Witchery

WITCHY BOX SET

MAGGIE SHAYNE

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, Maggie Shayne, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © by Margaret S Lewis

Published by Oliver-Heber Books

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CONTENTS

Everything She Does is Magic

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Epilogue

Spellbound

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Magic By Moonlight

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Witch Moon

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

An Excerpt from Eternity

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Selections From Maggie’s Book of Shadows

New Beginnings Rite of Spring

To Make Cold Infused Oils

To Make Hot Infused Oils

Charge of the Goddess

Ghost Busting Spell

Money Potpourri

To Solve A Problem

Affirmations and Their Power

A Mother’s Protection Sachet for Anyone at Risk

A Prayer of Thanks

To Send Forth The Power in Spells that Utilize Burning

A Job-Finding Stone

Hecate's Powder

Another Way to Honor the 4 Sacred Hours

Stay in touch!

About the Author

EVERYTHING SHE DOES IS MAGIC

PROLOGUE

MIDNIGHT, AURORA’S FIRST HALLOWEEN

Alittle Witch is born.

Her name will be Aurora, Merriwether said firmly, staring down at the cradle she'd bought for her brand-new charge. The baby's mother, Merriwether's niece, had never embraced the secret ways of the Sortilege women. She'd rejected her heritage, turned her back on the ways of magick. Even claimed she didn't believe in it. Then she'd run away with a leather-bearing beast on a motorbike, shouting over her shoulder that her three aunts were completely insane, and ought to be committed because everyone knew there were no such things as Witches. Almost as an afterthought, she'd added that her aunts had best not be casting any spells to make her come back, or she'd hate them forever.

Nine months later, Melinda had the good sense to send her newborn daughter home to her three aunts, delivered to the front door by a social worker with the message that Melinda was just not mother material.

Merriwether had known the child would end up in her care. She hadn't known how it would happen, but she'd never doubted it would, because she'd seen it in the stars. Aurora Sortilege was a special child, a child of destiny. And her aunts were here to see that she fulfilled it.

Oh, yes, Aurora. It's perfect! Fauna clapped her plump hands together near her rounded middle and gave a good belly laugh. Her face quivered with mirth, and her outrageous orange hair—frizzed from too many colorings and perms—bobbed and bounced as if it were laughing, too. It brings our little fairy tale full circle, don't you think? she asked, still grinning.

Our dear mother knew what she was doing when she named us after three benevolent—if fictional—fairies who care for a special little girl, Merriwether said, and she frowned a little at her younger sister's laughter. This was a serious matter—a great responsibility had been entrusted to them. But as she glanced at the child again, even her own stern expression softened. Mother truly was gifted at divination.

Fauna smiled, and it dimpled her cheeks. And so are we, she declared with a slap of her hand against one ample thigh. Our Aurora will be blessed with an abundance of magick.

Magick even more powerful than our own, Flora added in her gentle, timid voice. Her tiny frame bent over the cradle, she was tickling Aurora's chubby chin and eliciting a smile. And a healing gift beyond measure.

Oh, yes, indeed, Merriwether agreed. "But even then, it won't be as powerful as her daughter's will be."

Only if we're successful. Flora frowned then, her small face puckering, and paced away from the cradle in small, agitated steps. Leaning over the round pedestal table nearby, she peered into the misty depths of a crystal ball that reflected her face and snowy white puffs of hair. Oh, so much hinges on this. What if we fail?

We won't, Merri assured her youngest sister in her firmest take-charge tone. We can't. We all saw the prophecy at the same time. You in the crystal, I in the stars, and Fauna in the cards of the sacred Tarot. We've been entrusted by our ancestors with a great responsibility, sisters, and we cannot fail. She was putting on her drill-sergeant persona, and it fit, she knew, with her regal stature and steely gray hair. Her sisters called her imposing. But always with love in their voices. And someone had to be in charge, after all. As the oldest, it had simply always been her.

