The Witch of Westburg

The Witch of Westburg By Fawn Lowery

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Witch of Westburg Copyright © 2008 Fawn Lowery ISBN: 978-1-55487-155-1 Cover art by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books Look for us online at: www.extasybooks.com

Chapter 1

Aherb into the pot and picked up a wooden

nastacia Bloomfield carefully placed the final

spoon to stir the ingredients together. She sighed. In two days she would be twenty-one years old. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of anticipation the thought brought to her insides. She couldn’t quite say what she expected to come about, but something life altering was on the brink of happening. The pot on the stove began to bubble as the flame licked its blackened edges. Anastacia stirred the concoction and breathed in the aromatic fragrance. She was brewing a potion that, when swallowed, would bring about euphoria. There was so much unhappiness in Westburg. The small town had recently been trying to recover from a flood. The century old dike had failed and the nearby river overtook the streets. There was much cleanup still needed to return the once peaceful valley town to its original beauty. The Laurel Mountains surrounded the village, 1

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save for the river flowing through its middle, and there was little access aside from the one main highway stretching across the slopes to the outside world. For four weeks the thoroughfare had been cordoned off, leaving the citizens of Westburg cut off from the outside world. The serenity had given Anastacia a comforting feeling. She had secretly worked her witchcraft and not worried about word of her abilities getting outside the tiny community. A wisp of white smoke curled upward from the blackened pot. Anastacia put aside her spoon and went to get a jar to hold the brew. Its fragrant pungent aroma filled the tiny cottage with a tantalizing smell that drifted through the open kitchen window as though searching for the first forlorn person to sample its wondrous properties. She hummed softly as she filled the jar and secured the cap. Placing the newly brewed elixir near the front door, she went to get her coat before leaving the house. Tucking the green tinted liquid into her dress pocket, she tied her long dark hair at her nape and donned her straw hat. The sun was shining brightly despite the chilly temperature of the October day. “In two days it will be Halloween.” She clutched the jar of liquid in one hand and smiled. On All Hallows Eve she always treated the townspeople to something special. This year 2

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would be no different. Her brow wrinkled as the Unexplainable feeling she had experienced of late rose up inside her again. For the life of her she couldn’t decipher the emotions stirring inside her body. “It’s almost as though I’m going through some sort of change, though I can’t imagine what it is.” She laughed softly. She had heard her girlfriends talk about falling in love with their boyfriends, the rapid zing of feelings that thrilled their hearts and sent their sex organs quivering with desire. She doubted what she was feeling had anything to do with what they talked about, though, since there was no man in her life. “And probably never will be.” Anastacia lived alone in a tiny three-room cottage her grandmother willed to her. She was employed as a waitress at the Roosevelt Diner on the Main Street of Westburg, a quaint little eatery that specialized in home cooked meals. Millie Roosevelt was the cook and owner. She had offered Anastacia a job shortly after her grandmother died so she would have a means of supporting herself and escape having to go into foster care. Anastacia was fifteen at the time and only just realizing she was capable of unusual things. She often wished her grandmother had explained how different she was before she died. Alas, knowledge of her abilities had come about from her own experimentation with the herbs her 3

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grandmother had grown in the tiny garden behind the cottage. She smiled at the memory of the first Successful brew she had formulated. Then, once she began working at the restaurant, she found it quite easy to experiment on the townspeople. A tiny portion of elixir in a cup of coffee or a cold drink and the recipient was none the wiser, until the potion took effect and by then it was too late. I never harm anyone. I only wish to make people happy. Whatever her purpose in life was, whatever her strange abilities were actually meant to be used for she had little clue, except to fulfill her desire to be surrounded by happiness—and, if she had to make it her business to bring about that happiness, then she was successful most of the time. She grimaced, remembering the time she had made an error in mixing one of her concoctions. Several of the young men whose drinks she had spiked had become quite amorous and taken their girlfriends right on the main street of the town. It was the first time she had seen a male cock or a bushy female pussy besides her own. She raised one hand and fanned her face, feeling her cheeks flame with the memory. She pressed a palm to her abdomen, her crotch suddenly damp. I suppose that’s sexual arousal I’m feeling. She thought about it as she drew closer to the diner. If only I’d written down the ingredients of the potion. It would be 4

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tempting to create it again. Anastacia pushed aside the thought, tried to stifle the feelings gathered in her belly, and grasped the doorknob of the restaurant. A number of people crowded inside, the counter with the red leather covered stools was full, and the tables near the front window were taken. She spied Rosy O’Grady, the other waitress Millie employed, serving a man coffee near the back of the room. Her gaze encompassed him, lingered perhaps a moment too long on his face. I haven’t seen him before. He was quite handsome, with dark hair and eyes. She stepped through the entranceway and was suddenly surprised when he raised his gaze and met hers. Oh my God!

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Chapter 2

Afelt weak. She opened her mouth and took in nastacia’s emotions somersaulted. Her knees

a deep breath. “Are you alright?” Anastacia turned as Rosy clutched her arm, forcing a smile and nodding. “I’m fine. The weather is just a little on the chilly side today.” “Well, it’s almost Halloween. It’s always cold this time of year.” Rosy smiled and patted her arm. “Have you got your Halloween decorations up yet?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “My kids can hardly wait to come to your house. I swear, you spoil every kid in Westburg.” Anastacia smiled and dragged her gaze off the man seated at the back of the diner. “I love children.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Though, I’ll probably never have any of my own.” Rosy leaned closer, her mouth mere inches from Anastacia’s ear. “You could have any man in this town if you’d stop being so damn particular.” 6

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She shook her head reprovingly. “Honestly Anastacia, I don’t know what you’re saving yourself for. You’re beautiful and any man would give a week’s pay to fuck you.” Anastacia’s cheeks pinked. “Rosy! You shouldn’t say such things.” “Like hell. You should take my advice. Find a horny guy and let him have his way with you. You don’t know what you’re missing.” She winked an eye and grinned conspiratorially. “How about that hunk in the back booth? He’s new in town and there isn’t a ring on any of his fingers.” “Thanks, but I think I’ll know the right man when he comes along.” She strode toward the kitchen and the small room at the back where the employees left their coats and donned their aprons. She didn’t dare confess the battery of feelings racing along her nerve endings brought about by the glance from the dark haired stranger. She pressed one hand to her breast. Holy cow! My nipples are taut! She tied her apron around her waist and tried to gather her senses. Glancing at the front of her uniform, she realized the condition of her breasts was all too obvious. Her nipples were thrust against the thin material in a jutting display of feminine arousal. She brushed her palms across the buds, drawing in a quick breath at the 7

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sensations the action brought. “You have a customer at table five, Anastacia.” She nodded at Rosy and picked up her order tablet. Hunching her shoulders, she tried to camouflage the sight of her nipples pressing so tightly against the bodice of her dress as she hurried through the kitchen door to the main room of the restaurant. Glancing toward the rear of the room, she saw the handsome man still sat in the booth, his gaze inspecting the nearby patrons. It was difficult to keep her mind on what she was doing. She scribbled several illegible orders on her pad before finally being able to print the words so that Millie could dish up the proper foods. She spilled a glass of water, dousing a plate of biscuits and gravy, causing the couple at the table to cuss loudly. She forgot the catsup for one man’s eggs and when she finally returned with it, he was cleaning his plate, sopping up the yokes with the remaining bite of toast. She stammered a hasty apology and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t leave a tip. Anastacia released a sigh of relief when she saw the distraction to her senses leaving the diner. She hadn’t been able to do a thing right the whole time he had been in the restaurant. Every time he glanced in her direction, she had the sensation that he was undressing her with his inquisitive dark eyes. Granted, he is probably the most handsome man I 8

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have ever laid eyes on. She frowned and shook her head. Damn! He made me forget all about using my potion. She hurried through the diner to remove the bottle from her dress pocket, slipped it into her apron, then to the booth the handsome man had just vacated to clear away the dishes. A wad of bills lay on the table beside the empty coffee cup. She pushed the money aside and began stacking dishes. As she picked up the plate she noticed a folded slip of paper beneath it. Thinking perhaps the stranger had forgotten something he meant to return to his pocket, she hesitated picking up the paper. But curiosity reigned. She set the stack of dishes on the corner of the table and reached for it. She glanced around in search of Rosy and spied the waitress taking an order at the front of the diner. I’m making too much of this. Around Halloween there were always the tricksters who came into the restaurant and tried to prank the patrons and waitresses. Believing that the note was merely a ruse, she opened it. Her first inclination was to admire the perfect penmanship. Beautifully formed letters graced the page in black ink. Her eyes widened. Why am I shocked by the handwriting? She gathered her senses and read the writing. All Hallows Eve is very special this year.

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Chapter 3

AFrom the moment she’d locked gazes with the

nastacia felt shaken by the words of the note.

stranger she felt something uncommon inside her body. She stared at the scrap of paper, the beautiful legible handwriting, and tried to convince herself that it was nothing more than someone out to play a Halloween trick. She slipped the paper beneath the generous tip the stranger had left and picked up the dishes, deciding to let Rosy see what she could make of it. Turning her thoughts to the elixir she had mixed for the shift, she took another order from a couple and went to get their drinks. She poured iced tea into a tall clear glass and, being careful not to let Millie see what she was up to, added a few drops of her potion to the glass. Next she poured steaming hot coffee into a cup and added the elixir. She served the guests their drinks, then busied herself behind the counter to spy on the pair. It always amused her to see how quickly her 10

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potions worked on people. One minute they were grumpy and frowning, and the next they were smiling and chatting happily. She glanced at the woman with the iced tea and watched as she took a sip. Within moments the frown was gone from her face and she was smiling across the table at her male companion. When the elixir in the man’s coffee took effect, he reached across the table and covered the woman’s hand with his own. Anastacia released a pleased sigh and turned her attention to one of the customers seated at the counter. Rosy made her way to the booth where the handsome stranger had sat and picked up her tip. Anastacia watched as she opened the note, then immediately crumbled the paper and poked it into her apron pocket. She turned and began clearing another table as though there had been nothing of importance on the paper. Puzzled, Anastacia followed Rosy as she carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen. “Did the man in that booth leave you a note?” Rosy shook her head and reached into her apron pocket. “It’s just a blank scrap of paper but his tip was over the top.” “The paper was blank?” “Here. See for yourself.” Rosy held the paper out to Anastacia. “Maybe it was his idea of a joke.” She chuckled and left the kitchen. 11

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Anastacia opened the crumpled paper and stated at it. It was blank. There wasn’t a single word or elegantly scrawled letter to be seen. What the hell? She turned it over, checking its surface. Her mouth felt dry suddenly. I must be losing my mind. She glanced up as Millie summoned her to pick up an order and slipped the scrap into her apron pocket. This is stupid. I should throw the paper away instead of keeping it. She picked up the order Millie set on the counter and took it to the table where her once unfriendly guests were now conversing happily. Glancing out the front window of the restaurant, she surveyed the sidewalk and broad street, secretly hoping to catch sight of the stranger again. When Anastacia’s shift was over she gathered her hat and coat and left the restaurant. Pleased that she had once more managed to use up the potion she had brought to the diner, she felt good about making all the people who drank her concoction happy, at least for the time being. Within a few hours the effects of the brew would wear off and they would return to their usual unhappiness. She knew from experience that most of the customers of the diner were people dealing with the cleanup of the flood and their houses were in disarray, needing costly repairs. Making them forget their troubles and giving them even a 12

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few hours of happiness brought a good feeling to her insides. She strolled along the sidewalk toward her cottage, her hand clutching the collar of her coat as a chilly breeze swept along the avenue. The air was fragrant with the fall season. Dried leaves covered the sidewalk in front of her feet, yellow and orange mingled with seasonal earth tones. All the storefronts were festooned with Halloween decorations. A cheery carved pumpkin smiled at her from the window of the local bakery. A string of illuminated black cats with their backs arched twinkled around the front door of the barbershop. Further down the street a witch in a tattered black gown and tall pointed hat adorned a lamppost. Anastacia laughed softly. It always amused her to see the black cats and witches symbolizing Halloween. For most of the citizens of Westburg the yearly holiday meant only a bit of fun for the children and those with a sense of humor. Most residents never gave a second thought to witches being real or the notion that hexes and spells were viable ways of dealing with enemies. Or, in Anastacia’s case, bringing happiness to those with sadness gripping their insides. She remembered the piece of paper from the table where the stranger had sat in the diner and her brow wrinkled. While she had felt compelled to keep the scrap, she couldn’t possibly reason her 13

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decision to do so. I know I saw writing on the paper. She quickened her steps, her attentions now on getting home and the note nestled in her pocket. An uncanny feeling gnawed at her mind. How could a stranger possibly know that Halloween is more important to me this year than ever before?

