Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1) (3 page)

She didn't want to believe it belonged to Mom or Grandma Jo. But it must. If she was in danger, it was from one of the two. Someone had placed this book on the dresser for her to find.
A warning perhaps.

Pots rattled downstairs in the kitchen, domestic and normal. Grandma Jo was already home when Callie returned this afternoon. If it was her book, why would she leave it out for Callie to find?

It had to be Mom’s.
Callie paced again, considering. It made a sick kind of sense. Mom's breakdown and long absence could have been caused by dabbling in black magic. It had eaten away at her sanity, corroded her mind and will until she broke completely and ended up in the psychiatric hospital.

The light from a car's beam flared against the windowpane.

Mommy's home.

Callie raced downstairs, book in hand. The kitchen was bright and cozy, alive with the comforting smell of fresh baked bread and lasagna.

“Oh, for the love of Saint Brigid,” Grandma Jo said. “What’s she dragged home now?”

Mom bustled in carrying a large animal tote with two cats, a huge grin lighting her lined face. “Got a surprise for you, Callie. I think you’ll love him.” She opened the tote and out ran a tiny orange tabby, meowing loudly.

Callie’s heart melted as she knelt on one knee. The tabby looked at her for several moments, decided she was no threat, and then leaped into her arms. Love at first sight.

“I knew he was the one for you.” Mom grinned, relaxed in a way only being with animals did for her.

A mangy-looking, underfed black and white cat walked out of the crate.

“I declare, Ginnie Fae, why this cat?” Grandma Jo asked, hands on hips.

“She’s a full-grown female, dropped off last week. I’ve been watching her with the kittens at the shelter, and she’s very patient and loving. She’ll be good company for the tabby.” Mom rubbed the older cat affectionately. “I’ve decided to name this one Willow.” She straightened and sniffed. “Smells great. I’ll help you set out the dishes.” She took a step forward and then stopped, her eyes on the book in Callie’s hands. “What’s that?”

Now that the moment had come, Callie was nervous.
It has to be done
. She lifted the book for them to get a better view. “You tell me.”

Mom’s face crumbled, the earlier contentment crushed. “How did you . . .?” She cut her eyes to Grandma Jo, accusing.

“It’s past time, Ginnie,” said Grandma Jo. “She deserves to know the truth. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Grandma Jo patted Mom’s arm and turned to leave. She fixed Callie with a stern gaze. “We did what we thought best.”

Mother and daughter faced each other, alone.

“This book is yours. You wrote these disgusting things, right?”

Mom stiffened. “That was your father’s Book of Shadows.”

Callie’s head spun. This wasn’t what she expected. He died when she was only four, and she had absolutely no memory of him.

“My father?”

“He isn’t dead… He’s alive and wants to see you.”

C
allie’s head
hummed and she struggled to speak. “I can’t believe you lied to me all these years and kept him from me.” Her whole body trembled with outrage. She’d never been this angry, even when she’d been sent away.

Mom jerked her head toward the den. “We’ll talk in there.”

She followed, seething. Mom sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands, which only made her angrier. Mom specialized in avoidance.

“How do I know it’s his book and not yours? All you do is lie and keep secrets, and I’m sick of it. I’m nineteen now. I can legally do what the hell I want.”

“That’s quite enough.” Grandma Jo entered the room and walked between them. “You have every right to be upset, Callie.” Her eyes radiated sympathy, and she placed a hand on Callie’s arm. “Try to calm down a little and let her explain.”

Callie plopped on the sofa, the condemning book clasped against her chest. She wanted answers, and it seemed like she was finally going to get some. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Grandma Jo nodded and went to the window, fixing her gaze outside while Mom talked.

“I met your father when I was your age,” she began in a soft voice. “I left home for the first time to go to school at Piedmont College. Lucas was a thirty-one-year-old grad student, but the age difference didn’t worry me. We both attended a new age kind of study group off campus with some other students. He was very charming back then, and so I confessed to him I was a witch. I expected him to be leery of me after that, but he pursued me harder.” She hesitated, and Callie braced herself for the rest.

“Things got serious fast. He knew I was a witch, and it excited him. So, despite objections from my parents, we married within a few months and—”

“Wait. Why did he like you being a witch?” That was weird.

“Because he had an ulterior motive. Turns out, Lucas wanted to father a child with hereditary witch genes. I was the means to an end.”

She was afraid to ask but had to know. “And . . . what was that end?” she whispered.

“Power. Lucas was all about the power. He envisioned creating a family and coven he could manipulate.” She shook her head. “I was so stupid.”

“No, not stupid. Naïve.” Grandma Jo corrected.

“Stupid. Anyway, I dropped out of school and worked while he finished his degree. Lucas asked a lot about magic, said he wanted to become a witch, too. I thought it was great he wanted to join our coven.”

Mom clasped her hands in her lap. “But I became frightened. It started with little incidents. He became cruel to our dog, Jinx, and I had to find Jinx a new home.”

