Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven by Bella Forrest

Author:Bella Forrest [Forrest, Bella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nightlight Press
Published: 2018-08-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

A knock on the door made my eyes snap open.

Sunshine poured through the windows. I’d left the thick, dark green curtains open. Only then, after a heavy sleep, did I take in the colors of my room—dark green on the windows and carpeted floor, and walnut paneling on the walls, with matching furniture. I was so tired yesterday, so overwhelmed, I didn’t even notice the mid-century vibe.

It didn’t match the rest of the coven, and I had a feeling it was decorated by the previous magical, as the furnishings sort of matched the 1950s movie posters. A second knock made me sit up.

“Yeah?” I called out, readjusting to consciousness.

“It’s Astrid! Can I come in?”

I blinked several times, the memory of yesterday coming back in full color. Man, I was knocked out last night. I couldn’t remember a single dream. Come to think of it, I could barely remember how I got back from the Bestiary.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, pushing the blanket aside.

My jeans and T-shirt were still on. It was a miracle I’d made it out of my boots last night.

The door opened, and in came Astrid, dragging a solid metal clothes rack with her, the wheels squeaking a little too loudly. It was loaded with a plethora of clothes, with a bottom rack on which several boxes wobbled as she stopped in the middle of the room.

“What in the world?” I murmured, getting out of bed and rubbing my eyes.

Astrid put on a presentation pose, beaming as she pointed at the rack.

“These are all for you, compliments of the San Diego Coven!” she said.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that all the clothes were in my size—all my favorite brands and styles, in a variety of whites, blues, and reds, mostly, along with a couple of leather jackets. She opened the boxes one by one. Boots, biker style, ankle height, and not too heavy on the soles, just the way I liked my footwear, as well as a pair of sneakers.

“Astrid. What’s all this?” I managed, while she opened one last box, which was filled with lingerie, and a bag of essential girly stuff—shampoo, conditioner, personal hygiene, and makeup, all my regular brands. How did they know? Wait. My apartment.

“Well, after the gargoyle attack last night, there wasn’t much left that we could salvage from your apartment,” Astrid explained, taking one of the leather jackets and turning it over to get a better look at the metallic accents. Judging by the look on her face, she liked it.

“I don’t… What?” I was still quite confused.

“The gargoyles trashed the place, and I don’t mean just the broken water pipe and windows—”

“No, that was me,” I replied, replaying the entire scene in my mind.

“Ah, okay. Cool.” She nodded, slightly amused. “You really need an Esprit, girl.” She chuckled, then switched back to serious-looking Astrid. “Thing is, one of the gargoyles flipped over the TV, then pulled out and tore some of the live wires in the wall. I’m quite fuzzy on the details right now.

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