Page 1 of Haunt Me, Maybe

CHAPTER ONE

A chill wind swept through the partly open windows of my room, making the fire sputter and shadows dance off the textured walls. Heavy whispers clung like a bad omen, threatening pain and death. I sat up in bed, blankets clutched in my fists, and watched as the small glass panes on the far wall frosted over, then cracked. It was here, the Ashwood curse.

Or rather, he was here.

My mouth ran dry as nausea churned in my gut. I was out of time. Usually, the omen arrived far too late and was more of a confirmation that an Ashwood would lose their life than a warning to run. Like when a red circle formed around the full moon, I knew blood would be spilled.

I had minutes, maybe seconds, to act. Throwing the blankets off my legs, I cautiously set my bare feet on the aged floorboards and tiptoed to the dresser so they wouldn’t squeak. Socks, underwear, tights; I threw them all onto the bed. Some leggings and T-shirts went next.

Thankfully, I kept a partially-packed duffel tucked in the corner, just in case. I learned long ago to be prepared for nights such as these. The Ashwood witches were known far and wide for our powerful illusions, both in casting and brewing, and our spells were in high demand. Mother said I had a real gift, with uncanny control for manipulating even the more difficult senses like scent and sound. A gift that had saved my life more times than I could count when the curse came calling.

I wasn’t even sure if it was a curse or if my family was just the victim of a deranged monster, but he always found us. Gideon. A powerful warlock in his own right, he was obsessed with stealing my family’s magic. Whether it was for power, greed, or jealousy, he’d made it his life’s goal to drain my line.

My entire life, we’d been hunted. He was the boogeyman. The monster under the bed. The constant warning in the back of my mind to be cautious, control my castings, and to never, ever, get complacent.

All that remained of my family were the aunts and me. I wasn’t even sure what branch the aunts hailed from, but our magic recognized each other on sight. And they were strong. Strong enough to have hidden me these blessed few years as I finished my training and reached adulthood.

Strong enough to take on Gideon, I hoped.

Now officially a full-blooded witch of my line, was claiming my birthright what triggered him finding us? Was my last spell not controlled enough? What if my magic leaked while I slept again? Was it my fault that my life and those of my kin were in peril?

I shook my head and focused on the task at hand; there would be time for what-ifs later—pending survival. Clothes packed, I hastily grabbed my bag of charms, my few bottles of completed potions, and whatever else my eyes landed on as I crossed the room for my boots. If we moved quickly enough, maybe we could get out of here before⁠—

A door slammed downstairs. There was a muffled shout, a rattling buzz in the air…then the illusion around the cottage shattered.

I was rooted to the floor as panic battled with dread in my system. The tips of my fingers tingled and went numb. Muscles tensed with nowhere to flee, and I backed away from my bedroom door, boots still clutched in my hands. Just like when I was eight, and twelve, and seventeen, terror held me immobile as my worst nightmares played out in sickening repetition.

Only, I wasn’t a child anymore, and I wasn’t untrained. I was a powerful, pissed-off, fully grown witch, dammit. What stopped me from fighting back this time? My eyes scanned the dark room, seeking some sort of weapon, but all the dangerous potions and spells were kept in the workroom downstairs.

Maybe a simple flash potion? To blind him and give the aunts an opening. That’s what I would do. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slipped my boots on and reached into the drawer of my nightstand for the potion. Two steps toward the door, and I was stopped by a very angry and very puffed-up Sonoran Bog toad.

“Move, Fenn,” I commanded, voice still tight with fear.

The fat amphibian wiggled until his large stomach was basically suctioned to the floor and then pinned me with an unyielding glare.

Absolutely not! he croaked. I didn’t spend all this time raising you for you to succumb to one moment of brave stupidity, Aven.

My jaw clenched. “You didn’t raise me. I was already a teenager when we bonded.”

Snout lifted in arrogance, his little nostrils flared. You were barely more than a hatchling who hadn’t absorbed her tail.

I didn’t know what that meant, but his body language communicated well enough that there was no way I was getting past him. Shifting on my feet, I fought the urge to leap and try for the door anyway. Fenn eyed me like he saw the plotting and was ready to hex me into submission if I even attempted it.

“I can fight,” I pleaded. “Let me help them!”

The sounds of battle already carried up to the tiny hall housing my room. If Fenn would let me open the door, I’d have a better idea of what was happening. It was killing me to stand here, not knowing how the aunts fared. Were they holding their own and keeping Gideon out of the house? Or was he already inside and ritualistically murdering them while I argued with my familiar?

You’re not ready, Fenn emphasized, tone gentle, as if he knew what a blow it was to hear. Right now, the only thing keeping Gideon from finding you is the aunts downstairs and the illusions over this room. Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain.

I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. He all but confirmed they would die tonight. I knew it the moment I saw the omen, yet still foolishly clung to the hope that this time would turn out different. Even now, the cottage fell silent beneath us as a dark pressure rose to fill what was once a peaceful escape.

My hands began to shake, despite how tightly I held my fists at my side. I wanted this place to be my home, and it had finally started to feel like it. Now it was just another memory stained red with guilt and misery.

“What do we do?” I finally asked.

I wasn’t yet skilled enough to hold an illusion as complex as invisibility while moving, so running out the front door wasn’t an option. The only other way out of this room was the window, followed by scaling the giant pine tree outside. With my duffel bag over my shoulder, it was doable, and my Jeep was parked behind the cottage to avoid the giant garden that overtook the front yard, driveway included.

Whatever we must, Fenn stressed, then wiped his eye with a back-webbed foot.