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    A Lying Witch Book Three
    A Lying Witch Book Three
    A Lying Witch Book Three
    Ebook179 pages2 hours

    A Lying Witch Book Three

    By Odette C. Bell

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Chi may have defeated Fagen, but the battle for Bane City’s hearts has only just begun.
    The questions keep mounting, but Chi has no time to find answers.
    The Lonely King strikes again, and this time she can’t stop him. He’ll use Chi’s heart to open a door to the past. Chi’s the only witch who can stop him. But there’s a problem - a big one. Chi has finally figured out her magic comes at a cost. Now she’ll have to decide between everyone else’s future and her own.
    ....
    A Lying Witch follows a crooked fortuneteller and her dangerous bodyguard fighting to solve crimes and uncover the truth. If you love your urban fantasies with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab A Lying Witch Book Three today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOdette C. Bell
    Release dateNov 2, 2016
    ISBN9781370988464
    A Lying Witch Book Three

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      Book preview

      A Lying Witch Book Three - Odette C. Bell

      Chapter 1

      I sat at the kitchen table, head rested on my palm, gaze locked on my magical bodyguard’s back.

      Max was back to normal. Technically. He’d lost most of his memory after his fight with Dimitri.

      But me? Oh, my memory was fine. I could remember every single detail of what had happened to me in the past.

      The only problem was, I still had no clue what had actually happened. What was worse? Oh, what was worse is I couldn’t even begin to ask Max. Because every time I did, this would happen—

      Max, I know you keep dodging the question, but I’m still curious about your past— I didn’t even get the chance to finish my question. As soon as my words were out, Max stiffened.

      His whole back became a washboard. I could practically see each muscle seize one-by-one.

      What’s more, I saw it – the shadow.

      It may have only been a couple of weeks since the incident with Fagan, but that didn’t mean I’d been idle. I’d been questioning Max at every opportunity I got, and every time I did, that shadow would always loom larger and darker than before.

      I was way beyond thinking it was a mere trick of the light. Hell no. It was the way it sat over objects, not accommodating to their shape but smothering them like a dark swathe of fire.

      Oh, and its effect on me was always unmistakable. Though I always hid it, my heart would race, my mouth would dry, and my skin would prickle with fear. Fear, and something else.

      Chi, how many times do I have to tell you, Max began.

      I plastered a friendly smile over my mouth as I continued to watch Max’s shadow. You don’t have any memories of your past. And what you do remember, you can rarely trust. Yeah, sorry. I just forgot, I lied, never shifting my gaze, let alone blinking.

      Max still had his back to me as he did the washing up, and finally, his stiff shoulders dropped.

      The shadow? It seemed to stick around for a while, looming large and dark over the kitchen bench and a chunk of the white-and-black linoleum.

      … It couldn’t be him, right? The Max I’d seen from the past? Because that had just been a vision, yeah? Some random throwback to Mary McLane – some crazy nightmare induced by my near-death experience.

      Max suddenly turned. I blinked and immediately hooked my fringe behind my ears, resting my hand there as I kind of hid behind my fingers to distract him.

      It didn’t work. He frowned at me as he hooked a chair leg with his boot, tugged the chair around, and sat roughly.

      Weirdly, he didn’t cross his arms, just reached a hand forward, rested his broad, marked palm on the edge of the bench, and began drumming his strong fingers against the wood. Chi, what is it?

      I pressed my bottom lip high into my top lip and shrugged. Nothing. Just enjoying the bright sunny day, I said without thinking.

      Max pointedly gestured towards the French doors to our left. They were currently drenched in sheets of rain as a hell of a storm drove down over the town. It drummed against the drains, rattled against the roof, and sent leaves and small branches scattering across the lawn. Yeah, beautiful sunny day, he agreed with a deadpan tone. Now, you wanna tell me what’s really wrong? He turned to me and looked directly into my eyes.

      It stilled me. Well, half of me. The other half of me shuddered into a sprint as my heart skipped a beat and a tight pressure pushed through my chest.

