Shadowhurst Mysteries

Coven of Deception: A Shadowhurst Prequel Novella

Who said fairy tales aren’t real?

I have it under good authority, they’re not only real, they can be a veritable nightmare.

Not only do I possess magic; I also belong to a secret coven of witches who’ve been living in plain sight.

First came the fun part. My powers manifested.

Next came reality. Trouble found me.

One minute, I’m living my life without a care in the world. The next, I’m dodging a mystery stranger who can’t get enough of me.
So much for easing into this new life. It’s time to see where these new skills will take me. Want to come along for the ride?

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

I was not a shoplifter.

At least I wasn’t until that fated moment when I found myself in the Crystal Cauldron with an amethyst in my backpack and a scowling shop owner towering over me. So I guess I was definitely a shoplifter that day. 

That summer morning was the first time I had stepped foot in the Crystal Cauldron, the weird occult shop in our even weirder town. I had always passed the place and wondered what it was like inside, being too afraid to step foot into what I assumed was a tourist trap similar to most of the stores in Shadowhurst. For a town that prided itself on its peaceful existence, Shadowhurst wasn’t above doing everything it could to drag in hoards of visitors every passing year. Summers were the worst. It was best to avoid Main Street altogether during the hot season unless you enjoyed being shoulder-checked to the point of bruising. For the most part, I steered clear of the busy downtown area like the plague. Actually, I avoided most things and people in Shadowhurst. 

That day, however, was different. It was the first Saturday of the rest of my life and I couldn’t wait to celebrate. Having graduated from Shadowhurst Academy, my mood was brighter than it had been in years. With school done, I was free of this town; something I had waited for since pretty much the day I was born. 

Not surprising considering that the day I was born was also the day I became an orphan. 

I never knew my parents. My mother was a single mom as far as the records showed and died giving birth to me. If you’re wondering how such a tragic event affected a small child, let me spare you the heartache. I was just fine. Sort of. Not having parents from the second you took your first breath only meant one thing—I never knew what I was missing. 

Growing up parentless in Shadowhurst was as dreadful as you could imagine. Being an especially unruly kid didn’t make matters any better. After bouncing around from foster home to foster home, the system decided it had enough of trying to place me, and I ended up living in the only group home in our small town. 

It was hell. Literally. 

But you know what I found out? The best way to get through hell is to beat it at its own game. So that’s exactly what I did. I became the poster child for orphans everywhere. 

When kids made fun of my ragged clothes at school, I laughed with them. If a posh family looked their nose down on me as they passed me on the street, I apologized for my existence. I reformed into an invisible girl.

A shadow creature in Shadowhurst. How fitting. 

The key to staying under the radar was never to mess with the law; a rule I had gone eighteen years without breaking.

Until that morning. 

I wasn’t supposed to be in the Crystal Cauldron, not even a little. All I had to do was get a much-too-expensive latte from the coffee shop down the road and go back to the group home to pack my bags. Did I do that? Of course not. For some reason that morning, my curiosity got the best of me. The occult shop called to me. Better yet, an object within it beckoned me forward. 

It sounds crazy, I know, but that’s what happened. One minute I was walking along and minding my own business, and the next, I’m cramming a crystal the size of my fist into my backpack. Sometimes, I really wished I had at least some money to spare so I wouldn’t have ended up in this horrid situation. 

But I didn’t have anything. No parents, no home, and definitely no money. Everything I managed to save up bought my freedom from this town, and I wasn’t about to waste a train ticket on a stupid crystal. 

So I took a chance. 

It took the shop owner, Ms. Broussard, all of two seconds to catch onto me. As soon as the crystal was in my backpack, she meandered my way like a tiger pouncing on prey. Her long fingers wrapped over my arm and tugged me away from the exit before I knew what hit me and when she blocked the door with her tall, muscular frame, I knew I was a goner. 

Sweat beaded down my neck as the woman’s gray eyes trailed over my body, leaving tingles of panic behind. 

Way to go, Beatrix. How are you going to get out of this mess?

Ms. Broussard arched an eyebrow at my backpack, and I stifled a gasp. “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” she said. 

“I… uh…” I turned into a babbling fool in two seconds flat. “I don’t…”

The shop owner grinned. “Is that so?”

I nodded, cringing at my own lie. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” Ms. Broussard said, her fingers still latched onto my bicep in a vice grip. “Tell me why you thought it was appropriate to steal from my shop and I’ll consider not calling the police.”

LIE! I urged myself. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it. The crystal, it… called to me,” I blurted out. Good job. Excellent recovery. “I’ll put it back. Please don’t call the cops!”

Ms. Broussard’s face darkened and her lips crashed into a thin line. Her eyes darted from me to my backpack as she tried to make sense of what to do with me. Deep down, I prayed to every deity I could think of to save me. When the shop owner pushed her face into mine, I almost passed out. “Called to you how?” she asked. 

Wait, what? That’s the part she’s interested in?

Confusion coated my features, and I reached into my backpack to pull out the crystal. Slowly—as though I was handling a loaded gun—I brought the amethyst to hover between us. 

“I can’t explain it,” I whispered. “It was like I could feel it from outside. I swear I wasn’t going to steal it! I only wanted to see what it was and why I wanted it so badly.”

Ms. Broussard gave me another once over and my knees buckled. Oh, no. She’s not only going to call the cops, she’s going to have your sorry behind committed. 

Images of being dragged away to spend the remainder of my life in a psychiatric ward flashed before me and tears stung the back of my eyes. I was so close to being free and I messed it up over something as stupid as a crystal. What was wrong with me?

One by one, the shop owner uncurled her fingers from my arm and turned to the door. Her shoulders hiked up as she reached for the chain holding up the open sign and my heart dropped to my feet when she turned it over, locking the door immediately after. The chains that held the sign up scraped against the glass and my knees buckled.

What’s happening here?

My palms slicked with sweat, and a pounding headache spotted my vision. I had to escape, and I had to do it now. Around me, shelves full of crystals and herbs lined the narrow shop and I felt them closing in on me. My nose flared, taking in whiffs of beech wood and patchouli that cloaked the air. Begging my legs to work, I took a step forward, but Ms. Broussard blocked my way. Cocking her hips, she crossed her arms over her chest and gestured to the back of the shop where another door lay shut behind the glass counter. 

“You poor child,” Ms. Broussard said, nudging me to follow her. “What do you say we have a nice cup of tea and get to know each other a little better?”

No, thank you, I wanted to say. Instead, all I did was stare like an idiot with my mouth gaping open. 

The fingers holding me hostage found my back and urged me to walk. Against my better judgment, I followed Ms. Broussard to the locked door even though every part of me wanted to flee. What are you doing? RUN!

Except I didn’t run at all. 

Ms. Broussard unlocked the door and flung it open, revealing a long, poorly lit hallway. In an instant, a sense of relief overtook me and as my eyes adjusted to the murky darkness, my shoulders sagged. My panicked mood changed like a switch had been flipped. No longer was I afraid and wanting to flee; it was actually the opposite. 

I yearned to stay. 

The shop owner smiled down at me and her arm wrapped around my shoulders. “What is your name, dear girl?”

“Beatrix,” I answered. “Most people call me Bea.”

“Well, Bea,” Ms. Broussard murmured. “I think I know why you ended up in my little shop today. Come along, dear. It might be a lengthy discussion.”

Uncurling my back, I gave the exit door one last glance and followed her down the hallway, my heart racing the entire time. There were many ways this could play out, and only one of them ended with me walking out of here without a criminal record. 

Squaring my shoulders, I took the first step into the darkness. What I didn’t know then was that by doing so, I changed my life forever.