I hope you’re not angry that I cast a spell to unpack things for you.”
Zoe headed upstairs to check things out. Her grandmother’s spells had been known to go astray in the past. Her mother’s final spell had ended her life. Zoe no longer trusted magic to always do good.
Zoe couldn’t afford to think of her mother at the moment. She had to stay focused. Looking around the large room that was the new home of her business, she gave a sigh of relief. Nothing was broken. Rows of muslin- wrapped soaps were neatly stacked on shelves. They were in alphabetical order from apple spice to wintergreen, a remnant from her days as a librarian back in Boston. She’d had to leave her job when the books had all started speaking to her at once. The cacophony had been deafening.
Zoe still wasn’t sure what had caused that phenomenon. Sure, growing up she’d always had a close affinity with books, and sometimes she’d inadvertently make the characters of her favorite stories hop off the page and dance around her room—like the time at age five when she’d done the bunny hop with the Cat in the Hat from the book of the same name. But she’d never had her books screaming at her simultaneously, creating a deafening sound that made it impossible to think straight. The library had thousands and thousands of books, all of them screaming various quotes from within their pages or yelling her name. It was worse than the decibel level in the front row of a rock concert combined with the blast of shrieks from a haunted house on speed.
Gram swore she’d had no part in the occurrences at the library that had forced Zoe to leave. The incidents had continued even after Zoe gave notice, right up until she left the building. Thankfully no one else had been aware of the shouting books. Just her. She’d hated giving up a job she’d loved, but she’d had little choice. Zoe hadn’t been to a library since then.
While her professional life was up for grabs, Zoe’s personal life had been terrific. She’d fallen in love with Tristin Winters, a professor of paranormal activity at the local community college. She’d met him while still in library school. After two years as a couple, he’d proposed to her and she trusted him enough to tell him she was a witch. He’d been supportive and understanding. Given his chosen field of study, he’d known a great deal about witches and harbored no prejudice against them.
His requests for her to cast spells to help him economically had started innocently enough. Or so she’d thought at the time. His department had needed more funding, so she’d worked her magic on the lottery to allow him to win. It wasn’t mega-millions, but it was a nice amount.
He said he’d donated it all to the college but that more was needed. He went on and on about the difference his work could make in the world of paranormal research and how he’d studied in Nepal and wanted to help the people there. She hadn’t been a total patsy. She’d checked out his story; Tristin had indeed studied local legends and lore in Nepal. He’d shown her photos of himself with the locals. The faces of the children had been the breaking point for her.
So she’d applied her magic to Wall Street for him. Just a few stocks. Nothing meant to gain attention.
When her mother died and Zoe refused to use magic any longer, Tristin left her. He’d used her and broken her heart. Zoe’s grief at the loss of her mother and the betrayal of her fiance had nearly undone her. She’d wanted to give up.
Instead she turned to what had been a hobby before—making soap. At a time when her life had seemed out of control, she had been able to focus on creating her own recipes and mixtures for a line of botanical bath and beauty products that were pure and natural … and devoid of magic.
“Does everything look okay?” Gram asked her. “I don’t want your business to suffer because of my mistakes.”
“Having an Internet-based business means that I can pick up and move easier than if I had a bricks-and- mortar store,” Zoe replied.
“Speaking of stores, did you notice the cupcake shop down the block from Nick’s bar?”
“Yes. We will definitely have to check that out later.”
“And did you also notice Damon’s eyes?” Gram asked her.
“He sure noticed mine,” Zoe said. “He asked me if it was a witch thing.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That it isn’t.”
“Did you mention the curse?”
“That an Adams witch with two eye colors would never find happiness with a man? No, I didn’t tell him.” Zoe had also never told her ex-fiance. “I should have put in the tinted contact lens I have to make my eyes match like I did when I worked at the library.”
“Would you have gone with the blue or the green?”
“Green. I think they are more powerful.”
“Damon’s eyes are certainly powerful,” Gram said. “Do you deny that?”
“No. He has very powerful expressive angry dark blue eyes. And yes, they are sexy. But dangerously sexy. This is a vampire we are talking about here. I am not about to play Little Red Riding Hood to his Big Bad Wolf.”
Gram laughed and patted her arm fondly. “You always did have a thing for fairy tales.”
“That’s a make-believe world. We are dealing with real vampires here,” Zoe said.
“And we are real witches.”
“Why didn’t you give me a heads-up before we moved here?” Zoe asked.
“We didn’t have a lot of options open to us,” Gram said. “We were pretty much banished from Boston. Our coven said we had to leave town because I’d created a scene unbecoming of a witch and you were still on probation for revealing the fact that you’re a witch to Tristin. They didn’t give us much time to make the move.”
“I know, but you still could have warned me that we were moving into the middle of a bunch of vampires.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“Damon is not happy about us living here.”
Gram grinned. “That’s an understatement.” She reached out to stroke the long-haired calico cat perched on a worktable. “Isn’t that right, Morticia?”
The cat purred her agreement as she tilted her head so Gram could reach that spot behind her ear she loved.
A gray short-haired cat jumped up on the other side of the worktable. “Don’t expect me to be so subservient,” the cat said.
“I still can’t get used to the fact that your familiar speaks,” Gram said with a shake of her head. “Bella Plushallova is one of a kind.”
“I can’t get used to the fact that I was brought back as a cat, and yes I am one of a kind,” Bella said. “I was once a Russian countess and now look at me. I have been reduced to this.”
“You are the familiar to Zoe, a wonderful witch. Be thankful.”
Bella regally lifted her nose in the air. “I did not ask for this assignment.”
“Well, we didn’t ask for a familiar with attitude, either,” Gram said. “Our coven decided you had to be placed with Zoe after none of the other witches could cope with your shenanigans.”
The sound of pounding on the front door prevented further feline-familiar-to-witch conversation.
“It’s probably Damon ready to toss us out,” Zoe said.
“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer,” Gram reprimanded her. “You go open the front door. I’ll let you deal with our company. I’m going to finish unpacking.”
“What if it’s Damon?” Zoe said.
“Don’t upset the vampire,” Gram suggested with a pat to Zoe’s cheek before disappearing.
“Definitely do not upset the vampire,” Bella agreed before leaping down and marching off, leaving Zoe alone.
Zoe went downstairs and opened the front door to find a young woman standing there with a box in hand.
