Some Like it Hexed, page 13
"Bloody hell, you survived," Mr. Hobbles said, popping up on the back of the couch to rub himself against my face. "The service has been subpar since you've been gone. I was beginning to fear for my safety. You have returned just in the nick of time."
I chuckled and rubbed his head. "I missed you, too. You would've hated the fae realm. Evil overlords attempted to remove limbs, and I completely destroyed a formal dress."
Mr. Hobbles shook his head. "The horror. You poor thing. If I had thumbs, I'd draw you a bath immediately."
I laughed, looking around the place. The others were at the coffee shop, and Willa had already texted them to let them know we were back. The house was way cleaner than what we had left it, which I appreciated, but I knew they didn't do it for me. They did it so that they didn't have to wear an entire sweater made from cat and dog hair out of the house every day. It would only take the cat and dog about three hours to get it back to the way it was.
"Well, I'm on my way to get my cats," Esmeralda said, kissing Willa on the cheek. "Call me if you need me."
Harry bowed to Willa, and they turned, heading out of the house. Willa put both arms out to the side and took a deep breath. "Home sweet home. Well, kind of. Your home sweet home, but it's just the same." She looked at Shade. "Thank you. I know that we didn't find your brother, but I think we've gotten one step closer. And thank you for looking out for my best friend and for me and my realm. It was beyond anything you were required to do. It definitely will be remembered. Are you staying for dinner?"
Shade glanced at me but shook his head. "No, I need to get back to Rome and check on everything there to make sure nothing caught on fire or burned down while I was gone. But I will be back soon. More often than I was before because I think we need to put our heads together in order to find your father and my brother."
Willa nodded and patted him on the arm, watching as he and I exchanged awkward glances. She swung her arms back and forth and began to giggle. "I'm just gonna get a glass of water and let you two say goodbye."
I shot her a nasty look but then smiled at Shade when I turned back. There was an awkward moment with shuffling of feet and limbs swinging before we finally hugged each other. I closed my eyes for a moment, knowing that it would be a while before I could hug him again. I would take closeness with him over dreaming of him any day. Before I pulled back, I whispered into his ear, "Thank you for being there. Thank you for being inconspicuous and for saving me in the caves."
We pulled back, and he shook his head. "I didn't save you. You are more than capable. And it looks as if the magic and that bracelet are starting to work better with you. You might not want to give it up by the end of it."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Not a chance. It will be really nice when I don't have to constantly feel like I have electrical bolts jolting through my body. Or the build-up until they just take over and explode from me. But at least I got the opportunity. Will you be back soon?"
He looked at his watch. "Hopefully. But you know how to get a hold of me if anything happens."
I nodded, and there were another couple of moments of awkwardness where I wasn't sure whether he was going to hug me again, kiss me, or run off screaming.
He turned to leave, and I called out for him.
"Can I ask you a question?"
He shifted his eyes back and forth. "Sure."
I pursed my lips, just making sure I wanted to ask. "You don't by chance happen to fly, do you? Like maybe on a broomstick?"
He blinked at me dramatically several times before shaking his head. Right before he disappeared, teleporting back to Rome, I could hear his laugh echo out. At least he didn't take it bad.
I stood there in the silence for several seconds, then rolled my eyes, turning toward the kitchen. "Okay, come out."
Willa peeked around the corner, and right below her, Mr. Hobbles did, too. "Were you both eavesdropping?"
Willa shrugged, plopping down on the couch. Mr. Hobbles jumped up next to her and sat. "You should just tell him how you feel, Callie. It's not like you don't deserve a little love."
"I would have to agree with her," the cat replied. "It pains me to say that, but sometimes she's not a complete moron."
Willa gasped and leaned down, grabbing Mr. Hobbles and pulling him into her. "Awe, I love you, too."
"Human! Put me down immediately. See what I mean? You give them an inch, and they'll smother you to death in their human flesh. I'm sorry, fae flesh."
I laughed and shook my head, watching as Mr. Hobbles jumped down and hurried off down the hall. As he passed the still sleeping dog, he took a swipe at him and raced off. Bean snorted awake and looked around but then quickly went back to sleep. I plopped down onto the couch next to Willa and leaned my head against her shoulder.
"It looks really clean in here," Willa whispered. "Like hospital clean."
I nodded. "It's nice. Remember what it looks like because it'll probably never look like this again."
The silence of my house had never felt better. Of course, as soon as I started to relax…weirdness ensued. Suddenly, echoing like from an intercom throughout my entire house was a loud, deep moan.
