Luck of the Witchy Excerpt

 

Luck of the Witchy

(Witches of Main Street #6)

Four-leaf clovers, leprechauns, and lucky charms. That's what St. Patrick's Day should be all about. Unfortunately for fire witch Fiona Hart, this holiday will be all about family instead. Her estranged herbalist cousin, Flora, is coming to Banshee Creek to attend a business conference for her company, Hexalife, and she wants to reconnect. But when the family reunion hits some snags—including business fraud, embezzlement, and suspicious accidents—Fiona realizes she’ll need a lot of luck to solve this mystery and keep her cousin safe.

“Does this look like a shamrock to you?” Kat Ramos asked, holding up a pendant made of cowrie shells, her mouth curving downwards in unconcealed disappointment.

“Not at all,” Fiona Hart replied, grabbing a nacho and popping it into her mouth. “It reminds me of the beach, not St. Patrick’s Day.”

They were at Banshee Creek’s haunted tavern, The Mangy Owl, sharing a platter of nachos, and brainstorming strategies for the town’s upcoming holiday season. St. Patrick’s Day was almost here, and neither Kat’s botánica nor Fiona’s Wicked Wicks candle store were ready for the festivities. 

They’d headed down to the local pub, hoping to find some inspiration. Unlike their stores, the tavern was ready to go. They had green Irish lager on sale, leprechaun hats for their owl mascot, and enough green shamrocks to carpet a meadow. They’d even added Celtic music to the restaurant’s repertoire, and the vintage jukebox was now playing Zombie by the Cranberries.

Even their nacho platter had a St. Patrick’s theme, with jalapeños arranged in a clover pattern. The dish was called “Luck of the Spicy Nachos” and it lived up to its name. She reached for a glass of green beer, trying to dampen the pepper’s heat.

Kat sighed. “The Orisha of luck is Eleggua and his symbol is the cowrie shell, but I can’t fit him into the leprechaun theme. I can’t even find green shells. They are all white.”

“Does he have any other symbols?” Fiona asked, glancing suspiciously at the bright green color of her beer. “Not everything has to be one color.”

Caine Magnusson, the tavern owner and the leader of their local paranormal investigations group, Paranormal Research of Virginia Enterprises or PRoVE, was a beer connoisseur, and he wouldn’t stock anything but the best brews. Still, there was such a thing as too much green.

She glanced at the drink specials board, looking for an alternative, but her gaze fell on a green banner hung over the bar announcing the pub’s participation in the PRoVE-led St. Patrick’s Day Scavenger Hunt. Their scavenger hunt item was a selfie with their owl mascot and its new leprechaun hat. 

Her stomach knotted with anxiety. The banner reminded her that she had also signed up for the scavenger hunt. She had to come up with a holiday-themed item for the selfies asap.

She added that to her mental to-do list, sighed again, and drank the green beer. This was not the time to turn down alcohol.

Kat slumped in her seat. “His other symbol is coconuts.”

“That’s not helpful,” Fiona said, sipping her beer with care.

She didn’t know that much about beer, but it tasted fresh and sharp. Not bad at all.

“Nope,” Kat replied. “Too bad; I like mixing the deities up and the Celts are a cliché this time of year, but I’m going to have to resort to the Irish pantheon.”

Fiona smiled. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Kat laughed. “No kidding. I draw the line at leprechauns, however. Luanne bought a St. Patrick’s Day pillow with a horrid elf for the fortune-telling alcove, but she decided it was unlucky and put it away. Thank heavens she did, because the thing is hideous.” She shook her head, looking glum. “Anyway, what are you doing for the holiday?”

Fiona’s brow furrowed. She’d been picturing Celtic store displays featuring coconuts and cowrie shells. and the sudden topic change confused her. “What?”

“For the store decorations,” Kat said, reaching for a nacho. “What have you planned?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Fiona replied.

“Really?” Kat asked, frowning at the giant jalapeño on her nacho. “You usually jump right into the theme and it’s already March. Hasn’t Caine been nagging you about his scavenger hunt? He texts me every day to remind me to put up my Celtic god statues so the tourists can take pictures with them.”

Fiona winced. She had several unanswered messages from Caine on her phone. “I’ve been preoccupied. I’ll probably just add extra green candles for the scavenger hunt.”

But did she even have green candles? She’d meant to make some with mint and bergamot and she’d even bought the supplies, but she hadn’t gotten around to making them. 

