Spellbound
Spellbound
By Jean Copeland and Jackie D
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2020 Jean Copeland and Jackie D
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Spellbound
Hazel Abbot spent her whole life unaware she was a witch. When a spell thrusts her great-aunt Sarah Hutchinson forward from the Salem witch trials of 1692 and lands her in Hazel’s bookstore, everything Hazel thought she knew about herself changes. Complicating matters, Raven Dare, a supernatural hunter, informs her that they’ve all been summoned by the Queen Witch, Morgan le Fay.
Morgan compels Hazel, Sarah, and Raven to correct the shift in the realms of good and evil by ridding the world of the evil that followed Sarah into modern day. If they fail, the forces of white magic will be extinguished forever. But completing the perilous mission, convincing Sarah to return to Puritan life, and resisting their growing attraction for each other might prove more difficult than Hazel and Raven ever anticipated.
Praise for Jean Copeland
The Ashford Place
“[A] charming story that I can recommend to anyone who likes a well-written mystery with a good dose of romance.”— Rainbow Reflections
The Revelation of Beatrice Darby
“Debut author Jean Copeland has come out with a novel that is abnormally superb. The pace whirls like a hula-hoop; the plot is as textured as the fabric in a touch-and-feel board book. And, with more dimension than a stereoscopic flick, the girls in 3-D incite much pulp friction as they defy the torrid, florid, horrid outcomes to which they were formerly fated.”— Curve
“This story of Bea and her struggle to accept her homosexuality and find a place in the world is absolutely wonderful…Bea was such an interesting character and her life was that of many gay people of the time—hiding, shame, rejection. In the end, though, it was uplifting and an amazing first novel for Jean Copeland.”— Inked Rainbow Reads
The Second Wave
“This is a must-read for anyone who enjoys romances and for those who like stories with a bit of a nostalgic or historic theme.”— Lesbian Review
“Copeland shines a light on characters rarely depicted in romance, or in pop culture in general.”— The Lesbrary
“The characters felt so real and I just couldn’t stop reading. This is one of those books that will stay with me a long time.”— 2017 Rainbow Awards Honorable Mention
Summer Fling
“The love story between Kate and Jordan was one they make movies about, it was complex but you knew from the beginning these women had found their soul mates in each other.”— Les Rêveur
Praise for Jackie D
The Rise of the Resistance
“I was really impressed by Jackie D’s story and felt it had a truth and reality to it. She brought to life an America where things had gone badly wrong, but she gave me hope that all was not lost. The world she has imagined was compelling and the characters were so well developed.”— Kitty Kat’s Book Review Blog
“Jackie D explores how racist, homophobic, xenophobic leaders manage to seize, manipulate, and maintain power.”— Celestial Books
Lambda Literary Award Finalist Infiltration
“Quick question, where has this author been my entire life?…If you are looking for a romantic book that has mystery and thriller qualities, then this is your book.”— Fantastic Book Reviews
Lands End
“This is a great summer holiday read—likeable characters, great chemistry between the leads, interesting and unusual premise, well written dialogue, an excellent romance without any unnecessary angst. I really connected with both leads, and enjoyed the secondary characters. The attraction between Amy and Lena was palpable and the romantic storyline was paced really well.”— Melina Bickard, Librarian, Waterloo Library (London)
Lucy’s Chance
“Add a bit of conflict, add a bit of angst, a deranged killer, and you have a really good read. What this book is a great escape. You have a few hours to decompress from real-life’s craziness, and enjoy a quality story with interesting characters. Well, minus the psychopath murderer, but you know what I mean.”— Romantic Reader Blog
Pursuit
“This book is a dynamic fast-moving adventure that keeps you on the edge of your seat the whole time…enough romance for you to swoon and enough action to keep you fully engaged. Great read, you don’t want to miss this one.”— Romantic Reader Blog
Spellbound
© 2020 By Jean Copeland and Jackie D. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-565-3
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: January 2020
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Barbara Ann Wright
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design by Tammy Seidick
By the Authors
Jean Copeland
The Revelation of Beatrice Darby
The Second Wave
Summer Fling
The Ashford Place
Jackie D
Infiltration: Book I of the After Dark Series
Pursuit: Book II of the After Dark Series
Lands End
Lucy’s Chance
The Rise of the Resistance: Phoenix One
Acknowledgments
Thank you to our editor, Barbara Ann Wright, for helping us craft our words with the most witchy intent. Thank you to Bold Strokes Books for always being so supportive of our wild ideas. To the women at Fierce Femm Media for listening to our ideas, and your endless support. To our family and friends who endure our long absences while we dive into the worlds spinning in our minds. And, finally, to the readers who are always willing to take these journeys with us.
“We are the granddaughters of the witches they weren’t able to burn.”—Tish Thawer
We dedicate this story to the memory of the women who suffered and died during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 at the hands of men with unchecked political power and very little common sense.