I sat straight up, and Willa jumped to her feet. I glanced back and forth in the room then up at Willa. "What the hell was that?"
The sound echoed out again. I jumped to my feet, grabbing Willa's arm.
She shook her head, her eyes wide. "Oh no. That's not a good sign."
I was clinging to her, unsure of whether I should be curious of who had moved into my attic or worried that I would become possessed. "What's not a good sign? The moaning woman or the fact that I didn't make that up, and it's actually a poltergeist in my house ready to suck me into the static on the television?"
Willa shook her head very slowly. "That's no poltergeist… It looks like you have a new roommate… One that carries a message that I don't think you want."
I turned and looked at her, narrowing my eyes. "What message?"
Willa gripped my hand tightly and met my eyes. "Death." She leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. "There's a Banshee in here."
I was starting to want the portal to the fae world back.
Whoever she was, I hope she liked coffee and yoga pants…
Grab Book 3!
Are Callie’s adventures over? NO WAY….
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Potions and Pearls
Also by Melinda Chase
Midlife Mayhem Series
1. Forty, Fabulous and . . . Fae?
2. Divorce, Divination and . . . Destiny?
3. Spandex, Spells and . . . Shadows?
4. Paranoia, Pixies and . . . Prophecies?
5. Heels, Hexes and . . . Heirlooms?
6. Truths, Tricks and . . . Traitors?
7. Myths, Mysteries and . . . Monsters?
8. TBA
Accidentally Magical at Midlife?
1. Gone with The Witches
2. Some Like it Hexed
3. Gentlemen Prefer Broomsticks
4. Bye Bye Banshees
5. TBA - Coming fall 2022
6. TBA
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Welcome to Witchy Mysteries!
Each of our fantastic (and sometimes fangtastic) paranormal stories features fabulous midlife heroines! We've got a little more sass, a little more snark, and a lot more romance than our sister brand, Whiskered Mysteries.
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Part I
Free Preview: Forty, Fabulous and…Fae?
Midlife Mayhem Book One
No one expects their happily-ever-after to end at forty—but here I am one Prince Charming short of a fairytale.
* * *
Living back at Mom’s place with her and Gram is not how this ex district attorney intended to start the next chapter of her life, but I shouldn’t be surprised it’s where I ended up.
* * *
You see, my family is cursed. Literally.
* * *
At least that’s what both Gram and Mom claim. I’ve never given much thought to their ridiculous superstitions, but when three local patrons from my mom’s occult shop end up dead, even I’m a bit unnerved.
* * *
So, I decide to dive right into the crazy headfirst. And what I thought would be the end of my journey…may only be the beginning.
1
“TAKE THE STUPID SHOES!” I screeched, while simultaneously launching my hardly worn pair of Louboutin’s straight at my husband’s head.
Ex-husband. I needed to start remembering that tiny, yet very significant detail.
To my absolute horror, Kenneth managed to duck, and narrowly avoided getting stabbed in the eye with the very sharp, stupidly irresponsible, and impossible to wear heel.
If only I had learned to throw when I was a child. Maybe that moment would have turned out differently.
But I guess I should back up a little bit.
My name is Shannon McCarthy. A boring name for a boring woman. And even more boring? Here I am, barely forty, the victim of a male midlife crisis, newly divorced, and forced to move back home to Portland, Oregon. Well, not forced. But right now, Portland seemed like a much better choice than Boston, where news of my husband’s affair still littered the front pages of our local newspaper.
Who would have thought my life would turn out like this?
Not me, that’s for damn sure. When I married Kenneth, with his smooth tan skin and devilish good looks, I really thought that was it for me. This was the guy I’d spend the rest of my life with. We’d have two very high profile careers, me as a D.A., and him as a judge, live in a big fancy house with a purebred Golden Retriever who listened to our every single command, and drive shiny new sports cars, like a Lamborghini, to and from our high-paying jobs every day. It was the life every single Boston girl dreams of.
And apparently, it was a life I no longer got to have. Not since Kenneth decided his pretty, young clerk was the place he should stick his junk, instead of being a respectable man and coming home to his wife.
So, here we were. I was in the middle of packing up the home we’d bought ten years ago, the one we were supposed to grow old in, while Kenneth sat on his butt and complained about every single thing I tried to box up. Anything he had bought me during the fifteen years we’d been married was apparently just a reminder of how much he had “given” me over the years.
