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    A Trick of Terror: Witch Against Wicked, #6
    A Trick of Terror: Witch Against Wicked, #6
    A Trick of Terror: Witch Against Wicked, #6
    Ebook113 pages1 hourWitch Against Wicked

    A Trick of Terror: Witch Against Wicked, #6

    By Kate Krake

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    About this ebook

    If you like fun filled, fast-paced supernatural mysteries filled with magic, mayhem, and a bit of romance, with a feisty ensemble of witches, werewolves, fae, and more, then this is the book for you...

     

    As much as Belinda Drake loves Halloween, the traditional Blackthorn Springs Scarecrow Festival is just too much for this witch. Besides, with her new and unwelcome magical powers to deal with, Belinda has enough worry without adding a town full of creepy scarecrows into the mix.

     

    But while Belinda tries to hide away from the festivities, trouble comes looking for her… and not only in the form of a new tour company that's determined to make Belinda and her book store a cheesy supernatural tourist attraction.

     

    As a horrifying monster launches an attack on the town, and her private life causing her even more trouble, Belinda must find out who's behind this heinous terror before the unimaginable happens.

     

    A Trick of Terror is a Halloween special novella, the sixth book in the enchanting Witch Against Wicked series. Get your copy now and treat yourself to a bit of Halloween mystery.

     

     

    The Complete Witch Against Wicked Series:

    1. A Maze of Murder
    2. A Mask of Chaos
    3. A Trial of Ghosts
    4. A Wreath of Ruin (Christmas Novella)
    5. A Hex of Wolves
    6. A Trick of Terror (Halloween Novella)
    7. A Coven of Demons

    Each book has its own main story alongside a plot arc that continues across all books. For maximum reading pleasure, the author recommends reading the books in order.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSylvan Star Press
    Release dateOct 21, 2021
    ISBN9798201333331
    A Trick of Terror: Witch Against Wicked, #6
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      Book preview

      A Trick of Terror - Kate Krake

      PROLOGUE

      March

      This was worse than dying.

      The sickness gripped my insides, starting from my belly and snaking up to my throat and then down, so deep that even my feet were washed in cold, nauseous sweats.

      Emerald scales edged in gold, serpent’s skin, shimmered in the candlelight as it spread up my arm. My ritual knife dropped to the dirt, breaking the spell.

      Not that there had actually been a spell.

      It was midnight, freezing. I was alone in Hazel Woods, a clearing by a stream that I had once thought of as my sacred place. I’d come here on countless nights to meditate in moonlight and center my magics. Tonight, I was there giving magic one last chance.

      Power flowed here. I had stayed away since learning that was because witch blood from a ritual mass killing two hundred and fifty years ago soaked this earth. This was the first time I’d been back since that night with the ghosts when I’d learned the truth.

      I was desperate. If this place couldn’t sort out my power, separate my magic from the taint of Ptanarch, then it was over for good.

      Stealing to the woods alone in the middle of the night to do a secret spell was my last hope. It wasn’t the spell itself that was secret. It wasn’t even a real spell, just an attempt at a basic levitation. If I could float my athame using a simple enchantment I’d been able to do since I was a teenager and stop myself from shifting into a snake, then maybe I could get a grip on this thing.

      Last month had been bad.

      The wizards, the werewolves, everything that had happened with Conri’s niece, and let’s not forget the part about his secret wife. An actual god, Ptanarch, the lord of shapeshifters, had appeared in the flesh and granted me a power. He’d called it a gift. It was a curse.

      I’d first felt it onstage, dancing the rites of Persephone with my coven in front of the entire town. A sickening twist had roiled in my guts as the shift had begun, and it had been that way ever since, every time I used any magic.

      I’d tried everything I could to lift the curse. How can you use magic to break a curse when the curse stops you from using magic in the first place? Even my Naarin demon friend, Adela Kristos, was at the limit of her formidable research powers.

      I hadn’t fully shifted into a snake since the first time, but it always started with the writhing belly, then the hot and cold flashes, and then the scales would appear. The more I tried to block it out, the harder the snake fought to be released from my skin.

      No one besides Adela and Agent Colvin knew, and I’d only told them in desperation for their help.

