Bewitching Fire

  Bewitching Fire

  Sheritta Bitikofer

  Copyright © 2019 by Sheritta Bitikofer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Bridgette O’Hare of Wit & Whimsy Design

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-946821-44-7

  Print ISBN: 978-1-946821-46-1

  Created with Vellum

  Dedicated to all those who believe in magic, miracles, and the mystical power of a good cup of coffee.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  Also by Sheritta Bitikofer

  Chapter One

  “I already fed you, Artemis,” Krystal whispered to the long haired – and slightly pudgy – Siamese cat that brushed in and out between her legs. The cat meowed loudly and looked up to his owner with crystalline blue eyes as she inspected her hair in the hall mirror.

  Krystal plucked at her black bangs to even out the strands, even though she knew the autumn winds outside would toss them about. She shushed the greedy cat again and stepped over him once she was somewhat satisfied. Her sister, Sierra, was still asleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms and the walls in this old house weren’t soundproof. Krystal knew how grumpy her sister became when she was woken up too early.

  It was a good thing that Krystal was a morning person, otherwise waking up at five o’clock every day might have been unpleasant. Apart from the fact that she had to practically tiptoe across the hardwood floors, she enjoyed taking her time to fix her breakfast, have her first cup of coffee, and read a little, before stepping out onto their front porch.

  Artemis could care less about silence or food rations, and Krystal was sure that Sierra was sneaking the fat cat treats and extra helpings after she left for the coffee shop each morning.

  Krystal checked the time on her phone. Right on schedule, as always. She fled from the begging cat to sit on the antique mahogany hall butler bench and slipped on her knee-high black boots that accented her creamy, heavy woven skirt. Artemis thought he was awfully clever when he hopped onto the other side of the bench and pranced down to rub against her elbow.

  “I told you no,” she hissed as she snatched up her canvas coat from the hook above her head.

  Artemis gave her a displeased look and watched Krystal grab her purse as she hurried toward the door. Krystal knew something would get peed on during the course of the day; that is if Sierra didn’t dish out the cat’s second breakfast before he grew too impatient.

  Krystal locked the intricately carved set of doors behind her. The house, almost a century and a half old, was the jewel of the Goldcrest Cove Historical Society. It had been passed down through her family for generations, and it was her and her sister’s turn to be its caretakers.

  Sometimes that meant calling a specialist carpenter all the way from Boston, nearly an hour’s drive away, to fix some of the resin details on the staircase balusters. It also meant paying an arm and a leg for careful repair work on the electric wiring that had been installed throughout the house long after it was first built.

  Krystal made her way to the sidewalk and looked up at her beloved home. No matter the cost of the maintenance, it was worth it to keep this precious piece of her heritage alive. If only her older sister felt the same.

  The sun hadn’t risen just yet, but the night was slowly chased away by the coming dawn. Krystal loved this time of the morning when the sky was a light, smoky blue. Birds that hadn’t flown south for the winter already, could be heard chirping and twittering in the nearby trees that lined the road leading into town. Otherwise, Pinkerton Street was peaceful and quiet.

  The Perfect Books and Brews Coffee Shop wasn’t far from her home, just five blocks and nestled on one of the main thoroughfares that snaked around the center of town. Johnson Avenue and the south side of Goldcrest Cove was the picture of small town America. The gardens lined the front walkways that led up to Victorian homes, and the independently owned shops and restaurants that had kept tourists flocking here for decades.

  Nestled on the north Massachusetts shore, Goldcrest Cove attracted people from all over the northeast – and some from the south – with its seaside harbor and marina. It was a quaint retreat from the bigger cities. That meant Goldcrest Cove was considered a haven for the weary and exhausted businessmen from Boston and New York. It also meant her coffee shop would never go out of business. Someone had to serve tourists their caffeine.

  Krystal stepped up to her glass-paned shop door and already there were some motorists making their way up the avenue. She looked down the sidewalk and saw the lights in McRae’s Morsels flicker to life. She and the old woman who ran the shop made an agreement long ago that as long as Krystal didn’t sell pastries, Mrs. McRae wouldn’t serve coffee. That was the kind of “help-thy-neighbor” attitude that she loved about this town. With luck, it would never change.

  The tinkling of the little brass bell chimed above her head as she stepped inside. The overhead lights behind the counter were still on from the night before and helped her maneuver her way through the darkened maze of café tables that were spread out across the floor.

  Krystal stopped when she bumped her hip into one of the sharp table corners, and silently berated herself. “Lights on,” she sighed with a flick of her hand toward the backroom where the main switch was located. Instantly, the inset can lights popped on and she could see her way around even better. A lot of good her magical powers did if she didn’t use them every once in a while.