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Chapter 4

“Dat

room sroom froom proom.” Anastacia stared the paper and chanted. “Droom sroom froom proom.” She closed her eyes and repeated the chant, trying with all her might to make the lettering reappear on the paper. “Dammit! I know I saw writing. Why can’t I conjure it up?” She tightened her fingers on the slip of paper and concentrated as hard as she could. “Droom sroom froom proom. Letters of black, come back.” Heaving a long sigh, she dropped the paper on the kitchen table and slid into a chair. “I am not a very good witch. I conjure and conjure and nothing happens.” She propped her chin on one hand and turned her gaze out the window overlooking the back yard. Her grandmother’s herb garden lay lush and green inside the fenced enclosure. She stared at the leafy rows of basil and borage, the white flowers of black hellebore. The dainty white and yellow heads of daisies bobbed in the breeze and tall frilly stalks of lavender bent 15

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their wispy stems in rebellion of the wind current. Along the weathered board fence at the far end of the yard fading red roses strove to hold on to their diminishing blooms. She sighed wishfully. She had dutifully collected the velvet petals as she had seen her grandmother do for so many years and stored them in the cellar of the old house where they could dry in peace and later be used for potions. A movement in the garden drew her gaze suddenly. A shadow appeared across the frilly leaves of the mandrake plants, then grew larger as a figure approached. Anastacia rose from her chair, her eyes wide. Her breath caught as the figure came into view. The stranger from the diner. He paused as though considering the aphrodisiac and fertility properties of the plants he stood among. His head was bent, his hands clasped behind his back. Anastacia stared at him, taking into account his tall muscular form, his dark hair caught at his nape, and the manner in which he was dressed. His coat was long and dark, buttoned at the waist. White ruffles protruded from his sleeves, reaching onto the backs of his hands. Indeed, he appeared to be a man from another time. Her breath caught in her throat as he turned and strode toward the house. Anastacia didn’t know whether to rush across the room and bolt the door or jerk it open and 16

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demand to know why he was in her garden. She hesitated, caution mingling with feminine curiosity as she took in the sculptured details of his face. High cheekbones accentuated a straight nose and deep-set eyes. Dark lashes and brows gave way to a sensuous mouth, the lower lip slightly fuller than the top. How ironic that he would be strolling among the mandrake plants. Seeing the man was coming to the back door, she gathered her courage for the inevitable meeting. Her knees felt weak, as though she couldn’t stand any longer. She pressed one hand against the table, steadying her body. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “Why am I so nervous?” The intense feeling worried her. For all her abilities to mix potions and bring about merriment, she couldn’t think of one single herb available to her at that very moment that would take away her fright of the man rapidly approaching the back door of the cottage. The sound of a quiet knock filtered into the kitchen. Anastacia’s brows rose. She hadn’t expected such reluctance on his part. Indeed. The harrowing thought that he would fist a hand and pummel the old door lodged in her mind. She stood still and waited for him to knock a second time. When the noise arrived, she drew in a shaky breath and crossed the room to the door. 17

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The hinge squeaked as she drew the door back. Tentatively peering beyond, she inspected the man’s coat front, lowered her gaze to his tight fitting britches, then beyond to his shoes. Swallowing nervously, she brought her gaze back up along his body until she was staring at his face. He smiled at her, making her knees shake. His perfect mouth drew up at one corner and his black eyes twinkled. She gasped and drew back, making to shut the door. A quick movement on his part, and his foot was lodged between the door and the jamb. A large hand grasped the doorknob and a force Anastacia had never known previously pushed the door into the room. “Fear not, sweet Anastacia. I mean you no harm.” “Who are you? How do you know my name?” He chuckled softly and stepped inside the room. He bowed slightly, causing the length of hair at his nape to shift across one shoulder. “Hans Gracemoore. And you are quite well known in the village, my sweet Anastacia. I had but to inquire of your address and it was supplied with a smile.” Anastacia clutched the neck of her dress and stared at him. He was even more forbidding up close than when she had spied him in the garden. He seemed to fill the tiny kitchen with his presence. She took a step back as he closed the 18

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door, feeling as though he was eliminating her only route to freedom. “What do you want?” He strode toward her, a smile forming on his lips as he lowered his gaze to the table and the scrap of paper she brought from the diner. “Droom sroom froom proom.” He raised his gaze when Anastacia gasped. “Your spell is weak.” He waved a hand at the paper and the lettering instantly appeared across its surface. “My spell is weak? Did I conjure you up?” She slapped one hand across her mouth as surprise filtered through her body. “I’ve never seen anyone—” Her words broke off as she stared at the note. “How did you do that?” She brought her gaze to his face and waited for an answer, her initial surprise beginning to wane. “How did you know of my…my spell?” He stepped around the table, sending her scurrying to the far side of the room. “Your grandmother never told you about me?” A dark brow rose. “Have you no knowledge of your heritage?” Anastacia shook her head, spilling her long hair across her shoulders. “My heritage?” “The witch coven—of which you are a part.”

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Chapter 5

“Cthe handsome stranger. “Witch coven?” She

oven?” Anastacia stared across the room at

raised one hand to her temple. A headache pounded, drawing her attention away from her fright of the man. “Grandmother never mentioned that I was part of any coven.” She thought for a moment about the day she discovered that she possessed some rather unusual powers. She had fallen out of the willow tree in the back yard and hurt her knee. She blinked her eyes at the scratch, at the dark red blood quickly running down her shin, and a series of odd words streamed from her mouth. Momentarily the bleeding stopped and her leg quit hurting. When she looked up she was surprised to see her grandmother staring at her with a smile across her wrinkled face. “It is a very old coven. It originated in medieval England. Lore has it that the dark powers needed an army on Earth and thus the coven was 20

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formed.” He bowed at her again, a bit stiff as though he were being proper. Anastacia quickly dashed the notion that she should curtsy before him, but the sense that she was in the presence of someone very important assailed her insides. She forced a smile to her lips and tried to relax her body. “An army?” He can’t possibly mean an army as we have in these times. For a split second she glimpsed herself donning camouflaged clothing and hoisting a gun across one shoulder. “You don’t mean an army to fight, do you?” He waved one hand at her. “It was the coven’s duty to dispel myths of their creators.” He smiled. “And to fend off enemies using spells and hexes.” “Enemies? Spells and hexes?” She shook her head. “That sounds horrible.” She bit her bottom lip. “I can’t possibly be a member of such a coven.” She stopped short of confiding that she did only good things and never ventured a thought as to harming anyone or anything for that matter. She loved all creatures, big and small, human and animal. The sting of tears burned her eyes. “Matilda should have told you, my sweet.” He looked around the small kitchen and beyond, taking in the view of the cramped living room and the little front yard festooned with pumpkins and black cats in anticipation of the coming 21

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Halloween. “Had she seen fit to inform you, you would be aware that great danger lies ahead for you.” “Danger?” Her eyes grew wide. Her ears pricked up. “I don’t understand.” “And well you wouldn’t.” He sighed. “Matilda was a bit of a rebel herself.” He smiled and shook his head. “She broke from the coven many years ago, long before you were born, and came to dwell in this secluded village. She felt safe here, surrounded by the mountains and cradled in the arms of the unsuspecting citizens of Westburg. She even found a man to love her. She married, became pregnant—with the aide of a potion-- and gave birth to your mother. Alas, she was never completely honest with your mother about the coven she belonged to. When your mother died, Matilda raised you.” He clicked his tongue. “She saw fit to treat you accordingly—until the day you discovered on your own that you could do certain things.” His words assailed her mind. All fright of him drained away. She approached him, a part of her reaching out to learn more. “Forgive my initial wariness of you.” She curtsied quickly and extended one hand. “Please. Won’t you have a seat? Would you like a refreshment?” He chuckled. “I know of the vial of elixir in the cabinet. Do you wish to render me helpless?” A 22

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dark brow rose. “But then, I should desire you to have your way with me.” He drew in a long breath, expanding his broad chest. “It has been some time since I partook of a maid’s body.” His gaze skimmed her slight form. “You are beautiful of face and, should my inkling be correct, your body is equally delectable. I would be delighted to sink between your thighs and drive my manhood into your lush core.” Anastacia drew in a quick breath. Her stomach trembled. A man had never spoken to her in such a manner before. She wracked her brain for a plausible reply. He reached for her hand, drawing it upward to his mouth. He kissed it. “Imagining being with you makes my heart flutter and my senses reel. You are the woman of my dreams.” His lips were warm and the slight touch raced upward along her arm straight to her heart, making it flutter wildly in her breast. She felt lightheaded all at once and thought she would faint. She tightened her fingers around his hand, trying to steady her stance. Without further warning, he drew her forward, pressed her against his chest, and fitted his mouth against hers. Anastacia’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes widened. Her body became rigid. His aroma, a woodsy tantalizing scent that made her think of the outdoors and the herb garden, filtered to her 23

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nose. She stared at the side of his face, his cheek and the corner of his nose. His eyes were closed, long dark lashes lay against smooth male skin. She held still, unable to move as the hot mouth devoured her lips. Get a grip! She silently admonished. It’s not like I’ve never been kissed. But it felt that way. Indeed. No male mouth had ever taken possession of her lips in the way Hans Gracemoore was doing. She felt her body relaxing without warning. She sagged against his chest, her breasts conforming to the taut male muscles hidden beneath his jacket. His grasp on her upper arms lessened. He slid his palms along her back and onto the swell of her buttocks. Oh my God! A feeling unlike any she had ever experienced began in her gut and traveled throughout her body. Intense heat spiraled along her limbs. A tiny mew escaped her throat as the intense urge to take off her clothing popped into her mind.