      There was something so soft about Max. Yeah, you had to scratch the surface to find it – way, way under the surface. But it was there. The soft droop to his eyes, the subtle curl to his lips, the way he always tilted his head to the left when he was watching me.

      Chi? he pushed. Why are you just sitting there and staring at me? You’re not your usual self, he pointed out with a hint of worry crumpling his forehead and pushing his thick dark brows together.

      I laughed. It was kind of exasperated. You barely know me, I said, more for my own benefit than his. Because it was true. A fact I kept trying to remind myself. I barely knew this guy. So what if he was my perfect type? So what if it had felt like my destiny had knocked on the door when I’d first met him? So what if my heart kept overriding my brain and begging me to trust him? The fact remained that I’d only known Max for a little over a month. Sure, it had been a seriously wild month, but that didn’t negate the fact I didn’t really know this guy.

      Max leaned back, plucking his hand from the table as he rested it on his broad knee. He tilted his head even further to the left. Reaching a hand up and running it through his stubble, the smallest of smiles crinkled his lips. You think I don’t know you, ha? I know you hate it when you’re not in control – a throwback to your mother. You also try way too hard to keep a cool, calm, unaffected persona – even when you’re a jittery mess on the inside. Now, what else? Oh, yeah, you always wanted to be a baker – but it was a pipe dream. You lack the discipline. And, let’s face it – you wouldn’t be able to get up early enough. Plus, you don’t deal well with messes and surprises. You tend to scream and run in the other direction.

      What? Hey, that’s not true. Wow. Nice. Seconds ago, I might have been staring at Max’s soft smile and letting it hook me like a fish, but now my lips hardened into a grim frown.

      Max cleared his throat. But you don’t need to be a baker, Chi. You don’t need to be a cheap fortune teller. You don’t even need to be your mother’s daughter. All you’ve got to do is— He stopped. Abruptly. A frown spread across his face as he ticked his head towards the front door.

      I was way too distracted by what he’d been about to say to bother wondering if a magical fiend was on our doorstep.

      All I’ve got to be is what? I pressed as Max rose warily and inclined his head towards the French doors. The rain still plastered them, rivulets gushing down the window panes and pooling against the uneven cobble of the courtyard. The little potted lavenders and verbenas that sat just outside the door drooped and swayed in the downpour, the buds of long lavender huddling against one another as the wind howled through the courtyard. And speaking of huddling together, as Max stood up, he shifted past, locking a hand on the backrest of my chair as he inclined his head to get a better view through the window above the sink.

      The bare, warm, slightly rough flesh of his knuckles and the back of his hand pressed a little into my neck. It might have only been a light sensation, but that was all it took to kick my imagination into overdrive. I could envision his hand slipping down my shoulder, the soft touch of his fingers lingering over my jaw until they dropped down my neck and cupped my chin. Only problem was, this vision wouldn’t come true. I wasn’t using my powers here – just my ridiculous desire.

      Suddenly, without warning, Max leaned in. He jerked his hand off the backrest of the chair, sending a slight shudder through the wood as he shifted, flattening his torso against the chair as he leaned forward. The hard, carved line of his torso pressed against my neck and pinned my hair to my shoulder as he hooked an arm down.

      Then Max, my fairy bodyguard, cupped a hand to my chin.

      A thrill of pure anticipation spiked through my heart, shot hard into my pelvis, and sent fire racing through my veins.

      But no, this was not the prelude to a kiss.

      Ah, there we go, Max hissed out a breath of satisfaction as his rough fingers dug into my chin.

      I yelped as he pulled something out. Hey, what the—

      Max shifted around until I could see him in full. He was cupping something in his hand. And, disappointingly, it was no longer my chin. Instead, it looked like a bug.

      I usually had a cast-iron stomach. Animals, bugs, rodents – none of that stuff bothered me. Unless it had been crawling on my skin, that was.

