Magical Maladies for Beginners, page 1
part #3 of Son of a Succubus Series
Magical Maladies for Beginners
Son of a Succubus Series
BOOK 3
SARINA DORIE
Copyright © 2020 Sarina Dorie
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978- 1709147982
NOT-SO-COZY MYSTERIES
IN THE womby’s school for wayward witches SERIES listed in order
Tardy Bells and Witches’ Spells
Hex-Ed
Witches Gone Wicked
A Handful of Hexes
Hexes and Exes
Reading, Writing and Necromancy
Budget Cuts for the Dark Arts and Crafts
My Crazy Hex-Boyfriend
Spell It Out for Me
Hex Crimes
Of Curse You Will
Cackles and Cauldrons
Hex and the City
Wedding Bells and Midnight Spells
Hex Appeal
Safe Hex
The Joy of Hex
Hedgewitchin’ in the Kitchen
The Trouble with Hedge witches SERIES
The Witch of Nightmares
A Cauldron Full of Curses
A Pocket Full of Poison
The Witch’s Familiar
SON OF A SUCCUBUS SERIES
A Familiar Magic
Curse of the Witching Hour
Magical Maladies for Beginners
The Physics of Souls
Incubus Charms
A Vial Full of Magic
A Devil of a Time
SON OF A FAE SERIES
A Court of Muses
A Court of Fae
A Court of Nightmares
The vega bloodmire cozy witch mystery series
Ghoulish Charms
The Hex Files With Felix Thatch series
Talented and Goblin
No Way in Spell
Other Titles to Be Announced
Table of Contents
NOT-SO-COZY MYSTERIES
AUTHOR’S NOTE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A SNEAK PREVIEW OF BOOK 4
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AUTHOR’S NOTE
A special chronology for my fans because you specifically asked for it:
The Son of a Succubus Series is its own original series and spin-off of the Womby’s School for Wayward Witches Series. The first novel in this series, A Familiar Magic, takes place after The Witch’s Familiar, the last book in the Trouble with Hedge Witches Series Bundle. This also places it around the time of Book 13, Hex and the City from the Womby’s School for Wayward Witches Series. The second book in the Son of a Succubus Series, Curse of the Witching Hour, spans the time between Book 14 and Book 17 in Womby’s School for Wayward Witches Series. This book and those beyond, take place after the series ends.
* * *
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CHAPTER ONE
Sleeping Beauty’s Curse
The moment Lucifer Thatch laid eyes on the leafless tree, he knew it was her. Abigail MacQuillan Lawrence, his witch. The love of his life. No one would have guessed the oak tree growing in the forest of dead trees had been a human once, now cursed to live the rest of her days in that form.
On the other hand, some might have correctly guessed from Lucifer’s untamed mane of dark hair, his unkempt beard, and the wild look in his eyes that he hadn’t been human long.
The Fae and half-Fae spawn known as Witchkin who were searching for an oak—Abigail’s affinity—gave him a wide berth. He didn’t blame them after the way he’d lashed out with claws and teeth when he’d been trapped in the body of a cat. When the wicked witch had cursed him in that form, he’d been eighteen. Over thirty years later, returned to his human form, he should have been fifty. Whether it was his half-Fae lineage or the curse, Lucifer suspected he looked closer to a man in his early twenties.
He didn’t bother telling his supposed allies he’d found the oak tree. He needed this moment alone with her.
As Lucifer approached Abigail’s tree, the clouds parted, and sunshine warmed the forest. After centuries of darkness, the magic that had oppressed the forest lifted. Flowers sprouted from the earth. Leaves budded on the spindly limbs of trees around him. The graveyard of trees transformed from their perpetual winter gloom into a verdant spring.
Greenery erupted everywhere except for Abigail’s tree. That wasn’t a good sign. He wanted to believe she had survived the darkness of the land surrounding the Raven Court’s castle. He needed her to be alive. Now that Lucifer’s curse had been broken and he was human once again, he needed her to be human too.
He couldn’t live without her.
Lucifer hastened toward the tree. Abigail’s adult daughter, Clarissa Lawrence, beat him there. She was petite like Abigail had been, with auburn hair so similar to her adoptive mother one would have thought they were related by blood. Though the ends of Clarissa’s hair were dyed pink—and Abigail would never have approved of that.
Clarissa’s emerald eyes were wide with hope as she placed her hands on the tree. Green buds sprouted from the limbs and that gave Lucifer a hint of reassurance. He recognized the scent of Abigail’s plant magic from the times she had partially transformed into a tree years before during their youth. She smelled of acorns and pitch, like earth and spring.
Yet there was doubt in Clarissa’s eyes.
“It’s Abby,” Lucifer said, his voice raw with emotion. He stroked the rough surface of the bark and leaned his cheek against the tree.