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Chapter 6

Asoftly around her feet. She felt the warm nastacia’s dress slid along her legs to puddle

fingers at her back, releasing the clasp of her bra. It was pulled away, her breasts bared. Hands skimmed along her sides, grasped her panties and pushed them along her hips. A muscular leg pushed between her knees to open them and the silky undergarment lodged at her calves. The knee moved and the garment joined the dress at her ankles. “Wait.” Her voice was a soft whisper in the quiet room. “Stop.” “Shhhh. This is long overdue.” She forced her eyes open, blinking bleary eyes at the handsome face mere inches from her own. “I can’t have sex with you.” “Why? You’re aroused. Your nipples are taut.” He smiled down into her upturned face. “I’d venture to say, should I press my fingers to your pussy, that you are wet and wanting my cock.” 25

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Her cheeks pinked at the ribald language. “I don’t even know you.” “But I know you, Anastacia Joleana Bloomfield. I’ve known you since the day you came into this world.” He winked at her. “And I’ve been dreaming of this moment since that day.” Anastacia drew back. “How can that be? Who are you?” How can he possibly know me when I only laid eyes on him this very morning? Her senses reeled. “I’m the heir to the witch coven. You are under my command, my sweet little witch.” He lifted her into his arms, cradled her against his chest. Anastacia’s first thought was to object to him forcing his will on her, but then she came to realize how comfortable it was against his muscular body. His warmth quickly permeated her bare flesh. She raised her arm and circled his neck, clasping his coat collar with her hand. She tried to dismiss the seductive feel of his body cushioned beneath her own and decipher his answer to her questions. His words made no sense as far as she could tell. “I’m under no one’s command.” Her brows drew together and she fought the growing desire to feel his naked flesh against her own. “My lovely Anastacia.” His voice was soft and penetrated her mind like a seductive potion. She shook her head. If she 26

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weren’t certain about the turn of events, she would swear he had drugged her. Her thoughts spun, desire and lust mingled in an inevitable mesh that overrode all other thoughts. “You are mine to command. Now kiss me, my desirable little witch.” He dipped his head and took her mouth, groaning deep in his throat. “I have craved your body for a very long time, waiting for the right moment.” Anastacia was barely aware when he carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He quickly stripped out of his clothes before joining her. The waning daylight in the tiny room gave but a glimpse of his muscular body without the benefit of clothing, and once she gazed upon him all her needs cumulated in a tight aching knot at the center of her body. She moaned and splayed her legs, urging him to come to her, to take her as his own, to ease the tormenting sensual pain gripping her. His body was hot, his size dwarfed Anastacia’s petite form. He covered her completely and began kissing her mouth, his tongue tasting the sweetness within. She felt breathless and minuscule, a fragment that needed him to become complete. Her core burned. Her heart hammered ruthlessly in her breast. “Take me, Hans.” She whispered the words, identifying the plight in her tone. She had never 27

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felt such want and need or the undying necessity to have the feelings abated. “Take me, please.” Hans released a guttural moan and moved atop her body. “The urge to hurry and take you is very strong, but I want you to be ready to receive my body, to be properly aroused so that I don’t cause you pain.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “I want our coming together to be memorable in the most exquisite way.” “I’ve never wanted to have sex with a man before. The feeling is enthralling. I’m ready. Enter me, please. Take me now.” “Are you certain, my sweet?” “Yes. Oh yes.” She drew in a quick breath, preparing herself for the taking, the uncommon feel of a male penis pressed between her open legs, hard and hot against her delicate virginal tissues. His arms tightened around her shoulders as pressure between her legs began. She bit her lip. The long stick of hot male flesh forced itself beyond her feminine gate and speared her in one quick jut. “Ouch! Damn!” “Forgive me, please, but it will only hurt for an instant, my darling. Very soon your body will become accustomed to my size, I promise.” Hans began to move, slowly pushing his cock deeper into Anastacia’s body. He tightened his arms around her body and held her against his 28

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chest. Anastacia could barely breathe. She felt helpless. The pain felt immense as Han’s long cock pummeled her body. She pinched her eyes shut and hoped it would end soon. Thoughts of epic proportions welled up in her mind. What if I get pregnant? How could I possibly stand being a single parent? Why am I allowing this to happen? The hurt seemed to lessen suddenly. She opened her eyes and tried to concentrate her thoughts on the new feelings beginning to take shape. She suddenly had the inclination to move, to raise her hips and meet Hans’s lunging jabs. She moaned with delight as the new sensations took on greater proportions inside her body. She slipped her arms free of Hans’s tight hold and wound them around his broad back, splaying her palms against his smooth skin. She began to move, raising her hips each time he lunged forward. Hans must have sensed her coming around for his hold on her body loosened. His intense lunges took on a slower pace, allowing her to join in the fucking. “I’ve never…felt…like this…before.” Her breaths were panting, her body gyrating wildly beneath him. “Oooo! The most wonderful… sensations…are spiraling throughout…my body! Oh my God!”

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Chapter 7

Acombed her fingers through her hair. “I—”

nastacia sat up on the side of her bed. She

She halted her words. What could she say? She had just lost her virginity, given it to a stranger as though it meant nothing. Her brows pulled together in puzzlement. She jerked her head around, trying to see the large figure sprawled on the bed beside her. “Can you explain what just happened?” She drew in a long breath. “I really need to know.” “We had sex. What more do I need to say?” He stretched his naked body, clasping his hands behind his head. Anastacia could see his eyes glinting in the near darkness of the bedroom. “Are you mocking me?” “Not at all. We had sex. You enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. We’ll do it again very soon.” She stood up as though afraid he would wrestle her body beneath his and take her again without warning. She strode to the bathroom and flipped 30

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on the shower. Adjusting the water temperature, she stepped beneath the pelting spray. He seems very sure of himself. She picked up the soap and scrubbed one arm. He’s arrogant. She scrubbed one leg. I’ve met arrogant men before. She ran the soap across her abdomen. They think they know everything. She lowered the hand holding the soap. Well, I’ve got a surprise for this guy. “Ouch! I’m so sore!” She quieted immediately, aware that the old house had thin walls and sound carried easily from room to room. She put aside the soap and rinsed, then turned off the water and stepped from the shower. Rubbing herself with a towel, she hurried to leave the bathroom. It dawned on her that she didn’t have any clothing to put on. Grumbling beneath her breath, she wrapped the damp towel around her body, tucking the end just above her breasts, and left the bathroom. The naked man still lay on her bed, his hands clasped behind his head. She ignored him and went toward the kitchen, a plan rooted in her mind. Being quiet so as not to draw attention to what she was up to, she maneuvered about the room, each movement deliberate. First she took a metal tin from the herb cabinet and spooned a hefty amount of the dried contents into a cup. Next, she poured water over the mixture and stirred it until there were no bits remaining in the brew. Satisfied 31

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with her efforts, she carried the cup back to the bedroom. “You must be thirsty—what with all that thrusting you had to do to take my virginity from me.” Hans laughed and pushed his body upward, leaning against the headboard of the bed. “It was a pleasure, my sweet. A pleasure I will always remember.” He accepted the cup and drank the contents down. Anastacia smiled confidently. In a few seconds Hans would be at her mercy. She’d teach him to take a woman’s virginity and boast about it. She eyed him, waiting. Hans sighed and adjusted his body on the bed. He stared at Anastacia through the dim light in the room. Any second now he’s going to be unconscious. “You know, perhaps there’s one more thing I should tell you, my sweet little witch.” Anastacia’s mood darkened. “What?” “Your elixirs won’t work on me.” She snorted, amused and mad at the same time. She turned on one heel and walked to the closet. Taking a robe off the hook on the door, she jabbed her arms into the sleeves. “The least you could do is to explain your presence here. And why did you leave me a note with writing that disappears? And what’s all this talk about a witch coven and my 32

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heritage?” She turned toward him and propped her hands on her hips. He was little more than a large shadow sprawled on her bed, except his eyes seemed to possess an unusual glitter. “I’m here to help you celebrate your twentyfirst birthday.” “That’s supposed to make sense to me?” she shook her head. “You weren’t around for any of my other birthdays—or were you? You seem to have some sort of magical powers—” Her senses jolted. He mentioned he had known her since the day she was born—but how could that be? “You’ve heard of warlocks? Well, you just had sex with one.” He chuckled softly. “Warlocks? Aren’t they the male equivalent of witches?” She combed her fingers through her hair. “I mean I’ve heard of warlocks—but I never believed they existed.” She crossed the room and turned the lamp on, illuminating the room and the nude man lying on the bed. When she turned her gaze on him, her senses reeled. He was absolutely gorgeous. His body was muscular and bronzed as though he had spent days lying out in the sun. His limbs were long and well proportioned, his abdomen was flat and his stomach rippled with taut muscles. She drew in a quick breath and wished she hadn’t turned the lamp on. “A witch’s twenty-first birthday is the most 33

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important birthday she will ever have.” He paused and looked at her. “It means I’ll soon be old enough to buy beer.” He laughed out loud. “You want to buy beer?” “Hell no. I was just trying to make you see that I don’t have any understanding of what you’re talking about. Why is my turning twenty-one so important? Or do you make it a habit to fuck all the virgins that are on the verge of reaching that age?” Her temper rose with her words. He levered himself off the bed. “When I joined my body to yours, I not only took your virginity, I consummated our relationship as witch and warlock. We are a formidable team. Together, we cannot be beaten.” “Beaten? By whom?” “Goleta.”

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Chapter 8

“Aat him, her hands on her hips. “I think you

nd who in hell is Goleta?” Anastacia glared

came here to confuse me.” She heaved an audible sigh. “First you appear at the diner and jar my nerves, then you show up at my house and seduce me! What’s next, Hans Gracemoore?” He chuckled and took hold of her upper arms. “Everything I’ve told you is true. You’re a member of the Gracemoore witch coven, as was your mother and grandmother. I’m a descendent of Ansonia Gracemoore, the original warlock governing the coven. And Goleta is a witch who intends to kill you before you embrace your full power.” Anastacia’s knees buckled. She reached one hand out to press her palm against the sturdy wall of Hans’s bare chest. “Kill me? But I don’t even know her. Why would she want to kill me?” “Because you do good things, my sweet.” “I don’t understand.” Her brows furrowed. 35

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“A witch is not supposed to do good. The Gracemoore coven was formed to do evil in the world. The witches were supposed to use their powers to vex and displease. You are the only member of the coven who does not follow the examples set down by their elders.” Anastacia clutched the robe at her throat. “I could never be a bad witch.” Her voice trembled. She forced a slight smile. “I like to make people happy. I like to see them smile and hear them laugh.” “As did your grandmother and mother before you. They, too, refused to obey the rules of the coven.” “But they’re both dead.” She swallowed the sorrowful lump that rose in her throat. “And you carry on their good deeds.” She blinked her eyes at Hans. Her fist tightened on the wad of terrycloth fabric at her neck. “And you’ve come to tell me I’m supposed to be bad?” He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He kissed her temple. “I adore your good deeds, Anastacia.” His warmth quickly penetrated the fabric of her robe and the fragrance of his skin beckoned to her senses. She fought the urge to close her eyes and bask in his embrace, to pretend that what he had revealed to her hadn’t been spoken. But the truth stung. She bit her bottom lip. Yes. Remaining in 36

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his embrace would be a wonderful thing, but if even half of what he had said was true, she needed to take action to assure her safety. She pushed out of his arms. “There isn’t anything I can do to keep from turning twentyone, Hans. Aside from looking forward to it, it’s going to happen regardless.” “I’m here to help you.” He took her hand. “We have much to do before All Hallows Eve.” “Tell me about Goleta. Who is she and what does she look like so that I will recognize her when she comes to attack me.” Hans sighed and nodded his head. He pulled Anastacia down on the bed beside him. “Goleta can take on any form she chooses. Witches are experts at shapeshifting and assuming other identities.” “Then what am I to do? How can I possibly fight her if I can’t identify her?” Hans’s words were confusing. She felt a headache coming on. She raised one hand and massaged her temple. “Surely I’m dreaming.” Her cheeks pinked suddenly as she remembered losing her virginity to the handsome warlock. “You aren’t dreaming, my sweet. This is all very real and you are in danger beyond your wildest imagination.” Anastacia’s heart lurched in her chest. “Goleta will be arriving to take your life and 37

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you must be ready for her when she makes herself known to you. But I warn you, she is cunning beyond compare.” He drew in an audible breath. “She is not like the other witches of the coven. She is a rebel who travels the world doing evil deeds to the unsuspecting she encounters. Fearing you might eventually turn the heads of the other members of the coven, that they too might change their evil ways, she seeks to destroy you as an example to the others.” “But I had no idea I was supposed to be bad.” Thoughts of her grandmother’s kind acts among the villagers came to mind. She lowered her head as tears burned the back of her eyes. Hans slipped one fingertip beneath her chin and urged her head up. He stared down into her eyes. “I have longed for you, Anastacia. I will protect you with my life.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. “I can only hope that one day you will feel the same about me.” Anastacia’s eyes widened. His lips were soft and warm as they caressed her mouth. The nearness of him did crazy things to her senses. “Tell me what to do. I’m puzzled by your words.” He pulled her against his chest. “I will help you understand your powers, those you possess now and those that will be granted you at twenty-one.” He pushed her to arms length and stared down at 38

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her. “When All Hallows Eve arrives, we will be ready for Goleta, regardless of what shape she chooses to appear in or what evil she wishes to bestow upon you. Fear not. I will protect you.”