But when she looked down at the baby, she deliberately gentled her tone. Aurora is going to become the mother of the greatest Witch our family has ever produced. But it can only happen if we follow the instructions we've been given to the letter.

Yes, Fauna said. She, too, had come to the table, and she'd already begun shuffling her Tarot cards. She did that when she was nervous. Shuffled and shuffled. The child has to be fathered by little Nathan McBride, Daniel's boy, from Mulberry Street. And you're a lucky one, little Aurora, 'cause that boy's gonna grow up to be a looker. She shook her head and stifled a chuckle. Then she frowned. "How we'll arrange that, I'll never know. Merciful Goddess, the McBrides don't even know about the traditional magick of their ancestors, or the power of their bloodlines. They don't practice the ancient ways. They live like...like normal folk." She grimaced after she said it, as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

Not only that, Flora said, taking a hanky as snowy white as her hair from her pocket to polish her spotless crystal ball. "But he has to be a—a—a virgin when they...you know." She lowered her eyes and her cheeks flushed pink.

"We're all well aware of that, Flora, Merri said. But there's just no help for it. We have to see to it that everything happens as it should. She glanced out the window above the baby's bed at the formation of the stars on this crystal-clear night, and frowned. I've decided we should do this subtly, not come right out and tell Aurora the plan. She turned to the baby again. Because if she's even half as rebellious as her mother...well, she'll be determined to do exactly the opposite of what we ask."

You're right, Flora said, nodding slowly. Though it's a shame we can't tell her the truth about her destiny. She blinked up at Merri. "But we will tell her the truth, eventually, won't we?" Merri nodded, and the worry in Flora's face eased.

What I want to know is how we're supposed to keep that McBride boy from...well... Fauna grinned, dimples deepening. Expending his affections on some other girl? She blew a carrot-colored curl off her forehead and kept on shuffling.

Thunderbolts, Fauna, he's only two years old! Merri glared at her.

The shuffling stopped. Oh, but have you seen him? The lad's going to grow, and with those dark brown eyes and thick lashes, and those raven's-wing curls of his...well, let's just see what the cards say. She fanned the deck and pulled one card. Knight of Swords.

Oh, my, the other two said in unison.

I think we'll have our work cut out for us, sisters, Flora said.

Merri sighed and shook her head. Don't be ridiculous. Nathan McBride, even if he's the reincarnation of Don Juan himself, still won't stand a chance against three Sortilege Witches.

So it's decided, Fauna said, nodding hard. We keep him pure. She grinned, Even if it kills him. For our Aurora.

The three Witches smiled knowingly, while the baby looked on with what seemed to be a worried frown creasing her forehead.

Aurora’s Third Halloween

Little Nathan McBride scowled at the angel-haired toddler. He was already in kindergarten and he couldn't wait to learn how to read. He loved books and it frustrated him to no end that he couldn't decipher the words inside.

And now, here were those very weird old ladies from Raven Street, with their little kid who couldn't be more than three years old, and the brat was reading. Not whole sentences, of course. But words. That tall, mean-looking aunt of hers with the steel-gray hair would hold up a flash card with letters on it, and the kid would say Cat! or Dog! or Bird! And then everyone at the neighborhood Halloween party would burst into applause. Like she was some kinda genius or something.

Aurora. Whoever heard of a girl named Aurora, anyway?

Everyone was so busy fussing over her that they'd barely noticed the Batman costume he'd spent so much time picking out. Nope, they only had eyes for the brat-kid with the strange black eyes.

Nathan hated Aurora Sortilege. And he vowed he always would.

Aurora’s Tenth Halloween

It was Halloween. And more than that, it was Aurora's tenth birthday. And more than that—this! She could hardly believe it.

Mr. McBride has invited you to go trick-or-treating with Nathan tonight, Aunt Merri said. And her words made Aurora's belly clench with excitement. Even Aunt Merriwether seemed excited. All of them did. Do you think you'd like to accept?

Oh, yes! Yes!

