Something Witchy This Way Comes: A Jolie Wilkins Novel

  “It’s in the past now, Mathilda,” I said sincerely, realizing it disturbed Mathilda, deeply by the looks of it.

  She offered me a smile, but it was sad, bereft. “One day Keila wandered out of the fae village and I never saw her again. She simply disappeared.”

  “And that must have been when the Lurkers found her,” I finished. Mathilda simply nodded, and I faced her again, needing to ask the final question in this tangled web, needing to understand why I was just now hearing this story. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She sighed, long and hard, but didn’t look at all surprised. “During the time your mother was with us, I received a series of visions proclaiming that the progeny of your father and mother would be incredibly gifted. I realized I couldn’t allow the Lurkers to claim you for their own. Through fairy magic, I was able to locate you, and when I learned you were born in a human hospital, I simply switched you with another baby.”

  “And the Lurkers never found me,” I said softly.

  She nodded, her lips drawn into a tight line, her jaw rigid. “I was quite careful to disguise you throughout the years, child,” she said, sounding pleased with herself. But then, it was clear she had pulled off a pretty amazing feat—hiding me from the Lurkers for over twenty years …

  “So you always knew where I was?”

  She nodded. “I kept a strict watch over you.”

  I’d been a pawn in this battle between the Underworld and the Lurkers from the moment I was born. It was a strange thought. And even stranger was the idea that I’d never had the slightest inkling about it. “And no one else ever knew about this?”

  Mathilda gulped, apparently uneasy with this part of her story. “No. You were my secret and mine alone.”

  “Why?”

  She cleared her throat and glanced down at the ground as if this next bit of information was hard for her to divulge. Then she looked up at me again and her eyes were fearful. “I acted without the blessing of the King.”

  “Odran?” I asked, surprised, because I knew that Odran adored Mathilda and vice versa.

  Mathilda shook her head emphatically. “No, this was long before Odran’s reign. King Lucan was not the benevolent King that Odran is. He wanted to maintain separation between the fae and the other creatures of the Underworld, and he strictly forbade me from getting involved in what he considered foreign affairs.” She paused for a second or two, biting her lip as if her story still bothered her as much now as it had then. “But I could not ignore you, Jolie. I knew that I had to protect you, and ensure that you didn’t fall into the hands of our enemies, even if it meant acting against the orders of my King.”

  “What would have happened to you if he found out?” I asked, surprised to hear that she’d broken a law. If Mathilda was anything, it was a law-abiding fae citizen.

  She swallowed. “I could have been put to death for my transgressions.” She paused and took a few deep breaths. “Once Odran took the throne, it seemed the story had taken on a life of its own, and I was afraid to tell him, afraid to tell anyone.”

  “Odran never would have faulted you for it,” I said softly.

  “No, but by fairy law I could still have been punished for breaking my vows to my King, even though another had taken the throne.” She paused for a few moments. “And by then, I thought it better to keep the secret to myself.”

  I nodded, understanding her reasons and by no means faulting her for them. It was all thanks to Mathilda that I was standing here today. Without her interference, who knows what would have happened to me? “Thank you, Mathilda, thank you for what you did.”

  She beamed at me and there were tears in her eyes. “I always knew you were someone special, someone who would lead our people to prosperity and unity. And I was right, Jolie. I was right.”

  Now fully aware of my history, I felt somehow content. And the fact that I was part Lurker? I couldn’t say it mattered much. Because in my own mind, my parents were like Romeo and Juliet. Doomed from the very beginning, they both died for the most noble cause imaginable—love. Honestly, I didn’t even consider my father a Lurker. No, I considered him to be one of my own kind. And that was when it occurred to me that the only other person who was also a by-product of my parents’ love was my sister.

  I will do everything in my power to make amends with Bryn, I told myself. We were blood, and I wanted to make sure we became the sisters our parents would have wanted us to be.

