Witch Way Out Read online

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

  WITCH WAY OUT: MAGIC AND MAYHEM UNIVERSE

  First edition. August 27, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Kate Richards.

  ISBN: 978-1386726449

  Written by Kate Richards.

  Witch Way Out

  By

  Kate Richards

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Kate Richards

  Also by Kate Richards

  Witch Way Out

  Tina Marie Wales is a witch on a mission. To get her life under control. Her online herbal business is, growing exponentially, her familiars are at war with one another, and her magical pen pal, the Shifter Whisperer, is trying to help. Not to mention that she just bought a charming Victorian with a peculiar curse on it. And the next door neighbor keeps growling at her. Not that it’s not sexy but...really! Growling? She didn’t think he liked her at all until she received the invitation to dinner.

  Yuvan Ursa moved to a small, serene town far from the rest of his pack and their crazy nightclub businesses. He’s an artist, a spiritual man, and a grizzly. After he’s enjoyed a serene six months of painting and yoga, the neighborhood has been invaded by a sexy, noisy redhead and her trio of equally noisy pets. What does a bear have to do to get a little peace? When he knocks on her door to complain, instead he finds himself asking her over to dine. Perhaps over his special Moroccan couscous they can come to an agreement. She can keep the racket down, and he can be happy. If only his brain could focus when faced with her curves.

  Once they cross the line between their properties, combustion is likely, chaos is inevitable.

  Dedicated to my friend Olga who grew up in Morocco during WWII and who taught me first to appreciate and then to prepare the cuisine of that amazing country. And also how to curse in French. But that’s another story. She’s no longer with us, but she’s in my heart every day.

  Chapter One

  Dear Zelda,

  I have arrived! As we speak, I sit in the kitchen of my charming Victorian, the one we oohed and ahhed over for weeks before you sat me down in that adorable lime-green Kia of yours and suggested I make an offer. And you were so right! It’s every bit as sweet as we thought. And while I was a little worried about buying sight unseen, if I hadn’t jumped on it, this rainbow darling with a wide porch on all three levels and a turret with winding staircase and widow’s walk might have been snapped up by some ridiculous troll. Seems like everywhere I go I run into trolls with issues.

  The furnishings are period, and not even restored. Gorgeous horsehair sofas, lamps with fringe...even a bell pull in case I ever get a butler, you know, like from the Addams Family?

  Anyway, I just wanted to dash off a quick note before I finish unpacking. Not that I have much to unpack.

  Thank you again, with all my heart, for taking me and my terrible trio under your welcoming roof after we became orphans of the storm. I don’t know what we’d have done without you!

  I can’t wait to brew my first cup of Darjeeling in my own kitchen. Not that yours wasn’t lovely, but I missed the peace and quiet of home! As soon as I’m settled, I hope you’ll come for a visit so I can return the hospitality.

  With all my love and wishes for a magical day...Blessed be.

  Tina

  Tina took a moment to absorb the perfection of her Victorian kitchen. As promised in the online ad on WitchRealty.com, 100 percent authentic from the open dish storage to the white brick walls, to the battered but gleaming wide oak boards of the floor. And an icebox. How charming! She almost hated to get rid of the big wood cabinet with its brass fittings, but a witch couldn’t live without a real refrigerator. Maybe she could use the antique for general storage, since the open shelving with its plates marching in neat rows and shelves underneath holding bowls and cups and cutlery, seemed to be all there was. And the woodstove. Absolutely perfectly maintained, could have been brand new, but the date in raised letters indicated a late Victorian era, new when the house was. With the kitchen’s expansive counters, high ceilings, and yards of open space, perhaps she could just slip in a few modern conveniences without messing up the ambiance.

  Warm, golden late-afternoon sunshine blazed through the high windows, Indian summer in full effect. Soon her Upstate New York town would be settled in for the chill months, a whole new experience for this California desert babe. The tornado that ate her house had also stripped years of carefully planted and tended herbs, trees, and other vital elements of her online herbal business. Also, all the topsoil and the driveway.

  If not for Zelda, she’d have been a witch on the street corner. Okay, maybe too dramatic, but a good friend with a safe home far from the site of heartbreak could not be turned down. She contemplated the glowing window panes. Were they leaded glass? She thought so. They were heavy, for sure, and the outside looked a little warped through them. Must be leaded.

  Leaning on the ledge of the single-basin sink with its attached drying board and curtains to hide the supporting “limbs” below—so Victorian—she took in the autumnscape of colorful leaves still on the trees in her yard and the one next door. On the edge of New England, she’d arrived in time for the show.

  If only she’d had a chance to harvest more of her crops before they were destroyed by the freak tornado. But she had enough to carry her until she could restock from the reliable supplier she’d used before she’d grown her own. One order only, though. They were good, but they were also mortal and didn’t have the ability to use magic to both boost their crops and grow them where they normally wouldn’t do well.

  For example, in New England in the winter...crap on a cracker! Magic could help once they were established, but many of her hot-zone herbs and fruits would balk at starting in cold ground.

