Spell of the Ball (8 Magical Halloween Reads) Read online

  His eyes went glassy, and his body convulsed one last time.

  Angel went cold. “Abatu? I thought he’d tried to take over hell twenty-five years ago.”

  “The lower kings constantly fight for High King. They’re immortal, so they have eternity to scramble for power,” said Roc. Angel wanted to bop him. She was a demon hunter, and a descendent of Abatu. She knew how it all worked.

  Roc knelt at the demon’s side. “Demons can’t be killed, but he’s dead.”

  At that moment, the creature’s corpse dissolved into ash. Angel wasn’t sure if it was the delayed result of the purple beam or if Roc had somehow done it. She glanced at the poor, tangled form of Emily. Her body remained intact.

  The monkey in its alcove cracked. The pieces dropped away, revealing its prize. Angel plucked out a gold spiky sun token, which was as big as a bottle cap. “This is the gift?”

  “The power of the sun,” said Roc. He stood up. “May I see it?”

  She was reluctant to give it to him, but didn’t resist when he plucked it from her fingers. He stared at it, and for a moment she saw him look at it with unaccountable longing. It was a mere flash of emotion, and she couldn’t be sure she’d interpreted right.

  The staff had disappeared again. Roc held the sun in one hand and with his other; he took her wrist and brushed his thumb against her pulse point. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  She looked at him, flummoxed. “Hell, no.”

  “Good enough.” He pushed the middle of the sun and its spikes curved down. Then the bastard shoved the gold object on to her wrist.

  “What are you doing?” she yelled, trying to pull out of his grip.

  “What must be done, Angelica.”

  The tiny blades sunk into her skin. Ten spikes of pain caused her to cry out, and she regretted that small show of weakness. Hatred stabbed her with poisoned blades. Bastard! The pain radiated down her arm and throbbed in her shoulder, up her neck, and right into her jaw. Her teeth nearly vibrated with the awful sensations, and it took all her effort to remain upright.

  The sun burrowed into her flesh until its flat face was part of her. Then the blades straightened out, their shiny arms visible underneath her pale skin.

  Angel stared at the object embedded in her wrist. Blood seeped from the edges and dripped onto the floor. With the last of her energy, she socked Roc in the jaw.

  He staggered back. His expression made her smile …and then she passed out.

  ***

  Emily awoke in daze. The first thing she noticed was that she could see color. The glory of the green-leafed trees pitched against the cloudless blue sky dazzled her. Somehow, she’d gone from that dismal crypt to sitting on a wooden bench wearing her favorite yellow sundress and strappy sandals.

  “Em?”

  She turned and saw Timothy walking toward her. Behind him, she saw a well-worn path that obviously led to a gleaming city in the distance. With a cry of happiness, she leapt from the bench and threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly, and she wept, so thrilled was she to feel his arms around her.

  “Am I dreaming?” she asked. “I don’t think I could take it if I thought I could wake up from this.”

  “You died, Emily. You’re in the next world. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  She took a moment to consider his words, and realized he spoke the truth. She hadn’t taken her own life, not in a traditional sense. She’d managed to go on with her life, even it had been hollow, and would have continued to do so if not for the demon’s trick. But seeing Timothy now, she couldn’t regret her choices. Her relief and joy at being with him were so palpable she could almost taste the emotions. “I did some terrible things,” she said.

  “No,” said Tim, his blue eyes twinkling and his familiar grin reassuring. “You didn’t.”

  He took her hand, and together, they walked into eternity.

  Chapter 6

  A week later, Angel sat on the velvet red couch in her office. It was after midnight, the businesses on this street had closed hours ago, and the traffic had died down to the occasional taxi. The silence was getting to her. She missed Graddie’s wisecracks, the way he filled up a space. It didn’t help her mood that most of the office was dark; only the small lamp on her desk was on. Morose wasn’t close to how she felt right now.

  Graddie was still at the compound. Mrs. P had saved him, as promised, but her friend remained in and out of consciousness. One of the slanted marks of his new tattoo had disappeared.