She hopped up and down, and could barely stand still while her three aunts helped her fuss with her Egyptian princess costume until she looked just perfect.

She'd had a wild crush on Nathan McBride for weeks now. But he was older, and he barely seemed to notice her. Tonight, he would, though. Maybe he liked her, too! Why else ask her along on tonight of all nights?

Tonight of all nights.... She blinked up at Aunt Merri. I don't want to miss our early Samhain celebration, Auntie.

You'll be back in time, sweetheart. We'll wait for you. You just go and have a good time with young Nathan.

If you're sure it's okay.

Aunt Merriwether nodded. It's okay.

And so she went. She skipped all the way down Raven Street, turned right at the corner onto Mulberry, and only slowed down and felt her nervousness return when his house loomed just ahead of her. It was a nice house. Newer than her own. Hers was ancient in comparison. And Nathan's father was pretty important in this little town. He owned the drugstore, and a couple in other nearby towns, too. And she was just...just Aurora. She bit her lip.

Swallowing hard and whispering a tiny little invocation for courage, she marched up the walk and rang the front doorbell.

Nathan opened it. He was wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt. His dark curly hair was long. He liked wearing it long because the big kids wore it that way. Aurora liked it, too. It was curly and soft-looking. She thought Nathan was the handsomest boy in the whole town.

Where's your costume? she asked him.

Very funny. I'm almost thirteen, you know.

You're not dressing up?

Course not, 'Rora.

She wished she hadn't dressed up. Suddenly she felt like a big baby in her beautiful princess outfit. But how can you trick-or-treat without a costume?

He shook his head, and stepped outside, pushing the door closed behind him. "I'm not trick-or-treating. I'm babysitting you while you trick-or-treat."

Her heart felt as if something sharp had just pierced it. B-babysitting?

Hey, it wasn't my idea. Something those wacky aunts of yours cooked up with my dad. So are they really Witches like everyone says?

She opened her mouth, but she couldn't seem to say anything to him. She was so shocked and so hurt she could barely breathe, let alone talk.

Are you one, too? Nathan gave her Egyptian princess gown a teasing tug. So how come you didn't wear a pointy hat and carry a broom then? Do you think you'll get warts on your nose when you grow up? I heard all Witches get big ugly ones, sooner or later. And that they—

She whirled and ran from him, tears burning paths down her cheeks.

Hey! 'Rora, wait up! I was just kidding around.

I hate you, Nathan McBride! She never slowed her pace until she got back to her house. And she managed to wipe the tears away before she faced her aunts. She lied to them for the fist time in her life that night. Told them she was too sick to stay out. And that year she skipped Samhain, as well.

Aurora’s Sixteenth Halloween

It was Aurora Sortilege's sixteenth birthday, and her crazy aunts were having a Sweet Sixteen party for her at that crazy excuse for a house. The big old Gothic was older than this entire town, or so people said.

Nathan and Aurora had never got along. They tended to avoid each other like the plague. At school, if they were forced into it, they'd say hello and not much else. He didn't really care. He had a crowd of friends. She didn't have many at all. It was partly because everyone knew her aunts thought of themselves as Witches, and that made a lot of the parents nervous—some because they figured the three little old ladies must be nuts, and others because they figured the three little old ladies sacrificed babies and kittens in naked moonlight rituals and worshipped demons.

Nathan had done a little reading on the subject. Just out of curiosity, of course. So he knew that none of that was true. And he really didn't believe in any of that Witch stuff anyway. But he still didn't like her.

The Witch thing was only part of the reason Aurora wasn't very popular. Mostly it was just because she was such a brainiac. Nathan was graduating this year. So was Aurora, two years ahead of schedule. And then he was heading off to college and she'd be shipping out to pre-med. She wanted to be a doctor. She'd make a good one, too. He remembered a time two years ago, when a great big redtail hawk had swooped down in front of his car, right after he'd got his license. It crashed into the windshield and then rolled to the ground.