Callie frowned. “Did he mistreat you?” Maybe that was why Mom was such a weakling.
If
she was telling the truth.

She didn’t answer right away. “Yes,” she finally said. “Oh, he didn’t beat me or threaten me. It was more subtle. He’d ignore me for days and cast spells calling on demons. When I warned him he was misusing power, he laughed. Told me I was too dumb and too much of a coward to use magic to its full effect.

“It’s against the Witches’ Creed to read another’s Book of Shadows without permission, but one night out of fear and curiosity…I did.” Mom faltered, eyes on the black book Callie held.

“He found out you read his book,” Callie guessed. Her scalp prickled, and a heaviness settled in her stomach.

“I confronted him. Lucas denied ever practicing any dark magic. Claimed he was just gathering information. He even made me feel guilty for reading it. Not long afterwards, I became pregnant.”

“So you were trapped,” she said in a dead voice. The news kept getting worse. Nobody wanted her.

“No.” Mom stared at her with clear, intense eyes. “I never regretted having you. You were such a beautiful, spirited little baby, and everybody loved you.”

“Except dear ole Dad?”

She picked her words with caution. “He was proud of you. Early on, you showed talent. That, combined with your birth on the summer solstice, convinced Lucas you would become a powerful witch.”

“If I was all that, seems like he would have stuck around. Why leave us?”

Mom walked to the fireplace and held her hands over the crackling flames, as if drawing energy from their warmth.

“I want the whole truth,” Callie insisted. “I can take it.”

“I know you can.” She sighed. “You have a certain mental toughness and physical strength. Guess I have to give Lucas credit for that.” She laughed with a trace of bitterness.

Comparisons to a father like Lucas didn’t sound like a good thing. What if she inherited those dark tendencies? That is,
if
Mom was telling the truth and that Book of Shadows really belonged to him.

“After you were born, things were better. I convinced myself it was going to be all right. But by the time you were four, Lucas went back to his dark ways. I overheard him boasting to one of his friends that when you turned twenty, he would use your talents to recruit an even larger, more powerful coven.”

She mulled over the unsettling news. “Were you a part of this coven?”

“No, he knew I would try to neutralize their black magic.”

Callie nodded. She would do the same. “How did you get away from him?”

“I came home and confided to Mom and Dad. They called our coven and several neighboring covens. They made a pact to stand with our family to protect you. I told Lucas what I’d done and to stay away from us.”

“I don’t imagine that went over too well.”

“He was furious. He never anticipated defiance.”

“That was brave of you,” Callie said reluctantly. Words she never imagined saying to her mother. But she hadn’t heard her father’s version . . . yet.

Mom appeared not to hear, staring at the flames. “I moved home and started my life over with you. He never contacted me about custody visits.”

“So he didn’t want to see me.” Callie couldn’t hide the pain in her voice. Even if he was the worst sort of jerk, that hurt. She looked down at her hands tightly clasping the black book.

Mom laid a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know what’s been in his heart all these years, but I know he tried to see you at least once, when you were twelve.”

She jerked her head up.

“Do you remember the night you and Skye played with the Ouija board?”

The blood drained from her face. Everything always went back to that night.

“He wasn’t trying to hurt
you
,” Mom said in a rush. “But his astral spirit came for me that night. Other nefarious spirits picked up on his energy and amused themselves by trying to scare you.” She cried, her breathing labored.

Grandma Jo rushed over to Mom and stroked her hair. “I’ll take it from here, Ginnie. Why don’t you go lie down?”

Mom lowered her hands. “I’m sorry, Callie. I sent you away for your own good.”

Callie watched as they left the room. Her father was alive! No wonder Mom always changed the subject when she asked about him. She didn’t know what to think. All she knew was she had an overwhelming desire to meet him and hear his version.

Grandma Jo returned and pointed at the book. “Shall we burn it?”

“No!” Disgusting as it was, the book was the only real link she had to her father. “Have you heard from him recently?”

“He called Ginnie right before we sent for you. Somehow he found out you were living in New Jersey and threatened to visit.”

She couldn’t stop a sudden burst of hope. She wanted—
needed
—to see him.

“He said he hadn’t forgotten you’ll be turning twenty in June.” Grandma Jo eyed her steadily. “When that happens, the coven will channel its collective energy into you, and your full power will awaken. Powers you don’t even know you have yet.”

“Aunt Mallory told me all about that airy-fairy stuff,” Callie said with a dismissive wave. “Even if it’s true, it sounds like my father has enough power without me. Maybe he just wants to see me.”

Grandma Jo’s expression turned from concern to alarm. “Don’t delude yourself on that score, Callie. He’ll use you for his own gain, pure and simple.”

“People can change.” The more Grandma Jo dug in her heels, the more she was determined to defend this unknown father.

“Not him.”

“Well, he knows I’m back here. What’s to keep him from coming now?”

“I’m not saying we can keep him away with our protection spells. He’s far stronger than us, and there’s no telling how many witches work for him. But we thought you’d be safer here, close to the coven.”