Chapter One
Raven Dare gripped the Banshee by the throat and pushed her against a wall in the dank alley. She held the tip of the gold knife specially crafted for Banshee-slaying over the spirit’s heart. “You made me chase you. I don’t like chasing anyone in my personal or professional life. Now, you’re going to tell me where the demon is hiding.”
The creature opened her mouth, revealing rows of jagged, rotten teeth encircling a black hole. She screamed with such ferocity that Raven had to fight the urge to move away and cover her ears.
“Holy hell, your voice is as terrible as the first round of castoffs from American Idol .” She tightened her grip around the creature’s neck and squeezed. The glove she wore with gold strands woven throughout made the entity wince in pain. “Where is he? Tell me, and I won’t drag out the process of sending you back to hell.”
Raven recoiled from the blood-red eyes starting to oo
ze a black substance reeking of sulfur and soil. Raven imagined this was the smell of hatred and fear. When she opened her mouth to scream again, Raven plunged the gold knife into her heart. The beast dissolved into vapor, leaving no trace of its existence.
Raven put the knife back in its sheath and stuck the glove in her back pocket. She pulled a cigarette box from a cargo pocket, shook one out of the pack, and placed the filter between her lips. She flicked her lighter, but the end started to burn on its own.
She looked up into the air. “You can light a cigarette for me but won’t lift a finger to help with a Banshee? Thanks, you’re the best.” She took a deep drag and shook her head. She leaned against the wall behind her and wiped the sweat from her face with her forearm. “No smart-ass comment? No comeback? Are you losing your mojo or something?”
Morgan emerged from the darkness. As she sauntered toward Raven, her white gown flowed around her, encircling her in luminescence. “You annoy me.”
Raven let out a slight laugh as she took another drag. “I’ve been accused of much worse.”
Morgan approached Raven and used her body to pin her against the wall. The soft curve of her neck and the way her blond hair brushed against Raven’s cheek was intoxicating. Raven also knew this was intentional, a side effect from being near the Queen Witch. Morgan removed the glove from Raven’s pocket, and it disappeared into thin air.
“I should’ve trusted this to someone else. You clearly weren’t up for the task.” Morgan placed the tip of her finger on Raven’s cheek and traced down the side of her face and over her breasts.
Raven knew better than to rebuff her. Morgan was fueled by these games. Having been alive, or existing, for thousands of years, she found very little entertainment left to enjoy. Making subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle sexual advances was one of her predilections, and hell hath no fury like a witch denied her pleasure.
“She wouldn’t stop screaming,” Raven said. “I was getting a migraine.”
“Your lack of innovation is infuriating,” Morgan said, turning away from her.
Raven crushed the cigarette out on the brick wall. “Yeah, well, the same can be said about your unwillingness to assist on these little missions you send me on.”
“I can’t interfere. I can only keep the balance. You know that.” She waved her hand. “I’ll send one of the others to find the demon.”
Raven’s throat burned with anger. “I can do it. Banshees are impossibly unpredictable. I’ll track down something else. Ghouls are always willing to trade for information.” She dared to double down with a semi-defiant glare. “I’m not going back on our deal.”
Morgan smiled at her and ran her fingertips over Raven’s lips. “Don’t worry. I’m not breaking or letting you out of our deal. Your uncle remains in suspended animation, unharmed. Magic is keeping his heart pumping and his lungs working. That said, I need you for a new mission.”
Raven pulled her sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on, a shield of sorts. She knew Morgan could read her emotions without seeing her eyes, but this was as much a fight as she could bolster without infuriating the witch. “Where now?”
“Salem, Massachusetts,” Morgan purred in her ear.
Raven stifled a groan. “You can’t be serious. Salem’s a cliché, a tourist trap. Nothing’s there for me to do.”
“It wasn’t always a tourist trap. The energy there is heavy, and the history is violent. A shift is getting ready to happen, a disturbance of some kind, and I need you there when it comes to fruition.” Morgan backed away toward the dark corner of the building.
“That’s all you’re going to tell me? I don’t even know what gear I need or what I could be up against,” Raven called after her. “Morgan.”
Morgan had already disappeared, but Raven heard her faintly reply, “That’s all I know.”
Raven gathered herself and headed back to her car. If she left now, she could be in Salem the following night. She checked her trunk. She had enough weapons to take on almost any creature she knew existed, but that didn’t mean she was prepared for all the possibilities. Several times in the past she’d encountered a new being, some entity she’d never heard of, and narrowly survived to tell the tale. She hoped Salem wouldn’t be that kind of adventure.
She only owed Morgan one more favor, and when it was accomplished, her uncle would recover. Then they could figure out what to do next. She knew they’d never be fully free from Morgan because that wasn’t how her family’s curse worked. But she’d have her uncle back, and maybe that would alleviate some of her loneliness.
