Rest for the Wicked
By Cate Dean
SYNOPSIS:
She's running from her past – and running out of time.
Claire Wiche is an ordinary woman, running her Wicca shop in
an ordinary California beach town. But Claire wasn't always ordinary, and she
isn't quite human. She hides a secret, and a past she thought she had put
behind her.
A past that is about to explode into her present.
When it does, and everyone she loves is in danger, Claire
must face up to her past - and become what she left behind in order to save
them.
CATE SAYS:
This was one of my
favorite scenes to write. I got to create a spell, set the mood, and have it go
completely wrong. What fun! Here’s a little background: Annie Sullivan, one of
the main characters in The Claire Wiche
Chronicles, is doing exactly what she was told by her friend Claire not to
do: cast a love spell. As an inexperienced witch, Annie quickly loses control
of the spell – with disastrous consequences.
EXCERPT:
“You can do this,” Annie said to herself, her fingers shaking as she
pushed her hair back. “You can do
this.”
Opening the notebook, she skimmed the love spell she’d composed that
morning—and ignored the guilt scratching at her conscience for lying outright
to Claire.
She had learned so much more since that first unfortunate—incident.
And she had been practicing. Another little detail she failed to mention after
Claire’s last lecture on the dangers of using magic when she wasn’t ready.
She adjusted the cloak on her shoulders and checked everything on
the makeshift altar. One pink candle, bought at Claire’s competitor—another
scratch at her guilt. A small bowl, holding the herbs for her love powder. A
bottle of rose oil, also bought at the competitor. A lighter for the candle,
and the photo Mildred had given her: a charming man who looked like he was in
his late sixties. A bit young for Mildred, but at least they were born in the
same part of the century.
She carved his name into the side of the candle with her athame, and
set it in the center of the cloth, next to his photo. Mildred’s photo sat on
the other side of the candle. Mixing the herbs, she rubbed them on the candle,
then anointed it with the oil. She also rubbed both the powder and oil on his
photo, then Mildred’s, to create a connection.
Feeling a little silly, she picked up Mildred’s photo, lit the candle,
and held the photo up in front of her, Mildred’s face looking down at her
intended target.
Taking a deep breath, she started the spell.
“As this candle burns, so does
your love for me,
As this wax melts, so does
your heart for me,
By the power of three times
three,
As I will, so mote it be!”
After the third time through the table began to shake.
“Uh-oh—” Annie let out a scream as the candle flame shot up and
spread across the ceiling. “Oh God!”
She stumbled backward—and fell when she tripped over the stool she’d
set behind her just in case. Crawling toward the hall, she tried to call up a
counter spell. The fire merely cackled at her and kept coming.
“Where the hell is the extinguisher?” Smoke swirled around her. She
coughed, using the velvet of her cloak to keep from breathing in more of it.
The same cloak hindered every movement, tangling around her arms, her legs, a
living creature bent on stopping her. “Come on—”
She could no longer see through the smoke, her lungs on fire, her
eyes blinded by tears. Flattening herself against the floor, she focused on
moving. She refused to die here, to let a stupid love spell kill her in the one
place she felt safe—
“ANNIE!”
Claire burst through the smoke like an avenging angel.
Grabbing Annie, she dragged her in the opposite direction. Right
past the fire extinguisher.
“Claire—”
“Stay here.”
Huddled next to the corner of the door, breathing in the small
amount of fresh air seeping in through the uneven bottom, Annie watched Claire
as she stood up, both arms raised. The smoke seemed to recoil, and when she
started to chant under her breath, the fire whirled away from her.
She closed her hands into fists and the fire screamed, fleeing
across the ceiling, followed by the smoke. Claire moved with them, hair flying
around her as she raised a wind from nothing. That wind whipped her skirt
around her legs, then surrounded the smoke, tore it into dark, writhing shreds
until it let out a dying gasp and faded. Then she turned on the fire.
The wind disappeared, left only Claire. Small, defenseless, she
stood inches from the burning column, trapped in the far corner of the living
room. She spoke a single word.
“Leave.” The fire bulged. Annie screamed as the fire swallowed
Claire—then cut herself off when the fire wrapped around Claire, like it hit an
invisible shield. “You were not summoned. Now leave before I vanquish you.”
The fire screamed at her. And Annie watched, her mouth dropping
open, as it folded in on itself until it finally disappeared.
Claire lowered her head, swaying. With a shaky breath, she pushed
hair out of her face and headed for Annie.
“Claire—”
“Hush. Let me check you out.” Hands brushed over her, one settling
at her throat. “How bad?” Annie coughed, her eyes tearing up. “Okay, then. Arm
around me; we’ll get you over to the sofa.”
Claire half-dragged her across her small living room, lowered her to
the sofa, and disappeared into the kitchen. Blinking through her tears, Annie
scanned the living room. It looked like nothing had happened. No smoke damage,
no scorch marks. Claire returned with a glass of water, handed it to her.
“Drink.”
Annie obeyed. It felt like heaven as it slipped down her throat,
soothing every raw inch. It also gave her a chance to stall, to try and sort
out the thoughts flying around her mind. She knew Claire was powerful, but seeing
it, seeing her in action— Annie wasn’t sure she could ever look at her friend
the same again.
FIND OUT MORE:
Cate Dean has been writing since she could
hold a pen in her hand and put more than two words together on paper. She grew up losing herself in the wilds of
fantasy worlds, and has had some of her own adventures while tromping through
the UK, and a few other parts of the world. A lover of all things supernatural,
she infuses that love into her stories, giving them a unique edge. When she's not writing, she loves cooking,
scaring herself silly in the local cemeteries, and reading pretty much anything
she can get her hands on.
You can download Rest for the Wicked for FREE at the following places: AMAZON or BARNES AND NOBLE or KOBO or iTUNES.