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Chapter 9

“C

an you fly?” “No.” Anastacia giggled despite the serious look on Hans’s face. “But once I saw my grandmother fly about the herb garden. When I questioned her, she refused to talk about it.” Hans smiled. He rose into the air, hovered mere inches from the ceiling of the bedroom, then glided softly to the floor, standing before Anastacia as she blinked her eyes in surprise. “Merely think that you can fly, and you will achieve the task.” Anastacia closed her eyes and thought about flying, about lifting off the floor and gliding about suspended as though by an invisible thread. Momentarily disappointed, she opened her eyes and looked at Hans. “Nothing happened. I can’t do it.” He nodded his head. “The power to fly will not be granted until you are twenty-one.” “I can mix potions and bring about happiness.” 40

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She thought for a moment. “I can make the decorations on the lawn move and shake as though they were alive.” She smiled broadly. “Children love to see the black cats arch their backs and the witches in their long black dresses rise into the oak tree.” She paused, staring at Hans. “You look distressed. Am I such an inept witch?” “Not inept, my dear. Pathetic. You concentrate on such minuscule things, none of which will aide you when you face Goleta.” He took her by one hand and tugged her behind him as he went to the kitchen. “Show me your herb mixtures.” Anastacia happily obeyed, crossing the small room to the pantry near the door. She pulled the door open and turned to smile at him. “I have any number of ingredients to invoke happiness and even those to bring about marriage and fertility.” Her cheeks flushed, remembering him amid the mandrake plants. Nervously, she cleared her throat. “I can even concoct a potion that prolongs life—in some cases.” She shrugged her shoulders, uncertain whether to continue or not. The look on Hans’s face appeared less than satisfactory. “Are you able to shapeshift?” She shook her head. “I know nothing of shapeshifting.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you did at the diner? You appear different now.” 41

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He smiled and nodded, then shapeshifted right before her eyes. His long hair became short, barely grazing his shoulders, and he wore clothing of the present time. “Wow! You look like you did at the restaurant this morning.” She ran her gaze along his length, taking in the tight jeans and black boots, the polo shirt open at the throat. As she raised her gaze to his face, she shivered with the look in his dark eyes. Desire rose to ignite her senses. She turned abruptly, seeking to abate the feelings streaming through her. “So I don’t have many powers to brag about, Hans. I’m certain Goleta will find me rather mundane.” “And easy prey, my sweet.” She turned at his words. His tone was discouraging. She saw his brows furrow. He raised one hand and scrubbed it along his chin, as though contemplating the situation. “Can you direct a bolt of lightning?” He raised one arm and waved his hand. Immediately as shaft of lightning slammed against the kitchen wall. Anastacia screamed and jumped back, hitting her backside against the countertop. A cup and saucer on a shelf above the sink teetered, then the cup tumbled to the floor, shattering. “Please. There are only three cups left.” She stooped to retrieve the broken china. Hans caught her wrists as she released the 42

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broken cup into the waste can. “Let’s go outside.” He tugged her toward the back door. “It’s past midnight. It’s pitch black outside. And it’s cold.” She complained as he towed her behind his body. “I’m certain there’s some unsuspecting animal looming in the darkness that you can cast an evil spell over, Anastacia.” “I will never harm an animal,” she sputtered in a high-pitched voice. “Trust me, my sweet.” The night was dark and cold. Only a few stars were visible and a cloudbank loomed low and black on the northern horizon. The steep faced mountains, their peaks covered with snow, stood like threatening sentinels surrounding the village, their white peaks reflecting the small amount of moonlight escaping the cloud cover. It was eerily quiet. Anastacia stood beside Hans and strained her ears, listening for the slightest telltale noise that an animal might be nearby. “There’s a fox in the next yard. Do you hear it?” Anastacia nodded. “Yes. It’s after Mr. Murphy’s gander.” “Cast a spell over it that will keep it away forever.” “You want me to kill it?” Her voice rose in a hoarse whisper. “No.” He chuckled softly and squeezed her 43

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hand. “Perhaps you aren’t the sweet witch I think you are after all.” She pulled her hand free of his and raised her arm in the air. “I shall act like you never made such a remark.” She smiled as she thought about the spell to send the fox on its way. “Foxy. Poxy. Moxy. Pooh.” She chanted the spell over and over, then flung her hand in the air. A noise unlike any she had ever heard sounded from the neighbor’s yard. A shadowy blur shot through the open space breeching the yard and the wooded area behind the house. “Good job. Tell me, what were you thinking while you were chanting? What spell did you use?” “I thought to send the fox home to her kits.” “Without a morsel of food?” “I made her stomach very full. She had no desire to sample Mr. Murphy’s poor gander.” She felt very proud of herself. Hans threw back his head and laughed out loud. The sound echoed in the open space, disturbing the dark night. “Quiet. Let’s go back inside.” She clutched the neck of her robe at her chin and hurried to the back door. “I thought that was a rather kindly spell.” “Exactly, my sweet. Kindly. I remember instructing you to cast an evil spell over the fox. 44

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Instead you saw fit to fill its stomach and send it home for a nap.” He chuckled out loud as he followed Anastacia into the house. “You must stop being so nice, my dear.” He caught her around the waist as she sought to shut the door behind him. He pulled her back against his chest and traced his palms across her breasts, nuzzling her nape and inhaling her scent. Anastacia drew a quick breath. His hands felt warm and when he pushed open her robe, she had the notion of shedding it altogether. She questioned the thought, but only for a second when Hans turned her in his embrace. She laughed softly and wound her arms around his neck. “Perhaps I should question your intentions, Hans Gracemoore.” “You know my intentions, my dear.” He lowered his hands to her buttocks and pressed her belly against his erection.

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Chapter 10

Tvery seductive. She felt sensuous and drew in a he experience was new to her, arousing, and

long breath, pushing her breasts against Hans’s chest. She leaned her head back as his mouth lowered to claim her lips. Hans released a guttural moan as he took her mouth, pressing his lips to hers in a possessive kiss that weakened Anastacia’s knees. She leaned into his body, inching her fingers into the shortcropped hair at his nape. As she felt the silky strands, she briefly contemplated his coming to her, his reasoning that she was in danger from an evil witch and his promise to protect her. The thoughts made her feel secure, a feeling she hadn’t had since her grandmother passed. She tightened her arms around his neck and returned his kisses, glad that he had come. His hands skimmed her flesh, traveled upward along her back and onto her shoulders. He caught her nape and turned her head, giving himself 46

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greater control of her mouth. He forced his tongue between her lips and tasted the sweetness inside her mouth, slicking along her gum and across her teeth. When Hans lifted her into his arms she nestled her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. It felt so right that he should carry her to the bedroom, lay her down and hurry to undress so he could join her. She blinked her eyes at him as he stripped out of his clothes. His body was magnificent, perfect in form. He’s an Adonis. The thought spurred another thought. “Are warlocks capable of fathering children?” “You fear we will make a child?” He tossed aside his shirt and released his belt. Anastacia lurched upward. “Perhaps we should abstain from sex. There’s no sense in taking chances.” Hans laughed and pushed her back on the bed. “You underestimate my powers, sweetheart.” She smiled and settled down into the cotton sheets. The feeling that everything would be all right filtered through her. She welcomed him into her arms and his mouth against hers. Give into desire. Throw caution to the wind. She smiled as she kissed him and cradled his big body against her breasts. He pulled his mouth away suddenly, trailing soft little kisses across her cheek and onto her 47

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collarbone. Lowering his head, he kissed the arc of her left breast, then lathed her nipple with the tip of his tongue, bringing the bud to firmness. He sucked it between his lips. Anastacia gasped and caught his head with both hands. “I’ve never been touched like that before.” She sighed. “It feels marvelous.” “You are very desirable. It is a pleasure to touch you.” His mouth descended to her belly, the tip of his tongue dipping into her navel. Anastacia giggled and pushed at his head. “Oh, you want me to taste your other attributes?” he teased as he licked a wet path to the dense, dark bush at her crotch. When Hans’s tongue delved into the thick crop of pubic hair, Anastacia nearly jumped off the bed. She squealed and tried to capture his head. Hans laughed and caught her hands, pressing them back against the bed while he continued tasting her flesh. He licked her sensitive pussy lips in search of her clitoris. “Oh my God! What are you doing to me?” “I’m making love to you, my darling. Enjoy it.” He pulled her nub between his lips and sucked, making Anastacia gasp. She had never had a man’s mouth on her before and the experience was multi-facetted. The heat and suction mingled together to create a delicious sensation that shot through her body with 48

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lightning haste. She gripped the sheet in whiteknuckled urgency as she tried to savor every nuance of joy that sprang to life inside her body. She closed her eyes and panted through her mouth, delighting in the newfound ecstasy. Her belly knotted as the sensations grew more intense. She arched her neck, rolling her head on the pillow. A wealth of emotions surged to the fore, pleasure, joy, happiness. She lost all ability to reason, only knew the intense presence of Hans’s mouth on the most private part of her body. When at long last, Hans pulled his mouth from her, she was a quivering mass of want and need, on the verge of orgasm. He climbed atop her body and sank his hot cock between her legs, driving it in to the hilt. Climax blossomed the second he entered her body. She shrieked her delight and clung to his shoulders as he brought her over the edge and into the blissful realm of orgasm.

