Witch Kissed (Old Sarum Witch Cozy Mystery Series, #1) Read online

  Witch Kissed

  Old Sarum Witch Cozy Mystery Series, Volume 1

  K.E. O'Connor

  Published by K.E. O'Connor, 2016.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  WITCH KISSED

  First edition. December 21, 2016.

  Copyright © 2016 K.E. O'Connor.

  Written by K.E. O'Connor.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 1

  “If Kim Elliott didn’t have so many dirty thoughts this wouldn’t be a problem.” Ivy Thornheart smacked a glass vial full of dried herbs onto the counter.

  “We all have dirty thoughts.” Ivy’s sister, Bryony, gave her an indulgent smile. “I bet you’ve had several this morning.”

  Ivy swiped her long dark hair over one shoulder. “But our client is permanently blue. All of Kim’s thoughts can’t be that bad.”

  “Perhaps she reads a lot of racy novels,” said Bryony, inspecting one of the silver rings on her slim fingers. “Those thoughts might be considered naughty by the curse she’s under.”

  “Whoever cursed Kim knows her well. It’s the perfect curse, changing color every time you think about something you shouldn’t.” Ivy uncorked the glass vial and dumped the herbs into a granite bowl before grinding them with a small pestle.

  “I feel sorry for Kim. Nobody deserves to be cursed like that.” Bryony looked around the inside of the Love Cauldron, the store she’d run with Ivy for the last two years. It was a simple, mainly wooden structure, with a counter by the door, rows of ready prepared spell mixtures for clients to buy lining the walls, and a stack of spell books to browse. There was a comfortable green sofa and chairs they used when discussing spells with clients or for taking a rest from the popular business of spells and potion making. The store also had a small apartment upstairs where the girls lived, a stock room out the back, and a quiet room they used to raise familiars in.

  “I bet she does deserve it,” said Ivy. “I’m never certain about Kim. She always seems so cheerful.”

  Bryony laughed, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “You say that about me. Does that mean I deserve to be cursed to turn blue as well?”

  “You’d probably benefit from a curse or two.” Ivy shot her younger sister a dark look. “I haven’t forgotten you ate the last brownie from the tin yesterday.”

  Bryony stuck her tongue out. “A truly curse worthy error. I have already replaced them with a fresh batch.”

  Ivy shook her head and tapped the herbs neatly into the center of the bowl on the counter. “Come see what you think of this mixture. If we add a few drops of chamomile and perhaps a dash of dried pumpkin, it could remove the curse.”

  Bryony lifted her floor length cream colored skirt off the ground and walked to the counter. She dipped her finger into the herb mixture and tasted it. Her nose wrinkled and she grimaced.

  “It’s not meant to taste nice,” said Ivy with a frown. “It’s meant to counteract the curse. Although it would help if we knew who created it in the first place. We all have our own talents when it comes to spell creation. If Kim figures out who cursed her, we can go straight to the source and discover what was used to create the curse and break it easily.”

  Bryony sampled the herbs again. The gritty substance on her tongue tasted of cloves, thyme, and something bitter she couldn’t identify. She watched Ivy as she turned from the counter and extracted more ingredients for the counter curse spell. Ivy had a penchant for darker magic; spells that could frighten and scare. But she was also the expert when it came to new spell creation and had a knack for identifying the perfect combination of ingredients for a powerful spell or a curse breaking potion.

  “You’re right about adding the chamomile,” said Bryony. “You need something to counteract the punch of arsenic in there.”

  Ivy twisted towards her sister, her hands full of ingredients. “I’m impressed you can taste it.”

  “It was a guess. But it’s your poison of choice.”

  “It’s not a poison, not when it’s used correctly,” said Ivy. “I find it adds an interesting kick to most spells I create. No client has ever complained about it being used. And nobody has died.”

  “Well, they wouldn’t complain, your spells always work.” Ivy might have a dark side, but everyone knew what an amazing witch she was. Possibly the strongest witch in Old Sarum.

  “This one doesn’t want to work.” Ivy dropped the ingredients she held onto the counter. “This must be the tenth variation of a counter curse we’ve tried.”

  “We’ll get there eventually,” said Bryony. “I’ve never known one of your mixtures to fail us.”

  Ivy dripped three measures of liquid into the herbs and stirred vigorously. A few seconds later, a pungent scent of damp moss drifted around the store and black smoke filled the air. Ivy kept her head down, her long dark hair concealing her features.

  Bryony gripped her nose. “Is it supposed to smell so bad?”

  “Give it a few more seconds.” The speed of Ivy’s stirring arm increased and the smoke intensified.

  “Maybe I should open the door.” Bryony hurried towards the glass paned door and grabbed the handle, her thoughts growing muddled as the strength of the spell increased.

  “Just a few more seconds,” said Ivy, almost invisible under a cloud of smoke. “The smell will go away soon.”

  “Maybe you added too much thyme?” choked out Bryony.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my measurements,” growled Ivy. “Sometimes these spells have a little bite to them, that’s all.”

  “I can smell the bite in this one.” Bryony inched the door open, letting some of the smoke drift out and a whiff of fresh air enter.