Aurora had been out walking and she'd seen the whole thing. Of course, she'd stomped over to the car screaming at him for being careless and stupid and a hundred other things. But then she'd knelt down on the road, and there had been actual tears in her eyes as she touched the unmoving bird. He got out to see if he could help. But he ended up just standing still and watching her as she ran her hands over the hawk, real slow, talking under her breath. Her eyes were closed, he remembered that. All of the sudden, the bird twitched. Then it came to flapping, shrieking life, and hauled tail out of there.

It didn't go far, he recalled. It landed heavily in a tree along the roadside, and it looked back at him and Aurora, and let out a piercing cry.

You're welcome, Aurora had whispered. Man, he would never forget that.

He'd thought then, that she must be totally insane. Nathan had ignored her bright smile, and her whispered, I did it. He'd told himself the bird was probably just stunned. He didn't believe all that Witch crap for a minute. And if Aurora was as smart as everyone thought, she wouldn't either.

Anyway, she'd had a nice touch with that bird, even if it had only been stunned. And she couldn't stand to see anyone hurting. So he thought she'd make a pretty decent doctor. Not that he cared. Hell, he wouldn't even be going to this birthday party except that...well, word around school was that no one else was going to show. And he kind of felt sorry for her. So he'd bought her a pair of fairly expensive earrings with emeralds on them. Tiny emeralds, but heck, he was making only eight bucks an hour part-time at the greasy spoon in town. So he was going over there to that house on Raven Street. He would grit his teeth and ignore the way she always managed to irritate the hell out of him, and he would wish her a happy birthday.

When he got there, though, and saw her sitting on the front steps crying her eyes out, something happened to him.

He went all soft inside for some reason. He walked up the steps and sat down beside her.

What's the matter, Aurora?

She lifted her head, looking straight into his eyes with her blue, shiny, wet ones. You know. I can see that you know.

He shook his head in denial.

No one's coming, that's what's the matter. And you knew it, Nathan. Why didn't you tell me?

He blinked in surprise and glanced at his watch. It was still ten minutes before party time. How could she know already? Unless someone had said something. It's early yet, he told her. What makes you think ... ?

She sent him a look of exasperation. "I know things, Nathan. And I know this. And I know that you knew and you didn't tell me."

He lowered his head, unsure of what to say. Maybe she really did have some kind of...nah. But when he looked up at her again, he noticed for the first time that Aurora was turning into one drop-dead beautiful girl. And he wondered why he had never noticed it before. She'd never cut her hair, as far as he knew. It hung to her waist like liquid sunlight, smooth and shining. And her eyes had a very slight tilt to them that made them exotic, entrancing. And they were as blue as the sky, and deeper than just about any eyes he'd ever seen. Lashes like sable paintbrushes. Lips that used to seem too plump when she was little, now looked like they belonged on a swimsuit model.

It surprised the heck out of him. But he suddenly realized that this girl, whom he'd spent most of his life disliking, was incredible. And unusual—and he supposed he found that just as attractive as everything else about her.

Did he...actually...like her?

He got to thinking about the possibility that maybe he did. Maybe he more than just liked her. The more he thought, the more he realized that it was true. He lifted his chin and looked at her, sitting there beside him on the top step, so heartbroken. He was going to do it. He was going to ask the little Witch for a date. He could hardly believe it.

He smiled to himself, because he sort of knew she'd always had a crush on him. It would make her day. Make up for the birthday party not happening and her favorite holiday being a wash, and everything else.

She got to her feet slowly while he was still thinking. I can't believe I got all dressed up for nothing.

And she had gotten all dressed up. But not for nothing. She looked great in her denim skirt and silky sleeveless blouse. Pretty. Feminine. Delicate.

Maybe not for nothing, he said.

She looked down at him, and for the first time, he saw hope in her eyes. Why? she asked. Have you heard something?

Heard something? He just shrugged. What if some good looking senior came over here and asked you to go to the drive-in with him? he said, as suavely as he could manage. And then he waited for her eyes to light up.

And they did. Widened and lit and shone, and she started to smile.