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Chapter 11

Athrough the small bedroom window, bathing nastacia opened her eyes. The sun streamed in

the bed in early morning brilliance. She blinked her eyes at the handsome male face lying so close by. Hans slumbered peacefully, his face relaxed, his body limp. She stared at his features, so perfect in every way--the shape of his nose, so straight and precise, the length of his lashes as they grazed his cheek, the fullness of his mouth. She fought the urge to reach a fingertip to his lips and trace their outline. She smiled and sighed, elated at his presence. She hesitated to move, afraid of disturbing his sleep. She assessed her feelings, the contentment coursing through her veins. Last night had been such a pleasure for her, an untold adventure in ecstasy. I hope to do it again…soon. She silently admonished herself for having such a lusty thought so early in the morning. She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling in the small room. 50

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My virginity is gone. I’m officially a woman. She bit her bottom lip. Hans moved at her side, rousing from sleep. He levered himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “Morning.” Anastacia stretched and turned her head on the pillow. “Good morning. I tried not to wake you.” She trailed her fingers across his bent arm and onto his hand, lacing them his, and stared at his knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here.” Did I say that out loud? Her cheeks flushed bright red and she quickly turned her head so he couldn’t see her keen embarrassment. “Why the blush?” He captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger and forced her head around so he could look into her face. “Oh, I see. You’re remembering our night of lovemaking.” He dipped his head and kissed her mouth. “Are you sorry I took your virginity?” She shook her head. “It was destined to happen sooner or later.” She wrenched her head out of his grasp when she heard how her words sounded. “I mean, sooner or later I was sure to fall in love and—” “And what?” He placed one arm across her waist and urged her to turn toward him. “Did you fall in love with me last night, Anastacia?” His breath was hot against her cheek. When she gathered enough courage to raise her gaze to his 51

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face, she saw the unmistakable lust in his dark eyes. She became aware of the firm erection pressing against her thigh. She drew in a long breath and pushed against his tight hold around her waist, sitting up on the side of the bed. “I have to go to work this morning.” She searched the floor and chair near the bed for the robe he had taken off her last night and, not finding it, got up and went into the bathroom. “But you’re welcome to stay at the cottage while I’m away.” “Thanks, but I think I’ll come with you.” Anastacia thought of Millie at the diner and how she would react to seeing Hans sitting in a booth all day. She wrinkled her nose, imagining Millie taking matters into her own hands and sending him on his way post haste. “That’s probably not a good idea since Millie Roosevelt doesn’t allow loitering in the restaurant.” “You’ll never know I’m there. Trust me. I can be very discrete.” Her brows rose in contemplation. “I warn you. Millie swings a mean rolling pin.” “I’ll take my chances.” Anastacia showered and returned to the bedroom to dress. As she strode into the room she saw the bed was empty. Heading to the kitchen for breakfast, she found the house empty as well. Checking the back yard for signs of Hans she felt a bit of remorse when she failed to spy him there 52

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either. Walking to work she expected to find him appearing beside her at every turn. But alas, by the time she reached the diner, Hans had not turned up in any shape or form. She felt a bit puzzled as she pushed through the door and prepared to start her day. As the morning quickly gave way to afternoon, Anastacia finally gave up on the notion that Hans might turn up at any given moment. So far she had not found any clue that he was nearby or keeping an eye on her from the most remote part of the building. Maybe she had misunderstood his comment to her about coming with her to work. She found herself unconsciously searching the corners of the room and glancing occasionally at the ceiling just in case he was hovering aloft, quietly keeping an eye out for her safety. The thought of Hans’s protection brought to mind the evil witch who was intent on taking her life. For a short time Anastacia had been able to put the matter out of her mind—at least as long as Hans was making love to her. But with the daylight and the reality of the situation, she found she was becoming a bit paranoid. If Goleta was, indeed, hell bent on killing her, she needed every ounce of wit she could muster. And maybe that means less sex with Hans and more attention to details. She thought of the Halloween decorations that 53

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festooned her small cottage, the array of scary black cats and witches hanging from the tree in front. Her brow furrowed. Perhaps her desire to celebrate the holiday as a mere mortal was out of place, she should be counting on celebrating as the witch she was. She grimaced and shook her head. She had lived as a mortal all her life, her grandmother had insisted she attend school and do mortal things like the other kids her age. She had not been instructed on the novelties of witchcraft. A shard of sorrow stabbed at her insides. It was cruel reality to suddenly be faced with defending one’s life and not really knowing what your opponent was capable of. She was suddenly overcome with the urge to go home, to conceal herself inside the safety of the cottage and practice her skills with all her might. She glanced toward the kitchen. Millie could manage without her for the rest of the day. The customers were few since the rain had begun about noon, and since Rosy would be there until closing. She untied her apron and went to get her coat, calling a hasty regret to Millie as she grabbed her purse off the hook beneath her coat. There are only a few hours until All Hallows Eve—and my impending death. She shivered with the thought. But I have no intention of letting an evil witch end my life.

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Chapter 12

“Wvoice was a low-pitched whine. She combed hy aren’t my powers better?” Anastacia’s

her fingers through her hair. Hans took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Your grandmother was only trying to shield you, my sweet. Don’t worry. I’m pledged to protect you.” “Are you very powerful?” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I suppose so.” “Are there many warlocks like you?” “I’ve encountered a few.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re very curious suddenly.” She smiled. “I was curious last night but you kept plying me with kisses and then the sex—” Her words broke off and she lowered her gaze to the floor in front of her feet. “The sex…did it mean as much to you…as it meant to me?” She brought her gaze back to his face. The question had been burning her mind all day. “I mean, I gave up my 55

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virginity to you. Are you aware of how that makes me feel?” He cupped her cheek in his palm. “I am very much aware of your feelings about the matter. Yes. Taking your virginity filled me with passion and adoration.” She smiled. “Then I’m just not some witch that you happened across and decided to fuck.” A note of discord sprang up inside her at the force of her words. She clasped one hand across her mouth. “I don’t believe I’ve ever said that word before.” “It has a nice ring… and an even nicer feel.” He laughed out loud and pulled her into his arms. “My sweet Anastacia. My feelings for you grow by the moment.” She thought about his words, how they made her feel. She wound her arms around his waist and nestled her cheek against his shoulder. I’m so foolish. I think I’m falling in love and don’t even know the way it should feel. She sighed, drawing his attention. He pushed her to arms length. “You are not to worry. When the time arrives, you will be able to fend off Golena. I promise.” She felt her spirits lift. She rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Come. We must practice.” Anastacia went with him into the garden. The sun was bright after the rain and the dense stand 56

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of fragrant herbs bowed from the weight of the water drops sitting on their greenery. She surveyed the lush plants, some as old as she could remember. Her grandmother had tended them lovingly, plucked their tender stems and flowers when they reached the desired maturity. She reached one hand to the stand of lavender and shook the water beads from the frilly stalks. “All the plants are for good, Hans. There isn’t a single stalk among them that could do harm.” She raised her gaze to his face. “Surely all their beautiful abilities are useless against Golena.” He nodded his head. “Golena has never experienced a happy day in her life, and I doubt she would recognize one if it hit her head on.” “Then why are we out here in the garden if the herbs are useless against her evil powers?” “I’ve brought you a present.” Her brows rose in surprise. She looked around searching for something out of the ordinary. “What is it? Tell me.” Her mood lifted. Hans pointed to the weeping willow tree at the back of the yard. “The present is hidden in the boughs of the tree. To retrieve it, you must rise off the ground and pluck it from the willow.” Anastasia hurried to the tree. It’s long feathery boughs dipped invitingly to the grass beneath, hanging like long green arms set to entwine her body and tangle in her hair. She paused just 57

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outside the circle of fern-like appendages, wary of separating them and becoming encased within their territory. “Fear not.” Hans placed one hand on her shoulder and guided her through the plume-like structures. It was shady within the cascading boughs of the tree and once she stood at the trunk she raised her eyes in search of Hans’s gift. At first she saw only the protruding limbs of the tree spiraling out from the main trunk, then she saw the broom lodged near the top, its handle long and its bristled head dried and brown. “You brought me a broom?” Puzzlement knitted her brow. “But I can’t fly, Hans. I can’t get it down.” She propped her hands on her hips and tried to look at him through the hanging boughs of the tree. “Am I supposed to climb the tree?” She giggled suddenly, finding the whole incident funny. Hans parted the fronds of the tree and joined her near the trunk. He took hold of her arm and immediately her feet lifted off the ground. Anastacia squealed and grabbed at his hand as her body continued to rise into the air. She darted her gaze around, trying to judge how far she was off the ground as her head touched one of the low hanging limbs. “If you turn me loose, will I fall?” “You’re under my spell. You won’t fall.” 58

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“Cool!” She pulled her hand away from him and straightened out her arms, reaching for the broom as she sailed upward. Grasping the handle, she pulled it free of the tree limbs and began descending to the ground. She released a pent up breath once her feet were safely planted beneath the tree and turned her attentions to the broom in her hand. It was rough hewn, with a long handle and dried bristle straws. She turned it over, touched the straw head with tentative fingers and then looked to Hans. “I suppose every witch needs a broom.” She laughed softly. “I have placed a magic spell on the broom, Anastacia. The moment you mount it, it will take to the air.”

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Chapter 13

Alowered her backside to the straw bristles. nastacia gripped the handle of the broom and

Holding her breath, she felt a quick jerk, a vibration that seemed to start at the tip of the broom and travel along its length. A surge of power, like nothing she had ever experienced in her life, took control of the broom and her feet left the ground. “Oh, my gosh!” She clamped her teeth together when she realized she had spoken aloud. Quite quickly she found the green boughs of the willow tree clustered about her head as the broom rose into the space surrounded by the hanging branches. She tightened her grip around the handle of the broom and bit her bottom lip. “Hans! How do I get down? How do I control this…this broom?” “It will react to your thoughts, my sweet. Merely wish yourself to be lowered to the ground and it will obey.” 60

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Lower me to the ground. Lower me to the ground. She felt shaken inside as the broom hovered, pausing amid the shock of green frilly tree limbs, and then slowly began to descend. She watched the ground below and held her breath. Momentarily the broom lowered enough for her to touch her toes to the ground and she bounded off the bristles, glad to be safe once more. “As soon as night falls you can have your maiden flight.” He smiled. Anastacia dropped the broom and flung herself at his chest. “Thank you, Hans. Thank you. I’ve often thought of having a broom, but then I supposed witches with brooms were only in fairytales and weren’t real after all.” Hans hugged her close. “You have many surprises ahead of you.” She drew back so she could look up into his face. “If Golena doesn’t kill me first.” “Come. I’ve brought you something else.” He took her hand and led her back to the house. Anastacia entered the kitchen and spied the small green bottle sitting in the center of the table. She watched as Hans picked it up. “This potion will kill Golena. One drop will end her life forever.” He handed the bottle to Anastacia. Anastacia’s fingers trembled as she accepted the vial. “What is it?” As she asked the question, 61

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she feared in her heart that she would never have the courage to use it--even if it meant losing her life. “It’s a very old potion that was concocted with the founding of the coven.” Anastacia stared at the green bottle. Its contents appeared to be ebon, a thin liquid that moved when she tipped the container. “Are you always in possession of this potion?” “Yes. But there has never been a need to use it before now.” His eyes glinted. Anastacia drew in a quick breath. “You would do this for me?” “I will do anything for you, Anastacia. Yes. Keep the bottle with you at all times.” She blushed. Her gaze lowered to the spot on the floor between her feet. “Even when we make love?” He laughed out loud. “I see where your mind wanders, my sweet.” He shook his. “Keep it always within eyesight.” “And Golena knows of this potion?” “No. You are the only Gracemoore witch to know of the elixir.” Her brows rose in surprise. “So I merely need to dose Golena with one drop and she will die?” She thought suddenly of the drops she concealed in the patrons’ drinks to make them happy at the diner. Perhaps she could trick Golena into 62

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drinking the poison in much the same manner. “My sweet, Golena will not be joining you for tea. She means to end your life.” He stepped closer to Anastacia and clasped her upper arms. “Golena does not play fair. She is evil. She fears extinction because of your good deeds. She will be vicious towards you.” Anastacia nodded her head in understanding. A note of fright congealed inside her body. For the life of her she couldn’t fully comprehend the fact that an evil witch was set to end her life. She thought back to the reason she left the diner before her shift was over. She intended to practice her witchcraft. She bolstered her courage and returned the bottle of potion to the table. She closed her eyes and began chanting. “Bickle. Mickle. Solomon. Cruz.” The kitchen door rattled, the glass shook in the small window over the sink. Suddenly a metal barrier appeared across the doorway into the living room. Anastacia opened her eyes but continued to chant. “Bickle. Mickle. Solomon. Cruz.” The barrier quivered, grew wider, filled the opening. Hans crossed the room and placed one palm against the barrier. It failed to yield to his strength. He turned and smiled at Anastacia. “Very good. Barriers at all the doors and windows of the house should keep Golena out.” 63

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Anastacia waved one hand and repeated her chant. “Bickle. Mickle. Solomon. Cruz.” The sound of metal clinking against metal echoed through the house. “Bickle. Mickle. Solomon. Cruz.” A metal grate slammed into place over the window above the sink. “Pray tell. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?” “I can create fire and hail. I can bring about a downpour that will strangle a frog.” She chuckled, then became very serious. “I hate being bad, Hans. It feels so awful.” Tears burned the back of her eyes as Hans pulled her against his chest. Hans soothed her, stroking her back with his hands and holding her close. “You are a very beautiful witch, Anastacia. And I promise you, Golena will be sorry she sought to destroy you.”