      No one else could know.

      The scales receded as my pulse slowed and the magic settled, the spell incomplete.

      Aside from a gentle shake of my shoulders, tears sliding down my cheeks as I sobbed silently, I was still as the moonlight.

      I had failed. My life was over.

      I would never do magic again.

      1

      October

      We’re all allowed to become something different on Halloween. To walk on the path between worlds, between light and our shadow selves.

      The blades flashed close to my neck. The hand that held them paused, holding my fate as tightly as the scissors.

      Are you sure you want to do this, Belinda?

      I grinned with a cheer I wasn’t quite feeling. Absolutely. And if not, it’ll grow back, right?

      Jeanie ran her free hand down the length of my hair to the middle of my back. Her other hand paused, holding the scissors at the ready. It’s a big change.

      Trust me, I’ve had bigger.

      But a pixie cut? Why don’t you start with something more gentle? What about a nice neat bob to the shoulders? Then move gradually toward the full-on short.

      Jeanie, it’s my head, my hair. It’s not that big a deal.

      Winter is coming hard this year. It’s only the end of October and it’s already freezing. You know long hair is warmer, right?

      Lucky I’ve got a lot of hats. Cut it off, please.

      Jeanie King ran the salon next door to my store, Blackthorn Book Nook. She had inherited it from her mother, and her mother before that. A King woman had been cutting hair in this place for near on a hundred years, and it felt like about that long since I had last had a decent change. Well, a new hairstyle kind of change. A sudden ability to shapeshift into a serpent didn’t count. Besides, I was trying to pretend that had never happened.

      You alright? Jeanie said. She’d lowered the scissors and was looking at my reflection, one part concerned, one part like she was about to tell me off for something I’d done.

      Um… yes? Why wouldn’t I be?

      I’ve been in the hair business for a long time, and I’ve seen a lot of women make drastic changes like this. Often it happens when she’s going through something big, usually not good.

      She was almost right. I had been through something big. But I was coming out the other side of it—I had come out the other side of it—bigger, better, stronger, happier and all the rest of it they say you’re supposed to do once you get through a hard patch. I don’t know if finding out your boyfriend was kind of married to a werewolf, being captured by evil wizards, and being imbued with shapeshifting powers by the hands of an honest-to-everything god, and then having to quit magic forever, counted as a hard patch, but whatever; I had moved on. Conri and I were finally something close to solid again, at least wobbly solid, after a few hard months of my questioning everything about him. So what if I hadn’t been able to do a single simple spell without almost turning back into a snake? I was avoiding doing magic just fine, so I’d dealt with that. I just wanted a new hairstyle. Was that such a big deal?

      I promise I’m fine, I told her. I shifted in the seat. If I’d known I was going to get the third degree like this, I might have just taken a set of clippers to my head and gone full GI Jane.

      Jeanie scrunched up her nose, not losing that annoying look of concern in her eyes. She raised the scissors again and exhaled. You’re the boss, she said.

      The blades chopped through my thick hair with a satisfying slice. Half of my hair fell to the tiled floor and already I felt a hundred pounds lighter.

      I actually love short hair on women, Jeanie said as she worked. Too many women are afraid of it.

      It’s just hair, right?

      Yes and no. Hair says so much about us. It frames our faces. It’s a major part of our personality. I hear so many women who are like ‘oh, I don’t have the right shape face for short hair.’ But do you ever hear a man say that? Guys have just as many face shapes as we do, and most guys have short hair. It’s stupid. You’re so brave.

      I prefer to think of bravery as something a bit more significant than getting a haircut.

      You’d be surprised at how many women couldn’t or wouldn’t do what you’re doing, even if they wanted to. You can call that what you want.

      I glanced down at the massing pile of my hair littering the tiles. There sure is a lot of it.

      It’s really healthy. I wish you’d considered donating. People would kill for hair like this.

      I didn’t know Jeanie particularly well and wasn’t entirely sure of her feelings toward the supernatural, so I opted not to go into the details of why giving away my hair made me feel uncomfortable. She didn’t need to know the kinds of things a wicked spell could do to a person with even a single strand of their hair, let alone an entire head of it.

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