  Mrs. P had made the connection between Drak and the damned tattoo.

  Drak put the mark on Graddie, who was now a human countdown clock. He was also the High King’s insurance; so long as Angelica played nice, Graddie would stay alive. Getting rid of the poison was one thing, lifting the curse was another.

  Her parents had been noticeably absent. They called her every day, as usual, but she knew when she was getting the run-around. They were up to something, but she couldn’t figure out what. What she did know was that Mom and Dad were aware of the prophecy, and had known Angelica was part of it. It felt as if she were being betrayed in every corner of her life. First, Roc’s withholding at he cemetery, and now she’d practically given herself a migraine trying to figure out why her parents hadn’t been forthcoming with this information earlier. Drak hadn’t tried to take her gift or offer another marriage proposal. She was confused about why he hadn’t even tried to beat her to the sun charm. The other shoe would drop soon, she was sure.

  Stress bunched her shoulders and made her head throb. The new addition in her wrist itched and resisting the urge to scratch was testing her self-control. Roc had only tried to approach her once after what had happened in the crypt.

  She’d taken his staff and cracked his skull with it.

  Angelica felt the swirl of magic and was too tired to get really pissed off. Gah! It was as if by thinking about him, she’d conjured him.

  “Go away,” she said, her voice weary.

  “No.”

  Roc sat on the other end of the couch and drew her booted feet on his lap. She eyed his crotch, but just wasn’t in the mood to squish his family jewels. He pulled off her boots and her thick socks, and then pushed up her pant legs and starting massaging her feet and calves.

  “What are you doing?” She was annoyed that his hands felt good. The tension started to drain, and resentment curled in her belly. It would be stupid to give up a free massage just because she was angry at Roc. Or so she told herself. It wasn’t that she enjoyed his touch or that her body began to hum in anticipation. When did you start lying to yourself, girl?

  He didn’t answer her question, and she didn’t expect him to. Other questions begged for answers, but she didn’t feel like asking them. She’d been bereft this last week without Graddie around. Her life was in upheaval, which totally sucked. The prophecy hadn’t been fully revealed to her, and she wasn’t looking forward to knowing the whole deal.

  “You need to relax,” said Roc.

  “Is that the advice of my Guardian?” she sneered. She didn’t consider him her Guardian. She didn’t recognize the High Council’s power to assign her jack shit, let alone a Guardian. She’d made that more than clear right before she’d beaned him on the head with his own weapon.

  “You’re attracted to me,” he said.

  “You’re an arrogant bastard.”

  “True.”

  Angel re-considered kicking him in the crotch. Then she shrugged. Why lie? “Yeah, okay. We got sparks, but so what?”

  He stopped his wonderful massage. She bit back a protest. He stood up and offered her his hand. She looked up at him, feeling lazy. One eyebrow rose. He wiggled his fingers, and with a huge sigh, she clasped his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

  He drew her into his embrace and kissed her.

  Sparks? More like a nuclear explosion. Her whole body went molten. Her lower bits clenched with desire. The man had shoved a magical object into her flesh, and later, had informed her that h
e intended to shove in three more. Oh, and that he’d known about the monkeys all along. So, why was her body betraying her like this to her enemy?

  Anger broke from the building lust and stopped kissing him. “I don’t like you.”

  “I know.” His lips coasted over her jaw to nuzzle her neck.

  “We shouldn’t do this …whatever this is.”

  “You’re right. We shouldn’t.” His hands snuck under her shirt and cupped her breasts. She hardly ever wore a bra, a fact Mr. Smarty Pants obviously knew. His fingers tweaked her nipples, and she sucked in a startled breath.

  “I’m really pissed off at you,” she said, but the words were ineffective because a moan punctuated the end of her sentence. “Roc…”

  “Shut up,” he murmured as he unbuttoned her pants, and then his own. She was wild for him, and that should have shamed her...but it didn’t. Instead, her hands found his length, and she stroked the hardening flesh between her palms. She wanted him inside her. Stupid, Angel. This is so stupid.

