The Spell of Three Read online

  The Spell of Three

  Luck’s Hollow Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance

  Copyright © 2018 by Casey Morgan; All Rights Reserved

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Shanna

  Chapter 1

  Shanna

  Chapter 2

  Shanna

  Chapter 3

  Shanna

  Chapter 4

  Brody

  Chapter 5

  Ryan

  Chapter 6

  Shanna

  Chapter 7

  Shanna

  Chapter 8

  Brody

  Chapter 9

  Ryan

  Chapter 10

  Ryan

  Chapter 11

  Shanna

  Chapter 12

  Shanna

  Chapter 13

  Brody

  Chapter 14

  Ryan

  Chapter 15

  Shanna

  Chapter 16

  Shanna

  Chapter 17

  Shanna

  Chapter 18

  Shanna

  Chapter 19

  Shanna

  Chapter 20

  Shanna

  Chapter 21

  Brody

  Chapter 22

  Ryan

  Chapter 23

  Shanna

  Chapter 24

  Shanna

  Epilogue

  Shanna

  Keep reading for an exclusive peek into The Spell of Four

  Prologue

  Shanna

  “I really think that you should calm down, Shanna.”

  My mother looked at me with un-compassionate eyes, like the fact that I was making a scene was the big deal.

  I glared at her and my sister and my now ex-fiancé. Derek looked down and shuffled his feet a bit. But he didn’t look sorry. Not at all.

  I frowned at him.

  “It’s two days before our wedding, Derek. Two days! And you expect me to be calm?”

  My anger made my voice raspy.

  Without even thinking, I gathered the magic in the air around me and brought it into my body. I didn’t have a clue what kind of spell I wanted to cast: a fireball, a blast spell, an illegal curse? Whatever would make me feel better in this moment.

  “Shanna!” My father hissed, looking down at my palms. “There will be no magic in this house. Drop it, young lady!”

  I breathed out and released all the magic in my body.

  “I’m the better witch anyway,” bragged Nora.

  My bratty little sister stood with her arms, crossed facing me. Derek, my ex and now her fiancé, was standing right by her.

  It was Thanksgiving and I had just caught the two of them kissing in the hallway. I had been walking down the hallway to let them know dinner was ready, when I saw that they had already gotten started enjoying a pre-dinner treat of their own!

  Derek was kissing my little sister two days before he was supposed to marry me. It was absurd! Like a crazy nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from.

  And to make matters worse, my parents were supporting Nora. She had always been their favorite, a fact they never bothered to hide from me, and now they wanted me to calm down and support my sister and her new love. I wanted to claw her eyes out.

  Instead, I ignored Nora’s comment and took a seat on the tan couch that occupied my parents’ too-sterile living room. My mother had just recently been convinced to take the plastic off the furniture, but it still looked like no one lived here.

  I never knew why they insisted on living in a museum-like atmosphere. Now I was thinking that perhaps it was to match their cold, empty hearts.

  “Okay,” I said, my voice hard and barely just above a whisper. “Let me get this straight. You two have been dating and sleeping together for months. Months during which you, Derek, lied to me and let me continue planning a big wedding that you had no intention of ever going through with?”

  My mother wandered over to sit next to me. She put a bony hand on my thigh in a way that was supposed to be comforting, but was not at all. I flinched under the iciness of her hand.

  “Pumpkin,” she looked at me with wide blue eyes that mirrored my own. “Love just happens. Nora and Derek didn’t plan this. I don’t understand why you aren’t happy for her.”

  I moved my knee out of her grasp and glared at her. Mom always took Nora’s side, even if that side was crazy.

  “How long have you and Dad known about this?” I asked, my voice even and cold.

  Mom dropped her eyes from mine. “A few months. You see...”

  I jumped to my feet. “A few months!”

  I glared at her and my father; neither looked sorry.

  “I spent so much of my own money on this wedding and the honeymoon.” I glanced at Derek. “The wedding and honeymoon in Ireland that you convinced me to book, so that we could meet my distant relatives! What the hell, Derek? Why would you even have me do that?”

  “Well, Shanna,” Derek shuffled forward. “I figured, you know, that you could give Nora and me the tickets. I mean, that’s her family, too.”

  Oh, hell no!

  “Derek, I paid for the tickets.”

  I shook my head, partly to show my refusal to his ridiculous suggestion, but mostly to hide the fact that I could no longer hold back my tears.

  “There is no way that I’m sending you and my sister on what was supposed to be our wedding and honeymoon trip.”

  Dad tutted at me. “Be reasonable, Shanna.”

  I turned to glare at him. I felt the magic in the room rush into my body again and wove my fingers through the movements of a blast spell.

  My mom, dad and Nora all sucked in magic of their own. We didn’t send spells at each other much, but, as a family of witches, it did happen from time to time.

  I fingered the blast spell resting in my palm. It felt like a ball of swirling hot air. I wanted to release it at my sister; to see her crushed against the wall and maybe taking out my mom’s pristine couch with her.

  But I wouldn’t do that. I was a good witch. I was a good girl. A lot of good it had done me in life, but, like it or not, that was who I was. So, I dropped the spell, grabbed my purse and headed towards the door.

