Easy Bake Coven (2 page)

“She’s at the Beltane festival,” I said as we piled into the minivan cab. Beltane was a festival of fire. I wasn’t too into the whole group festival thing, but I liked hearing about them when my friends came home.

“Damn, I forgot about that. I wanted to go this year,” Devin said.

“Where are
we
going?” Jessica asked as she slid the door closed.

 “Sky!” Devin said immediately. She was a bona fide karaoke junkie and Sky was her favorite hang out. Katrina groaned, Jessica laughed, and I called dibs on Bon Jovi.

A short car ride later we climbed out of the van, giggling. We saddled up to the counter, and the bartender came over. “Ladies, nice to see you again. What can I get you?”

“Cosmo,” called out Kat.

“Miller Lite,” added Jess.

“Ummm, do you have something fruity? Like something that’s sweet, but with no melon,” Devin asked, indecisive as ever.

“A sweet tart?” he asked.

“Sure, that’d be fine.”

“A vodka tonic and a round of Jägerbombs,” I said when it was my turn. The bartender tossed me a wink and knowing smile before he went about making the drinks. The girls groaned.

“Oh my God, I hate Jäger,” Jess complained.

“I thought you have to teach yoga in the morning?” Devin chimed.

Kat smirked with me as the bartender lined up our shots. “Here's to being single . . . drinking doubles . . . and seeing triple!” she proclaimed.

We clinked our glasses, downed the shots, then searched out a table. After a few drinks and a lot of laughing, my small family issues seemed miles away. I easily collected energy in the palm of my hand, enjoying the tingle, and looked at the girls, wondering if I could get away with it just this once. I kicked Kat underneath the table and she glanced over. I nodded toward Jessica’s beer sitting about six inches from the edge. I focused my will and easily slid it to the edge with a flick of my finger.

Kat squealed and Jessica turned toward us, knocking the beer over. It scattered on the concrete floor. Kat and I dissolved into giggles as Jess stared at the table, perplexed.

The 7:00 a.m. yoga class came much too soon. It felt like I collapsed into bed only to have my alarm start screeching. I crawled from beneath my covers, blurry eyed and cotton mouthed, downed some Advil, and made a green smoothie before heading for my studio, the Luna Lair.

I began teaching yoga classes while I was in college. I advertised on campus and before I knew it I had full rosters for every class and a waiting list to get in, so after graduation I used the money I had saved for my own studio. Recently, I’d been able to hire three more teachers and expand my operations. My little business venture had paid off, and thank goodness for that. I had no desire for an eight-to-five sort of job.

I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights in the storefront where I sold yoga clothes and accessories, candles, teas, smoothies, and charms. The charms and the candles were my own creation. New age people loved reading my signs about blue candles helping to achieve success and boosting confidence, red candles increasing sexual passion and determination, and green candles bringing wealth and luck. It was all true too, just not brought about quite as easily as burning a candle—but no one wanted to hear that part.

 Everyone wanted the easy road without the work it took to get there. You can burn every green candle in the world, but if you aren’t willing to put the work in, no money will come to you. Magic isn’t an easy fix. If anything it’s dangerous in that it gives people an excuse to be lazy. It wasn’t common knowledge that I was the one who made the luck charms or love candles they bought, but they all swore by them and the little directional spell cards I handed out with each purchase. I may not have been completely out as a witch, but I was profiting from it.

Once the candles were lit, the meditation playlist was softly filling the room, and I was sitting on the mat in full lotus position, my head stopped throbbing. I found my center like an old friend and meditated, clearing my mind completely of thought. I heard the faint sound of the door opening. Where had time gone? I should have had at least fifteen minutes before anyone arrived, but it appeared I was wrong. I opened my eyes to greet the first student—but in front of me stood a man I’d never seen before. He was around six feet tall and had a rangy build, disheveled brown hair, and a couple days’ worth of stubble. Attractive, but it was disarming to have a complete stranger walk into my studio before 7:00 a.m.

“Are you here for yoga?” I asked as I stood up, but I didn’t think so. In worn jeans, an untucked collared shirt, and a sweater with the sleeves rolled up haphazardly to mid-forearm, he wasn’t dressed for exercise.

“Selene…” His eyes searched my face, and a wondering smile twitched his lips.

I struggled not to frown as my heart sped up. “Yes, and you are?”

The hint of a smile smiled vanished. He narrowed his eyes. “Cheney.”

Something in me stirred at his name, but I couldn’t say what. He reached to shake my hand, but I locked my fingers behind my back suddenly afraid to touch him. His dark green eyes searched mine for recognition.

I shook my head. Who was this guy, and how did he know my name? “Do you know someone in this class, Mr. . . .” I trailed off, hoping he would fill in the blank.

“We don’t have time for games, Selene.”

What on earth was he talking about?