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Chapter 14

Tmoon. Anastacia gripped the handle of the he sky was black, thick clouds obscured the

broom Hans had given her and threw one leg over the stick, lowering her butt to the bristle head. The quick reaction of the broom scared her slightly, but then when it began to rise into the air, she felt completely intrigued. She drew in a quick breath and tightened her hold on the handle. Beneath the moving broom the backyard grew small and then seemed to meld into the dark night. Lights in the cottage mirrored tiny pinpoints as though twinkling candles lit the windows. A breeze whipped at her hair, chilling her face. She thought about flying over Westburg, just to see the view of the village from her lofty position. She bit her bottom lip and smiled with the notion. No one will know. How marvelous! She mentally instructed the broom to veer toward the downtown section of the little town. As the hazy glow of the streetlights illuminating 65

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Main Street appeared, she looked down, identifying each and every store. When she passed over the diner she saw that it was closed and the sign glowed faintly in the front window. She flew over the town hall and the bank, the police station and the library. As she came across the schoolhouse, she briefly thought of her days there, of the friends she had made and how each one of them had grown up and left Westburg. She willed the broom to turn, to take her back to her own little cottage and the handsome warlock waiting for her. By the time she spied her own yard with the illuminated Halloween decorations, she was near frozen from the cold and bolstered by the ability to actually achieve flight on the broom. She touched her feet to the ground, grateful that the apparatus had brought her down so easily and carefully, and spied Hans waiting in the garden. “I have never had a more wonderful experience!” She giggled and threw herself into Hans’s arms. A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Well, maybe one.” She was glad it was too dark for him to see the blush that colored her cheeks. She hugged him tightly then took his hand and urged him inside the cottage. The perfume of brewing tea met her nose as they entered through the back door. She shed her jacket and hurried to assemble cups and saucers so 66

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they could share the tea. Taking their steaming cups, they moved to the small living room and settled on the couch. As Anastacia sat down she remembered the bottle of elixir tucked into her jeans pocket. She carefully removed it and set it on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Her gaze was drawn to the green bottle as the reason for its being came to mind. “Tomorrow is Halloween.” She released a sigh and turned toward Hans. “And your birthday.” “Yes.” She smiled. “I thought perhaps it would be a happy day, but after learning about Golena and her plans to kill me, I’m dreading seeing the sun rise.” “At the stroke of midnight, Golena will arrive.” Anastacia nodded her head. “I always thought it was unusual that I was born at that hour.” “It’s the bewitching hour.” “And it could be the hour of my death.” She shivered at the thought, then raised the cup of tea to her mouth and took a sip, hoping to settle her nerves. She still felt the effects of the night flight. She smiled suddenly. “Touring the village on a magic broom was delightful. Thank you.” She leaned toward Hans and kissed his cheek. “The broom is a lovely gift.” “You’re certain your grandmother never had a broom?” Anastacia’s brows furrowed. “I don’t recall her 67

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taking any flights.” Hans raised his gaze to the ceiling of the room. “Perhaps there’s an attic in the house.” Anastacia drew in a quick breath. “Yes.” She put her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “You don’t suppose grandmother hid her witch trappings in the attic, do you?” She bit her lip. “Let’s have a look.” Anastacia rose from the couch and followed Hans across the room, then turned abruptly and retrieved the bottle of elixir from the coffee table. Tucking it into her pocket, she led the way to the attic entrance in the bedroom closet. Dust flew about the space as the stairs descended, cob webs decorated the open rafters and hung like long tendrils of groping fingers set to latch on to the unsuspecting. Hans went up first, then extended a hand to Anastacia. “Watch your step.” The small attic was stuffy and cold. Dust particles filtered to Anastacia’s nose, making her sneeze. She shined the flashlight around searching for anything that might prove her grandmother a true witch, a broom standing in the corner, or witch garb concealed in clothing bags. A single round-top trunk sat against one wall. Anastacia felt a kinship with the box the second the light of the flashlight fell upon it. She made her way across the open joists of the room and knelt 68

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before it, anxious to see its contents. Hans inspected the trunk, shining his flashlight across its surface and onto the large lock that secured its hasp. “Grandmother was surely hiding something,” Anastacia remarked, reaching for the lock. A million thoughts suddenly filled her head. Was grandmother truly a witch of the Gracemoore coven and did she deny her heritage? Is there a magic broom inside the trunk? Is the trunk filled with elixirs and potions that would do evil? Tears came to her eyes suddenly. “Grandmother was a good witch. And I’m certain the trunk contains only good things.” Hans touched her shoulder then took hold of the lock.

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DHans twisted the lock off the hasp and threw

ust billowed upward to choke their throats as

open the lid on the old trunk. He fanned a hand at the thick cloud and stifled a sneeze. “Damn! The trunk has been closed a long time.” He peered over the edge, shining the flashlight into the interior. Anastacia surveyed the inside. It was empty except for a few items lying on the bottom of the box. “A broom.” She reached for the handle, intending to pick it up, but Hans grabbed her arm. “There’s a spell on the broom.” He chanted beneath his breath and reached into the trunk, pulling the broom out. “What kind of spell?” Anastacia scrambled to her feet and stared at Hans and the relic he held in one hand. “Death to whomever disturbs the broom.” Anastacia gasped and stumbled back. “Grandmother would never cast a spell of death. 70

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There must be some mistake.” She felt tears gather at the back of her eyes. “It seems unlikely, since Matilda never practiced her true craft, but had you touched the broom—” His words broke off. He threw the broom aside and returned the beam of the flashlight to the interior of the trunk. “An old book.” Anastacia sucked in a quick breath. “A spell book? Oh Hans, is it a spell book?” All her growing up years she had tried to broach the subject of a spell book with her grandmother and every time she managed to bring up the subject, her grandmother suddenly had urgent business to tend. Whether it be stirring the bubbling pot on the kitchen stove or picking herbs from the garden, she always managed to side step Anastacia’s questions. Hans lifted the large book from the trunk. It was thick and its hard back was made of leather, its surface cracked and discolored. He handed it to Anastacia. “There’s no spell on the book. It’s safe for you to handle.” Puzzled and more than a bit delighted by the discovery of the old book, Anastacia eagerly accepted it. Hugging it to her chest, she turned toward the entry to the attic. “I can hardly wait to see what’s inside it.” They climbed down the narrow stairs and took their finds into the living room. Hans stood the 71

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old broom against the wall and Anastacia placed the book on the coffee table. “I’m a little afraid to open its pages.” She bit her lip. “I’m curious and intimidated by it.” Hans held one hand above the book. “The written words hold no harm of their own, my sweet Anastacia. But the potions within offer much menace.” She jerked her head in his direction. “You know of its contents before we open the cover?” “I have seen many spell books. This one does not belong to Matilda Bloomfield.” Anastacia drew in a quick breath. “Who does it belong to?” Hans covered her hand with his. He threaded his fingers through hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Your mother. The spell book belonged to your mother.” “My mother!” Anastacia gasped. She ran her gaze across the old book, taking note of the faded brown leather back and the brittle yellow tipped pages. Suddenly she grasped the corner of the book and flipped it open. Scrawled in the upper left corner in vivid black ink was her mother’s name, Sonalena Bloomfield. “Oh, my God!” She jerked her gaze to Hans. “Did my mother put this book in the trunk?” She pointed a hand toward the broom standing against the wall. “Is that my mother’s broom?” 72

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Hans shook his head. “I doubt that your mother would put a death spell on her own broom, my dear.” “No I suppose not.” She was truly vexed. She combed one hand through her hair and returned her gaze to the book lying open on the table. Giving in to her curiosity, she turned a page in the book. Scanning the scrawling writing, she took note of several ingredients contained in one spell. “Black nightshade. Black nightshade is a poison.” She glanced at Hans. The pit of her stomach trembled. She fought the onset of tears. Hans placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side. “Perhaps you have discovered the reason the book was locked away in the attic, Anastacia.” “I’m certain my mother would never use a potion that contained poison.” Tears ran unchecked down her cheek. She brushed the moisture away with the back of one hand. She thought for a moment. “I have no memory of either my mother or my father, only my grandmother.” Her brow furrowed. “I’ve often wondered what happened to them. Grandmother wouldn’t talk about them when I asked questions. I finally stopped asking and grew resigned to the fact that she was my guardian and I would never know the truth.” She shook her head. “I never envisioned she was hiding these things in the 73

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attic.” Hans patted her shoulder then released her. He aimed one hand at the broom leaning against the wall and chanted quietly. Momentarily the bristles of the broom began to smoke, soon it burst into flames. “Hans!” Anastacia lurched from the couch only to be grasped by Hans and pulled back to the cushion. “It’s all right.” Anastacia watched the broom become consumed by the quickly spreading fire. The bristles were ashes in a second and the handle, scorched and slightly bent, resembled a red coil of rope as it caught and sizzled to its end. When the broom was completely burned up, a small pile of ashes lay on the floor. Anastacia looked anxiously at the wall for burn marks and was surprised to find none. She turned inquiring eyes on Hans. “Why did you destroy the broom?” “Because it didn’t belong to the Bloomfield witches.”