  Derek followed me outside. He seemed anxious, as I unlocked what was formerly our car. As far as I was concerned, it was my car now.

  “Where are you going, Shanna?” he asked.

  I didn’t even turn to look at him. I couldn’t. I had loved him this morning. Two hours ago, we were engaged and happy, or at least that was what I thought. My heart clenched. It was heavy and aching in my chest.

  How could he do this to me?

  I felt the magic in the air around me again, but quickly pushed it away. There was nothing it could do to help. I had all the magic in the world, but no spell would fix a broken heart.

  “Shanna?” Derek asked again.

  “I’m going to Ireland,” I told him. “Clearly, the wedding is off. But I’m still going on our honeymoon.”

  He blinked at me, as if he wasn’t comprehending. Just in case there was any chance he thought I might be delusional and meaning “with him,” still, I decided to clarify things.

  “Alone.”

  And with that, I got into the car and shut the door in his face.

  I had no idea what the future had in store for me, or why Ireland of all places would hold anything better than here, but I figured I had to go somewhere, try something. Clearly all that was left at home was heartache and betrayal. Plus,
I was not about to waste the money I had spent on my portion of the ticket, at least.

  Well, that’s over, I thought. Time for something new.

  Chapter 1

  Shanna

  “Oh, my God, a sheep!”

  The rain was blinding in Southern Ireland as I tried to drive towards Luck’s Hollow and my honeymoon destination, a bed and breakfast called Hennessey House. I could barely see the road, much less what was in it. Until it was right in front of me.

  The large black ram regarded my rental car as a mild nuisance, ignoring it and the rain that was causing the dirt of the road itself to churn into a stew-like consistency. The sheep didn’t move. I turned the wheel quickly to the right to avoid him.

  The car slid, caught in the mud. There was a popping sound. Then, I couldn’t get traction with the surface of the road, so I turned off the car and tried to assess my situation.

  “I think I blew a tire,” I said to myself.

  The ram wandered up to my car and bleated his agreement. He then gave me a resentful look, strolled out of middle of the road and into the field that was running alongside it. With a flick of his tail, he was gone. It was like he had only been there to deter me, and now that his purpose had been served, he was heading off on his way again.

  With nothing left to do, I opened my door and tried not to cry as my high-heeled boots sank into the mud. The rain was coming down sideways now, in cold, large drops that clung to my hair and ran down my neck, into my yellow wool jacket. I cursed a little and tried to clear my forehead and eyes of water.

  I moved my fingers in a subtle pattern, pulling the magic in the air around me and refocusing it in to a rain-ward. It wasn’t big – smaller that your usual umbrella, something I should have thought to bring along with me on this stupid adventure.

  I walked around the car and eyed my flat tire on the passenger’s side. It had caught a nail, a rock, or something. I knew a spell to air things up but that was useless in this case. It would just be flat again in a few miles. And I was pretty sure I had at least fifteen or twenty more miles to my destination.

  The tire iron and jack were buried in the trunk. I rooted around as best I could but with only such a small rain-ward to cover what it could, my luggage still got soaked.

  “Crap,” I muttered under my breath.

  I grabbed the jack and iron and ran towards the flat tire on the passenger’s side. The dirt road was thick mud now, my foot caught, my boot stuck fast, and I plowed face forward into the sludge with a splat.

  “Oww!” I moaned and scooted till my back hit the car.

  Damn rain. Damn, stupid dirt road. Damn stupid rural Ireland. Damn Derek.

  Tears sprung to my eyes, clinging to the already wet lashes. I rubbed my forehead again, trying to summon the will to get out of the mud and claim my captured boot.

  These boots were suede, costly, and at this point, ruined. Another thing ruined this week. I closed my eyes. I needed to calm down.

  “Everything all right, Lass?”

  I opened my eyes and focused on a small sprite flying in front of me. This part of Ireland was supposed to be filled with them.

  The sprite was about five inches tall, dressed in green and yellow plaid pants and a tiny green shirt. He was smoking a small pipe and his wrinkled face made him look old enough to be my grandfather.

  Not that I was related to any sprites. As far as I knew, my family was all witches. We were from a clan who left Luck’s Hollow years ago to start an idyllic village in New York for witches and other magical beings: Love’s Hollow.

  Derek had been researching the ancestry and was super excited about coming to visit Luck’s Hollow here in Ireland. There is an annual Turnip Festival he was excited about coming here for, although I didn’t really know why. Derek was rather strange like that and got caught up in things other people thought were weird.

  But I did like his idea of getting married in the beautiful – and affordable, for a wedding venue – Luck’s Hollow, and coming to find my relatives here. I didn’t want to waste all my money or sit around Love’s Hollow with the embarrassment of having been stood up at the altar in such a bad way, so, here I was. In the rain and muck of Luck’s Hollow.

  “Lass?”

  The small man crinkled his forehead and flew closer to my face. His itty-bitty eyebrows creased in concern.

  His compassion was so touching, I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. They came down in streams, following the trails that the rain had already made on my cheeks.

