Witchy awakening, p.1
Witchy Awakening, page 1
Witchy Awakening
A PARANORMAL COZY MYSTERY
MIDLIFE POTIONS
BOOK ONE
C. A. PHIPPS
Witchy Awakening is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Witchy Awakening Copyright © 2023 by C. A. Phipps
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Copyright © 2022 by Melody Simmons
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For my husband.
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Witchy Awakening
Discovering you're a witch because your cat starts talking to you isn’t as fun as it sounds.
Then there’s the body in the garden.
When Jessica Lavender's mother passes away, her life takes this unexpected turn, but it’s not the only one. Faced with learning how to harness her magical abilities, Jess must also solve the suspicious death in her small town.
This paranormal cozy mystery will have you questioning everything you thought you knew about magic and murder!
Midlife Potions
Witchy Awakening
Witchy Hot Spells
Witchy Flash Back - Preorder now!
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Contents
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Witchy Hot Spells
Recipes
Cherry Jelly Pies
Also by C. A. Phipps
Books by Cheryl Phipps
About the Author
Chapter
One
The death of Lissa Lavender shocked the small town of Good Fortune.
Lissa had been the heart and soul of the community, which meant her daughter’s return to town after many years was big news.
Knowing how the small town operated, Jessica Lavender should have expected it, but the shock of being in the limelight sent her into defensive mode. That made it doubly difficult to come to grips with what the loss of her mother truly meant to her.
Arriving at night with a suitcase and her cat Maestro, she went straight to her mother’s house at the end of Main Street. An hour later, the phone rang and didn’t stop. Eventually she’d pulled out the connection, hoping the townsfolk would get the message.
As soon as she opened her eyes this morning, Jess knew she’d only been fooling herself. After the first thundering knock from well-meaning neighbor #1 forced Jess out of bed, she managed a quick wash, slipped into yesterday’s clothes, and opened the door to an incessant flood of visitors.
Visits overlapped, and these people who were mostly strangers stayed far longer than it took to drop off a dish of recently cooked food and pay their respects.
Eventually every counter-top and table was filled with plastic containers and plates. Jess had no words left to thank them or answer their myriad questions. How she was, or what she had been up to since they’d last seen her, didn’t matter right now. They didn’t know her, and she didn’t want to know them.
You’re tired. You should tell them to leave.
The words swirled in her head, and Jess suddenly yawned in the next-door-neighbor’s face—the one who had set today off into this nightmare. Jess put a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Crandle.”
The short, round woman, reminiscent of a fairy godmother, tutted. “You poor dear.” She clapped her hands, and the noise in the living room and kitchen subsided. “We’ve outstayed our welcome, ladies. Jessica is exhausted after her journey and needs to rest.”
With a few hugs and more sympathetic words, the rooms emptied as if by magic.
Jess smiled genuinely for the first time today. “Thank you, Mrs. Crandle.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be off too, as soon as I’ve cleared the rest of this food into the freezer, but might I give you a few words of advice?”
Jess’s smile froze, sensing that she had no real choice in the matter. “Of course, Mrs. Crandle.”
The woman counted off the fingers on her left hand. “Don’t touch Rebecca’s stew—you’ll have heartburn for days. I’d be wary of that pie from Daphne Dennison. Reg Doherty, the local chicken farmer, told me she’s been out collecting road kill again. Make sure you return all the containers if you don’t want to make enemies. Get down to your mother’s shop tomorrow and throw out all the expired ingredients before they rot.” She was down to her last finger. “And now that you’re all grown up, please call me Amy.”
Jess brushed her auburn hair over one shoulder and smothered a groan. To be fair, the list seemed doable and potentially lifesaving, but she hated being told what to do. “Thank you, I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Amy said firmly. “Your mom was always saying how capable you are, and she has plenty of friends who are only too happy to help with the arrangements.”
The bit about her being capable was a surprise. Their mother-daughter relationship had been tense for more years than Jess cared to remember. When the expectations to follow in Lissa’s footsteps proved too much to deal with twenty years ago, Jess moved north. If she was honest, she’d checked out on their relationship long before that. As for a team of Amy’s coming back to boss her about…
“I’m sure I can manage, but please tell them I said thank you.”
Amy tilted her head and after a second or two nodded before gathering up more containers. “Well, you just say the word if you change your mind.”
Forcing as much as possible into the freezer and fridge, Jess finally locked the door behind Amy, and with her back pressed against it she let out a long breath.