As if I hadn’t given him anything, too. I was the one who’d worked my tiny little butt off to put him through law school when I was on a public defender’s salary, saving and pinching every penny I possibly could so that we didn’t go hungry while he attended Northeastern.
“I should have sent you to Suffolk,” I growled at him. “At least then, I wouldn’t have wasted a hundred grand so you could be a corrupt judge.”
“I am not a corrupt judge!” Kenneth hollered. “What part of this don’t you get?”
“All of it!” I shrieked. “How could you throw away fifteen years of marriage for a fling? Fifteen years, Kenneth! We were building a life together. We were supposed to have—”
“Have what, Shannon?” he demanded, stepping up into my personal space. Those deep brown eyes of his bore into my green ones with a fury I’d only seen him use on the worst criminals, the ones he absolutely loathed and could never be impartial to.
I guessed I fell into that category now. The category of “People Kenneth Loathes.”
“Have… it!” I sputtered as I attempted to articulate just what “it” was. But I couldn’t find the words. “It” was huge. “It" encompassed so much that I couldn’t possibly do it justice with a few shouted sentences.
“Yeah,” Kenneth sneered. “‘It’ being the fancy house, the nice car, the dog.”
Kenneth pointed an accusatory finger at Marley, our mutt. We weren’t exactly able to spring for the Golden Retriever six years before.
“What’s wrong with that?” I demanded. “I wanted a nice life, a comfortable one. I wanted to be happy in my marriage, unlike every other woman in my family. Is that too much to ask?”
Kenneth stopped. A brief flash of humanity leapt into his eyes, but then it was gone just as quickly. I almost wasn’t sure if it had actually been there in the first place.
“Maybe it is,” he finally whispered, his eyes downcast. “Because by asking for it, you tried to mold me into something I’m not… Something I could never be for you.”
“All I asked was for you to love me,” I murmured. Tears pricked my eyes, and I felt the brick wall I'd so carefully built in the last two weeks start to crumble and fall.
“No, you didn’t.” He shook his head and adjusted his navy blue tie. “You asked me to be this monument of a husband—like I was some character in a storybook. This isn’t a story, Shan.”
“It’s our story,” I insisted. I stepped up to him and cupped his soft, warm cheeks in my hands the way I always used to, begging him to look up at me.
To love me.
But he didn’t. Kenneth leaned into my touch one last time before he shoved my hands off of him and stepped back, teary eyed.
“It’s your story,” he replied. “I have to go live my own story. And you’re just not in it. I’m sorry. Really.”
And I could see that he was. He thought that his apology was enough to make me forget that after fifteen years, he’d come home one night and just asked me for a divorce. Just like that. No nonsense, no lead in.
Kenneth started to walk down the giant, carpeted staircase, making a beeline for the door. I did my best to force myself to stay put. I couldn’t watch him leave this time.
But my feet had other plans. Before I knew it, I was out of our enormous master bedroom and pressed up against the railing of our second floor landing.
“Ken?” I called out, right as his hand went to open our massive oak front door.
He froze, hand in the air, and didn’t turn back to me.
“What?”
“Why her?” I couldn’t help it. I needed to know what was so much better about this other woman. What made her worthy of breaking up a marriage?
Kenneth sucked in a huge breath, and then sighed. He didn’t turn to look back at me when he spoke. I wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t bear to see the look on my face, or if he didn’t want me to see the look on his.
“She and I want to live the same story, Shannon.”
With that, the door slammed shut with a sound of such finality, I swear it could have happened in a Hitchcock movie.
The scream that ripped from my throat was so feral and animalistic, it almost sounded like a banshee. Not that I believed in those sorts of things.
When all of the sound had made its way out of me, and my vocal chords had been just about rubbed dry, I slowly turned back to the bedroom, where I had about fifteen boxes full of clothes to seal and pack.
Except they were all done.
Every single box that I had packed up was closed and sealed nicely with two layers of tape, as if some invisible assistant had come along and finished the task for me in mere moments.
For a second, my heart stopped, and my heavy panting caught in my throat.
“You’re imagining things, Shannon,” I muttered to myself. “You must have closed those boxes already.”
But how could I have? The last thing I remembered doing was yanking a Louboutin out of an open box to throw at Kenneth. Even the box of shoes, though, was closed and sealed.
Freaked out, I headed down to the kitchen to finish packing. The movers would be coming in the morning, and I’d be on a flight home the next afternoon.
Home.
I hadn’t been there for more than a brief, two-day visit in nearly ten years. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mom and my Grams, or Grams’ best friend, Dina. I loved them more than words could say.
