask me to come here?”
“Glenda.” Peyton
grimaced at Fluffy. “There’s a reason behind this. The Goddess is warning me.”
I refused to
look at the mangy beast and attempted not to inhale the odor of decomposed
flesh beneath me. Instead, I scanned the area. Within the dark night the old
trees around me created shadows. The stars above twinkled in the sky and the
damp grass below my boots glistened with dew. A typical night for me—I hadn’t
seen a sunny day in the five years I’d been employed by the coven.
Danger happened
during the witching hours of midnight to three in the morning because magic
held the most strength then, so the coven stuck to the night shift. I’d become
so accustomed to it I never missed the days I had lounged in the sun anymore.
On a sigh, I
continued to ponder the fluff ball at my feet. If magic were present, clearly
someone had either spilled its blood as an offering to dark magic, or simply
practiced a spell to kill. Either one sucked, at best. Resolved I’d get nowhere
in discovering the truth right now, I moved along. “What does the coven expect
me to do about this?”
Peyton rolled
her eyes, giving her customary flippant look. “Find who’s responsible.”
I snorted. “What
am I, a pet detective?”
“Yes, Lib,
that’s exactly what you are.” She frowned. “Must you be a smart-ass all the
time?”
I grinned. “I
must.”
She ignored my
dig—as usual—and carried on in a hurried tone. “Stop stalling, conjure a spell,
and fix it.”
“You know I
can’t—it’s dead.” I glanced at the cat and groaned. Yes, still very dead.
“The coven would wring my neck if I brought it back to life.”
The role as
Enchantress with the coven came with one rule—never step out of white magic
boundaries. Resurrecting a dead cat hit the no-no list. My job within the
coven: stop those who went against the coven rules to protect human lives,
since the last thing we needed was the human population going out on a witch
hunt. The coven existed to keep witches in Charleston safe. That one law ruled
my life.
Peyton’s
shoulders slumped and her eyes saddened. “Okay, okay. I know we can’t, but it’s
so sad, the poor little kitty.”
My best friend
at her finest: her soft heart in this cold magical world had never changed over
the years. Yet Peyton’s innocence had once been damaged by loss and pain over
the death of her mother, and ever since she’d been emotionally fragile. Three
years ago, I’d seen her go into a deep depression at the death of a teenager,
and it took her a good month to recover. I would give my life to ensure she
stayed away from anything that could damage her again.
Especially now,
seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, confirming that any death still rattled
her. “Who’d do this?”
“Someone after a
higher power.”
At the low
velvety voice, I glanced over my shoulder, scowling at the approaching warlock.
The coven’s muscle came after I found the offenders. I preferred no help, so
his presence at my scene awakened my inner bitch.
Not to say I
didn’t realize their worth to the coven. I might be brave, but I couldn’t kill,
and warlocks held that desire in spades. However, his presence this early in an
investigation meant this matter leaned to the serious side. The coven wouldn’t
have called him in if something wasn’t up. More to the point, called in a
warlock I’d never seen before. Two strikes against my coven on the
“what the hell are they doing” meter.
“Go away.” I
pushed the bitch to the forefront of my voice and snapped, “I’ll call the coven
when I’m done.”
“I’m looking for
Libby Jenkins.” The warlock stopped a foot away by a fallen tree, ignoring my
demand, and in the same low voice with a slight Southern accent said, “Would
that be you?”
I grunted, not
at all impressed with the confidence he exuded, either in his voice or his
powerful posture. Doubly annoyed, in fact. “I’m Libby. You are?”
As he took a
step into the moonlight, the shadows of the night left his face. He appeared
relaxed, shoulders back in his black T-shirt, chest out, and chin lifted.
Typical I am a fine specimen of man.
His eyes were a
shadowy gray and his face was defined by hard angles, from his high cheekbones
and sculpted jaw to lips that seemed carved out for a serious smooch. His
chocolate- brown hair reached the bottom of his ears, all scruffy and
sexy-like, and he filled out his pair of faded blue jeans well enough.
Not like that
impressed me either. Warlocks tended to be pretty. Maybe to some
I’d be easy on the eyes with my small frame, longish light-brown hair with
honey and auburn highlights, and my dark-blue eyes. But it came from the magic,
not a natural gift. Besides, witches aged the same as the humans we lived
among. We just tended to do it a little more gracefully, and typically lived to
be over a hundred.
The warlock’s
focus swept over Peyton as if he took a measure of her before his firm gaze
returned to me. “I’m Kale Griffin. The coven requested I join you on this
case.”
Great. What
serious danger had I landed myself in? “They what?”
Sure, Kale
looked nice, but I didn’t want—or need—his help. The idea of being teamed up
with a warlock interested me about as much as if someone pulled out my hair
strand by strand. Besides, never in all the years I had worked for the coven
did they team me up with a warlock, which only made me wonder why they’d done
it. I thought back over the past cases I’d worked. Perhaps some cases took
longer to solve than others, but why in the hell had they sent me a babysitter
now?