  Krystal first got the idea to open a bookstore-slash-coffee shop when she was a senior in high school. She and her two best friends, Alex Boyer and Valerie Lloyd, decided that as soon as they were able, they would open the shop together. The community needed a casual meetup place besides restaurants and gas stations.

  Five years ago, they did it, and life had never been better. Sure, it was a little rocky at first, but Alexa’s knack for numbers came in handy. She had even earned her degree in accounting at the community college once the three of them found out that running a business wasn’t going to be all sunshine and roses.

  While Alexa served as the bookkeeper, Valerie set to designing the interior. It was her idea to lay real bricks against the sheet rock walls to give it that vintage, cozy feel. She even picked out the distressed oak flooring that matched the countertops and tables. Floor to ceiling bookcases consumed the far wall of the coffee shop, every shelf filled with novels and reference books that were available to her patrons to browse through or buy. She didn’t go to school for design, but they all agreed that she had an eye for matching colors and finding out what looked warm and inviting.

  That was what they wanted this coffee shop to be. Warm and inviting. Krystal wanted it to be a home away from home for loyal customers. It became that and so much more. Like the historical landmarks and statues on Main Street just a couple of blocks to the north, Perfect Books and Brews had become p
art of the community. A live and breathing piece of their local culture.

  She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Krystal was the one who came up with the personal touches that made Perfect Books and Brews so appealing. She hung her coat on the driftwood plank coatrack just beside the sales counter. Every guest was offered a hook if one was available. Behind the counter were several shelves where personalized coffee mugs sat, waiting for their owner to come in and use them. They had a mug for the police chief and his officers, the mayor, some of the other shop owners on Johnson Avenue, and many other citizens like teachers, lawyers, single moms, doctors, construction workers, and anyone else who came here to take a break from their everyday lives.

  Krystal picked up her mug, a beautifully crafted piece she bought at a fair years ago with a shiny, green and blue glaze. The images of leaves and vines encircled the body of the mug and wound around the handle.

  After starting up the coffee grinder on the far back counter of their brewing station, Krystal set to making her own drink for the morning. The coffee she kept at home was fine, but she couldn’t really start her workday without her chai tea latte.

  Just as she was sprinkling the bits of cinnamon on top of the white foam, the shop door opened, and the bell heralded the arrival of Valerie.

  She glanced up as her friend shuffled across the floor and her hip bumped into a corner of one of the tables, the same one Krystal had bumped into just a couple of minutes ago.

  Valerie let out a whimper and continued on her zombie-like walk toward the sales counter.

  “Want me to make your café mocha?” Krystal asked as she pulled back her long, straight black hair into a high ponytail, leaving her bangs to tickle the tops of her brows.

  Valerie let out a groan and blindly grabbed for her simple black mug from the shelf behind the counter. She dropped her messenger bag on the floor and deftly set to work on her own morning wakeup juice, as if her friend hadn’t said a word to her.

  “At least you’re on time,” Krystal remarked as she turned and sipped on her latte. Perfection.

  Valerie ran her fingers through her short brown hair and in this light, Krystal could see the streaks of dark red stand out. Sierra, another entrepreneur of Johnson Avenue, had dyed Valerie’s hair dozens of times, trying out new and exciting colors that her friend would have never been able to get away with at other jobs.

  “Shane was playing videogames all night,” she grumbled.

  Shane Stokes was a history teacher and a roommate of Valerie’s since she moved out of her aunt’s house just a year or two after high school. He was at least five years older than the girls, but you would never guess it, judging by the way he behaved like one of his own students.

  “And the noise kept you up all night?”

  Valerie turned around and leaned against the counter. Dark circles hung under her heavily lined green eyes. “No, I was playing co-op with him,” she replied. “I didn’t even realize what time it was until I checked the clock and saw it was two in the morning.”

  Krystal winced. “You better put some espresso in that mocha then.”

  “Blessed be!” a cry came from the door, preceding the brass bell. Krystal didn’t need to turn to know that it was Alexa who came skipping between the tables, her loose blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders.

  Valerie rolled her eyes and slumped against the counter. Krystal couldn’t help but smile. Alexa had enough energy for all of them, and probably enough to power the whole city. If only they could find a way to bottle it and sell it with their house blend coffee grounds.

  Alexa hung up her white cashmere coat and stowed away her designer purse under the counter with Krystal’s. “And how are you two lovely witches this morning?”

  If they weren’t alone, Krystal would have shushed her friend. The shop didn’t open for another few minutes and they were free to talk all they wanted about witches, magic, and their charm goals for the day.

  “Val’s sleepy,” Krystal said with a sympathetic flavoring to her words.

  Alexa snatched up her bright purple fairy mug to make her usual caramel macchiato.

  Like she needed any caffeine.