  I stepped out of the shower and after toweling myself off got into my jammies, noticing the gentle rain now pelting my bedroom windows. The moonlight reflected against the drops, and they looked like diamonds clinging to the glass. I unwrapped the towel around my head and, grabbing my comb, started for my bed.

  “Jolie.”

  It was Rand’s voice, followed by a gentle knock on the door. He knew I’d been expecting him, so he didn’t wait for a response. He just turned the doorknob, opening the door. He had showered as well, although the trauma from the battle still decorated his face and body in bruises and lacerations.

  Seeing him, I couldn’t help the heat that bubbled up within me. I wasn’t sure if it was my reaction or his or maybe both of ours.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, opening his arms for me to rush into them. His hand encircled my stomach as I rested my face against his chest.

  “Exhausted,” I admitted.

  I giggled as he lifted me into his arms and carried me to our bed. Setting me at the foot of it, he pulled the duvet cover aside, then hoisted me into his arms again and nestled me among the pillows. He sat behind me, and taking the comb from my hand, started separating my wet tresses, combing through each of them.

  “I’ve reinstated Sinjin,” I said calmly, wondering how Rand would take the news.

  He was quiet for a few seconds but didn’t stop combing my hair. “I must admit that Sinjin’s actions of late have surprised me,” he finally said.

  “How so?”

  Rand cleared his throat. “I did not think it possible that the vampire could act out of anything other than selfishness, but it seems I was wrong on that count.”

  “I think you were,” I concurred.

  He chuckled. “While I will never call Sinjin ‘friend,’ I see nothing wrong with you reinstating him.”

  I glanced back at him, my eyes wide. “Wait, what was that?” I asked, dropping my mouth in a wide circle as I pretended to clean out my ears. “I must have bad hearing because I could have sworn Rand Balfour just admitted that Sinjin Sinclair wasn’t such a bad guy.”

  Rand chuckled again and lightly pinched the top of my butt. “I wouldn’t go that far, smart arse.”

  I felt the laugh escape my lips as I leaned back against his chest. I was relieved that there was a lull in the storm and that our battle with the Lurkers was over, for now anyway. I had no doubt that Luce and Nairn were regrouping, working on their next attack against us, but I was happy not to worry about it for the moment.

  “What are you thinking about?” Rand asked, and shifted my hair behind my ear, running his finger down the side of my face.

  “I was just thinking about how happy I am,” I said in a soft voice. “I mean, I know it sounds crazy, since who knows what’s going to happen with the Lurkers …”

  “We know much more about them now, Jolie, and that can only benefit us. They aren’t the unknown threat they once were.” He inhaled. “And knowledge is power.”

  That much was true. I now knew what the Lurkers’ weaknesses were, and that information was priceless. Now we could prepare ourselves for a threat we finally understood.

  “Jolie, I nearly lost my mind when you were in Luce’s camp,” Rand whispered. I started to respond but he shushed me. “I just want you to know how much I love you, how much I’ve always loved you.”

  I pulled away and turned around, facing him. Reaching out, I took his hand. “I love you too, Rand. You’re the only person in this entire world that I want to be with, that I want to grow old with.”


  He smiled and brought my hand to his mouth, kissing it. “You know it’s funny, but the day I walked into your store in Los Angeles years ago, I had this uncanny feeling that I was somehow coming home.”

  I gave him a curious look. This was the first I’d ever heard of it. “You did?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t understand it at the time of course,” he said, a nostalgic smile lighting his lips. “I just remember looking into your beautiful blue eyes while you held my hands in your reading room, and I thought to myself, this just feels … right.”

  I closed the gap between us, lying down on top of him as I rested my head against his. I didn’t say another word, just listened to Rand’s gentle breathing while reflecting on the fact that while I’d never before fully accepted my role as Queen, I accepted it now. Now, I hungered to be the Queen my people needed.

  Despite my mixed-blood heritage, I was first and foremost Jolie Wilkins. I was a girl who had never really thought much of herself, but with the teaching and love of a warlock and the companionship of a vampire, I’d come to realize just how capable I was. Now I was strong, courageous, and powerful. I was a loyal friend as much as I was a loving partner. I was a mother and a leader.