      I jolted backward, my chair skidding across the linoleum. What the heck is that?

      Whatever Max was holding, it was definitely a bug, and it was definitely magical – that, or it was a truly gruesome experiment that had escaped a renegade genetics lab. It was changing color and size, pulsing in and out like a beating heart.

      It’s a magical tick, Max revealed as he brought it up and frowned at the small thing.

      … Wait, that thing was on my neck? What the hell was it doing? Was it feeding off my blood? Was it laying eggs?! Oh god, do I need to go to the hospital?

      He chuckled lightly. See, I told you you don’t deal well with surprises.

      I looked at him, blinking madly as I kept a hand latched on the spot where Max had plucked the tick from my neck. Wait… did you plant that there to prove your point?

      He shook his head, disappointment obvious. Why would I do that, Chi? I’m here to protect you. I would have thought I’d made that point clear by now. Max rather abruptly turned his back on me, walked over to the sink, turned on the tap, and appeared to wash the tick down the drain.

      Without getting out of the chair, I leaned over to watch. Ah, is that a good idea? I mean, won’t that thing just get into the pipes and… I don’t know, create a colony of evil magical tics in the subway?

      He shook his head again, mirth obvious. Directed, clean water will kill a magical tick. There’s nothing you have to worry about.

      I kept my hand clutched against my neck, and there wasn’t anything on God’s green earth that would remove it. How the hell did I get it? And what the heck was it doing on my neck? Wait… wait, I swallowed, the move so pronounced I could have popped the buttons on my shirt, this isn’t punishment, is it? As I asked that question, I didn’t look at Max. Rather, I swiveled my attention and locked it on his shadow. For the briefest fraction of a second, it grew larger, but then Max shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

      No, Chi, this time it’s not punishment. It would have come in with the rain. Max shrugged towards the French doors. The rain was still pounding down outside, kind of like the meteorological equivalent of an army assaulting the house, rattling the windows, and trying to tear the tin from the roof.

      I frowned. But if it came in by the rain, then how the heck did you kill it by washing it down the sink?

      The water has to be clean, he leaned around and patted a large hand on the faucet, and your grandmother’s pipes have been sanctified. Plus, Max’s voice became distant as he returned his attention to the storm through the windows, wherever this weather is coming from, I doubt it’s the sky.

      I frowned even harder at that completely bizarre comment. Ah, looks like it’s coming from the sky to me. What do you mean, anyway? I asked as I quickly swallowed my sarcasm – there was a look in Max’s eyes, and it was making my stomach turn somersaults.

      If I’m any guess, it’s the Lonely King drawing something to himself, Max answered so quietly I had to shift forward half over the table to pick up his muttered tones.

      The hair along the back of my neck stood on end, and a cold wave of sweat prickled between my shoulders. I sat back slowly and swallowed. I thought you said we had some time on that? I thought you said taking Fagan down would be a blow to him? My words weren’t hysterical – far from it. They were quiet, slow, directed. And as I asked, I watched Max for all I was worth.

      Max sucked in the kind of breath that punched his chest out and rumpled the fabric of his tight T-shirt. We still do have some time. How much I’m not sure. But, Max turned his full attention to me, it all depends on you, Chi McLane.

      There. There he was. The shadow. I watched it grow sharper, darker, take up more space by Max’s side.

      Have you been trying to develop your powers like I showed you? Have you been reading through your grandmother’s journals and following her instructions? Have you looked through the newspaper clippings I left by your bed?

      And by the bath, and by the back-porch door, and by the couch. Oh, Max had been leaving pictures and newspaper clippings everywhere – all in an attempt to call on my powers.

      I watched him, the pounding rain falling away, the stiff table beneath my equally stiff hands falling away, too. In fact, the rest of the world seemed completely irrelevant as I faced Max. Or his shadow, at least.

      Several minutes ago, Max had been completely normal. Or at least mostly normal. He hadn’t bothered to mention a thing about the photos or my powers. Now

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