* * *
Hazel Abbot heard her dress tear right before she dropped her purse on the steps of her shop. She put a hand over her eyes and groaned with embarrassment when she looked behind her and saw the hem caught in the door. She tugged on it carefully, not wanting to tear it more or give away her mistake to the early morning tourists in the vicinity. When the cloth wouldn’t budge, she reached for her keys now a foot away as if they were trying to escape her klutzy behavior, too.
After a few delicate maneuvers that allowed her to capture her keys without flashing her backside to the entire street, she undid the lock and yanked her dress from the door. Tossing items back into her purse, Hazel cursed herself for forgetting to buy coffee beans the day before, thus forcing her to venture into town for her morning caffeine fix and into this whole mess.
As she reached for her favorite lip gloss, a passerby absently kicked it out into the street. You’ve got to be kidding me . Hazel stood, took a deep breath, and pushed her glasses up her nose. Okay, you’re off to a rough start this morning, but things can only improve from here . She still looked up and down the street several times before retrieving her lip gloss, convinced that if she was going to get hit by a car, this would be the morning.
With her gloss back inside her purse, she silently thanked the Goddess and inspected her dress: a minor tear that she could fix later. She wasn’t turning back to go inside now, not until she had her large coconut roast with a shot of espresso. She moved quickly toward Front Street, wanting to beat the tourists to her favorite coffee house.
Salem, Massachusetts, had been her family’s home for generations, and although there was almost always an influx of tourists, October drew more people than any other time. Some of the residents found their half a million, temporary neighbors to be nothing but a headache. But Hazel always considered it to be a bit of a rush. Business would boom this time of year. Last year, she sold more books in October than she had throughout the entire year. People would visit from all over the world to take part in the festivities. Dressed in fantastic costumes, they’d dance in the streets and seek out Salem’s famed psychics for readings and guidance.
Today was the first day of October, and she could already smell the change in the air. The aroma of rain mixed with the changing leaves and burning wood. It was her favorite time of year. The morning’s mishaps began to glide out of her memory as she turned in to the coffee shop. The owner had changed the artwork from the previous week, apparently preparing for the season as well. She paused to appreciate the diversity and individuality of the chosen pieces—a painting of black cats with halos, skeletons made out of papier-mâché, and a lamp that looked like a pug.
She had turned her head almost completely sideways while examining the pug lamp when the barista got her attention. “The usual this morning, Hazel?”
She tore herself away from the unusual lamp and walked to the counter. “Yes, thank you, Tim.” He handed her the steaming cup, and her mouth watered in anticipation of the first sip. “You’re my absolute favorite person of the day.”
He smiled. “It’s only seven thirty. How many other people have you had to interact with?”
She breathed in the wonderful fullness of the coffee and took another sip. “Only one, and they kicked my lip gloss into the street. But that was after I ripped my dress and dropped my purse.”
He cleaned the steam wand attached to the espresso machi
ne. “Then that one is on the house.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
He tossed the rag onto the counter. “I’m going for your favorite person of the week.” He winked at her and moved to the other side of the counter where a line was starting to form.
“I’ll square with you later. Thanks, Tim.”
She turned toward the door with a bit more bounce in her step. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all. She walked back out into the street, retracing her steps to her bookstore and apartment. She eyed the cobblestone sidewalks, not wanting to make a misstep while running through the things on her to-do list. She needed to unpack a few boxes in the storeroom, finish dusting, and she needed to create a Facebook invite for a reading she had set up with a local author.
Hazel inhaled deeply, allowing the crisp air to chill her throat. Despite the morning’s poor start, everything seemed to be on track; she had a plan for the day. She loved plans. Anything out of the ordinary could lead to impulsivity, and impulsivity could lead to poor decisions. Hazel didn’t subscribe to such behavior.
She unlocked the door to her store, flipped the sign on her window, telling the world she was open for business, and turned on the stereo behind her counter. She sipped her coffee as she checked her store’s email account and smiled when she saw one from a regular customer inquiring about a specific occult collection he was interested in purchasing in its entirety. She scanned her computer inventory list and hit “select.” Today was definitely going to be a good day.
Chapter Two
Salem, Massachusetts, 1692
The carriage transporting the latest sweep of accused witches into custody ground to a halt outside Salem Village jail. After being jostled about in the dark of night, Sarah Hutchinson Cooper was grateful for the abrupt stop even though it meant her immediate imprisonment. Woozy and trembling, Sarah clutched her frock through her shackles and lifted it slightly to allow her to descend the back of the carriage. The two marshals seized her under her arms on either side and dragged her down and toward the jail, knocking her bonnet over her eyes. She stumbled as she tried to regain her footing.