  Jolie Wilkins, Queen of the Underworld …

  Yep, it had a nice ring to it.

  Did Something Witchy This Way Comes bespell your heart? You won’t want to miss any of Jolie Wilkins’s adventures! Read on for a sneak peek at the earlier books in the series, Witchful Thinking and The Witch Is Back.

  Witchful Thinking

  Jolie thinks she’s seen it all, but life continues to spring surprises. The latest shocker? She’s just been crowned Queen of the Underworld. Jolie may possess a rare gift for reanimating the dead, but she doesn’t know the first thing about governing disparate factions of supernatural creatures. She can barely maintain order in her own chaotic personal life, which is heading into a romantic tailspin.

  First there’s sexy warlock Rand, the love of her life, from whom Jolie is hiding a devastating secret. Then there’s Sinjin, a darkly seductive vampire and Jolie’s sworn protector—though others suspect he harbors ulterior motives. As the two polar opposite yet magnetic men vie for Jolie’s affection, she must keep her wits about her to balance affairs of state and affairs of heart. Overwhelmed, under pressure, and longing for love, Jolie decides it’s time to take charge—and show everyone that this queen won’t take jack.

  “So, no more ghostly encounters?” Christa, my best friend and only employee, asked while leaning against the desk in our front office. She was referring to the fact that the previous evening I’d seen my first ghost.

  I shook my head and pooled into a chair by the door. “Maybe if you hadn’t left early to go on your date, I wouldn’t have had a visit at all.”

  “Well, one of us needs to be dating,” she said, knowing full well I hadn’t had any dates for the past six months.

  “Let’s not get into this again …”

  “Jolie, you need to get out. You’re almost thirty …”

  “Two years from it, thank you very much.”

  “Whatever … you’re going to end up old and alone. You’re way too pretty, and you have such a great personality, you can’t end up like that. Don’t let one bad date ruin it.” Her voice reached a crescendo. Christa has a tendency toward the dramatic.

  “I’ve had a string of bad dates, Chris.” I didn’t know what else to say—I was terminally single. It came down to the fact that I’d rather spend time with my cat or Christa than face another stream of losers.

  As for being attractive, Christa insisted I was pretty, but I wasn’t convinced. It’s one thing when your best friend says you’re pretty; it’s entirely different when a man does.

  And I couldn’t remember the last time a man had said it.

  I caught my reflection in the glass of the desk and studied myself while Christa rambled on about all the reasons I should be dating. I supposed my face was pleasant enough—a pert nose, cornflower-blue eyes, and plump lips. A spattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose interrupts an otherwise pale landscape of skin, and my shoulder-length blond hair always finds itself drawn into a ponytail.

  Head-turning doubtful, girl-next-door probable.

  As for Christa, she doesn’t look like me at all. For one thing, she’s leggy and tall—about five-eight, which is four inches taller than I am. She has dark hair the color of mahogany, green eyes, and rosy cheeks. She’s classically pretty—like cameo pretty. She’s rail skinny and has no boobs. I have a tendency to gain weight if I eat too much, I have a definite butt, and the twins are pretty ample as well. Maybe that made me sound like I’m fat—I’m not, but I could stand to lose five pounds.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Christa asked.

  Shaking my head, I entered the reading room, thinking I’d left my glasses there.

  I heard the door open.

  “Well, hello to you,” Christa said in a high-pitched, sickening-sweet, and non-Christa voice.

  “Afternoon.” The deep timbre of his voice echoed through the room, my ears mistaking his baritone for music.

  “I’m here for a reading, but I don’t have an appointment—”

  “Oh, that’s cool,” Christa interrupted, and from the saccharine tone of her voice, it was pretty apparent this guy had to be eye candy.

  Giving up on finding my reading glasses, I headed out in order to introduce myself to our stranger. Upon seeing him, I couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped my throat. It wasn’t his Greek-god, Sean-Connery-would-be-envious good looks that grabbed me first, or his considerable height.