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Chapter 16

“E

very witch has a broom?” “Yes. Bestowed upon them by the warlock of the coven.” “Did the broom from the trunk belong to Golena?” Hans nodded his head. “I gave it to her myself, many years ago.” He strode across the room to the pile of ashes from the burned broom. He waved his hand and the ashes vanished. “I can’t tell you how your mother or grandmother got possession of it, however.” Anastacia shivered. “Thank God I never touched it.” She raised her gaze to Hans. “Thank you for destroying it.” Hans sighed. “It’s a sad day when a witch loses her broom, and even worse when I have to eliminate a witch’s broom.” Anastacia frowned. “I feel a kinship with the broom you gave me. Can it do more than take me for a flight?” 75

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Hans waved a hand and Anastacia’s broom left its leaning position near the back door. It swished across the floor and landed in front of Hans’s feet. He twirled his hand and the broom rose up from the floor and began to spin in a circle. He chanted quietly beneath his breath and the broom rose upward, spun across the ceiling and lowered in front of Anastacia. “A witch’s broom is a useful tool. It is not only a means of flight, but can perform other feats as well. It can transport potions and mortals, should the witch instruct it to.” Anastacia reached out and took hold of the broom handle. She ran her fingers along its rough surface, then across the dry bristles of the head. It felt like any other broom, inanimate to the touch and sight, but she felt the familiarity Hans referred to, as though it were an extension of herself in some magical way. She rose from the couch and carried the broom to the front door. She had enjoyed her maiden flight on it and in her heart she felt it would serve her well. She leaned the broom handle beside the front door, making it available should she need it. When she turned, she caught the strange look Hans aimed her way. “You are hours away from reaching your full powers, my dear. Though danger is imminent, the bewitching hour will change you forever.” 76

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Anastacia rushed across the floor to him. “Why are you sad?” She placed her hand against his chest. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “You are the last of the Gracemoore witches. Alas, the coven will gradually fade and die out.” Surprise filtered through Anastacia. “I am the last? You mean I will never have children?” She covered her mouth with one hand. “If you marry a mortal, you will indeed give birth.” He smiled at her but the action didn’t reach his eyes. Anastacia caught his hand and brought it to her mouth. She kissed the hair-roughened skin on its back. Her heart felt heavy suddenly, as though she had suffered a great loss. “What if I don’t want to marry a mortal?” Hans drew in a sudden breath. “You are very young. How can you be certain you won’t fall in love with a mortal and desire to marry him?” Anastacia raised her gaze to his face. She smiled slightly. “Perhaps I’ve fallen in love already—and he isn’t mortal.” She lowered her eyes and blushed. Hans pulled her into his arms. He hugged her tightly, then took her mouth in a kiss that left her knees weak. When he tipped her into his arms, she leaned against his sturdy chest and sighed. He hadn’t spoken the words she wanted to hear, but 77

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then she hadn’t confessed her feelings completely either. As Hans carried her into the bedroom, she knew in her heart that she was in the arms of the man she loved, be he mortal or warlock. Her heart had already been stolen away. He laid her gently on the bed and began removing her clothes, easing the tight jeans down her hips and along her thighs. He released the buttons in her blouse and drew it off her shoulders. He leaned down and kissed the arc of her breasts before reaching beneath her and releasing the clasp of her bra. He trailed his hands across her flesh, feeling her warmth and the satiny feel of her skin. When he had her completely bare, he paused a moment and stared at her through the pale light of the bedroom. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Anastacia’s heart swelled with his softly spoken words. “Do warlocks fall in love?” She bit her lip after uttering the words, and stared up at Hans. Should he deny her, she would surely die of a broken heart. “My darling,” he proclaimed softly, gathering her in his arms, kissing her earlobe, then her nape, “This warlock has lost his heart for sure.” Anastacia tightened her arms around his neck and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, keeping the tears of joy at bay. Had she ever wished for a man to love, Hans Gracemoore was the perfect example 78

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of her desire. He was handsome and kind, and beyond all, he was a warlock, the perfect match for her as a witch. She broke his embrace and kissed his mouth, cradling his face in her hands. As her lips melded with his, she made a silent promise to herself. She would marry Hans and together they would make a child, and the Gracemoore witch coven would continue, though in a more kindly fashion.

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Chapter 17

AHer voice echoed in the quiet bedroom. She

nastacia awoke with a start. “It’s Halloween.”

turned her head. She was in bed alone. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her naked breasts. She searched the room for Hans, then finding no sign of him, swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. Slipping her arms into the sleeves of her robe, she went to search the rest of the house. Where did he go? She lifted the lace curtain from the glass in the back door and peered out at the garden. When she didn’t catch sight of Hans in the yard, she released the lock and opened the door. She was puzzled at his leaving after they had shared such a sensual night of lovemaking. And professing our love. She sighed. He hadn’t actually said the three little words she wanted to hear but he had vowed his love nonetheless. She was certain of it. Still not finding a trace of Hans, she returned to the kitchen to make coffee. Lost in her own 80

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thoughts, she stepped through the doorway and felt fright well up inside her body. “I looked everywhere for you.” She stared at Hans sitting at the table in the kitchen. “Where were you?” He chuckled. “I have been here all along.” She propped her hands on her hips. “I searched the house and the yard.” As she stared at him she was reminded of him saying he could take on many forms. Suddenly she recalled him saying he would accompany her to the diner and yet she had not laid eyes on him the entire day. “What object were you, Hans?” She looked about the kitchen. “Did you take the form of a cup? A chair perhaps? A picture on the wall? Tell me. You arouse my curiosity more than I can say.” “The ability will be yours also in a few hours. You will have only to desire change and the magic will transform you.” He grinned and his dark eyes glittered. “Shapeshifting is quite a handy tool, as you will come to find out.” Anastacia thought about their conversation as she walked to the restaurant to begin her day as a waitress. Could her powers one day allow her to do something other than be a waitress in Millie Roosevelt’s diner? She shrugged her shoulders. She liked her job. And besides if it hadn’t been for Millie, she would be living on the street. She turned her attentions to the Halloween decorations along the route. They seemed more 81

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elaborate than her last trip along the sidewalk. The black cats bared their teeth and arched their fuzzy backs. The carved pumpkins, with their gaping mouths, looked grotesque and foreboding even in the bright light of day. An errant wind, seemingly out of nowhere, whipped at her coat, forcing her to gather its front in one fist. Dried leaves, withered and brown, blew across the path in front of her feet. She pulled in the freshness of the air, deciphering the smells of early morning wood fires and burning leaves. Turning her head she spied the man in the side yard across the street, a rake in one hand as he tended a blazing pile. He waved and she returned the greeting, smiling. The restaurant was abuzz with customers. She rushed through the main section of the diner. As she shed her coat and hung it on the peg in the kitchen, she removed the green vial of elixir Hans had given her and slipped it into her apron pocket. God forbid Golena should enter the café, but she wanted to be prepared to face her should the event occur. The tables and booths were filled with hungry customers. Anastacia hurried to take their orders and turn them in to Millie. As she picked up one food order from the counter, she met Rosy en route to the kitchen. “Are you ready for tonight?” Anastacia nodded and smiled. “I have my 82

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witch’s costume all pressed and ready.” “Have you got a wart for your chin?” “I do.” She stopped short of revealing she had a magical broom with which she might zoom around the yard, too. “My kids are looking forward to coming to your house.” “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Will Mary be a ballerina this year?” “For the tenth year in a row. But you won’t recognize Mark. He’s going to be dressed as Dracula. He has fangs and a long black cape. Oh that reminds me. I have to pick up the blood from the variety store.” Anastacia laughed and continued on with her meal delivery. Rosy’s kids were always at her door early. One year they came twice, though she didn’t tell Rosy. By late afternoon, the crowd had dwindled considerably. When at last she got to take a break, she slumped in a chair at the back of the kitchen. She had been too busy to observe many of the patrons, but she knew the cleanup from the flood was progressing. Many of the streets that had been littered with debris were now cleared and open. Many of the customers that day were from those streets and looked weary from the process of trying to salvage their homes and cars. When she recognized any of the families, she tried very hard 83

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to be polite and quick to get their food. Only a few times had she thought about not having her good humor potion to spike their drinks with. She slid her hand against the pocket of her apron, feeling the bottle of witch potion. She stifled a grimace and levered herself out of the chair. Her shift would be over soon and she would return home to prepare to stand up to Golena. The witch’s name sent fear spiraling throughout her. For as long as she could remember, she had looked forward to her twentyfirst birthday, but as the hours and minutes ticked by she only wanted the ordeal to be over. I’m not going to die. She had promised herself that she would spend the day chanting the mantra to herself, over and over, until she truly believed she could face Golena and come out the winner --but she had been too busy being a waitress. She glanced at the clock hanging over the cash register. Two hours remained of her work shift. She drew in a long breath and straightened her apron. The bell over the front door jangled and Anastacia saw Hans coming through the entrance. A smile instantly graced her lips. “I suppose you’ve been here all along—you’ve just been some inanimate object I couldn’t recognize,” she whispered to him as he slid into a chair at a table near the front window. 84

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“Actually, I’ve been in the herb garden.” Anastacia’s brows furrowed. “Doing what?” She seriously doubted he needed any of the herbs from her garden to cast his spells or work his magic. She smiled at him and waited for his answer. “Digging up witch’s brooms.”

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Chapter 18

Arows of neatly tended herbs in disarray. She nastacia pictured the garden destroyed, the

almost cried remembering how lovingly her grandmother used to tend the patch. She stared at Hans and tried to make sense of his words. “What did you say?” He patted her hand and reached for the menu on the end of the table. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get home.” He proceeded to scan the menu. When we get home. That has a nice ring. She couldn’t help but smile, regardless of what he had done to the herb garden. He can probably repair it with his magic. A moment’s thinking and she realized that she might be able to repair any damage he may have caused with her own magic. If I’m still alive at midnight. The thought gave her a chill. “I’ll have a burger and fries.” “Your arteries will hate you.” 86

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“I’m not scared of a little cholesterol.” “I warned you.” She winked and turned from his table. Watching him from across the room, she waited on the customers seated at the counter. As usual there was much talk about the cleanup effort and how Halloween was welcomed this year because it was a great diversion from the horror bestowed upon the village by the raging river. Hans ate quickly and left the restaurant, depositing a tip beneath his drink glass. She wondered if he had also left her another message, perhaps written in disappearing ink. She smiled as she cleared away the dishes. A bit of relief surged through her when she saw he had not left a note. I love that man. Speaking the words, even though they were silent, gave her a warm feeling. When at last the final hours passed and it was time for her to go home, she grabbed her coat, said her goodbyes, and hurried out the door. The temperature had dropped considerably since she had come to work. She tucked her chin into her coat collar and hurried along the sidewalk. It would be dark early and the little goblins would be out in full force. If only that was all I had to contend with this night. At last the time was almost upon her. Golena would be appearing soon and they would be embroiled in a heated battle. She grimaced. Trying to imagine what the evil witch 87

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would do was a bit beyond her capabilities. Since she had spent her entire life trying to be good and do good deeds, an act of menace was hard to comprehend. She entered the front gate of her yard and paused to inspect her decorations. The large orange pumpkin she bought at the grocery store and spent hours carving sat beside the front steps, its jagged teeth illuminated from within by a fat candle as she silently repeated the chant that brought it to flame. She glanced at the black cats and they began to hiss. The witch, draped in black and perched precariously upon her broom, moved erratically amid the boughs of the oak tree. The long tendrils of spider webs she hung in the tree branches waved menacingly in the breeze. Satisfied that the front yard was decorated sufficiently, she walked up the sidewalk and opened the front door. Suddenly a strange feeling assailed her. She paused, her hand on the doorknob. Turning back to gaze at the front yard, she gazed at the decorations with a critical eye. In her gut she felt a new presence in the yard. Golena? She swallowed down the nervous lump that rose in her throat. She cast her gaze around the area. The sun had already set and nightfall hovered on the horizon. Soon the yard would only be lit by the candles nestled in the pumpkins strewn about. She 88

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squinted and tried to discern the intrusive thing that had given her such a strange feeling. Hans appeared at the door of the house suddenly, giving her a start. “Are you all right?” He took her hand and urged her inside the house. Anastacia debated whether to tell him of her suspicions about Golena or let the matter drop. After all, she was expecting the witch—she just didn’t know when she would show up. She closed the door and leaned her back against it. “Tell me about the brooms you dug up in the garden. Who did they belong to?” “Your grandmother and mother.” Her brows furrowed. “Why were they buried?” “Your grandmother was trying to protect her daughter and she never told you about them because she wanted to protect you. The least you knew, the safer you were.” Anastacia tried to comprehend his words. The idea that her grandmother had gone to such lengths to keep the witch coven a secret continued to puzzle her. Suddenly she felt as though eventually she would learn the truth and she should concentrate on the impending battle with Golena--and the arrival of the little goblins at her door, demanding candy and threatening to play tricks on her. “The trick or treaters will start arriving soon. I should 89

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change into my costume.” Hans gave her a curious look but didn’t question her. He followed her into the bedroom and sat on the bed while she changed clothes. “That black gown hardly does you justice.” “Do any of your witches dress like this?” She held out the skirt of the floor length dress and smiled at him. “Do any of them wear pointed black hats?” She laughed in spite of the nervousness she was feeling. “Do any of them have warts on their chins?” She crossed the bedroom and opened a small gold box sitting on the dresser top. Removing the rubber wart from the box, she stuck it to her chin, then turned toward Hans. “How does it look?” “You’re a witch to be reckoned with.” He stood up and came to her. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her soundly. “And quite the kisser.” “Give back my wart.” She giggled and plucked the rubber wart off his chin. Turning to reapply the sticky side of the fake mole, she glanced into the mirror and suddenly jumped back as though she had been shot. Her scream echoed in the tiny room. Hans grasped her around the waist and instantly vaulted toward the ceiling. “What is it? Did you see Golena?” Anastacia was beside herself. Suddenly the seriousness of the situation came bounding home 90

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on wicked feet. “I saw a grotesque face staring back at me. The eyes were glowing red and the mouth was scowling.” She clutched Hans’s arm. “If that was Golena, she’s one ugly bitch.” Hans laughed and lowered her to the floor. “Every move you make this night will put you in danger, Anastacia.” “I’m on guard, Hans. I promise.” She slid her hand into the pocket on the long black dress and coiled her fingers around the bottle of potion he had given her. “I’m armed.” Now if I could just stop being so scared.