"You have heard something, haven't you? Is it him? Is it Bobby Ridgeway? Is he really going to ask me out? I had a feeling he was, but I didn't trust my own...oh my Goddess, here he comes!"

Nathan stood there feeling as if he'd just been dropped into a play where he didn't know the lines, while Bobby Ridgeway, the biggest jock in school, and until this very second one of Nathan's best buds, pulled up in his dad's station wagon and blew the horn.

Hi, Bobby! Aurora waved so hard that Nathan thought her hand would fall off, and went running down the steps to the car.

Nathan couldn't hear what they were saying after that. Just Bobby revving the Ford's motor once in a while and Aurora's deep, soft laughter. She didn't giggle. He'd never once heard Aurora giggle. A minute later she got in the passenger side and the wagon roared away.

Bobby Ridgeway was no dummy. Apparently he, too, had noticed that there was more to Aurora Sortilege than an overdeveloped brain and an Addams Family upbringing. Only he'd noticed a lot quicker than Nathan had.

The front door opened and Aurora's Aunt Fauna, five feet tall and three feet wide with blazing orange hair, stepped out looking heartbroken. Oh, Nathan, she said, as if she knew. I'm so sorry.

He wiped the stricken expression off his face and got up. Hey, sorry for what? You oughta be happy. That niece of yours finally got a date. I was beginning to think it'd never happen. He turned to go, then turned back again and thrust the small, clumsily wrapped box into the woman's pudgy hand. Give this to her when she gets back, will ya?

Of course I will. Thank you, Nathan. That was so thoughtful.

He shrugged and turned to leave. Thoughtful, heck. It was a pity gift, just like it would have been a pity date. He didn't even like Aurora. Never had.

Never would.

Aurora’s Graduation Day

Aurora was valedictorian of the graduating class. She could have felt a little bad about that. Probably should have. After all, she was only sixteen, and was graduating early, and most of the other seniors thought one of them should have won the honor—that she should have been disqualified because she didn't really belong.

She'd never really belonged.

But she refused to feel guilty. Because the salutatorian—the sap who would have made valedictorian if not for Aurora—was none other than Nathan McBride. And he'd been a lousy jerk to her all year long. Sure, they'd never really gotten along, but he'd been worse than ever this year. It seemed to Aurora that it had begun about the time she'd started dating Bobby Ridgeway.

And she used to think Bobby and Nathan were friends!

Well, apparently not. But she didn't see why Nathan was taking it out on her. It had ended with Bobby, anyway. He'd pulled a hamstring at football practice in the middle of the season, and was going to have to miss an important game. So, being bound by oath and ancestral blood to help others whenever possible, Aurora had offered to work a healing for him.

He'd acted as if she'd claimed to have two heads. Said he didn't think all the talk about her being a Witch was anything more than gossip, or he'd have never asked her out. He called her a psycho and a weirdo and a dozen other names, and dumped her like a carton of sour milk. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he went around telling everyone at school that Aurora really believed she was a Witch. As if it was impossible, for goodness' sake!

And then Mindy had tried to help. She really had. It wasn't her fault it backfired. Mindy had moved into town only last year, and she'd felt like an outsider too, at first. Aurora, being who and what she was, had tried to make her feel welcome when everyone else had just ignored her. They'd become friends, and even when Mindy started hearing the gossip, she'd stuck by Aurora.

One day, Mindy heard some of the jerks scoffing about the Wallingford High Witch, and she jumped in their faces. Told them how Aurora had sped up the healing on her broken leg earlier that year, and how she'd been able to play soccer again before the end of the season, against the doctor's predictions and everyone's expectations.

But instead of helping, it only made matters worse. Everyone knew about her leg, and the unusually speedy recovery. But until then, no one knew the rest. And until then, everyone had ribbed and teased Aurora about the whole Witch thing, but no one had really believed it.

