Pure Magic

  Pure Magic

  WITCHES OF WINDSOR

  BOOK THREE

  A.S. FENICHEL

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Copyright © 2023 A.S. Fenichel

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Penny Barber

  Proofreading by OopsieDaisyEdits.com

  Cover by LoveTheCover.com

  Images from Depositphotos, Design Cuts

  First Electronic Book Publication March 2023

  Contents

  Pure Magic

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Also by A.S. Fenichel

  About the Author

  Pure Magic

  SARA BETH

  At nineteen, I replaced my mother as the high priestess of the Windsor coven. Duty bound to protect my coven and the king, and for almost ten years, I have worked to transform the coven from the rigid system of Mother’s rule to a warmer community of witches. News of men being admitted to the Windsor coven has spread, requiring me to consider more of their petitions. Legend says that male witches destroy and kill, often turning to dark magic. This was the reason for the ban. Will my removal of the old prejudice bring us all to ruin?

  ADAM

  For over eight years, I’ve been running from my home in the Scottish Highlands, always staying a step ahead of my siblings. Each new town where I work my illusions and make a name for myself as a showman gives them the chance to catch up with me. I hope the Windsor coven will accept a man living in the light of magic. All I want is family within a coven.

  I am not received with enthusiasm, as the high priestess is as wary as she is beautiful. If not for the ancient great mother’s intervention, Sara Beth would have sent me away immediately. Instead, I'll be tested for light and dark magic. It’s unpleasant, but I’d do almost anything to stay by Sara Beth’s side, and finally find a home.

  All is going well until Ariana and Kaden arrive. My sister Ariana is pure evil, and Kaden, my twin, follows in her darkness. Ariana’s plans will destroy more than just our world if we don’t stop her. To obtain her evil goals, she needs me. More than my coven acceptance and my attraction to Sara Beth are at stake when I join the Witches of Windsor.

  Acknowledgments

  When you’re a writer, people often tell you to write one thing and stick with it. They may be right, but where is the joy in that? When my muse takes me down a path, I have to follow her. That’s what happened with these lovely Witches of Windsor.

  I have some wonderful friends who support and encourage me. For always having my back, a big shout out to Gemma Brocato and Juliette Cross who were with me when this project began.

  Karla Doyle, thank you for daily words of encouragement and humor. I don’t know where I’d be without you.

  For Dave, you are my heart.

  Chapter

  One

  SARA BETH

  I’ve been making a market list for twenty minutes. Generations of Windsor witches have gathered at this long table for celebration and somber occasions. Today, I have the coven house to myself, a rare instance of solitude.

  Great Mother Prudence left a month ago to spend some time in the country, and the resident witches went with her. Usually, noise would come from the kitchen behind me or activities downstairs in the gathering hall. The only sounds are my own sighs against the white-washed wooden walls. After ten years of running this coven, I feel twice my nine and twenty years. My closest friend, Minerva, has moved with her new husband to a small farm outside of town. I’m happy for her, but I miss her living in the coven house with me.

  I’m being selfish and maudlin. I see her most days. She and Jonah run the apothecary shop, and she brings their baby to the coven house often. It’s just that things are changing, and I’ve never been very good at accepting change.

  “What has put such a scowl on your face, Sara Beth?” Sylvia has a rasp to her voice, and there’s no need to look up to know the question came from her.

  Surprised that my musings have a witness, I force my expression to soften. “I thought you were helping at Esme’s shop today.”

  With a wave, she sashays to the bench across from me, sits, and props her chin on her fists. “I was just there helping with some spells. I thought you might like some company, so I came here before heading home.”

  It was kind of her to think of me, and if I’m honest, I don’t like the coven house being empty. I love the bustle of witches at work and play. “Thank you.”

  “So, what has you looking like the world weighs heavy on your brow?” Sylvia has no sense of easing into a topic. Whatever she wants to know or whatever she thinks, she is always at liberty to say.

  “Just thinking about change.” The things I’ve allowed that my mother would have forbidden roll through my mind: witches marrying and men joining the Windsor coven. “Perhaps I have gone too far away from the old ways.”

  “Nonsense!” She slaps the table. “All the new members, both male and female, have added great power and value to our lives. I think a bit of trousers in the mix is a good thing.” She winks.

  I can’t help laughing. “You would.”

  “The great mother returns today?” There’s a happy note to her tone.

  “Yes. I was just making a list for the market. I plan to cook.” It’s rare that I get a chance to work in the kitchen, and I always love to fix a good meal.

  “Oh, a treat. I’ll be staying for one of your meals. Shall I join you at the market?” Sylvia cranes her neck to look at my list of chicken, flour, and potatoes.

  “I’ve been struggling to think of what to cook.” I cap the ink and rise to put it and the quill in the chest in my room.

  Sylvia waits by the stairs, toying with the end of her thick, dark-blond braid.

  I touch my tightly bound bun and think of how my mother rarely let her hair free of the same style. “Sylvia, why did you move out of the coven house?”

  Shrugging, she gives me a rather sad smile. “I have a futile hope of finding love and having a child. It seemed more possible if I were out of the hen house full of younger, prettier chickens.”

  My laugh is full of understanding. “I hope you find someone who sees you for the witch and woman you are, my friend. A man who chooses his chicken solely based on her youth is not the kind we want anyway.”

  Threading her arm through mine, she takes the basket by the door, and we head into the street. “Perhaps not, but I’d like to find a man, and the young witches like Trina and June are harder to ignore in favor of a witch of five and thirty.”