  A large black paw sneaked through the crack in the door and scrabbled to make the opening wider. The sound of an indignant bark followed.

  “Spike likes my spell.” Ivy pointed a finger at the paw jammed in the doorway.

  “More like he wants to come inside and eat his breakfast.” Bryony pulled the door open wider and an enormous Rottweiler shot through, his teeth bared and ears flat against his head. It was Spike’s default look unless he was having his belly rubbed, and even then he grumbled like an imp being given a cold bath.

  “You said he shouldn’t be inside the store,” said Ivy. “You think he scares the customers.”

  “He does, they’re terrified of him,” said Bryony. “If only they knew what a softy he was underneath all that slobber and growling.” She reluctantly shut the door and walked over to Spike’s dog bed at the back of the store.

  He gave his usual growl as Bryony approached, but she ignored his fierceness and petted his head. Spike’s eyes rolled back and then glowed red. He'd been Ivy’s dog since she was a baby, and had been a puppy when he’d joined the Thornheart family.

  At the age of twenty-six, Spike was not your average
dog. When he’d gotten old and the vet decided he needed to be put to sleep, a teenage Ivy had other ideas. She’d crept down to the basement in the family home, figured out a spell to keep Spike alive for as long as she was, and cast the magic. And it had worked, in a way. Spike did appear to be immortal, but the spell came with a few side-effects. Most notably, glowing red eyes, an almost incessant growl, and a habit of going for long walks in the dead of night and terrifying residents of Old Sarum. Other than that, he was the perfect dog.

  “Spike is no worse than Sweetie.” Ivy waved a hand in front of her face, trying to clear some of the smoke.

  “Sweetie is different,” said Bryony. “She’s useful. She fetches things for me.”

  “She also attacked the high priestess when she came to visit Old Sarum,” said Ivy with a smirk.

  “Sweetie thought the high priestesses hair was a nest. She was only looking for somewhere comfortable to sit.”

  Sweetie was Bryony’s pet bird and was as affectionate as any enormous hawk could be. Bryony had discovered Sweetie after she’d been thrown out of the nest and had an injured wing. She’d scooped her up, brought the baby bird home, and hand fed her, teaching her to fly as soon as her wing had healed. And although Bryony encouraged her back into the wild, Sweetie bonded with Bryony and saw her as one of her hawk friends. Or perhaps Sweetie saw herself as human, Bryony wasn’t certain. She loved her hawk baby. Sweetie had a perch in each room and was free to come and go as she pleased. She was currently out doing a sweep of the village.

  The store door banged open and Aunt Odessa strode through in a long floaty multi-colored dress, her grey hair loose around her face, flowers woven through it. She was the oldest of the girls’ aunts, and wore her age well, with only a few wrinkles around her eyes. She had a full, shapely mouth, which was smeared with dark red lipstick. Their mother described her as a hippy dark flower.

  Aunt Odessa frowned as she wafted away the smoke that still drifted around the store. “What kind of malevolence is this?”

  “Nothing malevolent, simply trying to unpick a difficult curse.” Bryony walked over and hugged her aunt, inhaling her comforting scent of patchouli and honeysuckle.

  “Another curse,” said Aunt Odessa with a wink. “Anyone would think this village is full of witches.” She draped an arm around Bryony’s shoulders and they walked to the counter where Ivy still worked.

  “It’s nothing we can’t handle.” Ivy’s hand covered the ingredients in the bowl.

  “I know you’re more than capable when it comes to curses.” Aunt Odessa smiled at Ivy. “But you’re always welcome to ask for a little help. Don’t forget I helped set this store up with your mother.”

  “How could I forget? Your names are still over the door,” said Ivy.

  “You can take them down if they offend you,” said Aunt Odessa.

  “No, we love the fact you and Mom established the Love Cauldron.” Bryony frowned at Ivy. “If it weren’t for you doing that, we wouldn’t have a business of our own. And we adore the store.”

  “We’d have done all right,” muttered Ivy.

  “Yes, you are both talented young witches, you would both have been fine. Having this store is a nice bonus for you,” said Aunt Odessa.

  “It’s perfect.” Bryony smiled at her aunt.

  “But I’m not here to discuss business with you. Will you both be around for the Old Sarum pilgrimage? The red bloods pass close to our garden boundaries. I thought it might be amusing for us to watch them.”

  “I’d be happy to hurl a few hexes at them,” said Ivy. “That might liven up their dull pilgrimage.”

  “Don’t be so mean,” said Bryony. “The humans do their best. And I like to see that some of them still recognize the importance of the area. They must be able to sense Old Sarum has some magic in it still.”

  “They don’t sense anything,” said Ivy. “It’s just a dumb tradition they blindly follow. No red blood can sense our magic.”

  “Some of them will have some latent magical abilities within them,” said Aunt Odessa. “There are records of witches and red bloods breeding, but it’s not common. Ivy is right, most humans have no idea what they are walking past.” And that was what made Old Sarum so magical. Located a stone’s throw from the renowned Stonehenge site in Wiltshire, Old Sarum was once a thriving village. It had been established alongside the ancient standing stones of the henge so worshippers had easy access to the site and the opportunity to rest after their often long journey.