  “Sleepy is an understatement,” Valerie corrected as she pumped chocolate into her coffee. Krystal wondered if she realized she just put in twice the usual amount, but she wasn’t going to question it.

  “Okay, Val’s running on fumes,” Krystal corrected with a shrug.

  Alexa set down her mug and skittered over to her tired friend. “Here, let me help.”

  Valerie quickly edged away and lifted her coffee out of reach from the petite blonde. “No way,” she barked. “The last time you charmed my coffee too early in the morning, I was shitting glitter for a week.”

  Krystal laughed, remembering that time when Alexa snuck a quick joy charm into Valerie’s drink.

  Granted, she was being a grouch that day and Alexa was just trying to help.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “How am I supposed to get better at charms if you guys won’t let me practice?”

  “You can’t practice on the customers,” Krystal countered. “And we do let you try sometimes.”

  Alexa rolled her pretty blue eyes. “Yeah, only the really basic ones. I’m ready to move on from charisma charms.”

  They had been working with Alexa for almost all her life and she still struggled with the simplest of spells and charms. Being only a half-blooded witch, many of her charms didn’t go exactly according to plan. Some could have nasty side effects, which was why Krystal and Valerie were in charge of charming the coffee while Alexa served the customers. With her peppy attitude, it was a good fit and their patrons appreciated her smiling face first thing in the morning.

  Krystal, Valerie, and Alexa were witches and had been since birth. Krystal was older just by a few months, but they had been the best of friends since they could walk. Krystal’s parents encouraged the playdates, especially when Valerie’s parents died and Alexa’s single mom became busy working long nightshifts.

  Out of them all, Krystal was the most fortunate. She had come from a long line of witches and warlocks and her family had always been supportive in her training. Her two friends were not so lucky and they clung together, somewhat out of necessity. There were other witches in town, but these three were so close in age that they became instant friends.

  When Krystal confessed her motives for opening the coffee shop, she wasn’t too shy to tell them the truth. The cardinal rule of their witchcraft order was that they could never use their powers on non-magic folk. Krystal never agreed with that. What good was having these miraculous powers if they couldn’t heal and help people?

  The coffee shop would change all of that. If a customer came in with a problem, anything from their hair falling out to a disagreeable pending divorce, the girls helped in what way their magic would let them. They charmed the drinks with exactly what the customer needed, whether it was a little confidence to finally ask their secret crush out on a date or a financial blessing that would help them get through a rough patch in the month. It was their way to give back to the community, to pay it forward and use their powers for unselfish reasons. Valerie and Alexa were totally on board as soon as Krystal was done explaining her plan. They too, wanted to take their magical creed of “Do No Harm” a step further.

  At first, they were a little reckless with their charms and helped everyone who came in with the tiniest of problems. It might have become too obvious. So Krystal had to set a quota limit for them each day. They would only pick the most desperate customers, the ones who were diagnosed with cancer or at risk of losing a job that helped to feed their family. They had to carefully choose who would benefit from their powers. Five became a fairly comfortable number.

  Krystal had set up a little chalkboard by the counter and they would keep a daily tally.

  “We can work on different charms on your day off,” Krystal told Alexa as she hung the small chalkboard back on
the hook after wiping it clean.

  “You mean half-day off,” Alexa quipped as she turned back to her half-brewed macchiato.

  To Krystal’s chagrin, she was right. There were plenty of perks to being a witch running a coffee shop, but one major downside was that they could only hire magic folk. There was no shortage of them in Goldcrest Cove, but they all had stable jobs of their own.

  Sierra owned a salon down the avenue, Amber McCain ran her own bed and breakfast on the outskirts of town, and Taylor Morrow had her plant nursery just a little farther south of Krystal’s home. Unless another witch came to town looking for work, the three girls were slap out of luck. And with the holidays just around the corner, Krystal may have had to beg and plead her friends to take extra shifts to handle the hours.

  However, Thanksgiving was still a month away and the annual Fall Harvest Festival was in the forefront of Krystal’s mind. They had a lot to do to prepare for Samhain and Halloween this year, including making sure that they were well stocked on everything they would need for their hot chocolate booth on Main Street.

  It was hard work, running this shop. But with her friends, all the long nights, the headaches, and the careful planning were worth it to see the happiness in their customers’ eyes when they took the first sip of their morning coffee.

  “Walking two blocks to this coffee place is worth it?” Devin complained after his new partner, Aaron, tried to convince him that braving the task of finding a parking spot along Johnson Avenue was well worth the effort.

  “Totally,” the cop replied as they passed by an older couple on the street, both holding to-go coffee cups with the Perfect Books and Brews logo printed on the sides. “It’s the only coffee shop in town and I want you to get a taste of what real, small town coffee tastes like.”