He,
Cheney
, exhaled in a gusty huff. His eyes hardened with irritation and his shoulders straightened. “Hunt. Cheney
Hunt
. Are you happy now?” He took a step closer, past my comfort zone, and his eyes glinted in a way that didn’t make me feel safe. “You need to come with me.”

“I don’t think so.” I took a couple steps back, plotting how I could escape if he attacked. My eyes flicked around the room. I saw no weapons to speak of, but if worse came to worst I’d use my natural gifts. All I had to do was make it to my office. I could barricade myself and call the cops.

“Do you think you can protect yourself when you’re all alone?”

“What can I help you with, Mr. Hunt?” My voice was icy and my eyes locked on him, waiting for a sign he was about to lunge. Head throbbing again, I collected energy within me. My fingers buzzed and tingled, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. Mr. Hunt had better tell me why he was here and soon or he’d regret the day he tried to kidnap me.

The door opened and two of my regular students walked in, smiling. I greeted them and some of my tension slipped away. Not so for Mr. Hunt. His frown deepened and he kept staring at me.

“Now appears to be a bad time for you,” he said, then turned away abruptly and strode to the door with the long, graceful strides of a dancer. He glanced back over his shoulder once. “I’ll be in touch.”

I stared at the door long after he’d left, hoping I never had to see Mr. Hunt again. Something was off about him, but what was it?

My students trickled in, laid their mats out, and chatted with each other. Some came up to me to report any areas of stiffness or pain they’d been having so I could adjust the lesson accordingly. We started promptly on time—I never waited for stragglers. If they couldn’t be respectful enough to make it to class on time, then they deserved to miss part of it. Making the rest of the class late wouldn’t be fair.

After the class many of the students stayed around, perusing the shop while I made them smoothies and switched the music to something a bit more upbeat. A typical Saturday morning.

“Oooo, what does the purple candle do?” asked Betsy, one of my most faithful participants.

“It’s supposed to ward off nightmares, help with more peaceful meditations.”

“Huh . . . Do you have a candle to help me find lost keys?” She laughed, several others joining her.

I smiled. “Try a brown one. After you light it, write ‘keys’ on a piece of paper and burn it in the flame while saying, ‘Bring to me what is lost, without a cost. Help me find, that which is mine,’ three times, then go to the first place that comes to your mind.”

Betsy looked at me with wide eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

“That’s what it says on the box.” I laughed. “It’s worth a try at least, right?”

“Have you ever tried any of this stuff?”

“No, of course not. Magic isn’t real.” I winked and gave what I hoped was a mysterious smile. They each bought a brown candle and laughed as they left about when they were going to try it, faithfully promising to report back on whether or not it worked.

About the time my first class left, the next group made their way in. Kelly, the afternoon instructor, came in before my noon class ended, waving at me from the door at the start of relaxation pose. I smiled at her, but kept my voice low and soothing as I dimmed the lights and led them toward inner stillness. When the room cleared, I straightened the studio, knowing that Kelly had the store taken care of. I restacked the blocks and straps and rolled my mat, depositing it in the storage closet before heading to the front.

“Hey, Selene.” Her exuberant voice made me smile. “How’s the morning gone? You sticking around this afternoon?”

“Yeah. I need to work on inventory and the books.” I made a face. I loved owning my own business, but I hated the administrative part of it. I put a hand on my stomach as it gurgled and glanced at the clock. It was after 1:00 p.m. Leslie should arrive any moment for lunch. I grabbed my bag and slipped into the restroom to change into my favorite maxi dress—white with orange and blue flowers scattered across the top and bottom— and a jean jacket. I ran a brush through my hair before coming back out, rolling the sleeves on the jacket.

I heard Leslie’s joyous laughter before I even saw her leaning against the counter talking to Kelly. “Selene! I hear I missed a good time last night.” Her amusement shook her whole body as she looked me over for signs of a hangover.

“You did. You ready to go? I’m starving.”

“Absolutely.”

I directed my attention to Kelly. “I’m going to lunch. I’ll be back before too long. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.”

I started for the door, then remembered the strange man. I held up a finger to Leslie, went back to the counter, and leaned over it so I could talk quietly. “Something strange happened this morning.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow and waited for me to continue.

I wasn’t certain how to phrase it. I didn’t want to scare Kelly, but I wanted her to be prepared if he came back. “A man came in before my 7:00 a.m. class. He didn’t say what he wanted, but he was . . . weird, you know? Just keep an eye out.”

She looked a little taken aback, but nodded. “What did he look like?”

“He was dressed nice, graceful, medium build . . .” I brought Hunt’s image back to my mind. “He looked like he probably had money, but it was just strange.”

“What did he say? Did he just stare at you?”

“No, he called me by name—and then he seemed annoyed I didn’t recognize him. He said he would see me soon.”

She laughed. “Are you sure you didn’t know him? Maybe you met him last night.”

I smiled and shook my head. “Just keep an eye open.” I tapped the counter three times before I followed Leslie out the door. We made the short walk to our favorite Spanish restaurant, famous for its amazing tapas and white sangria.