“You can have Luanne’s horrid pillow then. That will get you started.” Kat frowned. “But what are you worried about? Is something wrong?”

Fiona stared at her beer, trying to come up with an answer. The email she’d just received weighed heavily on her mind. Kat was a friend and someone she could confide in, but she didn’t seem to have much in the way of family trouble. Her beloved grandmother had passed, and she had few other relatives. Would Kat understand? The closest thing the Banshee Creek Botánica manager had to family drama was an ancestor ghost in her house. 

But maybe she’d understand. That ghost had been an intense experience from what Fiona had heard.

Fiona took a deep breath. “I just have a bad feeling about—“

“You aren’t the only one, sister,” Luanne LaRue interrupted, collapsing into the seat next to Fiona. “I just finished my ‘lucky’ horoscopes for the next few weeks.”

She waved her left hand around, managing to signal extreme exhaustion and show off her brand-new engagement ring at the same time. It was a beautiful cluster of precious gemstones—grant, emerald, amethyst, and others—designed to match her psychic aura. Her fiancée, Sean Stickley, had commissioned it from a Mystic Bay jeweler and the sparkling stones fit Luanne’s personality perfectly. 

Kat frowned. “Why do I hear air quotes around the word lucky?”

“Because ‘unlucky’ would be more appropriate.” Luanne frowned at their beer pitcher. “But your beer is green, and I was trying to lighten the mood. Ominous would be better. Tragic would also work. Lots of family turmoil on the way.”

“Oh, dear,” Fiona said, grateful for the timely interruption, but also intimidated by the fortune-teller’s prediction. That email she’d received yesterday from her cousin was definitely turmoil-ish.

“You’re always such a ray of sunshine, Luanne,” Kat said. 

“What are you talking about?” Luanne said, gesturing toward the bar. “I was all rainbows and kittens for Valentine’s Day. That day went swimmingly.” She pursed her lips. “Mostly.” She she looked down at her left hand and grinned. “Well, it was a great day for me.”

Fiona smiled. Valentine’s Day had been quite hectic, as Luanne’s romantic predictions—particularly the ones pertaining to water signs—had caused quite a stir. Fortunately, Sean had taken advantage of Luanne’s distraction to pull off a surprise proposal. All’s well that ends well, as they said.

I had been quite a feat, as their resident fortune-teller was seldom surprised by anything. That’s why her offhand comment about family trouble was so worrisome. Not that the email from her cousin was a problem. It was just that…heck, her family was always a problem.

“What can I get you, Luanne?” a deep baritone voice asked behind them.

Fiona set her worries aside and focused on her friends. She would have plenty of time for family-related anxiety later.

“You’re waiting tables, Caine?” Kat asked, turning around to greet their waiter. 

The burly red-bearded biker nodded. He was wearing a black shirt with the Mangy Owl’s logo instead of his usual purple and gold PRoVE garb, and the color was a good match for his uncharacteristically sober expression. A bright green shamrock pin announcing “Kiss Me I’m Swedish” completed his ensemble.

“We’re short-staffed,” he explained. “Various servers have quit on us in the past few weeks.”

“Maybe you should pay more,” Luanne said, then she frowned. “No, actually that wouldn’t help.”

“I’ve already tried it,” Caine said. “It’s hard to compete with the dream of owning your own business and working from home.”

“Oh,” Kat said. “It’s one of those. Let me guess.” Her eyes narrowed, and she tapped her chin as she pretended to think. “Hexalife, I presume.” Her voice dripped with distaste. 

Fiona frowned, recalling the name. Something about it seemed familiar. She had seen it not long ago.

“Don’t they sell candles?” she asked, trying to remember.

She’d received several phone calls asking for Hexalife products in the past few weeks. She didn’t carry the line, so the callers were disappointed. But they were calling more often now, and getting more aggressive. She had a pile of brochures on her desk asking her to “Join the Hex Team” and “Lead the Hex-volution.” She would have to do something about them eventually. She made her own candles and disliked carrying other manufacturers’ brands, but like they said, the customer is always right.

“They sell everything,” Kat said. “Books, candles, ritual materials, herbs, robes. You name it. They have a copyrighted version ready to go with a cheery green hex logo.”

“They have a Tarot deck,” Luanne said. “It’s not bad, just a little simplistic.” 

