Witchin' Impossible, page 1
WITCHIN’ IMPOSSIBLE
SEMI-COZY PARANORMAL FUN
WITCHIN’ IMPOSSIBLE MYSTERIES
BOOK 1
RENEE GEORGE
BARKSIDE OF THE MOON PRESS
Witchin’ Impossible: Witchin’ Impossible Cozy Mysteries Book 1
Copyright © 2018 by Renee George
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement by the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and storylines in this book are inspired only by the author’s imagination. The characters are based solely in fiction and are in no relation inspired by anyone bearing the same name or names. Any similarities to real persons, situations, or incidents is purely coincidental.
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-947177-24-6
Publisher: Barkside of the Moon Press
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Rogue Coven - Sneak Peek
Burning Djinn of Fire - Sneak Peek
Paranormal Mysteries & Romances
About the Author
For my sister Robbin.
You are always there for me.
You are the best, my darling,
even when I’m bratty.
And for the other awesome Robyn in my life,
You are a miracle in friendship.
Thank you for all you do and are.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special THANK YOU to the fabulous Robyn Peterman, an awesomely funny writer, and my favorite cookie, for allowing me the privilege to write in her world. And thank you for giving me back the rights to rework the story and place it in my own world when the KW hit the skids. I love you, Cookie!
Also, I must thank the usual suspects, my BFF sister and most fabulous beta reader Robbin, my BFF, and critique partner Michele Bardsley, and my BFF and the person who talks me off the ledge, Dakota Cassidy. You guys are like the chocolate to my almonds, the butter to my toast, and the sweetener to my tea. I love you like I love my left leg.
To my Rebels, you all RAWK! You keep me going every day with your support. I love you to the moon and back.
To my fans, I would not be anything without you. Seriously. If you keep reading, I’ll keep writing! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. If I were reviewing you all, you would get five-gazillion stars and a million-gazillion smooches.
Oh! And lest I forget, thank you strong, black coffee. Without you, I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, let alone write a single word.
Sometimes you can’t go home, and that would’ve been just fine by me.
I’m Hazel Kinsey, a special agent for the FBI, and I’m also a witch. Seventeen years earlier, I packed up my belongings and my squirrel familiar Tizzy, and I left my paranormal hometown of Paradise Falls for good. Or so I thought.
When my best friend from high school, Lily Mason, calls and asks me to investigate her brother’s murder, I can’t say no. She was there for me during the worst time of my life, and it’s my turn to return the favor, no matter the personal cost.
Going home is harder than I imagined. My grumpy, hot high school crush, a bear shifter named Ford Baylor, has become a grumpy, hot police officer who’s not happy to see me.
Unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking about him. All these years away, I imagined him married to his bear shifter sweetheart and living the white-picket-fence dream. But Ford is single, and he looks ready to strangle me.
Apparently, I’m his mate. Who knew?
On top of that, there’s a sinister force at work in Paradise Falls, and I have to solve the mysterious murders happening around town if I want to prevent my best friend from becoming the next victim.
CHAPTER 1
“Tizzy!” I shouted.
A large red squirrel leap-frogged the couch and the loveseat, then slid across the dining room table. She grabbed a nut from a bowl in the center as she passed. Swiftly, she flew off the edge of the table and through the air the last couple of feet before coming to an abrupt halt in front of my coffee cup.
“You called?” She cracked the walnut on the counter and picked away at the shell with a pretty, pink-painted nail. Through all this, she barely glanced at me.
“Where did you put my Glock?” I tapped my own pretty, pink-painted nail on the hard counter. “And quit using all my polish.”
She held out her tiny paw and examined her manicure. “I can’t help it if I make this shade look good.” Finally, she cast her large, dark brown eyes on me and batted her unnaturally thick lashes. “You’re a witch, Hazel. You don’t need a gun.”
“I’m an FBI agent, Tizzy,” I told her. “It’s expected.”
The squirrel turned around and swished her tail at me. “I worry about you, is all.” When she turned back around, the nut she’d held was gone, and my pistol was magically on the counter in front of her. “Ta-dah!” She stretched out her arms, palms up, and wiggled her fingers.
I tried to keep my gaze disappointed, but when your flying squirrel familiar strikes a pose and gives you jazz hands, it’s hard not to freaking smile. I grabbed the gun and holstered it on my belt. “Just leave the standard-issue FBI weapon alone. I’d hate to have to throw you in jail.”
Tizzy clasped her hands together and held them over her heart. “Oh, Hazel,” she said with great tragedy. “I am not made for a cage!”
I shook my head at her. “Calm down.”
My phone rang as I contemplated putting my familiar on a mood stabilizer.