  It was his aura.

  I’ve been able to see auras since before I can remember, but I’d never seen anything like his. It radiated from him as if it had a life of its own—and the color! Usually auras are pinkish or violet in healthy people, yellowish or orange in those unhealthy. His was the most vibrant blue I’ve ever seen—the color of the sky after a storm when the sun’s rays bask everything in glory.

  It emanated from him like electricity.

  “Hi, I’m Jolie,” I said, remembering myself.

  “How do you do?” And to make me drool even more than I already was, he had an accent, a British one. Ergh.

  I glanced at Christa as I invited him into the reading room. Her mouth had dropped open like a fish’s.

  My sentiments exactly.

  His navy-blue sweater stretched to its capacity while attempting to span a pair of broad shoulders and a wide chest. The broad shoulders and spacious chest in question tapered to a trim waist and finished in a finale of long legs. The white shirt peeking from underneath his sweater contrasted with his tanned complexion and made me consider my own fair skin with dismay.

  The stillness of the room did nothing to allay my nerves. I took a seat, shuffled the tarot cards, and handed him the deck. “Please choose five cards and lay them faceup on the table.”

  He took a seat across from me, stretching his legs and resting his hands on his thighs. I chanced a look at him and took in his chocolate hair and caramel eyes. His face was angular, and his Roman nose lent him a certain Paul-Newman-esque quality. The beginnings of shadow did nothing to hide the definite cleft in his strong chin.

  He didn’t take the cards. Instead he just smiled, revealing pearly whites and a set of grade A dimples.

  “You did come for a reading?” I asked.

  He nodded and covered my hand with his own. What felt like lightning ricocheted up my arm, and I swear my heart stopped for a second. The lone red bulb blinked a few times then continued to grow brighter until I thought it might explode. My gaze moved from his hand up his arm, and settled on his eyes. With the red light reflecting against him, he looked like the devil come to barter for my soul.

  “I came for a reading, yes, but not with the cards. I’d like you to read … me.” His rumbling baritone was hypnotic, and I fought the need to pull my hand from his warm grip.

  I set the stack o
f cards aside, focusing on him again. I was so nervous, I doubted any of my visions would come. They were about as reliable as the weather anchors you see on TV.

  After several long uncomfortable moments, I gave up. “I can’t read you, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. I shifted the eucalyptus-scented incense I’d lit to the farthest corner of the table and waved my hands in front of my face, dispersing the smoke that seemed intent on wafting directly into my eyes. It swirled and danced in the air, as if indifferent to the fact that I couldn’t help this stranger.

  He removed his hand but stayed seated. I thought he’d leave, but he made no motion to do anything of the sort.

  “Take your time.”

  Take my time? I was a nervous wreck and had no visions whatsoever. I just wanted this handsome stranger to leave so my life could return to normal.

  But it appeared that was not in the cards.

  The silence pounded against the walls, echoing the pulse of blood in my veins. Still, my companion said nothing. I’d had enough. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  He smiled again. “What do you see when you look at me?”

  Adonis.

  No, I couldn’t say that. Maybe he’d like to hear about his aura? I didn’t have any other cards up my sleeve … “I can see your aura,” I almost whispered, fearing his ridicule.

  His brows drew together. “What does it look like?”

  “It isn’t like anyone’s I’ve ever seen before. It’s bright blue, and it flares out of you … almost like electricity.”

  His smile disappeared, and he leaned forward. “Can you see everyone’s auras?”

  The incense dared to assault my eyes again, so I put it out and dumped it in the trash can.

  “Yes. Most people have much fainter glows to them—more often than not in the pink or orange family. I’ve never seen blue.”

  He chewed on that for a moment. “What do you suppose it is you’re looking at—someone’s soul?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I do know, though, that if someone’s ailing, I can see it. Their aura goes a bit yellow.” He nodded, and I added, “You’re healthy.”