Vega Bloodmire, wicked witch extraordinaire, strode forward with the regal grace of a queen—which she now was. Her midnight hair flowed over her shoulders and into her shadowy dress. She wore her crown, an oil slick of spikes that looked lethal to the touch. She was nearly as tall as Lucifer, but she managed to look down her nose at them all.
With the amount of forbidden magic and power she wielded, Lucifer was glad they were on the same side. At least, he hoped they were. He’d only joined her recently to defeat an evil queen in order to save Abigail. What he did next would depend on whether she proved herself to be friend or foe.
Vega smacked Clarissa with a two-foot-long unicorn horn she was carrying. “Out of the way.” She prodded at Lucifer with the horn next. “You can’t touch my patient until after the process is complete.” Unlike Lucifer, her accent was American. She sounded elevated and educated.
Grudgingly, Lucifer backed away a few paces to give her room to work. Vega strolled around the oak, looking the tree up and down. “Remember, this might not work.”
Lucifer lifted his chin. “It must work.” His own accent was British, but it came out like a feline growl. Abigail had once said he sounded posh and refined, though he had never gone to school. It was simply the accent he’d inherited from his parents along with their affinities for forbidden magic.
No one paid Lucifer any mind as Vega inspected the oak tree. More Witchkin released from the enslavement of the Raven Court trickled out of the shadows and crowded around.
Vega performed a ritual for resurrection, using up almost all the potion inside the bottle to draw runes across the bark of Abigail’s tree. One drop remained.
Lucifer held his breath in anticipation. The Raven Queen was dead, and Vega was queen. Clarissa was reunited with her baby and students. Vega had woken the dead and together the two witches had saved the land from evil. He just needed this one last miracle so that he would have his happy ending too.
The moment Vega touched the unicorn horn to the tree, the color of the bark changed from brown to pink. Green leaves shuddered and shrank. Outstretched limbs receded. A face formed in the bark. She was still a tree, but the woman emerging from the oak became more dominant.
Lucifer’s heart soared with joy seeing her face once again. He had seen her in this in-between state before. His hope rose, and he felt more reassured she would recover now.
Abigail swayed on her feet, looking like she might topple over at any moment. Lucifer stepped forward to catch her in case she fell.
Vega smacked him in the chest with the unicorn horn. “I said to stay back.”
A low growl sounded in the back of his throat. That feral part of himself that was still used to being a cat didn’t like taking orders from humans. His fingers curled, and if he’d had claws, he would have used them.
Vega waved him away. “If you want to do something useful, get her some clothes.”
Lucifer wasn’t about to let Abigail out of his sight, not even for a moment. He removed his borrowed cloak.
Vega touched the horn to Abigail’s temples, heart, and arms, expediting the growth of human skin and limbs. Twi
The first time he’d seen her change from a tree into a person she’d been fourteen and he had been sixteen. He’d only met her shortly before. He had thought she was cute, and her sassiness had made him like her, but it was the rapture in her face as she’d transitioned from a tree into a girl again that had caught his attention. In that vulnerable state as she’d shifted, he’d thought he caught a glimpse of her soul. Green flurries of magic had twinkled around her. She’d projected such calm and peace it had filled him with a quiet serenity of his own.
There were no flurries of magic now. Her face was expressionless, and if she felt peace, he couldn’t sense it.
Abigail toppled sideways, but Lucifer lunged and caught her. He wrapped his cape around her and hugged her to his chest as he kneeled in the moss. She was young and perfect, younger than when he’d seen her last while he’d been stuck as a cat. Whenever she’d shifted into a tree in the past, as partial and incomplete as the change had been, she’d always healed herself in that state. Perhaps this more complete transformation had healed the lines of age around her eyes and mouth. Or perhaps it was part of Vega’s magic with the unicorn horn.
Abigail’s eyes remained closed.
Clarissa leaned closer, sweeping the hair out of Abigail’s face. “Mom?”
“Abby?” Lucifer whispered.
She didn’t stir. He felt for a pulse. Her heart beat, though it was faint.
Vega planted the unicorn horn into a tree stump like it was a staff and leaned against it, her expression thoughtful. “Try massaging her.”
Lucifer had never learned much of his touch-magic affinity while apprenticing with Baba Nata, but he had witnessed Clarissa using hers. Keeping Abigail cradled against him, he caressed a hand up and down her arm. Clarissa rubbed Abigail’s face and her scalp.
Abigail remained motionless. He only knew she was breathing because he felt the tickle of her breath against his neck.
There was only one thing left to be done. Lucifer touched his lips to hers, hoping he might be the prince in this fairy tale who could revive her. He drew away, waiting for her to open her eyes and smile.
She didn’t.
Clarissa sniffled. Lucifer’s heart felt as though it were breaking at the sight of the woman he loved, alive, but not with him. Tears blurred his eyes, and he dropped his face into her silky hair to inhale her scent of springtime. He clutched her to his chest, determination rising in him. He was the son of a succubus. Touch magic was supposed to be his strength. Surely he had the correct powers for this, even if he lacked training and skill.