  Lust was not a logical emotion.

  Before she could protest, he turned her, sliding her pants down to her thighs. His fingers slid her opening, and she moaned at his touch.

  He leaned over her back. “I love how wet and hot you are for me.”

  “Stop talking,” she said through gritted teeth, fighting the next moan as the swollen head of his cock replaced his fingers. “Condom?”

  “On already.” And with that, he slid inside her so deep that Angel moaned her joy. His large shaft stretched her and filled her until she wanted to weep.

  One of his hands clamped her hip and the other snaked around to rub her excited, swollen clit. She clawed at the cushions, her toes barely touching the floor as he thrust into her without mercy.

  The orgasm hit her hard, and she screamed. After her climax, she heard his low groan. He plunged deeply, and came, his nails biting into her ass.

  For a long moment, they didn’t nothing but breathe. Then, Roc withdrew and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. Angel, uncertain how to feel, took a moment to arrange pull her pants up. Her face burned scarlet.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  She wiped a smudge from her white leather pants and stood up, trying to act nonchalant. Inside, a whirlwind of emotions claimed her. She tried to sort through them and pick one to flail him with.

  “Let me guess. You regret it. You never want it to happen again. I should take a flying leap.”

  “I guess you don’t need me to participate in the conversation, do you?” asked Angel.

  He sauntered across the room. “I don’t regret it. And I fully intend for it to happen again and again.”

  Her pulse leapt in response to the rough possession in his voice. Oh God. How freaking girly-girl was that?

  “Sorry, pal. Only one fuck per minion of the High Council.” She tried to push past him, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Don’t make me break your kneecaps.”

  He enchained her wrists, brought her close, and stared at her so tenderly that she felt her heart turn over in her chest. “I like you, too, Angel.”

  Then he kissed her.

  Click here for Hex the Halls, our bewitching holiday anthology. Release date: Nov 17th.

  About the Author

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Michele Bardsley live in Texas with her husband and their fur babies. When she’s not writing, she reads romance and mystery books and crochets zombie hats.

  Get the next story in the Angelica Mortis series here.

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  A Charming Death

  (do us part)

  A Magical Cures Mystery Halloween Short Story

  Tonya Kappes

  June Heal and Oscar Park’s upcoming nuptials are sending the Dark Sider and Good Sider spiritual in a tail spin on this All Hallow’s Eve wedding celebration. Aunt Helena wants Junes to have a Good Sider ceremony, while Aunt Eloise wants Oscar to have a Dark Sider ceremony. When one of the Aunts is poisoned, June and Oscar aren’t sure they will have enough time to figure out who is sabotaging their wedding before Mr. Prince Charming walks her down the aisle?

  Chapter 1

  Something slightly sinister was in the air. Hanging over the village like a heavy fog. Normally, I would’ve blamed it on the upcoming All Hallows’ Eve celebration, but I knew better.

  This morning was different than most mornings in Whispering Falls. The sky told me. The breeze lifted the leaves on the trees, swaying back and forth, whistling as they swung. A few of the dead leaves danced in circles in the middle of the street before dispersing.

  The steps in front of my shop, A CHARMING CURE, were still wet from the morning dew. Bursts of smell from the morning incense cleansing ritual popped around me as I noted the shadows of the incense smoke looked like stalking cats.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Eloise Sandlewood had used a different cleansing palette this morning rather than her normal bouquet of fragrance. And I wouldn’t have put it past her.

  “No, she isn’t.” Aunt Helena’s voice shook the windows from inside my shop. Her mood veered sharply to anger. I had taken solace from the feuding aunts on the outside steps of my shop.

  “They,” Eloise shot back, emphasizing they in her temper flare up. “They will as the powers of be say it shall.”

  “Shall my…my. . .my,” Aunt Helena stuttered.

