Wallflower Witch (The Cursed Coven of Spells Hollow #2)

1. Chapter 1

T he sun beats softly on my face. The waves crashing in the distance call me forward, over the hill and towards the ocean. This is my happy place, where I came with my family as a child to spend the summers. Where I could play and roam and didn’t have a care in the world. Where I was free from the taunts of the other kids.

I reach the top and look at the water beyond, breathing in the salty air and feeling my stress melt away.

Slipping my shoes off, I step onto the sand. The heat seeps into my feet and warms my body. I smile remembering my mom and how safe and warm I felt in her embrace. My smile falters as the grief sneaks back in making it hard to breathe. I turn my back to the sun and walk to the water. With each step, my toes sink into the wet sand, and the waves lap against my feet. Even now, this place is my safe haven where the rest of the world doesn’t matter. Finding a secluded cove, I turn up towards some rocks, hoping to sit for a little bit and just be.

Settling, I let out a content sigh and let my mind wander more. Thinking about my last boyfriend, I grimace. He refused to accept me for me and I am glad to be done with him. My thoughts flow in and out, some sticking around for me to ponder and some disappearing as fast as the waves slowly crash onto the sand. I almost think I can see the land changing. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I just have a feeling that something is coming, and I need to be here for it.

As the sun sets and the blood moon fills the sky, I decide I’m tired of waiting around. I stand up and walk into the shallow water. I spin and twirl, letting my hands drag through the water and flicking droplets into the night air around me. I laugh, feeling like a child again, carefree and living in the moment.

The sound of feet on the sand catches my attention. There’s no breeze, so I shouldn’t be hearing those high-pitched squeaks-like feet running on the beach.The ocean is calm almost like it’s waiting for something. Spinning, I see a man standing there. Tall, dark, and well-muscled. His eyes are the color of kelp, a green so deep it’s almost black, and when my gaze connects with his, his Cupid’s bow lips quirk into a smirk. My knees go weak.

He slowly steps into the water, lifting his hand and holding it out to me. I blink, and suddenly I’m standing directly in front of him, placing my hand in his. His thumb runs over mine as we stare deep into each other’s eyes.

“May I have this dance?” he rumbles, then places a kiss on my knuckles.

I giggle. “There’s no music.”

“We can dance to the song of the ocean,” he says, wrapping his free arm around my waist and pulling us close enough that our hips touch.

Gasping, I wrap my arm over his shoulder. He leads us in a pattern that I think could be a waltz, and I can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny, my lady?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

It takes me a few minutes to get my laughter under control before I can answer. “What would someone say if they came here and saw us?” I ask.

“What do you mean? There’s no one here to see us, and we aren’t doing anything wrong, even if there was.”

“I know,” I say. “But think about it. We are knee-deep in the ocean, slow-dancing without music. We can’t look sane.” I break into more giggles and lean my head against his chest, realizing for the first time he is only in a pair of board shorts. His laugh rumbles around like thunder, and he tightens the arm around my waist as we sway back and forth.

I don’t know what comes over me, but my tongue darts out to taste his chest. He freezes.

I’m too mortified to meet his eyes as I mumble, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

I drop my chin to my chest and pull away.

His hand shoots into my hair, gripping at the base of my skull, then he pulls my head back, forcing my eyes up. “Do it again,” he says, his grip firm. I scrunch my eyes at the demand. His hold makes it impossible to do, but he isn’t letting go. “Again,” he insists.

“I can’t,” I say, and his grip tightens.

“Why not?” he asks, staring at my face.

“Your grip is too tight,” I tell him.

He tilts his head like he doesn’t understand. I roll my eyes and try to move my head toward his chest. He stares at me for a moment, then his grip loosens, and his hand slides through my hair. I lean forward and my tongue darts out, wanting to taste his skin again, only to be met by the feel of cotton.

I jerk back, raising my eyes to see an older man standing in front of me.

“I beg your pardon!” he says, taking a step back. “I don’t know what you are doing, but I will have you know I am happily married.”

I shift back, hoping to add more space. “Not again,” I mumble to myself. “I thought I was done with this.” Pressing my hands against my eyes, I shake my head a few times, trying to make the man before me disappear. I peek between my fingers. “Nope. Still there.”

“What are thou doing?” the man demands. “I was fortunate sitting i’ the Summerland, relaxing, and then I was sent hither to see a relative of mine. Some great-great-however many great-niece only to arrive and be accosted! Who are thou? Why are thou hither? And why are thou acting so off?”

“Please say I did NOT just lick one of my dead relatives,” I murmur to myself, wiping my tongue on my shoulder. “Gross!”