I pressed it to my ear. “Special Agent Kinsey.”
“Haze?”
The quiet feminine voice startled me. “Lily?”
“It’s me,” she answered.
Lily Mason had been my best friend all through elementary and high school. We hadn’t kept in touch. It had less to do with a falling out and more to do with the fact that when I left Paradise Falls (more like Paradise Fails), I never looked back. The memories were too painful. Even now, I felt trepidation like a cold trickle of sweat down my back.
“What’s happened?” I asked.
I heard a choke of grief on her end. “Danny’s dead.”
Danny was Lily’s younger brother. He had to be in his early twenties now. Her parents had died our senior year, and without any other family, she and Danny had been left to fend for themselves. Guilt tugged at me when I thought about what it must have been like for Lily. We’d both dreamed of escaping Paradise Falls, but Danny had been seven years old at the time. I’d already received my acceptance to Iowa University, so the minute I had my diploma in hand, I hightailed it out of town. I didn’t even participate in the graduation ceremony. Lily, who had planned to go to the university with me, stayed behind to raise the kid.
I took a beat as the news sank in before asking, “How did he die?”
Lily and her brother were werecougars. Shifters. Their kind is immune to regular disease, so I braced myself for an unpleasant answer.
When she said, “Murdered. Someone or something killed him,” I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“You’re joking.” Her silence was enough to make me feel like a total ass. “What do you need me to do?”
“The witches don’t believe magic was involved, so they won’t investigate.”
“What about the shifters?”
“Danny has been in and out of trouble the last couple of years. Drugs. Fights. They think he’s responsible for his own death. They won’t act.”
“Harvest in a hailstorm,” I swore. “How long ago did it happen?”
“It’s been four months now.”
“Oh, honey. You should have called me.”
“I’m calling now.”
But not in time for me to go home for a funeral. For Goddess’ sake. I really had been a rotten friend. “Do you suspect anyone?”
“I’ve checked with all his so-called friends and acquaintances. According to them, Danny hadn’t pissed anyone off enough to take his life.”
“How did he die?”
“The medical examiner said that every bone in his body had been broken.”
I shook my head. “That wouldn’t kill a shifter.”
“No,” she agreed. “But when his killer broke his ribs, one of them stabbed into his heart. In the end, that’s why he died.” Her voice trembled. “It was the very last bone. The examiner suspects it was meant to be a killing blow.”
“I’m so sorry, Lily.” The tragic circumstances of his death sounded more awful than my condolences could convey. I had to make this right for Lily. No way would I let her down again. “I’ll check into Danny’s death. The witches might not talk to you, but they’ll talk to me.”
“Haze,” she said.
“Yeah?” I asked, already looking up my boss’ phone number.
Lily was silen
“Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Not about Danny,” she answered quietly. “I’m…I’m glad you’re coming. Anything you can do would be great.”
A wave of guilt hit me again when I heard the relief in her voice. Lily had really been there for me during a rough time in my life. She’d encouraged me to get the hell out of town and get a fresh start. This phone conversation was a reminder that I hadn’t just left my problems behind, I’d also left the one person I could always count on. “I’ll call you back when I have news.”
“Thanks, Haze.”
“I can’t promise anything, Lily. Just…well, hope for the best, prepare for the worst. I’ll let you know as soon as I can get on my way there.”
She hung up, but it took me a second to put the phone down. Little Danny Mason was dead, and my best friend was alone in her pursuit of justice.
I contacted my direct supervisor at the Kansas City office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I had to put in for emergency leave before making the call I’d dreaded the most. I punched in the number quickly, as if I were ripping off a bandage.
It went straight to voicemail, and my blood ran cold when I heard, “You’ve reached Grand Inquisitor Clementine Battles. Please leave your name and a number after the beep, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Belch fire and save matches,” I grumbled. I never mixed my business and witch life, but if I wanted to investigate a supernatural crime that possibly involved witches, I had to get permission from the old Battle-axe. I’d been so out of touch with the magical part of my life that I worried she would immediately turn me down.
I cringed as the phone beeped. “Uhm, this is Hazel. You probably don’t want to hear from me, but could you call me at— Ah!” I jumped back, my hand automatically going for my holstered weapon.
Right in the middle of my living room, a silver-haired woman appeared wearing a figure-hugging navy-blue dress suit. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe bun as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me sternly. “You called,” she said, reminding me of Tizzy for a moment.
I pressed my fingertips to my chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”
The last time I’d seen the Grand Inquisitor, she’d been directing a couple of her witch goons to transport my dad to prison. I’m pretty sure she’d worn the same outfit.
“I thought I smelled something foul,” Tizzy said, waving her tiny fingers in front of her face.