  Sinking onto a wooden stool at the big worktable, she tapped her fingers on the scarred surface. How many meals had been prepared here? Delicious feasts for families who’d lived in this house before. Most of them probably were better at cooking than Tina. She really only needed a microwave for her frozen burritos...and a freezer to keep them in. Neither of which this magnificent room offered. But it would be useful for her business. She could hang all the drying racks and still have plenty of room to walk around. The impractical woodstove would help to dehumidify the air.

  If she could grow anything. A big sigh emerged from deep inside her, sending a bubble of despair toward the ceiling. When it popped, her muddled thoughts cleared.

  Of course. How could she have forgotten! Scooting to the other end of the kitchen, Tina pushed open a small door and froze, paralyzed with delight.

  Even a witch had trouble growing things in the snow and hard earth of this part of the country. But not a witch who owned a greenhouse. And not just an ordinary one from Home Depot, but the real deal, with fantasy metal frames in whirls and twirls supporting more of the glass like that in the kitchen. Rows of empty beds awaited her needs and right in the middle...a fountain. She nearly fainted with delight.

  Mrrooow. One of her familiars, Ralph, a rough, tough orange cat with one ear bent at a rakish angle from an encounter with a Maine coon in his wild youth, stalked toward her from a patch of late sun on the brick floor.

  “Hey, buddy. Isn’t this the best? Aren’t we the lucky ducks?”

  He moved on past, swiping at her leg as he went, heading for the cat door handily installed in the wall next to the sink by a previous owner. Oh, dear. Zelda had tried to help with her trio of terror, but finally suggested new recruits. Ralph was not the wors
t of them, either. At least he acknowledged her presence. The other two seemed to consider her a necessary evil a good deal of the time. Zelda’s idea had real merit. Unfortunately, her inherited crew had family connections that went back generations. To put it mildly, firing them could lead to war.

  And nobody liked that.

  Where were the other two, anyway? She’d let them out of their carrier when she arrived but hadn’t seen them since. A frisson of unease crept up her spine. They were capable of almost any kind of trouble. And they also knew how to use the cat door.

  Trying not to let her nerves ruin a glorious afternoon, Tina settled in a wobbly wicker chair that might be old enough to have been part of the original furnishings and drew a deep breath in through her nose. She held it to a count of seven and then exhaled to the same count through her mouth. And again. The scent of a late-blooming rosebush somewhere in the greenhouse filled her senses, and she let her eyes drift closed. Breathe in...and out. Breathe in and out and...

  B.O.R.I.N.G. Meditation was not her jam.

  With a snap of her fingers, music filled the greenhouse, the electronic beat throbbing in her veins. “Dance time!” That was the way to settle her soul.

  Ring! The doorbell.

  Her eyes snapped open. Ralph had returned and stared up at her, disdain in his feline expression. “Isn’t that always the way? Just when we’re getting our Zen on, Ralphie boy. I only wish you had thumbs and could answer the door.” But he couldn’t, so she pushed herself to her feet and smoothed her short leather skirt. “Or maybe at least that it was pizza.” She’d been shocked at the lack of a single pizza delivery joint in the area. “I bet if we started a pizzeria, we’d make bank, kitty.”

  He swiped at her leg again, but she darted back and, at another doorbell twist—the antique device another of her favorite features of the place—she headed through the kitchen, the formal dining room, and toward the front door.

  Yuvan Ursa waited on the hot-pink front porch of the most garish house in the neighborhood. Electronic music made the very windows pulse and his nerves throb in time. The rapid, rhythmic tapping from within indicated either someone’s approach or some kind of creature was rattling around in time to the beat. Judging by what he held firmly by the nape, it could be either.

  The place had stood empty since he’d moved in next door, and he’d harbored a secret wish it would remain so. After making the decision to leave his crazy relative and their ever-expanding chain of nightclubs before he was tapped to run one, he’d opened a map of a section of the country his family had not invaded, pinned it to the wall, and thrown a single dart.

  It landed on Beetown and, after a quick online real estate search and a few calls, he was the proud owner of a classic Victorian, in subtle shades of white and pale blue. He’d set his easels up on the top floor where the morning light provided him perfect painting conditions and the breeze from the windows at front and back of the attic space surrounded him as he sat on his mat and meditated. Sometimes he performed the asanas, the positions demonstrated on a yoga video he’d picked up on a whim. A peaceful life, near perfect. He spent some time working on the house, making the inevitable repairs required an older place, made a pilgrimage to the grocery store every couple of weeks, sold his paintings to a couple of galleries that specialized in his type of art, and once a month or so headed into the woods behind his property to stretch his claws.

  Not near perfect. Completely perfect.

  Or at least it had been.

  Once he’d explained his position, his new neighbor would clean up her act. He wasn’t asking much. A little consideration, a lowering of the volume on the music...and keep her pets at home.

  Shifting his wriggling burden, he grasped the twisting bell again, ready to pound on the door next or maybe toss what he held through the window and go home. As that plan formed, the music quit, the door jerked open to reveal a goddess. His planned speech died unspoken.