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Chapter 19

TAnastacia jumped as the last bong of the he clock over the mantle struck eleven o’clock.

pendulum sounded. She had managed to suffer through the mortal Halloween ritual, handed out candy to the village children and acted like a fake witch in her tall black hat and tattered black gown. She had joked about the wart on her chin and the high-pitched witch cackle she had perfected for the children. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. And I’ve still got Golena to face. Waiting was agony. She paced the distance across the living room, her hands clasped behind her back, her heart beating nervously in her chest. Hans sat on the couch watching her, his eyes alert to anything out of the ordinary in the house. Anastacia had not erected the metal barriers across the doors or the windows of the cottage as she had planned. She had a feeling they would have little effect on an evil witch, nor give her any comfort once the hour arrived and she was put to the test. 92

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She glanced over her shoulder at the clock, checking the time again. As the minutes slowly passed, Anastacia began to feel a measure of calm within her body. She stopped her pacing and glanced at the clock again. In less than ten minutes she would officially come into her witch powers. Regardless of the threat Golena offered to her, she felt expectant and glad. She tried to understand her calmness, glancing at Hans. Is it because of his presence? She adored him. She smiled as she looked at him. He had vowed to protect her, and inside she hoped there would be no reason for him to become involved. The clock began to chime. The bewitching hour had arrived. A wave of excitement suddenly gripped Anastacia. She gasped and clutched her chest, pulling a long breath. The clock chimed. Her head felt as though it were spinning. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, trying to dispel the feeling. Her limbs felt laden all at once, as though she were being made to bear something very heavy. She raised her arms and fought against the feeling. The clock chimed. No sooner had she managed to rid herself of the heaviness than she was accosted with a terrible foreboding. She whirled around in the room, expecting to see Golena standing before her, when 93

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she sensed a powerful force coming at her. The clock chimed. She opened her mouth to scream but the energy seemed to encompass her body in a heated wave that rocked her stance. She felt the pull on her limbs, as though her arms were being wrenched from her body and her legs being jerked in different directions. Her head felt as though she had been drawn into a vacuum, she could hardly breathe. The clock chimed. Darkness spun around her body, she was at the mercy of some invisible force she could not control. She wanted to scream, to try and escape the encompassing force, but she had little strength to fight. The clock chimed. She tried to open her eyes and sought to chant a spell that would release her only to find she was somersaulting through time and space at a rapid speed. She breathed deeply as a new surge of power race through her. She forced her eyes open. The clock chimed the hour of twelve. She was still in her living room. Hans sat on the couch staring at her, a broad smile across his handsome face. She could feel her arms and legs returning to normal. She felt her feet adjust to the solid floor beneath her shoes. “What the hell just 94

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happened to me?” Clutching her chest she forced her feet to move, intending to sit beside Hans on the couch, but the door of the cottage burst open suddenly. A terrible stench filled the room. Anastacia gagged and covered her nose and mouth. Her eyes burned and her vision blurred. She staggered back, one hand raised to ward off the apparition rapidly overtaking her. “Golena!” Towering over Anastacia, the black apparition flew at her, her long talons raised to rip at her flesh. Anastacia slammed into the wall at her back, braced her legs and raised her hands to meet the assault. The witch raked her talons across Anastacia’s chest, ripping her bodice and baring one breast. “You will die on this Hallows Eve, Anastacia Jolena Bloomfield!” Anastacia didn’t have time to reply. The witch’s sharp talons tore at her flesh, aiming at her throat with furious vengeance. She flailed her arms and kicked out her feet, catching the assaulting witch in the face and groin. Her blows had little effect as the angry witch continued her barrage of punches and jabs. She managed to grab Anastacia’s hair and tossed her across the room. Anastacia landed against the wall near the door and bounded to her feet. By the time she was able to straighten, Golena was on her again, clawing and kicking, landing sever blows to her head and 95

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chest. Anastacia flung her arms and tried to make her mind conjure a spell that would aide her defense, but no amount of wanting materialized into anything except trying to fend off the angry blows of Golena. “You will die like your mother and your mortal father!” A splintering bolt of lightning slammed into the wall just above Anastacia’s head. The words drummed into Anastacia’s brain, giving her a surge of power she didn’t expect. She aimed a hand in Golena’s direction and returned the assaulting bolt of electricity. Her well-placed retort landed a crippling blow to Golena and sent her crashing against the kitchen wall. Catching the opportunity to get the upper hand, she leapt across the living room and thrust both feet at the witch’s chest as she tried to right herself, propelling Golena against the wall with a splintering thud. She stilled momentarily. Anastacia felt a new force gather in her core. She jerked her head around, searching for Hans. A moment of calm entered her body when she saw Hans hovering near the ceiling of the kitchen, directly above Golena sprawled body. He pointed one hand at Anastacia and blue smoke streamed toward her. Anastasia raised her arms and lifted off the floor, drawing in the blue vapor Hans sent forth. At once she felt revived, stronger than she had ever felt in her life. She drew a deep breath 96

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and willed her body to lower. Golena stirred, tried to sit up, searching the room until her gaze landed on Anastacia. She leapt to her feet, landing in the center of the floor. “Your mother was a thief and a whore! She lay with a mortal and bore his bastard child!” She jerked her head from side to side, her long black hair flying across her haggard face. Assaulted by her cruel words, Anastacia lowered her hand and grasped the vial Hans had entrusted her with. “Your grandmother was a disgrace to the coven! Then your mother came along, and she, too, chose to refute the coven laws!” Anastacia flipped the stopper out of the bottle. She gripped it tightly in her hand. “The Gracemoore Coven was born to serve the dark master! You are the last of the Bloomfield bitches and you shall die at my hands!” She lunged at Anastacia, her claws extended, lightning shooting from both hands. Anastacia jerked her hand from her pocket and dashed the potion at Golena. The droplets flew through the air, straight at the witch’s head just as she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced up, released a blood-curdling scream and tried to protect her head with her arms. The lightning bolts splintered around her, glancing off the walls of the room. 97

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The black elixir found its mark. It landed on Golena’s head and shoulders. The witch crumpled to her knees immediately, a tortured scream raging from her mouth. Black smoke billowed upward, Golena flailed her arms, struggled to stand, then sprawled on her stomach against the floor. The smoke intensified. Anastacia watched as the witch was destroyed. Keeping her eyes pinned intently on the evildoer until there was nothing left but ashes, she barely saw Hans as he lowered himself from the ceiling and came to stand beside her. She felt powerful. A force to be reckoned with. The witch withered and spewed, black smoke billowed up, rising to hover about the ceiling of the room. A wretched stench filled the air. The witch is dead.

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Chapter 20

Afrom her outstretched hands. She laughed out nastacia whirled around, white light flaring

loud and stopped her twirling abruptly, pinning Hans with her gaze. She smiled. “I feel like I can do anything.” “And, indeed, you are capable of most anything.” He cocked his head at her. “Do you desire to be evil?” She shook her head. “No.” Tears threatened her eyes. “Golena killed my parents.” She shook her head. “They must have died terrible deaths.” “You avenged their deaths, my sweet.” He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “Your mother and father were threats to her evil ways and so she ended their lives.” “She called my mother a thief. What did she steal?” “Golena’s broom.” “But how did she steal it when it was bound by a death spell?” She stared at Hans waiting for his 99

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answer, then it became clear to her. “That’s how my mother died. She was killed by the death spell when she stole Golena’s broom.” She grimaced. “But what of my father? She said he was mortal. Would he be immune to the spell?” Hans shook his head. “I suspect he may have been the one to place the broom in the trunk and carry it up to the attic after your mother’s death.” “I don’t understand why they stole Golena’s broom.” “Because a witch’s broom is under the power of the witch. She can send it forth to do evil. And without it, she is hampered in her evil ways. Your mother stole Golena’s broom in the hopes that she would be unable to work her cruelty. But in the end, the plan backfired. Golena was much too evil and your mother was much too kind.” Tears rolled down Anastacia’s cheeks. “I’m glad you destroyed Golena’s broom.” She sniffed. “But what of the brooms you dug up in the garden?” “I knew the day Matilda chose to bury them in the garden. She tried to destroy them but didn’t know that only a warlock had the ability to do so.” Anastacia recalled the first time Hans had come to the cottage. She had spied him in the herb garden. “So you knew they were lying beneath the plants?” “Yes. A witch’s broom is given by the warlock 100

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of the coven. I personally presented your mother’s broom to her and watched my grandfather present your grandmother with hers. I’m sorry I had to destroy them, but it’s the coven rule. Once a witch has met her demise, her broom must be eliminated.” Anastacia’s brows rose. “How old are you?” Hans laughed out loud. “I’m as old as you want me to be, Anastacia. I’m old enough to be your husband or your lover. I’m old enough to fall in love with you. I’m old enough to take you to bed and make you my woman. I’m old enough—” “Stop!” She clasped one hand across his mouth and laughed. “It doesn’t matter how old you are. I love you.” He hugged her tightly. “And I love you, Anastacia.” He kissed her mouth, pressing his lips so tightly against hers that she tasted blood on her tongue. “Would you consider being the bride of a warlock?” Her heart fluttered happily in her breast. “Yes! A million times, yes!” She flung herself into his arms and tilted her head for his kiss. “But you have to promise me the Gracemoore Coven will be a good coven that does good deeds.” His eyes twinkled. “You have my word.” He took her hand and pressed it against his erection. “You are a most beguiling witch. I shall love you always.” 101

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“And I shall love you always, my wonderful warlock.”

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About the Author I began writing freelance almost twenty years ago and eventually my short stories became longer. The characters seemed to take over and draw their stories out. I first submitted a novella length story to Extasy Books in 2003 and it was accepted. That was Captive Heart, the historical romance now on the site. I have thirteen titles with Extasy Books. New ideas come to mind every day and some of them find their way on to the computer screen. When I’m not writing, I enjoy traveling with my husband Dave. Fawn can be reached at this email: [email protected] Fawn’s website is located at: http://www.geocities.com/fawnlowery8@pro digy.net/mypage.html