  All that was left of the village now were a few archaeological remnants, and shadows of former buildings etched into the dirt. At least that was what the humans thought, commonly referred to by the magic users of Old Sarum as red bloods.

  “Every year they do the same thing,” said Ivy. “They stomp right past us, wearing those ridiculous backpacks and waterproof jackets. They miss all the real magic, intent on following the same worn path so many thousands of other ignorant fools have traipsed along. If they opened their eyes, they’d see what they were really walking past.”

  “Stonehenge has its own power,” said Aunt Odessa. “It’s just a cruder form of what we practise.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we should throw hexes at the innocent humans,” said Bryony to Ivy. “We should scatter them with positive magic. That might make their interest in the site deepen.”

  Ivy shuddered. “What a terrible thought. We don’t want them coming back too often.”

  “They don’t do us any harm,” said Aunt Odessa. “But they do bring entertainment to our quiet little haven.”

  “It wasn’t so quiet earlier today when Jacob Merriweather ran past being chased by an enchanted cow. The poor thing had grown two heads and fangs,” said Bryony.

  Aunt Odessa let out a peal of laughter. “That would be because Jacob Merriweather is showing too much interest in the Widow Daughtry.”

  “Surely that’s a good thing,” said Bryony. “She needs a man in her life.”

  “I’d agree with you if it weren’t for the fact her husband’s ghost is still around. And he doesn't think his wife needs a new man. I expect you’ll see a lot more of that enchanted cow chasing Jacob around the streets until he stops hassling the Widow Daughtry.”

  “Widow Daughtry doesn’t need a man in her life anyway,” said Ivy. “They’re nothing but trouble.”

  “Some of them are quite lovely,” said Aunt Odessa. “As you’d know if you decided to be a little kinder to them.”

  “We don’t need any help with our love lives.” Bryony raised her eyebrows at Ivy. “Our lives are complicated enough as it is without involving men.”

  The store door opened again, and an elf, half-hidden by an enormous bouquet of flowers walked in. He poked his narrow face around the side of the assorted colored roses. “I’ve got a delivery for Bryony Thornheart.” His dark eyes gleamed with pleasure as he took in Bryony’s curvaceous figure and blonde hair.

  “What a surprise, you have an admirer.” Ivy grabbed some of the half empty packets of herbs and stuffed them back on the shelves with a grunt of annoyance.

  “Who could it be this time?” asked Aunt Odessa with an amused laugh.

  Bryony waved her hand to dismiss the question. “It’s just a customer happy with the work we’ve done.” She hurried forward and took the bouquet.

  “Maybe they’re from your husband,” said the delivery elf.

  “I’m not married,” said Bryony. “And I never will be.”

  “Now don’t start that nonsense again,” said Aunt Odessa. “You know one day both you and Ivy will find suitable husbands.”

  “Yes, just need to get over the curse issue first,” said Ivy with a snort of disgust.

  “If you don’t like the man who sent you these flowers,” said the delivery elf to Bryony, “I’d be happy to take you out.”

  Bryony switched her attention to the delivery elf, and he melted under her megawatt smile. “That’s sweet of you. But I’m not dating right now. I’m busy with th
e store, you see.” She guided him swiftly to the door and opened it. “Thank you so much for the lovely offer. Goodbye.”

  The elf stood outside the store for a few seconds, looking bewildered as if he wasn’t certain what just happened to him.

  “Another potential suitor dazzled by your charms,” said Aunt Odessa with a sigh.

  Ivy gave a bitter laugh. “You didn’t have to be so nice to him, Bryony. You could have told him to get lost.”

  “I didn’t need to do that.” Bryony inspected the name on the card. “He seemed like a sweet elf, but not my type.”

  “Yes, he’s nothing like your ideal man. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Gabriel lurking around outside the store today,” said Ivy.

  “Gabriel is just a friend,” said Bryony. “And he doesn’t lurk around the store, he visits when he needs supplies for his work.”

  “Which is about three times a day,” said Ivy. “He needs to make a list so he doesn’t forget what he needs quite so often.”

  “That’s nonsense!” Bryony dumped the flowers into an empty vase on the counter and threw the card into the trash.

  “Or maybe he visits when he needs to get a fix of the witch he’s ridiculously in love with,” said Ivy.

  “You know that’s not true. And even if he was, I wouldn’t date him.” Bryony shot her sister a meaningful look. “No man is going to come between us.”

  Aunt Odessa’s eyes clouded with tears as she watched her beautiful nieces discussing men. She blinked them away swiftly. “Girls, back to the Old Sarum pilgrimage. Shall I let your mother know we can expect you? She will make food. And it’s been days since you’ve seen your other aunts. Just this morning, Isidore was worrying she had done something to offend you. She misses having you around the house. Ever since you moved into the apartment above the store, we hardly see you around the dining table.”

  “Auntie Isidore couldn’t possibly do anything to offend anybody,” said Bryony. “But you’re right, we haven’t been around as much as we should. We’ll come to the Old Sarum pilgrimage. It will be fun.”