Now they did. And everything changed after that. When Aurora walked down the hall, conversations would stop, and wary eyes would watch her. Students, and even a few of the teachers, would step well out of her path to give her a wide berth. It was as if they were afraid of her.

Except for Mindy, of course.

And lousy rotten old Nathan McBride. He wasn't afraid of her, didn't believe in magick anyway, and probably wouldn't have been afraid of her even if he had. He laughed at the kids who acted skittish around Aurora and kept right on teasing her just the way he always had. Hey, Broom-Hilda, he'd yell, because he was too dense to know the name was Brynhild and that she was a Valkyrie, not a Witch. Get your broom outta your locker and fly it over here, will ya? I spilled something. Or 'Rora, you'd best get your butt into that science lab and turn the eighth period class back into humans again before somebody dissects them!

She hated that boy.

He would always follow up by thumbing his nose at her, turning to his pale and wide-eyed companions, and saying, See? I'm still in one piece. No warts, no locusts. I told you nothing would happen.

She figured he was probably tormenting her to prove she wasn't a Witch at all. Just a crazy teenager with delusions. And if she hadn't had the Witches' Rede drilled into her for most of her life, she might just have supplied him with whatever proof he required, the more painful the better.

But she couldn't do that. Wouldn't do it. She was a healer. She was going to medical school to become an even better one. If she went around causing harm, she might just lose the healing gift she'd been born with, and that would break her heart.

At the graduation ceremony, she delivered a short speech no one really wanted to hear, about kindness and tolerance and open-mindedness and freedom. And she wore a tiny pair of emerald earrings.

When it was over, and everyone threw their hats in the air, someone turned to hug her impulsively, and she impulsively hugged back. And then she realized it was Nathan, and backed away with a gasp.

He blinked and looked as surprised as she was. Then his gaze shifted downward just slightly, and he smiled. You wore them, he said.

The crowds surged around them, tugging them apart. She was surrounded by her loving aunts, and he was being slapped on the back by his father and a bunch of relatives from out of town.

And that was the last time she saw Nathan McBride for a very long time.

CHAPTER ONE

PRESENT DAY, OCTOBER

Nathan McBride stared across the fancy restaurant's most secluded table into Elsie Kincaid's big blue eyes. The taper candle set her blond hair aglow with its golden gleam, and cast shadows into the depths of her cleavage. And he did mean depths . It was like Davy Jones's Locker down there, and he was more than ready to go diving. The way she kept leaning over the table suggested she was ready, too.

And so what if those baby blues eyes were a little vacant? It wasn't as if he was looking for a prospective brain surgeon here. He just wanted to get laid. Period.

He felt a little guilty for that rather unenlightened thought, but damn, frustration would turn a red-blooded man into a chauvinistic beast pretty fast. He ought to know. He'd been frustrated for well over a decade now.

He pushed his plate aside, reached across the table, took her hand in both of his. You ready to order dessert? he asked her softly.

"Oh, Nate, I think you know what I'd like for dessert."

He clenched his teeth and managed not to grimace when she called him Nate, which he detested. It wasn't hard to ignore that minor irritant when her foot, minus its spike-heeled shoe, began running up the inside of his leg under the table.

Hot damn, this is it.

So, um, can I take you back to my... He bit his lip. Your place? No more taking chances by bringing a woman back to his place. He was beginning to think it was haunted. There was the night with that blue-eyed blonde, Suzanne, when the heating ducts decided to spew black smoke. And the time with that other blue-eyed blonde, Rebecca, when the air conditioner mysteriously caught fire. And don't forget the blue-eyed blonde, Anne Marie, and the SWAT team with the wrong address.

Nope. Not with...er...Elsie. Yeah. Elsie. With a chest to match the name, he thought. Then he realized he was turning into a real pig.

Sure, she said. My place is great. She slinked out of the chair and across the floor for his viewing pleasure, pausing at the exit to send a wink over her shoulder at him. She was very good at slinking. He fumbled for his wallet, dropped it twice, and fished out a handful of bills to pay for their meal. Then he got up and wandered out after her.

