A Little Wicked
Wicked Fortunes Book One
A J Merlin
Copyright © 2020 by AJ Merlin. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
A Little Wicked, Wicked Fortunes (Book One) by AJ Merlin
1. FIC009050 FICTION / Fantasy / Paranormal 2. FIC024000 FICTION / Occult & Supernatural
3. FIC072000 FICTION / LGBT / Bisexual
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7348846-3-0 eBook ISBN: 978-1-7348846-2-3
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
To Be Continued in…
Thank you for Reading
Prologue
My eyes squinted behind square-framed glasses, seemingly looking for something new in the three cards mounted on the boring, drab wall of the living room. I wasn’t sure what I would find, or why they looked new to me today.
They were heirlooms, though unusable ones at this point. My mother, being the oldest of her siblings, had inherited the three tarot cards of the Major Arcana. They were the only set the Levasseur family left after four generations of no summoners, or more specifically, those witches who could call forth the magical creations existing in the Major Arcana.
Being masked with wards, I knew outsiders would only see family pictures. I, however, saw the three cards for what they really were.
The Chariot. The Moon. The Devil.
They were my family’s prize possession and even though none of my family could use them for the magic they’d been made for, they crowed about them all the same. Not to mention I couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t hanging dramatically above the mantle like old family photos.
These cards of the Major Arcana were some of a few made by a powerful witch many, many centuries before. Unlike regular tarot cards, the ones she wove from the power of the earth and spirit were like empty shells just waiting for magic and will.
There was a story about how the Levasseur family were her only true descendants and always produced summoners when they had children, but now they only served to remind my family of what we’d lost.
“Have you touched them?” My mother’s voice was soft and curious.
I adjusted my glasses but didn’t look at her. “Why these?” I asked instead.
“Why these what?” Mom came to stand beside me, toweling off her hands. I wondered whether she’d been cooking or something more fun, like brewing potions.
“Why did your mother save these three?” I reached one hand out to gesture to the cards.
“Absolutely at random,” my aunt Helene, eyes glittering with near-constant amusement, had followed my mother into the room. Both of them had the signature blonde hair of our family that seemed to show up in all of us no matter who our fathers were.
“That isn’t true,” my mother sighed, giving Aunt Helene a withering glare which made her younger sister grin wider. “These were our great grandmother’s favorite–“
“Supposedly,” Helene broke in. My mother shot her another look, prompting Aunt Helene to throw her hands up in mock surrender.
“And so Grandmother would not part with them,” my mother finished.
“I’m selling them, when they’re mine,” I announced, and even Helene looked a little surprised.
“Why?” my aunt asked, before my mother could.
“For Avi and me. We could buy a mansion and not have to get jobs for a century.”
“Two centuries,” Helene amended, then shrugged at my mother’s sigh of irritation. “What? If she wants to sell them when we’re dead and gone, that’s none of my business. But they’re in demand; don’t take less than they’re worth, George.”
“They’re our family’s legacy,” my mom reprimanded, hands going to her hips.
“They’re probably going to rot,” I replied in my snarky tone, reaching one hand out to the frames. There was no glass, only the frame itself kept the cards against the wall. “Better to give them to someone who can use them.“
The moment my index finger connected with The Devil, heat seared my skin and I gasped, pulling back with a yelp.
Confusion passed over my mother’s and aunt’s faces as they looked at each other, then back to me. I could only gape at my still tingling hand.
“Mom!” I yelped indignantly, turning to face her and holding my hand up limply in front of her for inspection. Not that there was anything wrong, but that shit had hurt! “Why did you put a binding spell on it? And you could’ve told me! That fucking hurt…“
“Language,” my mother snapped, pushing my hand down and rolling her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. You know there’s no binding on those.”
“Well it didn’t just spontaneously shock me,” I grumbled, rubbing my hand against my jeans.
My aunt watched me, her look fading from confusion to suspicion. “Touch it again,” she requested. My mother’s face mimicked the automatic thoughts of hell no that went through my mind.
“No. Why?”
“Oh just do it,” she flapped her hands towards the cards, either out of encouragement or demand. Whichever it was, I rolled my eyes knowing I wasn’t going to get out of touching them again.
“Sure, Auntie Helene. Let me just shock myself again for your viewing pleasure!” I whirled and put my hand out, bracing myself for what was probably her magical idea of a joke.
With great hesitation, my fingertips brushed against The Chariot.
There was no shock this time, to my surprise, and I tapped the card twice before pulling away. Was it my imagination, or did something, some spark of magic, try to come with me? “Fine. Don’t believe me.” I turned to my relatives again. “But I’m telling you…“
Power surged behind me, causing me to go silent, and I looked over my shoulder slowly, unsure of what I was going to see.
The card was changing. As I watched, the classic art of a
