Cupcakes, Curses, and Spirits by Jovee Winters

Author:Jovee Winters [Winters, Jovee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: witch romance, cozy mystery romance, paranormal romance, fantasy romance, mythology romance
Publisher: JoveeWintersPublishing
Published: 2018-05-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Primrose

I HEARD THE CREAK OF an old wooden floorboard squeak as Violet came back into the room and walked around me sitting on my rocker. She looked as lovely in her DayGlo orange dress with a purple sash cinched around her ample waist as a weathered orangutan might. I still adored her, but we certainly weren’t what we’d once been.

Once upon a time, we sisters had been the shining pearls of all the paranormal world, but with years, our pearls had lost their luster. We were old now, no longer quite so perky of bubs, and certainly nowhere near as spry as we’d been in our youth. But unless I glanced in a looking glass, I sometimes forgot the lines that now wreathed my face or the spots that marred my hands. In my mind, we were still nubile and young, much like Zinny was.

But with age had come wisdom.

I eyed my nervous sister sitting on the faded royal-purple couch before me. She was picking at a loose thread on her skirt with wonderfully pudgy fingers.

I spoke into the silence. “Weel, should I no have done it, do ye think? Should I have stopped Zinny?”

Her gray eyes flashed behind her gold-rimmed spectacles perched precariously on the tip of her very tiny, very rounded nose. “Hyacinth will no care for this. Ye ken it, sister.” Her words were a whispered but hurried hush.

“No.” I shook my head and gently rocked, comforted by the feel of memories—Thorn memories—infused within the very wood of what had once been a powerful Hazelwood tree. I could feel the hands of my long-departed grandmother whittling the pieces together and hear the ghostly laughter of child after Thorn child, strong with the magick of our ancestors, rocking to and fro in the very spot I now occupied. I could hear the hum and song of my grandsire as he plucked at his lute, singing with his robust tenor voice of the magickal fae realms and the mysticism of the rolling green hills of yore. Tonight, I drew on the comfort of the past even as I tried to turn off the knowledge of the truths Zinnia was sure to unearth.

Time, that perfidious man, had warned us all long ago. Memories that had once been locked away even from us had slowly begun to be remembered with Sage’s abrupt entrance into all our lives. And what we were starting to remember, well...it would make none of us look good.

We’d known this day was coming and that our deeds would certainly catch up to us someday. But it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. We were supposed to tell her when the time was right, when it was appropriate. Not now. Not yet. Not when she would hate us for our choices. The actions we’d taken, actions that at the time—and even now—were absolutely the right ones had come at a steep cost, far steeper than any of us had anticipated.

“What do we do, Rosey?” Violet asked in her perpetually youthful voice.

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