Callie crossed her arms. “I’m an adult, and he can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

“Okay, you’re forcing me to tell you this.” Grandma Jo ran her fingers through her gray moussed hair and sighed. “You remember how your mom was before you moved away.”

“Yes. Aunt Mallory told me she had a total breakdown after I left.”

“That night, while you played with the Ouija board, Ginnie had contact with Lucas. A purplish-black mist absorbed into her skin and raided her mind. His dark magic nearly undid her. He wanted to weaken her mind so she would give in and turn you over to him.” Grandma Jo looked out the dark window and was silent so long, Callie was afraid she wouldn’t continue.

She had to know. “You can’t be sure he sent that mist.”

“Yes, I can. And he nearly ruined all her psychic ability. Your mom was powerful. She could interpret signs and manipulate energy. Now the only thing she has left is her special touch with animals.”

“But losing psychic ability doesn’t make you crazy.”

“Don’t use the word
crazy
,” Grandma Jo said, a sharp bite in her words. “Ginnie was fragile, and Lucas’s attack was enough to put her over the edge. For a witch to have all of her powers stolen isn’t like having your hair turn gray. Those doctors at the hospital didn’t want to do anything but drug her up and have her talk about her childhood.” Grandma Jo snorted. “I brought Ginnie home and nursed her myself. She slowly recovered, but her magical power is lost forever.”

Callie knew how timid and withdrawn her mother was, even now. She could function, but life had clearly damaged her spirit. “I still don’t see why you’re both so sure it was my father who attacked her.”

“The minute I walked in your room that night and smelled the wormwood, I knew.”

Callie searched her memory. “You both came in and said something about the smell . . . but I didn’t understand the words you used.”

“Artemisia absinthium. It means wormwood mixed in a drink called ‘absinthe.’ It was Lucas’s signature scent; one he could never mask.”

“Does it smell like menthol and licorice?”

Her grandmother nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty good description. Nasty, vile stuff.”

“So he came because of me.”
It’s all my fault
. “If only I’d never seen that stupid Ouija board.” Guilt washed over her. Callie squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going there, not tonight when she still reeled from learning her father was alive.

Grandma Jo put an arm around her shoulders. “You can’t blame yourself.”

They sat together in silence, each with their own thoughts and memories.

“Do you have any photos of him?” Callie asked at last.

Grandma Jo went to her desk, opened a drawer, and shuffled through some paperwork before pulling out an old photo. “There’s just this one,” she said, holding it out.

She grabbed it and gazed into the eyes of a stranger. Her father. It was a faded print, but his charisma leapt through time. The eyes sparkled, and he smiled with confidence and charm. His short hair was combed back, and he wore a dark pinstripe suit with a little hanky sticking out of the front jacket pocket. Evidently, the über-preppy style back in the day.

“Can I keep it?”

“Yes, but don’t let your mother see it.”

Callie hurried to her room to study his face in private. He didn’t
look
evil. She didn’t know what to believe. At the first light of day, she would walk in the woods again to work off steam and think it over.

I
n spite
of the morning’s gathering storm, James decided to hike Lavender Mountain. Sundays were pretty much a bust anyway since everything in town was closed.

The wind swirled, and the sky was dark and gray even though it was already an hour past dawn. The smell of rain hung thick in the air as lightening danced in the clouds just over the mountains.

He questioned his sanity for venturing out in this weather. He was a fool hoping to run into the hot chick he spotted yesterday. If she had any sense, she would be home in bed. Besides, once he saw her up close he was bound to be disappointed. Nothing could match that angelic vision in person. Still, she might be interesting enough to pursue for a time. He craved new company and a change from the rut his life had become.

“Come on, boy,” he called out to his dog. Sin was a full-blooded beagle getting along in dog years, but still able to enjoy a long walk. Sin looked up from his sniffing and digging and obediently came to James’s side with a wag of his tail.

Distant thunder made him pause in his tracks, but he shrugged and moved on. He was almost there anyway. As he neared the bluff, he caught site of a patch of orange among the brown and gray trees. Quietly, he moved forward for a better look and discovered how wrong he’d been.

The hot chick was devastating. Her hair blew wildly in the wind, like rays of warmed honey in the gray winter cold, making him want to wrap his body in its warmth.

Something about this girl was special.

T
he hike wasn’t
such a hot idea. Callie shuddered and huddled deeper into the blanket wrapped around shoulders. It wasn’t enough protection in a winter storm. The sky darkened by the minute until it looked more like a deep dusk than a dawn. Even with her unusually high cold threshold, this was too much cold to bear. A shame, since storms created an energetic atmosphere more receptive to magic.

Frustrated, she gave up on the idea of working magic and turned to hike back down the mountain. An extra strong gust of wind blew her hat off, and her hair spilled loose. Just great. It would be a tangled mess in no time. Suddenly, she stopped, sensing a presence. Just as she had yesterday morning. Only now it was closer, much closer.