  “There was a sheep,” I hiccupped between sobs.

  The little flying man put his hands on his hips and nodded. “A sheep, yes. There are lots of sheep around these hills.”

  He nodded again, as if encouraging me to go on.

  “A big black one…”

  “Aye, that’s Gerald. He’s a jerk.”

  The sprite took his pipe out of his mouth and knocked it on his arm, letting a bit of ash fly out.

  “Gerald. In the road… I swerved… to not hit him,” I choked out. “Hit something else… now my tire is flat. My boots are ruined. They were four hundred dollars.”

  My words came out in a torrent now, as I unloaded all my thoughts and feelings onto the poor old sprite flying in front of me.

  “Stupid Derek wanted to come to Ireland in the fall. What kind of honeymoon is that? It’s so wet and cold here. I want to be on the beach somewhere. Not stuck on a dirt road in the muck.”

  “Who’s Derek?” The sprite asked as he flew closer.

  When he was about on my shoulder, he moved his tiny hands in a pattern. A much larger rain-ward flowed from the magic in his hands and encompassed most of the rental car. Thank goodness.

  “My ex. We were supposed to get married this past Saturday, but he left me for my sister.”

  The sprite gave a low whistle through his teeth.

  “Well, that’s the real muck, isn’t it, dearie? Bad luck and leprechauns!” he swore and spit over his shoulder. “What a bitch your sister must be!”

  His comment shocked me, and I choked a bit on my tears before breaking into a slight smile.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  He moved his hands in another delicate pattern and started a warming spell. Heat blossomed from the little man. My clothes began to dry, and my hands started to feel less frozen. I choked out a few more tears and then tried to dry my eyes.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate your help,” I told the little grandpa.

  He did a little bow midair and then cleaned his pipe again. He relit it with a spark from his own fingers.

  “Happy to be of service, Lass. The little bit that I can be.” He looked over at the tire and furrowed his brow. “That I canna help with, but I can keep you dry while you see to it.”

  I smiled at him. “Thank you, sir. I’m Shanna.”

  “Glen O’Sullivan,” he reached out his hand to me.

  Unsure of how to shake hands with a sprite, I just offered up a pointer finger. That seemed to be suitable, and he flew forward to take it.

  Shaking it lightly, he said, “Now, let’s get you fixed up and on ye way.”

  I nodded. Under the protection of Glen’s rain-ward, I felt around in the mud until I found my trapped boot. It took a few pulls, but it came free.

  I dumped a small lake out of it and pulled the repulsive wet thing back onto my foot. My foot was wet too, so it didn’t really matter.

  Glen and I moved towards the front of the car. I put the tire iron to one of the lug nuts and pulled. It held fast.

  I stood back and did a quick loosening spell over all the nuts, by moving my fingers quickly. Glen hummed his approval. After my spell, the nuts came off easily.

  “Where ye headed to, dearie?” Glen asked, as he floated near my shoulder.

  “Luck’s Hollow. Hennessey House Bed and Breakfast.”

  Glen smiled mysteriously, then nodded. “Aye, a bit of fun, Hennessey House is. That whole family is a true riot. I get a stout there wh
en the missus is looking the other way.”

  He winked his tiny brown eye at me.

  “Are the Hennesseys witches?” I asked, as I rolled the tire away from the car.

  Glen thought for a minute, stroking his little white beard. “Witches? No, Lass. Those devils be leprechauns.”

  My eyes widened. My head was filled with thoughts of two-foot tall men with green outfits and buckles on their shoes. I had never met a leprechaun before.

  “Really?” I asked, staring at Glen.

  He laughed and slapped his knee. “Hell no, dearie. I’m just pulling your leg. The Hennesseys are elves. Just like most big folk around here and in Luck’s Hollow. This is Ireland; we come in big stock. We do have some witches. A family or two.”

  He seemed like he wanted to say more but held back.

  I pulled the new tire from the trunk and tightened it on. The rain had let up by this point and I was finally able to see my surroundings. Low green hills surrounded both sides of the road. They seemed to be pastures for sheep, broken up by rocky borders and a few sparse fences.

  The sky was pale blue as the clouds headed away. I could see for miles. It was beautiful.

  I turned back to my small companion.

  “Thanks, Glen. I think I can make it from here. I really appreciate your help.”

  He nodded and flew around in a small circle, a typical farewell for a sprite.

  “Nothing to it, Lass.” He flew up higher and headed away, but not before shouting back over his shoulder, “Besides, Gerald’s my sheep.”

  Chapter 2

  Shanna

  There was no one at the front desk of the Hennessey House Bed and Breakfast when I arrived late in the afternoon. I rang the little bell sitting on the rough wooden desk a few times, but no one answered.

  No one seemed to be around. The whole bed and breakfast looked empty.

  Outside, Hennessey House was a large cottage-looking building, made out of rough stones plastered together. The door, shutters and wood lining the windows was painted red, which stuck out starkly against the gray stones.

  Inside, the walls and ceiling were lined with white wooden planks, giving the rooms a lighter, airier feel than I expected.