Twelve Shades of Midnight: Read online

  The Witch Next Door by Liliana Hart

  A Lovely Drop by Darynda Jones

  Dark Secrets: Stone Cold Dead by Shea Berkley

  Witched At Birth by Dakota Cassidy

  Midnight Renegade by Claire Cavanaugh

  Midnight Sun by Rachel Grant

  Spirit Woods by Trish McCallan

  Bodyguards In Heels: Hit & Run Hallie by Angi Morgan

  Night Of The Jaguar by Robin Perini

  Switching Hour by Robyn Peterman

  The School by Ann Voss Peterson

  Getting Wilde by Jenn Stark

  Copyright © 2014

  All works in this collection are copyrighted by their respective authors.

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9904111-0-9

  Published by Thursday Publishing

  Cover art and design by Renee George

  All works in this collection are works of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the authors’ imaginations and are not to be construed as real.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this collection may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  THE WITCH NEXT DOOR

  Liliana Hart

  Copyright © 2014

  Prologue

  They say things good and bad come in threes.

  On the eve of Winter Solstice—exactly thirty years ago at the stroke of midnight—the peaceful town of Cauldron’s Hollow celebrated the births of the three Goodnight babies.

  It was rare for triplets to be born—rarer still for those triplets to be witches—and even more rare for an entire community to celebrate their birth.

  More than three hundred years had passed since the last triplets had been born, and all knew these special babes were destined for greatness if they were allowed to flourish and grow in their powers. Because if the Goodnight’s flourished, so did Cauldron’s Hollow.

  The townspeople entwined the past with present day as if they were one and the same. It wasn’t uncommon to overhear how the last set of Goodnight triplets had met an untimely end during the witch trials over early morning cups of coffee at The Witches Brew. And it certainly wasn’t strange for locals to point out the large black rock that sat just outside the cemetery—The Sorcerer’s Rock—where witches had once been tried and beheaded. It was a symbol of what had once been—a reminder that not everyone embraced the differences in others.

  But just as the black rock stood as a stark reminder of tragedy, the white Victorian up the road on Goodnight Hill shone like a beacon of greatness and hope. It was a house that had withstood time and persecution. A good house, filled with love and laughter and family for generations. And on that Winter Solstice Eve, it was a house that welcomed the lusty cries of three new witches.

  And because witches aren’t without a flair for the dramatic, a lightning storm like none had ever seen whipped and crackled across the sky as the clock struck twelve. The townspeople watched in awe of the power that was wielded that night—as the wind howled and the trees bent and snapped like brittle bones—and as thunder rent the air and quaked the ground, and the sizzle of lightning tingled across the skin.

  With the strength of a thousand warriors and the pain that came with any battle, Illona Goodnight bore down to give birth to her first daughter at the same moment a great sword of lightning struck The Sorcerer’s Rock, cleaving it in two. And shortly after the birth of her first daughter came the second. And then the third. All before the clock finished striking twelve.

  And with tears only a mother can weep, she felt a love sweep over her that she’d never experienced—not even with her husband, Collin, who was her soulmate. Because she knew the burden of responsibility that would be placed on her daughters’ shoulders. And that they’d know joy and sorrow in equal measures. It was the destiny of any Goodnight witch.

  But her greatest wish for her daughters had nothing to do with the magic that ran through their veins. She wished only for their happiness—and in that happiness, to discover that love could be the most powerful magic of all.

  Chapter One

  “Change is coming,” Eloise Goodnight said to her sisters. “There was blood on the moon last night.”

  As the oldest of the three, even if only by a few seconds, she’d always considered herself the caretaker of the group. Minerva had a tendency to leap first and look later, and Lily was so sweet Eloise was always afraid someone would take advantage of her. So the responsibility fell to her to keep her family safe above all else.

  “I saw it in the scrying mirror last week,” Minerva piped in, stocking pumpkin scented bath salts onto the shelf.

  Even on a casual Sunday morning, Minerva looked paparazzi ready in black leather pants and knee-high boots with wicked heels. Her raven-colored hair was parted down the middle and fell to her waist, and her snug top showed an impressive amount of cleavage. A complete waste in Eloise’s opinion since Minerva would have to go into the city for anyone to notice her cleavage at all. Of the three of them, her middle sister was the one who got a kick out of looking the part of a witch. At least the commercialized version of it.

  The fall was a busy time of year for Witch Hazel, and though Cauldron’s Hollow didn’t have the kind of population that would normally support a specialty bath and body shop, their online orders more than made up for it. And it was Eloise’s job to make sure the supply met the demand. The shop was her baby—her creation—and the products she sold made from a combination of her own hands and magic.

  She mentally calculated how much more of the fall themed salts and lotions she’d have to make to fill all the orders and started a new list on the inventory sheet attached to the clipboard in her hand.