“Tiz.” I shook my head.
She rolled her eyes. The fact that my familiar wasn’t more scared spoke volumes as to just how out of the witch loop I’d kept her.
Clementine Battles, who looked to be in her mid-thirties but was actually over two hundred years old, raised an appraising brow at the squirrel. “Tell me what you want, Hazel.”
“Really. You could have just called me back,” I told her. “That would have been totally cool.”
“You have spent your whole adult life avoiding our world.” She pulled out a tiny spiral memo book and flipped it open like a cop at a crime scene. “Here,” she said, pointing at a tiny line of writing. “The last time you used magic for any real purpose, other than the negligible location spell every now and then, was in the spring of your eighteenth year, right before you left Paradise Falls. Do you even know how to spellcast anymore?”
“Yes,” I said unconvincingly. Cripes, she was like the freaking Goddess with the whole “all-knowing” shtick.
She smiled, and I’d never seen anything scarier in my life. “I not only know everything, Hazel, but unlike the Goddess, I pay attention to everything as well.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms as I felt the enormity of the Grand Inquisitor’s power. Tizzy scampered under the couch, and for a second, I wondered if there was enough room for me.
The powerful witch snapped her fingers. “Now, tell me why, after nearly two decades, you are calling me for help.”
“Because,” I told her. “I need your help.” I avoided making a “duh” gesture and continued. “I got a phone call from my friend Lily Mason, a shifter in Paradise Falls. Her brother’s been killed, and she needs my help. Which means I need your permission to investigate Daniel Mason’s death. It’s the only way the witches in town will cooperate or at least not interfere.” If it wasn’t for Lily, I would’ve never called, but I kept that information to myself.
The Grand Inquisitor tapped her chin. “Granted.”
My inner witch squeeed, but my outer agent kept a calm expression in place.
“However…”
My heart sank as my inner witch said, well, crap. “Okay,” I said. “Let me have it.”
“I would like you to be more involved in our community. I’m not asking you to leave the FBI, Hazel, but you can no longer act as if you live on Lone Witch Island. And…” She narrowed her gaze. “You will owe me a favor. A marker I can call in anytime I wish.”
I thought about Lily—how desperate and bereaved she’d sounded on the phone. I didn’t want to let her down, but turning myself into Clementine Battle’s bitch was a hefty price to pay.
“Forget it.” She waved me off with a quick flick of the wrist. “Permission denied.”
“Wait!” I gripped the edge of my counter. “I’ll do it.”
She raised both brows. “You’ll do what?”
“I’ll be more involved with the witch community, and I’ll owe you a favor.”
“Two favors now.”
My aggravation made my fingers spark. Channeling electricity was one of the first kinds of magic I’d mastered, and occasionally, when my frustration level rose, it manifested like static electricity. “Yes,” I finally said. “Two favors.”
“Also, I want you to address me properly.”
I sighed. I knew what she wanted, but saying the words were difficult. Finally, I ground out, “Yes, Grandmother.”
Did I forget to mention that the “Battle-axe” is my grandmother? But when she put my father—her only son—in jail, it sort of drove a wedge between us. Ugh. I hated that I needed her help.
“Correct answer, Granddaughter.” She smiled, obviously pleased with herself, and produced a card. She handed it to me. “So mote it be.”
I automatically recited back, “So mote it be,” as I took the card. The small white rectangle had one word on it: Pass.
“What’s this?”
“It’s your Get Out Of Jail Free card. The witches of Paradise Falls will know it’s from me.”
“Thank—” Before I could finish, she poofed out. “Wow.”
“No kidding,” Tizzy said, still under the couch. “That is one terrifying witch!”
“Yes, she is,” I agreed. “And you had to go and poke her. What was all that crap about a terrible smell? Do you have a death wish?”
She peeked her head out from under the couch and looked up at me. “You want me on my best behavior, then warn me the next time you invite her over.”
“I didn’t invite her.” I tucked the white card into my wallet. “It doesn’t matter. I’m alive. You’re alive. Neither of us is in jail. And we have a murder to solve.” In the last place on earth, I ever wanted to see again. “Come on,” I told Tiz. “We’ve got packing to do.”
She scurried up the couch until she was on top of the backrest and squealed her excitement.
“Seriously?” She fist-pumped the air. “Road trip!”
CHAPTER 2
“I don’t know why we don’t just teleport,” Tizzy complained for the umpteen-millionth time. “You’re a witch going on witch business. Why did we have to drive?”
“It’s only a five-hour drive, Tiz.” I didn’t want to admit that it had been so long since I’d teleported that I was afraid I’d land us in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Besides, I didn’t mind driving. “Quit being so dramatic,” I added.
