Read Online Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1) by Debbie Herbert - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Debbie Herbert
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seemed longer.
“I like action, not sitting around,” she told Grendel.
The orange tabby continued grooming without deigning a look in her direction.
“Ever since I came here, everything feels so out of control.”
Grendel walked over and rubbed against her legs. She picked him up and set him in her lap.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”
Grendel purred in evident contentment. Some sympathy.
“You sure are mellow right now,” Callie said with a sigh. “You must be all tuckered out from tormenting Willow all day.”
Grendel yawned and closed his eyes.
James had been friendly enough all week but never once asked to see her outside class. Had his father turned him against her? The weekend stretched before her, empty and uninviting.
“At least I’ll see my friends tonight at the coven meeting,” Callie muttered.
Grendel opened one eye reproachfully and jumped out of her lap, settling down on the rug for uninterrupted sleep.
“Some friend you are.”
Grendel gently snored in response.
A vague unease stirred in her chest. She opened a book, trying to shake the gloom and foreboding. She struggled to concentrate, but after reading the same paragraph five times, she gave up. Callie slammed the book shut and stared into the fire. The unease grew, and her breath came in shallow gasps.
Annoyed, she got up from the rocker and paced. Grendel looked up with a little meow, warning Callie not to step on him. She glanced out the window and came to an abrupt halt. Despite the clear sunshine, large dark clouds hovered above a spot on Booze Mountain. Lightning bolts rained down unceasingly.
A shiver passed through her. Something was very wrong. Grandma Jo called isolated rainstorms a ‘devil’s doorway.’ If it was over Booze Mountain, James might be in some kind of trouble.
Callie raced to her room and sat by her altar. Her hands trembled slightly as she lit a candle and set out the divining bowl. Scrying wasn’t her strong point, but she silently thanked Aunt Mallory for insisting on teaching her the basics. Anything was better than sitting around waiting for bad news.
Damn. She didn’t have any charged water. Callie ran to the pantry to see if Mom or Grandma Jo still kept a supply. She tossed soup cans and boxes from shelves until she found the large Mason jar marked ‘moonshine.’ Not the clear liquid rednecks drank; it was water that had been set out on a full moon night to absorb lunar energy.
Clutching her treasure, Callie hurried back to the altar and poured the moonshine in the black-bottomed divining bowl. She took deep breaths.
“Hope this works,” she muttered, stirring the moonshine with a willow wand. After three clockwise stirs, she chanted:
“Be with me, dear spirit guide.
Don’t allow mischief to hide.
Illuminate my mortal mind
And reveal to me some signs.”
Callie set the wand aside, stared with determination into the dark water, but saw only her own reflection. She kept at it and breathed upon the water’s surface. When the ripples subsided, she began an incantation:
“Part the dark veil of waters for me
So I may magically know or see
Why the storm cloud hovers above.
Has any ill fallen on those I love?”
The water shimmered, and she picked up the faintest hint of a smell . . . It was . . . oh no . . . it was blood. Yes, she was sure of it. Her stomach heaved. She picked up the sound of the winter wind whirling through the treetops. The candle flickered, and the sudden chill on her skin gave her goosebumps.
Still, she couldn’t see what was happening. She debated driving up the mountain or trying to scry again. She decided to give it one more go.
“Open my mind and free my heart.
Let the physical barriers part,
Not by any personal skill,
But from thy benevolent will.”
Steam rose as if the water was a geothermal spring from inner earth’s core. Through the shrouded mists, a man lay on the ground with a pool of blood on his side. James. Her
“I like action, not sitting around,” she told Grendel.
The orange tabby continued grooming without deigning a look in her direction.
“Ever since I came here, everything feels so out of control.”
Grendel walked over and rubbed against her legs. She picked him up and set him in her lap.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”
Grendel purred in evident contentment. Some sympathy.
“You sure are mellow right now,” Callie said with a sigh. “You must be all tuckered out from tormenting Willow all day.”
Grendel yawned and closed his eyes.
James had been friendly enough all week but never once asked to see her outside class. Had his father turned him against her? The weekend stretched before her, empty and uninviting.
“At least I’ll see my friends tonight at the coven meeting,” Callie muttered.
Grendel opened one eye reproachfully and jumped out of her lap, settling down on the rug for uninterrupted sleep.
“Some friend you are.”
Grendel gently snored in response.
A vague unease stirred in her chest. She opened a book, trying to shake the gloom and foreboding. She struggled to concentrate, but after reading the same paragraph five times, she gave up. Callie slammed the book shut and stared into the fire. The unease grew, and her breath came in shallow gasps.
Annoyed, she got up from the rocker and paced. Grendel looked up with a little meow, warning Callie not to step on him. She glanced out the window and came to an abrupt halt. Despite the clear sunshine, large dark clouds hovered above a spot on Booze Mountain. Lightning bolts rained down unceasingly.
A shiver passed through her. Something was very wrong. Grandma Jo called isolated rainstorms a ‘devil’s doorway.’ If it was over Booze Mountain, James might be in some kind of trouble.
Callie raced to her room and sat by her altar. Her hands trembled slightly as she lit a candle and set out the divining bowl. Scrying wasn’t her strong point, but she silently thanked Aunt Mallory for insisting on teaching her the basics. Anything was better than sitting around waiting for bad news.
Damn. She didn’t have any charged water. Callie ran to the pantry to see if Mom or Grandma Jo still kept a supply. She tossed soup cans and boxes from shelves until she found the large Mason jar marked ‘moonshine.’ Not the clear liquid rednecks drank; it was water that had been set out on a full moon night to absorb lunar energy.
Clutching her treasure, Callie hurried back to the altar and poured the moonshine in the black-bottomed divining bowl. She took deep breaths.
“Hope this works,” she muttered, stirring the moonshine with a willow wand. After three clockwise stirs, she chanted:
“Be with me, dear spirit guide.
Don’t allow mischief to hide.
Illuminate my mortal mind
And reveal to me some signs.”
Callie set the wand aside, stared with determination into the dark water, but saw only her own reflection. She kept at it and breathed upon the water’s surface. When the ripples subsided, she began an incantation:
“Part the dark veil of waters for me
So I may magically know or see
Why the storm cloud hovers above.
Has any ill fallen on those I love?”
The water shimmered, and she picked up the faintest hint of a smell . . . It was . . . oh no . . . it was blood. Yes, she was sure of it. Her stomach heaved. She picked up the sound of the winter wind whirling through the treetops. The candle flickered, and the sudden chill on her skin gave her goosebumps.
Still, she couldn’t see what was happening. She debated driving up the mountain or trying to scry again. She decided to give it one more go.
“Open my mind and free my heart.
Let the physical barriers part,
Not by any personal skill,
But from thy benevolent will.”
Steam rose as if the water was a geothermal spring from inner earth’s core. Through the shrouded mists, a man lay on the ground with a pool of blood on his side. James. Her
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