  “Minerva, if you saw the blood moon last week why didn’t you say something?” Lily said, admonishing her gently. “You know how Eloise worries.” She softened the statement by handing Minerva two more glass jars of bath salts out of the box on the floor so she wouldn’t have to bend down.

  Lily wasn’t quite as tall as Minerva’s six-feet, but she wasn’t far off. But where Minerva was statuesque, Lily was built like a dancer. Her white-blonde was pulled back into a ponytail and her jeans and Boston University sweatshirt had both seen better days. She wore no makeup, but she didn’t need it.

  Eloise had always thought it dreadfully unfair that as the oldest she hadn’t inherited height nor an ample bust size. Her sisters had gotten her share in both departments.

  Minerva shrugged and kept stocking. “Sorry. I’ve been distracted lately. Something is weird with my magic. I’m not seeing things how I have in the past. It’s like there’s a thin film over everything, so I can only make out shadows and shapes.” She admitted it nonchalantly, but Eloise could tell she was genuinely upset over the changes in her magic.

  “Sometimes seeing things differently isn’t a bad thing,” Lily said with encouragement. “Maybe your magic is growing and you just haven’t gotten a grasp on it yet. Mom always said it would change as we age.”

  Eloise looked up from her inventory list when she felt Lily’s magic reach out and brush across her skin, soo
thing them with a feeling of peace and happiness. This was Lily’s gift—taking away the hurts and disappointments from every day life—but in Eloise’s opinion, sometimes the hurt was necessary to forge the correct paths in the road ahead. It wasn’t an opinion in which Lily agreed with her. But still, it was hard to fight the gentle balm of Lily’s magic.

  “Well, the blood moon was clear enough through the haze,” Minerva said, straightening her spine. “Something is coming to Cauldron’s Hollow. But I don’t think it’s all bad. Like I said, the vision was hazy. Which is why I didn’t bring it up.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” Lily agreed, her dimples fluttering.

  “Hazy or not, it won’t hurt to do a protection ritual,” Eloise said, practical as always. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Agreed.”

  “It’s another week until the full moon.” Eloise went back to her inventory list, making another list for the supplies she’d need to gather for the ritual. “And another week of cooling temperatures. There was frost on the ground this morning.”

  She shuddered at the thought of performing the protection ritual when the moon was at its highest and the night at its coldest. “There’s nothing I like better than standing outside naked and getting frostbite on my nipples.”

  Minerva snickered and dusted her hands off, and then hauled the empty boxes back behind the counter.

  “If it makes you feel better I think those nipples are going to be getting warmed up pretty soon.” She waggled her eyebrows playfully and Eloise put her head back down to make her lists, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. Minerva was always trying to set her up with someone. Unfortunately, Cauldron’s Hollow wasn’t exactly teeming with single men under the age of forty. Or hell, even fifty. She wasn’t so picky about age.

  “Good grief, Minerva,” Lily said. “That is not a mental image I needed to see. Though I’m very happy your dry spell will be coming to an end, Eloise. Mom always said sex was like magic. If you don’t practice then you eventually lose the ability all together.”

  “Oh, she’s going to be getting a lot of practice,” Minerva smirked. “But word of advice. You might want to start growing your hair out. Otherwise it’s going to be really hard to cover the beard burn. Thank goddess it’s scarf weather.

  “I thought your visions were hazy,” Eloise said, raising a brow. “That seems like a very specific detail to me. Or maybe your magic is rising to a whole new level. Maybe you’re going to become the equivalent of a magical peeping Tom. Women will be coming from miles around just to see when their dry spells are going to end.”

  “Shut up, Eloise,” Minerva said. “And make fun all you want, but I know what I know. Along with the shadows that are hovering over Cauldron’s Hollow, I also saw love and light. And you were right at the center of it all. And it’s about damned time if you ask me.”

  “I’m pretty sure no one asked you. I don’t have time for any of that nonsense. The potential threat to Cauldron’s Hollow should be our first and only priority.”

  “She’s not saying it’s not,” Lily interjected, playing peacemaker as usual. “But there’s no harm in opening yourself up to something that could bring you happiness. What happened with Sam is well in the past. But you’re living in fear of what was instead of looking to the future.”

  Eloise cocked a hand on her hip and stared down her sisters. “Spend the day with Minerva and Lily, Eloise. It’ll be soooo much fun.” She rolled her eyes and dragged the empty boxes back into the storeroom just to escape for a moment.

  The mention of Sam’s name still brought grief and fear into her heart. Which was why if there was any chance another man might get in between her and the safety of the people she’d sworn to protect, she had to cut it off before it began. The last time she’d fallen in love she’d come too close to losing everything she held most dear. And that included her meddlesome sisters.

  When Eloise came back from the storeroom she was composed and had her shields wrapped tight around her. She knew how to control her emotions. With her kind of power she’d had to.