“The magic merchandise is not the problem,” Caine grumbled. “It’s the business model.”

“You mean they call a lot?” Fiona asked. 

Caine shook his head. “Cold-calling to make a sale is fine. I don’t do it, but I kind of admire the people who do. It takes guts. What I mind is they drag people in and convince them to sell their stuff.” He glanced around the bar. “Three of my waiters quit to become Hexalife representatives, investing their hard-earned money on inventory and promotional materials. I don’t think they will get any of it back.”

“Probably not,” Kat said. “I sold Hexalife products for a while at the botánica, but that was before they ramped up the inventory requirements. I crunched some numbers when they asked me to invest more and realized I could never make it back. Then I quit.”

“Did they ask you to recruit other people?” Caine asked. “That’s what they did with Leslie. You remember her? She used to be a waitress here. She joined first, and then had to bring in the others.”

“I refused,” Kat said. “I’d just arrived in town and barely knew anyone. I couldn’t bring myself to ask Patricia or anyone else to join. Hexalife keep trying to drag me back, but I’ve managed to keep them at bay.” She shrugged. “The products are decent and the whole system is very easy to use. If you are a newbie witch or even just interested in developing a spiritual practice, it can be helpful.”

“I think it has expanded now,” Fiona said, remembering some of the products in the catalogs. “They have weight loss spell regimes now, and even beauty treatments.”

“Yes,” Caine growled. “Leslie tried to sell me the weight loss shakes. She’s a fitness fanatic.” He patted his midriff. “This is all muscle. I don’t need any magically balanced health shakes.”

“How can you magically balance a milkshake?” Fiona asked.

“The ingredients take into account your zodiac profile or guardian goddess,” Luanne explained. “They have several types. I tried a sample of the Virgo Veggie Smoothie Mix, and it wasn’t terrible.”

“Did you purchase it?” Kat asked.

Luanne grimaced. “Of course not.” She reached for a nacho. “I don’t eat vegetables, no matter how appropriate they may be for my star sign.”

“I don’t buy it,” Caine said. “There’s no such thing as a system that heals all that ails you. Hexalife claims it will help you lose weight, find love, get along with family members, and give you spiritual enlightenment. It can’t all work.” 

Kat smiled. “Don’t forget the making money part.” 

Caine rolled his eyes. “How could I? That’s the big one, and it’s why they are having their big meeting in Banshee Creek.”

Luanne winced. “Such a bad idea.”

“They are coming here?” Kat asked. 

Caine nodded. “The entire leadership. They’re planning a big expansion, and Leslie convinced them to announce it here. They will unveil a new range of products and launch a new marketing campaign.”

“Lucky us,” Luanne muttered.

“You can say that again. By the time they leave, I probably won’t have any employees left.” He heaved a deep sigh and took out his order pad. “Well, what can I get for you ladies?” He glanced at Fiona’s still-full glass. “Green beer not your thing?”

“I need tequila,” Luanne said, slapping her hand on the table. “I’ve had a bad day.” 

Caine raised a brow. “Mischievous Magic Margarita with a mint chocolate gold coin?” 

Luanne smiled. “Hey, I’m the fortune-teller around here.” 

“I’ll have one, too,” Kat said. “It looks like I’ll be spending the next couple of weeks fending off Hexalife recruiters. Let’s see whether those sorrows can be drowned.”

“Got it,” Caine replied. “How about you, Fiona?”

“Uh?” Fiona looked down at her beer glass, remembering that avoiding Hexalifers was the least of her problems. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Kat asked. “Our town will soon be invaded by fanatical witch entrepreneurs. We deserve all the margaritas.” 

“I’m sure,” Fiona replied, wrapping her fingers around the ice-cold glass. “This is enough for me.”

“Then make mine a double, Caine,” Kat said. “I’ll drink hers.” 

“C’mon,” Fiona said, raising her glass. “It may not be that awful. The products sound interesting.”

Particularly the one about getting along with family members. Some people got along with their relatives just fine. Her boyfriend—Gavin McKay, the Banshee Creek Fire Chief—hung out with his regularly, and they seldom had conflicts. It seemed like magic to Fiona, so no wonder Hexalife had a solution for it. How did it work, she wondered? Did they use a potion, or a spell—

Or maybe a candle?

“Oh, trust me,” Luanne whispered, staring off into the distance. “It is going to be that bad.” 

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