  “I hear they are still not in agreement?” Isadora Solstice, Izzy for short, stood at the end of the walkway near the ornamental gate of my shop. Her long blond hair swooped to the side over her thin shoulders, draping down her black blouse that was neatly tucked into a black A-line skirt that hit below her knees. Where her skirt ended, her tall black pointy lace-up boots began.

  The heels of her boots clicked on the sidewalk as she hurried through the tunnel of dripping wisteria vine hanging from the trellis.

  “What is it they are fussing over?” Her long thin hand drew up to her face as she leaned toward the door behind me.

  “I’m telling you right now.” Eloise’s words had a bite. “My best friend was Darla Heal. Darla would’ve wanted June to have the Dark-Sider blessing!”

  “Of course she did.” Aunt Helena had a powerful, vigorous voice. “Darla Heal wasn’t a spiritualist. She didn’t know the importance of a spiritualist union! Especially since our families come from opposite ends of the chain!”

  I shook my head from side to side, letting the edges of my black bobbed haircut hit the tip of my nose. I could just imagine what was going to happen if I didn’t stop this nonsense right here, right now.

  “They are fighting over which spiritualist rituals will be performed at our wedding. Dark-Sider versus the Good-Sider thing.” Neither matter to me. I just wanted to get married to Oscar.

  I got up and breathed an exasperated sigh and tugged the edges of my wool cloak around my neck. The weather had turned chilly. Unseasonably so.

  “Where are you going?” Izzy pushed herself back up to standing, her posture perfect with her hands clasped in front of her. The crystal eye on her snake ring glistened.

  “I have to stop them before they destroy my shop.” With a helpless wave of my hands, I turned, ready to face them.

  “Or they will kill each other.” Izzy cackled.

  “I’m not worried about them.” I gave Izzy one last look and frowned. “Would you like to go in there and settle this for me?”

  She put her hands in the air, with a smile on her face, “I’d eat a bucket full of frog eyes before I step into that war zone with those two.”

  Giving myself a little more time, I watched Izzy dart across the street to her shop, Mystic Lights. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I remembered the first time I stepped foot in her store, not knowing it was a disguise for her talented gift of reading a crystal ball and seeing into the future.

  “Just tell them to go to hell,” the voice echoed from the bottom of my bag strapped across my shoulder.

&
nbsp; “You tell them.” I dug my hand deep in the bag and brought out Madame Torres, my own snarky crystal ball that had helped me get out of a few sticky situations.

  The sun was starting to rise above the mountainous hollow of Whispering Falls, Kentucky and reflected on Madame Torres’s ball. Her face took up the entire glass globe.

  “It’s your wedding. Besides, you and Oscar didn’t grow up as spiritualists.” Her purple eye shadow laden lids drew down; her long black lashes drew back up in a dramatic sweep. Her red lips thinned. “I don’t see why you don’t just elope.”

  “It won’t help solve the issue of the Dark-Sider marrying a Good-Sider.” Coming from two different worlds in the spiritualist community never crossed my mind when my fiancé, Sheriff Oscar Park, asked me to marry him. “When I was Village Council President and combined the two worlds, I just hoped everything would be resolved. But I guess not.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing I’m not doing.” Madame Torres appeared bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the confines of glass crystal ball. “I won’t be taking orders from Oscar Park or his little girly wand.” She harrumphed, “He’s like a little fairy twirling that wand around!”

  “Girly wand?” I shook my head and dropped her back in my bag. “The last thing I need is for you to misbehave like the rest of the family.”

  Meow. The sweetest little white fur ball jumped on the top step and rubbed his body in and out, between my ankles.

  “I can always count on you.” I picked up my other familiar, Mr. Prince Charming, and rubbed down his back before putting him back on the ground. There was a small yellow ball next to my foot. “Where in the world did you get this?” I rolled my eyes and picked it up, taking a look at it.

  Mr. Prince Charming was known for bringing charms for my charm bracelet to keep me safe and protected, but he’d never brought me a toy.

  He danced by the door of the shop, wanting to go in. His long white tail swayed back and forth like a graceful dance.