  Long red hair moved in the breeze, drifting around her flushed cheeks and setting off her emerald eyes. Her long lashes were like brown sable, brushing her cheeks as she blinked. And the black leotard she wore over a goofy leather skirt whose only good point was the sheer amount of long toned leg it revealed plunged into a cleavage worthy of an epic poem. Her shoes had to have six-inch heels. How did she walk on them, much less dance! Because he was sure now that the tapping had been just that.

  Lips of natural deep rose moved, but he couldn’t make out her words over the roaring in his ears. Her brows lowered, she’d grasped the edge of the door, starting to close it, when he came to his senses and thrust the handful of squirming fur at her.

  She scrambled to catch them before they slammed onto the porch steps. Not that they’d probably have been hurt, but her glare implied he might have tossed them out a six-story window. “I’ve been looking for these two. Where did you find them?”

  “In my bathtub.” As she bent to scoot the animals into the house, he admired the view of curvy bottom encased in tight leather that rose high enough to give a hint of cheeks. Bless thong undies. He quickly lifted his gaze when she turned around. “And I don’t appreciate what they did in there.”

  She winced. “I keep my bathroom doors closed. Maybe you should, too.”

  Lust shifted to outrage. “Why should I do that? I hardly expect to be entertaining your...what are those anyway?”

  “Harshans.” At his blank look, she continued, a grin lifting one corner of her lips. Kissable lips. Other thoughts of what she might do with them were not becoming of a gentleman. Lucky he’d never claimed to be one. “Kind of a combination of rats, rabbits, and hamsters. But with some special skills.”

  “If those skills are what I found in my tub, I can’t see any advantage to or use for them.”

  She flushed, the luscious pink spreading into her cleavage turning his cock rock-hard. “No, that’s just nasty. I’ll have a talk with them but I can’t guarantee they won’t do it again.”

  “I will make sure to keep my front door closed.”

  “The bathroom door.” She nodded and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh no, they’re headed for the kitchen. I should go.”

  “No, my front door.” He didn’t want her to leave. “They must have come in when I was carrying in some groceries.”

  “Umm...I’ll talk to them.” A crash sounded behind her, and she winced. “I’m working with someone, trying to get through to them. Until they mend their ways, I will do my very best to keep them from bothering you.”

  “See that you do.” He took a step back then paused and thrust his hand out. “Yuvan Ursa. Welcome to the neighborhood.” The second he closed his grip around her much-smaller hand, he knew he was lost. Electricity shot up his arm, and his bear roared deep inside him.

  “Tina Marie Wales.” She lifted those cut-emerald eyes to him and held his gaze. “You can let go now.”

  “What?” He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  Tina lifted their linked hands—when did they twine their fingers?—and smiled, lips trembling a little. Did she feel it, too? The sparks? “My hand. You can let go.”

  I don’t think so... But he allowed her to pull free and take a step back before he blurted out, “I’m sure you haven’t had a chance to get settled. Come over tonight for dinner. At six.” Before he could make any more of a fool of himself, he turned and headed back down the walkway to the sidewalk and toward home. Luckily, he’d planned on a good meal anyway. Despite what fairy tales would have one believe, bears did spend their afternoons with one paw in a honey jar. Or eating some sort of cold, lumpy porridge left around for hours before being eaten. If he ate any kind of porridge it was steel-cut oats with blueberries, a dusting of brown sugar, a pat of butter, and a splash of rich cream. And he took his woodland ramble after eating it, not while it congealed into paste.

  His new neighbor was in for a treat. They’d sit nicely and enjoy their meal then discuss how to ensure her presence did not interfere with his serenity. If he want
ed dancing, singing women around him, he could have stayed behind to open yet another nightclub as cousin Warren had suggested.

  He ran over the evening’s menu in his mind. One of his specialties. Moroccan couscous...and he didn’t have much time to finish pulling it together.

  Chapter Two

  Tina watched the big man lumber through her gate and make a right turn. He had such a loose-limbed gait for a guy his size. His hand had swallowed hers up and if she had her way she’d have left it there, but how could she? She barely knew the guy. He hadn’t even waited for her answer about dinner! Just told her to come over in that voice as deep as a well and left as if he had no doubts she’d obey. She pushed the door closed and snapped her fingers, starting again the endless loop of music and her accompanying dance moves. The acoustics in her new home were wonderful.

  Did the guy next door dance? He probably had never seen the inside of a nightclub, much less hit the floor with a move designed to seduce. Of course, he probably didn’t need any moves. Tall, dark, handsome...with almost-black eyes that seemed to see into her soul. And those shoulders! Enough breadth for two men. Thighs like tree trunks and no gut whatsoever. His black tee caressed his chest in a way she had needed to clench her hands into fists to keep from touching. Maybe he was a little furry under all that...it wouldn’t be a bad thing! Most bears were. His jeans, old and pale and soft-looking, hung from lean hips yet were tight enough in the button fly to guarantee she couldn’t miss his interest in her. His...generous amount of interest.

  She shivered and spun on one foot.

  What about that ego, though? A woman should have a chance to say yes or no to an invitation, shouldn’t she? Most of the guys in her past had been in awe of her power and were more than gentlemen, but Yuvan—unusual name, but it suited him—a little exotic. But suited a shifter. A bear of some kind, definitely, even if he hadn’t mentioned the fact.