An amazing story! Definitely a keeper.
A must read. A good page turner.
A enjoyable read. An average book.
A book that has flaws and is hard to finish.
Terrible and couldn't finish it.
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The Cat’s Meow
Witch’s Brew Book One
Witch’s Brew Book One
Stacey Kennedy
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Entangled Publishing
ISBN: 9781622668571
ASIN: B00ANY22Z4
Number of pages: 256 pages
Word Count: 75,000 words
Cover Artist: PJ Edwards
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/MqNMxCThE-Q
Book Description:
Libby is an Enchantress—a witch gifted by the Goddess to
conjure spells. When a magical presence is detected around a recent string of
feline slayings, Libby takes the case to uncover the reasons behind the odd
deaths. Much to her displeasure, the coven also sends a sexy warlock, Kale, to
assist her.
While having the muscle around proves to be useful, fighting
the attraction between them is worse than a hex, especially considering Kale is
keeping secrets. But soon, Libby has bigger problems than the elusive warlock
when her spells turn up clues that point to something far more sinister than
slaughtered cats.
Now Libby has landed herself in the midst of an uprising.
She trusts no one and isn’t safe—not from the warlocks stirring up trouble. Not
from the worrisome rebellion she can’t escape. And certainly not from Kale, who
is weaving a very dangerous spell over her heart.
Chapter One
Fur. Guts. Blood.
I scrunched my nose as my spaghetti dinner threatened to
make an appearance at the sight of the slaughtered black cat on the forest
floor. The kitty’s stomach gaped open and its intestines spilled out along the
ground, as well as other grossness I’d rather avoid.
Not how I intended to spend my night, or any night for that
matter. I turned to my fellow witch, Peyton. “Of all the hobbies to take up,
taxidermy isn’t something I’d peg you as interested in.”
Flicking her blond bouncy curls over her shoulders, her
baby-blue eyes narrowed on me. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Libby.”
Not as if her wrath had the desired effect; an angry Peyton
looked as deadly as a growling puppy. She placed her hands on her tiny waist,
pursing her lips. Too bad, I only paid attention to her cute knee-length black
baby-doll dress, a tad jealous I didn’t own it. “Look at the poor kitty. Its
guts are hanging out.”
“Yes, I see that.” Even if I wanted to pretend I didn’t. In
fact, I would have preferred to enjoy the dark night surrounded by the rich
earthy scents of the large trees hugging the trail. Sadly, that wasn’t an
option. Once again, I glanced down at the disgustingness at my feet.
From all viewpoints, this appeared to be an open-and-shut
case. “Looks like a wild animal wanted a snack.” Evil warlocks, I’m there. A
dead cat was not a priority. “You better have a good reason for bringing me
here.”
“An animal didn’t do this. There’s magic present.” She
fiddled with the hem of her incredibly cute dress. “Besides, it’s the fourth
gutted cat in three days.”
I paused at that bit of weirdness. I had dealt with at least
a hundred cases in the five years I’d worked for Charleston’s coven, and out of all of those
cases, none had ever involved animal murders. Four cats in three days was
staggering.
I sighed, beginning to understand my presence there. “Four,
really?”
Worry darkened Peyton’s eyes. “Each death the coven has sent
me to, there has been this weird magical presence.” She rubbed her arms,
shaking her head at the dead cat. “It’s peculiar.”
The leaves beneath the cat’s body were soaked in enough
blood that I assumed it had been killed at this location. To my disappointment,
even with that knowledge no answers materialized, and actually more questions
were raised. “If this is the fourth cat, why is this only coming up now?”
“At first, it didn’t seem malicious and no human deaths
resulted from the dead cats.” She shrugged. “Now, with this many felines dead,
it could be an animal ritual.”
“Possibly,” I agreed. Charleston’s
last case of a warlock tapping into dark magic happened only a week ago, but it
got cleaned up quickly enough and the warlock received his death sentence.
Compared to that, a few dead cats wouldn’t concern the coven, but then why did
it now?
Furthermore, why hadn’t the coven contacted me? Peyton held
the ability to sense magic’s presence. I am an Enchantress, a witch gifted
to work spells. We both held an important role in the coven, as did every witch
and warlock who worked for them. Peyton located the scenes tainted with magic,
I found the offenders, other witches assisted with different gifts, and
warlocks killed the guilty.
If the coven had been as concerned as Peyton seemed now, I
would’ve been brought into this a lot sooner. They would’ve requested I take on
the case to search around and see if I discovered a reason behind it. That I
knew with total certainty. The coven didn’t take chances on these things. The
longer we waited to act on someone who harbored evil, the higher the chance
they would succeed.
“The coven clearly wasn’t worried about the past deaths, so
what’s happened to change their opinion?”
Peyton nibbled her lip. “They didn’t think much of it before
because the level of magic isn’t dangerous. Strong, yes, but not dark.” She
continued to rub her arms, shifting uneasily on her feet. “I’ve been watching
over the matter to see if things worsened, but the only change has been more
deaths.” She tilted her head. “One cat can be shoved aside as maybe someone who
practiced their magic. This many deaths can’t be overlooked.”
The coven obviously requested that she see if the levels of
magic had increased. Yet, why did Peyton call me and not the coven? An order
had never come to me in this manner before and it made me curious. “Who told
you to ask me to come here?”
“Glenda.” Peyton grimaced at Fluffy. “There’s a reason
behind this. The Goddess is warning me.”
I refused to look at the mangy beast and attempted not to
inhale the odor of decomposed flesh beneath me. Instead, I scanned the area.