With more
confidence than I felt, I returned his look of challenge, and had the urge to
take my clenched fist and send it into his flat stomach. “Go tell the coven I
refuse your help.”
His eyebrow
arched, an emotion close to amusement crossing his face. “The choice isn’t
yours. I’ve been instructed to take over this investigation.”
My already hot
blood took a nosedive. I might abide by the coven’s orders, even if I had no
idea what they were up to now, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. This brute
needed to get one thing straight. “We are taking over the investigation.”
He smirked. “Is
that so?”
Damn the warlock
for making the smile look sexy and damn me for noticing it. “Yes, that’s so.”
Warlocks could kick some serious ass, and the coven needed them, but they were
so haughty and always the ones to grab the glory.
Of course, I
might be—scratch that, was—the only witch in Charleston to dislike
warlocks, since most swooned over them. Well, the witches did. Non-magical folk
lusted after their hot butts, never knowing what they were up against.
After the Salem
incident, we magical folk kept our powers to ourselves and hid from the humans
for good reason; a repeat in history wasn’t on anyone’s to-do list. Especially
not mine.
Inhaling to shed
my frustrations, I fought my gag reflex as I drew in the cat’s putrid scent.
“Know this, if you get in my way I’ll hex you.” I poked his chest and met taut
muscle.
With
indifference, Kale watched my finger hit his hard, delicious pectorals. Seeing
that my action unsettled me more than him, I withdrew my finger and shoved my
hands into the pockets of my skinny jeans. His head slowly lifted, and when his
eyes settled on me, they had darkened. “Warning noted.”
The weight of
his smooth voice melted across me like a warm bath. I bit my lip and refocused
my thoughts to my angry position. “Good.” My voice sounded harsh, pleasing me
since on the inside I’d become gooey. “As long as we understand each other we
won’t have a problem.”
Peyton stifled a
laugh by coughing. No doubt she’d taken notice of Kale’s attributes too.
“I guess I should be…uh… going home to Jace. Call me…ah…” Her eyes twinkled as
she fought her smile and turned. “Just call me later, Lib.”
I snorted
softly, only imagining what she’d go home and tell her boyfriend, Jace, about
this moment. I could do without him having the knowledge that I tried to
dominate a warlock and failed miserably, even if Jace was the only warlock in
existence I tolerated. “Let me know if the coven contacts you again,” I called
after her.
“Will do.” She
waved a good-bye, striding down the trail, and her laughter followed her out of
the forest.
I watched Peyton
until she faded into the shadows before I finally looked at Kale. He regarded
me with such a probing look it became all the more irritating. “Before we
start, I need to give the cat a proper burial. Which I’m sure you won’t
understand since you’re a big ol’ bad warlock.”
His gray eyes
sharpened, voice equally so. “You appear to have misconceived notions about
warlocks.”
“Sure I do,” I
muttered, grabbing the cat by the tail and ignoring the guts flapping in the
wind. Without a glance back, I headed out of the forest.
The trees passed
by in a blur as I hightailed it out of there. The sooner I got to my SUV, the
sooner I could stop pretending I wasn’t holding a dead cat. Thoughts of Kale’s
arrival worried me and I didn’t like it. Had the coven hired a new warlock
without my hearing of it? While that wouldn’t surprise me, since I tended to
stay away from the coven unless I had to be there, it did shock me
they didn’t throw a welcoming party for him. Moreover, why would they send a new
warlock to me, and not one experienced in Charleston?
If the matter
were serious, which I suspected it was if he was there, then why were they taking
chances? It didn’t add up. This, I’d get to the bottom of. For now, I focused
on getting rid of the stinky cat.
Kale followed
behind me for only a moment before he easily caught up with his lengthy
strides. When he settled in next to me, he slowed down since my five-foot-five
frame couldn’t match his six-foot-three, and he stayed silent.
Fine by me.
At the edge of
the forest, I spotted my black Benz parked on the grass near the entrance. My
SUV wasn’t anything sporty like I’d prefer, but my M-Class sport utility
vehicle made sense. The SUV was safe, big, and powerful. All good things to
have in my line of work. Besides, it also had a big-ass hatchback to put things
like dead cats in.
I grabbed the
keys from my pocket and clicked the button to open the back. Scanning the area,
a missing object grated my last nerve. I glanced sideways at Kale. “You didn’t
drive here?”
He shook his
head.
Terrific! The
bitch of it, he had to come with me. “How’d you get here, then?”
“Walked.”
The silence
continued.
Once at my SUV,
I reached into the side compartment of my hatchback and drew out a garbage bag.
“I’ve got that.”