I look back at the man, realizing we have ended up at the bottom of the rocks I was sitting on earlier. “I’m Morrigan O’Byrne. And who are you?”

“I am William O’Byrne, Lord of the House of O’Byrne.” He reaches up and straightens his already straight collar. “If this is what our family hath come to, I worry about the state of our lineage.” He sniffs and glares down his nose at me.

I hang my head. “Sorry to disappoint,” I mumble.

“Regardless, I can report I have found thou and may finally have peace.” He pulls out an old gold pocket watch, checks the time, then snaps it closed. “Took long enough,” I think I hear him murmur before he fades away.

“Well, that was weird.”

I dig my toes into the sand to ground myself. Where did he come from, and what did he mean about being my uncle? I have been on my own since my parents died in a car accident when I was barely old enough to remember them.

I shake my head and look back toward the ocean, searching for the happy feeling I had before. I stare at the water, watching it slowly lap away at the sand.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I jerk sharply, then swat at my alarm clock to stop the incessant noise.

Rubbing my eyes, I stretch before throwing the covers off.

What a weird dream. I shuffle into the shower and hope the hot water will help me to wake up.

* * *

Walking into the library, I make my way to the bottom floor. I spend my days in the archives scanning historical text and doing my best to keep all items in their best shape possible. Down here is my little slice of heaven. I get to spend my days learning about the history of our area and helping the random scholar who comes down. But mostly, it is just me and the books. No one to judge me or ask questions I don’t want to answer.

I move to the vault and pull out the journal I’ve been working on. It’s a record of when the town was built, written by one of the town founders. I’ve already scanned the pages, but now I’m working on manually transcribing each page. Sitting at the computer, I open the journal up to the last page I transcribed.

Finding my spot, I begin to type.

I’ the first month, there were arguments about which issues would compose the choices, but they were squashed with haste. A new town doesn’t mean we forget our roots and history. Should thee come from nought, thou does not suddenly get to help compose the decisions for everyone. We will hark what those around us have to say.

Movement in the corner of the room catches my attention. I look up to see a woman standing there. It normally wouldn’t be odd, since we are open to the public, but the bell on the door never chimed.

I drape a ribbon in the journal and close it, leaving it by the computer. Walking toward the woman, I smile and do my best to ignore the odd way she is dressed. Her dress has a high ruffled neckline, long sleeves, and comes down to the tops of her feet, where black boots peek out. She looks out of place in the climate- controlled area filled with glass cases, computers, and all the comforts of the twenty-first century.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” I begin. “Is this your first time in the archives?” I pause a few feet away from her. She cocks her head to the side and doesn’t respond. “Can I help you find something?”

Her gaze slides up and down before she nods slightly. Her mouth opens and moves like she’s speaking, but no sounds come out.

“Oh, one second!” I turn and grab a notepad and pen from the desk. “Here, do you want to write it down?” I hold the notepad out, letting go as her hand closes on the other end. It clatters to the floor.

“Oops.” I bend and pick it up. When I straighten up, the woman is gone.

“Hello?” I call out, spinning. Where could she have gone? “Ma’am?” I can’t see her anywhere. I shake my head. “That’s weird. How did she leave that fast? Maybe I’ve been spending too much time alone down here.”

I walk back over to the computer and pick up the journal, placing it back in the vault and locking the door. I leave the archives and head into the library upstairs.

“Hey, Morrigan! How are you today? I didn’t see you come in,” George, the gray-haired, stooped man who covers the library desk during the day, calls out. He is one of my few friends and fills the spot of being my honorary grandfather.

“I came in early,” I admit. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” Shrugging, I lean across the counter from him. “I came up to see if you were able to help that lady who came in earlier.” His eyes crinkle as he thinks. “She was in a long dress and had her hair in a fancy-looking updo. I tried to find out what she needed, but she left when I looked away for a second.”

George scratches his chin. “I don’t think any of the moms who came in this morning were wearing long dresses, but I wasn’t paying too much attention. We’ve only had our group for the Mommy and Me read-aloud come through so far.”

“I don’t think that she was part of the group,” I hedge, then shake my head. “Well, I hope she found whatever she was looking for. Guess I should get back to work. See you for lunch in a few hours?”

“You know it’s the highlight of my day,” he answers cheerfully.

I wave and head back down the stairs. I normally love my time in the archives. It’s quiet and peaceful. I typically only have the random university student coming in to do research, and I like that I can choose to help George in the main library or stay downstairs and read my books.

For the rest of the day, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me, but every time I look around, no one is there.