And the whole time, he was feeling very nervous. Glancing over his shoulder. Wondering what could possibly go wrong this time.

She sat behind the wheel of his car, the Jag he'd spent a small fortune on because no man could drive a Jag and not have constant bouts of wild sex, right?

Wrong, as it turned out, but it had been worth a shot.

Elsie called out the window to him. Can I drive it, Nate, sweetie? I'd be soooo grateful.

Oh, yeah, he said, and stopped near the door to hand her the keys. She started the engine, and it gave its distinctive Jaguar roar when she revved it. Nathan smiled, about to turn and walk around to the passenger side.

He only vaguely heard the change in the engine's sound when she slipped the shift into gear. The way the tires spun when she popped the clutch was a whole lot louder, causing him to spin around in surprise. And of course, he was paying complete attention when the sideview mirror of his car plowed into him like a wrecking ball intent on castration.

Elsie screamed before Nathan ever hit the pavement. Then he landed like a ton of bricks. He heard those heels clicking toward him, heard her babbling about her foot slipping, saw her cleavage in his face as she bent over him and figured that was about as close as he'd ever get to it. He was going to die a virgin.

Then he passed out.

Ooops! Fauna said.

She and her sisters stood around the crystal ball, looking on, wide-eyed.

Oh dear! gasped Flora. Did we kill him?

No, but we might have damaged something vital! Fauna shouted. Did you see where that bubblehead hit him?

He'll be all right. Merriwether stroked the crystal ball with her palm. Aurora is on E. R. duty tonight. Now that she's finally come home, it's high time we see to the business of getting those two together.

And not a moment too soon. I'm exhausted. Fauna fanned herself. I vow, Merriwether, I've never seen a man so determined to...dip his wick.

"Fauna!" Flora's shocked voice and red cheeks stopped her sister's mischievous grin.

Merri simply shook her head at the both of them. You're overstating it, Fauna. Any man would be acting just the same.

But he tries every night!

And every night we have to bring disaster crashing down on his head. You'd think he'd give up after a while, wouldn't you? Flora asked softly, shaking her head and looking truly sorry for all the havoc they'd been forced to wreak on Nathan McBride's life.

He isn't thinking with his brain, sisters, Fauna quipped with an impish grin.

He just doesn't realize that he's been waiting for her all along. Well,, with a little help from us. But once he does... Flora's clasped hands pressed to her cheek, her lashes fluttering. Oh, I wish I could be there to see it when their eyes meet across the room for the first time, and Cupid's arrow hits them right in their tender little hearts.

Fauna stifled a laugh and snorted. "I'll admit it would be good to see that man hit with something besides his own car!" She and Flora burst into laughter at that, and while Merri sniffed indignantly at their irreverence, she had to battle a grin herself.

Dr. Sortilege to E. R. the hushed voice on the P. A. system repeated. Aurora hurriedly gulped the rest of her herbal tea and got up from the first break she'd had all night to rush down the hall to the emergency room, her senses pricking to full alertness and telling her all she needed to know.

It was not a life-threatening injury coming in. It was minor, but pretty painful to the victim. Her brain told her those things before she ever set foot inside the treatment room, just as it told her when things were not so good. It was nice, this gift she'd inherited from her ancestors. It gave her time to prepare, and more often than not, helped her make her patients well again.

She'd had the powers for too long to consider them odd. They were just a gift of heredity, like her cornsilk-blond hair and blue eyes. Then again, she didn't broadcast the fact that she was a Witch, either. While she was at work, her gold Pentacle rested under her white coat. But it didn't matter. Everyone in this town knew about those strange Sortilege women in the old house on the hill. She'd thought they might have forgotten while she'd been away, but no such luck. For some reason, though, the whispers and gossip no longer bothered her. Maybe because she was an adult now, sure of herself, who she was and what she was. Confident and proud of both. And maybe because of that change in attitude—or maybe because they'd done some growing up, too—the gossips were not as malicious or mean-spirited