“Now what do I do?” she muttered. It was a small house. Some might say quaint, but Jess had always considered it cramped. Clean and tidy with two bedrooms, a bathroom upstairs, and a utility room with a toilet by the back door, she hoped it would be easy to sell so she could go home.
Maestro appeared from behind the couch and sauntered across the room.
“I wondered where you’d gone to, buddy.”
“If you thought I was going to put up with them patting me or clutching me to their bosoms all day, you were sorely mistaken.”
Jess gaped. “You did not just talk to me.”
He sat down in front of her and tilted his head exactly the way he usually did whenever she spoke to him. “See anyone else here?”
Only, he’d never answered her before. She slithered down the door and landed with a thump on her butt. “It was inevitable. I’m going crazy.”
Lazily, he licked one sleek paw. “No, you’re not.”
She put both hands to her face and rocked. “I haven’t got time for a nervous breakdown. There’s too much to do.”
“Then don’t have one. They’re overrated from what I’ve seen.”
She peered between her fingers. “I’ve owned you for five years. Why would you suddenly be able to talk now? No, this is just a figment of my imagination,” she added.
He stuck the paw out to her. “We’ll leave the whole ‘who owns who’ thing aside for now. Consider this. The issue isn’t about me not talking but rather that you haven’t been listening.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
He sighed and came a little closer. “Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t heard voices in your head.”
“What? Well, everyone does. That doesn’t make them real.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Of course.”
“Hmm. I thought you’d be quicker than this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Usually when the Lavender women find out they’re witches they readily grasp the concept because they’ve had an inkling since they were small. Then again, you’ve always been the most stubborn child.”
Her jaw was a little sore from hanging open, and she snapped it shut for a moment at his disdain. “You’re making no sense. How would you know anything about my ancestors? Or my childhood for that matter.”
He sighed again, lay down, and put his face between his front paws. “Let’s start from the beginning then. All Lavender women are witches. They have been since the beginning of time.”
“That’s just silly. My mom wasn’t a witch,” she interrupted.
“Is the idea of it sillier than talking to her cat?”
Jess shook her head, not sure why she was arguing with an animal who wasn’t supposed to be capable of arguing back. “You’re not mom’s cat—you’re mine.”
He raised what looked like an eyebrow. “Where did I come from?”
“Is that a trick question? Mom gave you to me for my fortieth birthday,” Jess told him smugly.
“Correct. Although, let me
She smirked at what was clearly a trick question. “You are mom’s cat’s kitten.”
He sniffed rudely. “I’m a boy and have never sired any kittens—that I know of.”
“That’s not what I meant. Mom always had a cat. She must have had a female cat that had a kitten.”
“Incorrect. That statement tells me how little you notice about your surroundings. Still, I’m not surprised after watching you for most of your life. I became her cat after her mother passed me along when she turned forty. I might add it’s incredibly frustrating to train each Lavender, and I do hope we can get through your induction quicker than how it’s shaping up.”
Clearly he was talking rubbish. She laughed a little hysterically. Or she was hallucinating rubbish. Maybe one of the women put something dodgy in their baking. Yes, that had to be it.
“I wouldn’t go around accusing people of drugging you.”
Jess held her head. Cats couldn’t read minds.
“Familiars can always read the minds of their witches. Unless a witch chooses to shut them out.”
She gulped and peered through her fingers. He was still there, watching her with an imperious glint in his eyes. “How old are you?”
“Too old to count the years. Now, any more questions or do you need more time to think up ways to describe me?”
She stared blankly for several seconds. Even if all this nonsense was true, what did one ask a talking cat about being a witch? She stood and cautiously circled Maestro. “I’m going to bed.”
He waved her away dismissively. “Sweet dreams, witch.”
Jess hurried down the hall and up the stairs. A talking, snarky cat. She must be more stressed than she thought.
Chapter
Two
Sunlight peeked under the bottom of the curtain. Jess rolled over in the small bed and whacked her elbow on the wall. She opened one eye, winced at the bright poppy-covered wallpaper, and closed it again. It hadn’t felt right to sleep in her mother’s bed, but she hadn’t slept on a twin mattress since she left home. Had it always been this uncomfortable? Maybe she’d have to rethink her choice of bedroom if she had to stay longer.
How long would it take to do all the necessary paperwork? She should have googled it. More than a couple of days would be too long.
“You should plan on a week minimum.”