He kissed her again, an urgency in his lips as he tried to awaken her. She didn’t respond. He kissed her face, willing his magic into her, but nothing happened.
A high sweet note rose, the melody familiar. He knew the blessing song Abigail had sung to her children as a lullaby. For a moment he thought it was Abigail singing, but when he looked up, he was disappointed to see it was Clarissa.
Abigail’s parents had taught her the song, using it as a kind of protective ward when they’d slept. Abigail had sung it when her brother had been ill, when Coinneach, one of her admirers had died, and to Lucifer when he’d been a cat. The melody was sadder on Clarissa’s lips than it had been on Abigail’s. It felt like Clarissa wasn’t using it so much to protect her mother with a blessing, but to say goodbye.
Annoyance prickled through Lucifer, simmering into fury. Abigail wasn’t dead. She just needed to be revived. If he had been a cat, he would have hissed and bitten her. The longer Clarissa sang, the more he wanted to draw away and take Abigail with him. Clarissa might have been ready to give up, but he wasn’t ready.
Clarissa buried her face against Abigail’s shoulder and sobbed. Felix Thatch, her husband and Lucifer’s brother, emerged from the crowd of spectators. Felix placed a hand on her shoulder.
Clarissa turned into his embrace. “I should have left her as a tree,” Clarissa said.
“No,” Felix said, his eyes full of kindness. “Don’t blame yourself. We tried.”
They both were giving up? Just like that? Lucifer growled. “It was the wrong kind of magic.” They needed to find something else. Something stronger. Someone stronger.
“I told you it might not work,” Vega said behind them.
Lucifer eyed the bottle of potion in Vega’s hand. “Use more of your witch’s brew.”
“More potion isn’t going to help. It’s the wrong kind of magic for what you want.” Vega tilted the bottle, gazing at the single drop that remained.
Still holding Abigail, Lucifer lunged for the bottle and snatched it away from Vega.
Vega dove for the bottle. “Excuse me. Don’t even think about—”
Vega began to curse as Lucifer emptied the last drop onto Abigail’s lips. He kissed her again, massaging it into her mouth with his. He felt magic working, but it was different from the spell Vega had created. It was feral magic, untrained and full of the Red affinity. His affinity opened inside him, and he pushed it through his lips and into hers.
He thought about all the years he’d remained with Abigail as a cat, serving as her familiar. For thirty years he’d pined for her. It wasn’t being a cat that had made him ornery. It was not being able to speak with her, to tell her he still loved her. He could have gone to Baba Nata, and she would have broken the curse she’d placed on him, but that meant leaving Abigail behind in the Morty Realm, something he wasn’t willing to do.
All he needed was to fix Abigail. He wanted his happy ending, dammit.
Vega cleared her throat. “I am a trained professional. You have completely wasted my magic. Do you know how much work that took to brew? I can’t just whip up another batch.” Vega shoved him, jostling him as he attempted to use his affinity.
His sorrow flared into anger. Lucifer lifted his head from Abigail’s, glaring at Vega. “Your magic is inferior.”
“I told you it might not work.”
His voice came out a snarl. “Use magic that does work.”
Surely the great Vega Bloodmire, a witch so powerful she had been able to defeat the Raven Queen, a witch able to transform Abigail from a tree back into her true form as a woman, could awaken Abigail from her sleep.
Vega lifted her chin, her expression as haughty as ever. “Maybe you should learn some magic of your own and see how hard it is.”
“I will.” He stood, still cradling Abigail against his chest. “I will find a way to bring her back, even if it costs me my fingers and toes. Even if I must become a wild animal again, I will make that sacrifice for her.” He raised his chin.
Vega stepped out of his way as he passed. “Knock yourself out.”
Lucifer stomped through the brush, careful to keep Abigail wrapped and warm in the cloak.
Now that he was alone with Abigail, he found a place in the brush clear of blackberry brambles and nettles. He laid her down on a bed of moss and touched his lips to hers. He had tried this before, but there had been a crowd of spectators watching.
Lucifer cradled her in his arms, gazing at the peaceful expression on her face. He could have believed she’d just gone to sleep. Her auburn hair was long and silky against his arm, softer than a newborn babe’s. She resembled the girl he’d grown up with more than the woman she’d been before she’d been cursed into the form of a tree for the last year and a half. Looking upon the beauty of her face was torment, but he couldn’t stop torturing himself. He kept on looking.
A twig snapped behind Lucifer. His brother Felix stood there. In his gray suit he looked like a shadow against the lush green of the ferns.
Lucifer’s voice came out a guttural growl. “Leave us be.”
“I have no intention of stopping you.” The other man’s face remained expressionless, giving no hint he might have been offended by the dismissal—nor that he intended to heed Lucifer’s command. “I thought I might confide a secret in you; I haven’t yet told anyone how we restored Clarissa after she was in a coma.”
