Charmed by Daisy Prescott

Author:Daisy Prescott [Prescott, Daisy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Comedy, witches, magical realism, Paranormal romance, bewitched series, salem witches
Published: 2018-07-25T04:00:00+00:00

Five

Fighting cats create a particularly haunting sound. The caterwauling coming from downstairs carries through the house like a ghostly wailing, hinting at murder and bloodshed.

Opening the door while simultaneously pulling on my pajama bottoms, I find Andrew scrambling to tug a T-shirt over his head.

“What’s going on?” I ask, suspecting I already know my role in setting this in motion.

“Sounds like Mr. M is defending his territory,” Andrew says, racing ahead of me down the stairs from the attic.

“From what?” I follow behind.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.” He opens the door at the bottom of the staircase.

Sam meets us in the hall, disheveled and sleepy. “Something woke me up.”

Glass shatters on a hard surface from below.

“Catfight,” Andrew tells her, not slowing his pace as he races down the final flight of steps to the first floor.

Sam’s eyes widen at the sound of more meowing and hissing. “How many cats are involved?”

“We’re about to find out.” I jog down the stairs.

A tall, human shadow in the front living room startles me and I come to an abrupt stop. Sam slams into my back and then we both tumble forward. My heart is already galloping around my chest like a spooked horse from almost face planting in the foyer, and I can’t decide if I see a blue haze or not.

For a second, I’m certain there’s a ghost in the house until the shadow solidifies into Tate.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper as he joins us by the stairs.

“Ran into Sam—”

More hissing and another crash interrupts him.

“Later,” I say, once again racing toward the sound.

A light brightens the kitchen, illuminating Andrew standing near the island. Sarah holds a broom pointed at a black cat sitting on top of the kitchen table.

Dressed in a thick black robe embroidered with red roses, her hair out of its signature bun, Sarah is still stylish even in the middle of the night and as fierce as ever.

“Has Mistoffelees gone crazy?” I ask, stopping next to Andrew. Flour and ceramic shards litter the counters and floor. Sprays of broken glass glitters in the dim light on the wood near our feet.

“Be careful you don’t cut your feet,” Andrew warns us.

“This isn’t my cat.” Sarah waves behind herself in the direction of the counter. “Mr. M is on top of the cupboards.”

Sure enough, his familiar yellow eyes glare down at us and he hisses.

“Then whose cat is that?” I point at the intruder. In the light from the pendant lights, I easily see the difference. Mistoffelees is heavier and his yellow eyes have a slight green tinge to them that makes them appear to glow. The cat on the table is skinnier and has smaller, duller eyes. While I study him, he swipes at the bristles of Sarah’s broom.

“I’m not sure. Nor do I know how it got into the house. M was locked inside tonight. At least he was when I went to bed.” Sarah blocks the cat’s attempt to jump off the table.

Andrew and I meet eyes as the truth settles in my chest like a heavy weight.

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