  Minerva and Lily both looked at her with mirroring guilty glances and she felt bad for being abrupt with them. They only had her best interests at heart. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was still living with the fear of the past. But those mistakes were what made for a cautious and protected future.

  “Listen,” Eloise said. “All we need to worry about is the blood moon and anything else that might seem out of place. We need to stay focused and keep our eyes open. The anniversary of The Reckoning is only a couple of months away. We don’t want to get caught off guard like our ancestors were. You guys and this community will always be my priority, no matter what the scrying mirror says. You know as well as I do that free will can change the course of what you see in the mirror.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s right,” Minerva said. “Just make sure that hard head of yours knows what its doing. You have an awful lot of life left to live with regrets.”

  “I already have a lifetime full of them. I know what I’m doing.” Eloise ignored the sad and somber stares from her sisters and smiled. “Now who wants lunch? I’m starving.”

  Chapter Two

  Barrett Delaney believed in intuition.

  From the moment he’d turned eighteen and left his last foster home, he’d trusted his gut feeling to lead him down the right road. That didn’t mean he always understood those instincts or spur of the moment decisions that had given him a reputation of having wanderlust and no desire to settle down, but he’d learned not to argue. Especially since his intuitive nature had saved his life on more than one occasion. He’d grown up hard and with considerable street skills, and that kind of background didn’t always pave the way for the easiest path.

  But he’d forged his way—worked—begged—borrowed—stolen—until the stories in his head had found a place on bookshelves all over the world. He never regretted or looked back. It was the next adventure—the next destination—that stirred his blood and whetted his appetite.

  He’d been on the other side of the world, enjoying the wild and untamed outback of Australia and putting the finishing touches on his latest novel when that sudden urge to move on had swept over him. He hadn’t fought it. The strength of those calls that led him from one place to the next was as much a part of him as the blood that ran through his veins or the scar on his knee from sliding into third base in a charity game a few years before.

  So he packed his duffle bag and his Remington typewriter and caught the first flight to New York. Barrett didn’t worry about where he was headed or that he didn’t have a clear plan in sight. He was fortunate to be financially stable and not worry about how he was going to get somewhere, or if he’d be able to eat once he got there. He’d come a long way since those foster home days.

  As soon as his plane touched down in New York he’d rented a car and started driving. It was just him and the road—complete freedom and a new adventure the only thing in sight. It was a sentiment not many could understand—the need to just go and live and experience everything he could.

  He was responsible in his career, of course. He never missed a deadline, and though his publisher wanted him to do more to promote himself—more tours, more appearances, more books a year—he was content with what he had and the limits he’d set. He’d found out early on if the work consumed him then the writing was no longer fun. It was just work. And he needed the fun. Fun opened the doors to all kinds of creativity.

  The drive from Manhattan up north had cleared his head and opened his eyes. Summer had come and gone while he’d been in Australia and fall had settled in comfortably. With the top open on his rented Jeep and the air crisp, he sped along winding roads and watched the reds and golds and oranges of the leaves pass him by in a flurry of color.

  He didn’t stop for directions or a map. Hours passed, along with the trees and the fading sun, as he followed the curves and hills and valleys of the asphalt. Just past the Massachusetts bord
er, he pulled to the side of the road and got out of the car to stretch his legs. And the moment his feet touched the pavement he knew there was something there—a feeling—a premonition. He didn’t know what to call it exactly. But he couldn’t believe it was coincidence that he’d chosen to stop at that spot, at that moment.

  Just ahead of him was one of the many stone bridges that arched over the two-lane stretch of road. But it was the sign hidden behind overgrown trees and ivy that caught his attention. The sign was plain and rectangular, and the once dark green paint had faded over time and neglect. Like so many of the signs in New England, it hung between two sturdy white posts, though they listed to one side.

  Barrett left the Jeep and walked down the shoulder of the road. It wasn’t until he was almost on top of the sign that he realized that just past the trees was a fork in the road.

  “The road less traveled,” he whispered. A gust of cold air blew in from the north and a shudder wracked his body. But he shook it off and trudged ahead.

  “Good thing I write horror novels or I’d be scared shitless right now.” And still the flesh on his arms pebbled the closer he got to the sign.

  The ivy lay thick over the wood, lush and gnarled, and as he went to move it a bird buzzed past his head and squawked, irritated at the disturbance. He laughed nervously and rubbed his hand over his stomach. Once his heart rate slowed back to normal he pulled at the ivy once more.

  “Cauldron’s Hollow,” he read, tracing the outline of the words with his finger. “Founded 1641. ”

  Something shifted in the atmosphere—something he couldn’t explain—and he knew this place was where he’d been coming all along.

  The air was heavy around him, as if waiting for something, and he got the sense that though his gut was telling him that Cauldron’s Hollow was the place to be, there was something else not quite as happy to welcome him.