Jess peered over the side of the bed where Maestro sat staring up at her.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
“So, it wasn’t a dream come nightmare? You really can talk.”
A paw touched his chest. “Oh dear, are we all the way back to denial?”
“If you’re so clever, why don’t you get your own breakfast?”
He waved both front paws under her nose. “No opposable thumbs, dummy.”
“Are you always this rude?”
“I was about to say the same to you. But then I remembered that you’ve always been snarky.”
“That is an outright lie, and you know it. You’re only copying what I said or thought last night about you.
“Ah, I did recall hearing those words somewhere. Still, if the judgment fits…”
“Are you mocking me?”
“I wouldn’t dare. Now hurry up.” He sauntered to the door then stopped to peer over his shoulder. “You may want to smarten up some. You look terrible, and three days in the same clothes is pushing things a little far, don’t you agree?”
Jess threw the covers back and crossed to the small dresser with an attached mirror. He was right. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and her wrinkles had teamed up to play snakes and ladders on her face.
Why hadn’t she been blessed with her mother’s genes? Lissa Lavender barely had a laughter line, and she was twenty years older than Jess. Another thing that sucked about their relationship. Lissa had always told her that the creams she used weren’t worth the bottle they came in, but Jess refused to use the stuff her mother made and sold in her shop. Naturally she’d been curious but wouldn’t admit it. And now it was too late.
“I told you—stubborn.” Came his voice from down the hall.
“Stop listening to my thoughts!”
She snatched some clean clothes from her opened bag and went across the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Her dreams had been full of the cat who owned her and resembled the Queen from Alice in Wonderland. His confidence was next level, and she didn’t think she could handle another day with the Jekyll and Hyde familiar.
Jess stayed under the running water for a very long time before she could summon the will to wash herself with the bottles set on the shelf. She’d brought her own toiletries but left them in the case and was darned if she’d go back to the room to get them. The first body wash she picked up smelled like her mother, and she put that firmly back on the shelf. The second one had a smell that reminded her of the climbing rose that adorned the front fence. It was pretty and always made her smile when it was in bloom.
Grabbing a cloth from the bathroom cupboard, she scrubbed hard until she felt more alive. With a towel wrapped around her, she moisturized her face. Was her skin a little brighter today? And her hazel eyes seemed greener. Jess shrugged. It must be that something she’d eaten was affecting her eyesight as well as her imagination.
Once dried and dressed, she made her way to the kitchen where Maestro waited at his twin bowls that she’d brought with her.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“I do,” she admitted despite wanting to ignore him.
“Good. Once we’ve eaten we should discuss your talents.”
“Talents?”
He batted the bowl across the floor toward her. “Food first.”
Annoyed at the demanding tone, she filled one side with water then opened a can of cat food and placed the joined dishes on the floor by the back door.
“We also need to discuss my dietary preferences, which is the only good part of the training,” he muttered before turning his back on her to delicately lap at the food.
That one act was reassuringly familiar.
Jess opened the fridge and shook her head at the stacked shelves. It should be fantastic that she didn’t have to shop for food. But seriously, if she could get the whole road-kill business out of her mind and decide on what to eat three times a day, she wouldn’t make a dent in this even if she stayed a week. Eventually, she took out a bottle of milk and a half-eaten apple pie. Stabbing the fork into it, she stared out to the back garden.
Weeds grew among the plants. A lot of weeds. Her mother would not have stood for it.”
“She couldn’t weed once she got sick.”
Jess swung around, and apple pie slid from her fork to land on the floor. “Why didn’t she call me, Maestro?” Embarrassed by the plaintiveness in her voice, she grabbed a napkin and wiped up the mess.
He stopped licking a paw, letting it hang in mid-air. “She did phone you several times in that last week. Lissa couldn’t bring herself to mention it and upset you. Would you have come home if you knew?”
“Of course I would, if she needed me.”
“If?” He scoffed. “Let’s be honest. You wouldn’t have believed she did.”
Jess swallowed hard. “Maybe not.”
Maestro lifted his shoulders. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. The truth is that she hated to impose on you and wouldn’t have explained the situation no matter how many times the two of you conversed.”
Conversed was an interesting way to describe their conversations, and now that she thought about it she decided it was the perfect word. Plain and without emotion. Except for annoyance. They poked each other like a bear with a stick every chance they had. “If you know so much, how come you didn’t tell me about the situation earlier?”