Within the dark night the old trees around me created shadows. The stars above
twinkled in the sky and the damp grass below my boots glistened with dew. A
typical night for me—I hadn’t seen a sunny day in the five years I’d been
employed by the coven.
Danger happened during the witching hours of midnight to
three in the morning because magic held the most strength then, so the coven
stuck to the night shift. I’d become so accustomed to it I never missed the
days I had lounged in the sun anymore.
On a sigh, I continued to ponder the fluffball at my feet.
If magic were present, clearly someone had either spilled its blood as an
offering to dark magic, or simply practiced a spell to kill. Either one sucked,
at best. Resolved I’d get nowhere in discovering the truth right now, I moved
along. “What does the coven expect me to do about this?”
Peyton rolled her eyes, giving her customary flippant look.
“Find who’s responsible.”
I snorted. “What am I, a pet detective?”
“Yes, Lib, that’s exactly what you are.” She frowned. “Must
you be a smart-ass all the time?”
I grinned. “I must.”
She ignored my dig—as usual—and carried on in a hurried
tone. “Stop stalling, conjure a spell, and fix it.”
“You know I can’t—it’s dead.” I glanced at the cat and
groaned. Yes, still very dead. “The coven would wring my neck if I
brought it back to life.”
The role as Enchantress with the coven came with one
rule—never step out of white magic boundaries. Resurrecting a dead
cat hit the no-no list. My job within the coven: stop those who went against
the coven rules to protect human lives, since the last thing we needed was the
human population going out on a witch hunt. The coven existed to keep witches
in Charleston
safe. That one law ruled my life.
Peyton’s shoulders slumped and her eyes saddened. “Okay,
okay. I know we can’t, but it’s so sad, the poor little kitty.”
My best friend at her finest: her soft heart in this cold
magical world had never changed over the years. Yet Peyton’s innocence had once
been damaged by loss and pain over the death of her mother, and ever since
she’d been emotionally fragile. Three years ago, I’d seen her go into a deep
depression at the death of a teenager, and it took her a good month to recover.
I would give my life to ensure she stayed away from anything that could damage
her again.
Especially now, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes,
confirming that any death still rattled her. “Who’d do this?”
“Someone after a higher power.”
At the low velvety voice, I glanced over my shoulder,
scowling at the approaching warlock. The coven’s muscle came after I found the
offenders. I preferred no help, so his presence at my scene awakened
my inner bitch.
Not to say I didn’t realize their worth to the coven. I
might be brave, but I couldn’t kill, and warlocks held that desire in spades.
However, his presence this early in an investigation meant this matter leaned
to the serious side. The coven wouldn’t have called him in if something wasn’t
up. More to the point, called in a warlock I’d never seen before. Two strikes
against my coven on the “what the hell are they doing” meter.
“Go away.” I pushed the bitch to the forefront of my voice
and snapped, “I’ll call the coven when I’m done.”
“I’m looking for Libby Jenkins.” The warlock stopped a foot
away by a fallen tree, ignoring my demand, and in the same low voice with a
slight Southern accent said, “Would that be you?”
I grunted, not at all impressed with the confidence he
exuded, either in his voice or his powerful posture. Doubly annoyed, in fact.
“I’m Libby. You are?”
As he took a step into the moonlight, the shadows of the
night left his face. He appeared relaxed, shoulders back in his black T-shirt,
chest out, and chin lifted. Typical I am a fine specimen of man.
His eyes were a shadowy gray and his face was defined by
hard angles, from his high cheekbones and sculpted jaw to lips that seemed
carved out for a serious smooch. His chocolate-brown hair reached the bottom of
his ears, all scruffy and sexy-like, and he filled out his pair of faded blue
jeans well enough.
Not like that impressed me either. Warlocks tended
to be pretty. Maybe to some I’d be easy on the eyes with my small
frame, longish light-brown hair with honey and auburn highlights, and my
dark-blue eyes. But it came from the magic, not a natural gift. Besides, witches
aged the same as the humans we lived among. We just tended to do it a little
more gracefully, and typically lived to be over a hundred.
The warlock’s focus swept over Peyton as if he took a
measure of her before his firm gaze returned to me. “I’m Kale Griffin. The
coven requested I join you on this case.”
Great. What serious danger had I landed myself in? “They
what?”
Sure, Kale looked nice, but I didn’t want—or need—his help.
The idea of being teamed up with a warlock interested me about as much as if someone
pulled out my hair strand by strand. Besides, never in all the years I had
worked for the coven did they team me up with a warlock, which only made me
wonder why they’d done it. I thought back over the past cases I’d worked.
Perhaps some cases took longer to solve than others, but why in the hell had
they sent me a babysitter now?
Stacey Kennedy’s novels are lighthearted fantasy with
heart-squeezing, thigh-clenching romance, and even give a good chuckle every
now and again. But within the stories you’ll also find fast-paced action,
life-threatening moments, and a big bad villain who needs to be destroyed. She
lives in Southwestern Ontario with her husband
and two children. If she’s not plugging away at a new story—which is rare because
her muse is annoying—you’ll find her camping, curling up with the latest flick,
or obsessing over Sons of Anarchy, Games of Thrones, Supernatural and Dexter.
Website - http://www.staceykennedy.com/
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/AuthorStaceyKennedy
Facebook Fan Page - www.facebook.com/StaceyKennedyFanPage
Twitter - https://twitter.com/#!/Stacey_Kennedy
Amazon Author Page - http://www.amazon.com/Stacey-Kennedy/e/B004G9KR9A/