Kale stepped next to me and took the bag, holding it open while I dumped the
cat in. The kitty plopped into the bag and Kale tied the red string to close
it, then he threw the bag into the back. It landed with a heavy thud.
I glared at him,
even if his helping me came as a shock since no warlock had ever offered to
help me before. “Couldn’t you have been a bit gentler?”
“It’s dead.” His
eyebrow lifted. “I doubt it noticed.”
A sassy retort
hung on my tongue, but I ignored my impulse to rise to the bait. “Warlocks.”
I left said
warlock behind, making my way over to the driver’s side of my SUV while Kale
got into the passenger seat. Careful not to touch anything with my dirty hands,
I settled into my leather seat and grabbed my hand sanitizer from the cup
holder, drenching my hands with it.
I could only
imagine what I would have seen on the cat’s tail if I had looked hard enough,
but I shoved the images of maggots from my mind to settle my woozy stomach. I
dropped the sanitizer in the holder, then I started the SUV and headed off in a
hurry.
On the outskirts
of town, leading back into Charleston, the streets were relatively quiet. For
the most part, if any people were out and about they would be downtown to enjoy
Charleston’s nightlife. Most around here, including warlocks and witches, lived
a relatively normal life. Sadly, I wasn’t among them, and my “normal” involved
a hunt for evil before it became danger.
In my hopes of
keeping conversation to a minimum, I cranked the radio station, drumming my
fingers on my thigh to the alternative song blasting through the speakers.
Kale didn’t
appear to have the same wish. “Do you plan to tell me where we’re going?” I turned
the music down and he continued, “With a gutted cat, no less.”
Glancing out of
the corner of my eye, I noticed how his body filled my seat quite nicely. Too
bad warlocks were men I avoided—I found getting with a warlock always led to
disaster—because this warlock would be one to have some fun with.
While his looks
might tempt me, the decision came years ago when I’d had enough of their egos,
their need to be the tough guy, and their tendency to have their own
agenda. My last attempt to respect warlocks ended at the age of twenty when one
broke my heart. Since then, the only warlock I could stand was Peyton’s
boyfriend, and even he walked a fine line of always needing to prove himself to
me.
Lately, I’d
stuck to the non-magical man, but those relationships hadn’t led to anything
serious, nor did they belong on my fantastic memories list. Where warlocks had
too much stuff, non-magical folk didn’t have enough. Needless to say,
it’d been months since I heard the word date and my regions south had
declared death a while ago.
I cleared my
mind of unimportant things and set to answering him. “We’re going to Magnolia
Cemetery.”
“I see.” He
turned in his seat and set his hard stare onto me. “You’re an Enchantress?”
The rich nature
of his voice made funny things awaken in my dead regions. Perhaps my libido
wanted to be reincarnated. I quashed the thought with a fierce no. “Mm-hmm.”
Two could play at the game he presented—if he wanted to assign labels, so could
I. “You’re a Ward?”
“Correct.”
Not like I
needed the confirmation. Any warlock who worked for the coven received the
title. “What’s your talent?”
“Runes.”
I jerked my head
to look at him and the car swerved before I straightened the wheel. “You draw
runes?”
A hint of a
smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “You look surprised.”
“I am,” I
admitted with no shame. “I haven’t met a Ward who holds the talent of rune
magic.” Glancing back at the road to avoid a crash, I shrugged to downplay my
awe. “At least, not any from Charleston.”
“We are few and
far between,” he replied, cool and collected.
My breath seemed
lost in the state between shock and bewilderment. He appeared to hold back on
the interesting talent. Intriguing, considering most warlocks I’d met would gush
at the opportunity to prove their abilities over mine. My curiosity about the
warlock next to me rose, especially since I needed to discover the reason he’d
been assigned to the case. “How long have you lived in Charleston?”
“Not long.”
Oh, this made no
sense at all. We had our own Wards, who were talented in their own right, so we
didn’t need Kale. I waited two breaths for him to answer, but he didn’t oblige
me. “Where are you from?”
“Down south.”
I blinked at his
indifferent voice, keeping the wheel tight in my hands to ensure the SUV went
straight, but looked at him. “Do you plan on telling me anything about you?”
“I just did.” He
gave a halfhearted shrug. “I’m a Ward, who draws runes, and I live down south.”
I snorted loud
enough to ensure he heard it. Elusive might be an understatement when it came
to Kale Griffin. I almost laughed at the situation; I wanted warlocks to shut
the hell up, and now one did and I’d rather he talked.
Figures!
I had to wonder
if he did it to get a rise out of me, since warlocks tended to do that, too,
which is why I bit back the
rest of my questions. He
might want to play
that game, but by the Goddess I wouldn’t feed into
it. I slammed the accelerator down, ignoring the sexy warlock next to me. We
had bigger problems.
The dead cat
stinkin’ up my SUV reminded me of that.
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