  “We witches live a long time. You have sixty or more years to find a mate and have a child.” I pat her hand. “I have faith in Goddess that if this is what you want, it will happen.”

  She grins. “I hope not to wait until my centennial for the occasion.”

  “There is one man who we both know favors you.” I’m only half teasing.

  She lets out a humph. “Henry Dove is not a witch.”

  I shrug but let the subject drop.

  The market square, a long wide street filled with colorful tents and vendors selling their wares. Flags wave in the mild winter breeze, and people crowd the way.

  Someone bumps my arm, and I stumble.

  Mr. Markham, the cobbler, steadies me. He’s a few inches shorter than me, but sturdy and strong. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Ware. Forgive my clumsiness.”

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  His attention is still diverted by whatever had him rushing away. Others are hurrying in the same direction.

  Mr. Markham points to the east end of the square. “A mesmerizer is performing at the other end of the square. I’m told he can make a dove appear out of thin air.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Is that so?”

  Nodding, he adds, “That may seem a small feat to you ladies, but it’s all in good fun.”

  Putting on my best warm smile, I say, “Carry on, sir. We’ll follow behind and have a look with you.”

  Rather than rush off, Mr. Markham accompanies us to the small platform where announcements are often made and the occasional performance is given. Since Mr. Markham has been making shoes for witches for over two decades, as did his father before him, he’s well aware of what we are. In fact, most of our close neighbors know and respect what we do to protect them and our king.

  Still, no one speaks of magic.

  It’s an amicable arrangement, and the neighborhood is warm to witches making life easier.

  “Oh, my Goddess.” Sylvia clutches her chest as the man onstage comes into view. “How entirely delicious he is.”

  I can’t argue with her. The man is stunning with red-tinged brown hair, bright blue eyes,
and a lean, tall figure. Magic tingles along my skull. I lean toward Sylvia’s ear. “He’s a witch.”

  She moves her hips seductively. “Clearly, but what a witch.” Her voice is full of sensuality.

  “Have you no interest in his character before you fall for his pretty face?” Despite my schoolmarm tone, my body heats.

  Sylvia shrugs. “Perhaps if I wanted to keep him, that would be important. At the moment, I’m only shopping, not buying.”

  Laughing despite my concerns about what brings this witch to Windsor, I give Sylvia’s arm a warm squeeze.

  The man scans the audience with a smile that will melt the hearts of women, young and old. He’s far too handsome with his warmly tanned skin and broad shoulders. “Thank you for the warm welcome to this fine town of Windsor,” he says with a thick Scottish brogue.

  The crowd applauds.

  It should be more of a warning, but his deep accented voice sends a bolt of need between my legs. Is that his magic? Does he seduce with his voice?

  Not willing to risk it, I cast a blocking spell around Sylvia and me. I’ll not be made a fool of.

  Sylvia shifts and looks at me. “You think he’s bespelled us?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.” The spell has little effect on my growing attraction for this stranger. “Perhaps he’s just handsome, and I’ve been alone too long.” I wink.

  As the gathering quiets, he continues. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve today. I hope you’ll enjoy my amusements.” With that, he pulls two doves from his sleeve. The show continues for twenty minutes with an array of animals, flowers, and love letters seeming to appear out of nowhere.

  I observe and extend my powers to feel if his magic is dark or light. He uses no magic for his performance, only sleight of hand and tricks to distract the eye. He’s very good but does nothing to warrant my interference.

  “One last conjuring,” he announces. “I’m calling on the angels to shower the most beautiful woman in Windsor with my attention.”

  Magic tingles in the air. My muscles stiffen, and I hold my magic ready for whatever he might be up to.

  Pale yellow rose petals flutter from the sky like the feathers of those angels he spoke about. They brush the skin of my cheeks, neck, and arms and land on my shoulders and skirt, contrasting with my navy-blue dress.

  I look toward the stage, and the witch stares back with a warm smile. He bows to me as the crowd erupts in applause and cheers. They toss coins into a small basket at the edge of the stage.

  Sylvia and I walk to the butcher’s shop. “Do you think he knows who I am?”

  “I think it’s likely, but maybe he just found you lovely. You are quite attractive, Sara Beth. Perhaps both.” Sylvia steps inside the shop and calls out a friendly greeting to the butcher.

  I don’t like being the center of attention. It seems strange, since I run a coven and am often the center of that, but this was different. The entire neighborhood was staring at me because he chose me as the most beautiful woman in Windsor. Of course, that’s not true, which is more proof that he knows who I am and wants something from me. Perhaps he wants to distract me to accomplish his goals, whatever they may be.

  Sylvia says my name as if she’s said it a few times without a response.

  “What?”

  “Are two chickens going to be enough for dinner tonight?”

  It takes a few seconds for me to focus on the food, not that witch. “Yes. That will be fine. Perhaps we’ll roast them with some nice potatoes and vegetables. I can make gravy and bake some bread.”

  When we return to the coven house, our basket is full of lovely things. I’m ready to get into the kitchen and forget about the mesmerizer and his tricks.

  The cart’s wheels at the back of the house alert us to Prudence’s arrival. I place our wares on the table in the still room and run out to greet the great mother.

  I don’t know exactly how old the great mother is, but it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred. Witches, if they don’t get sick or meet with an accident, can live a very long time. Even so, Prudence Bishop is ancient even for a witch. She’s also the kindest and most generous person I’ve ever known. She shares her knowledge and wisdom without any attempt to usurp my position as high priestess. I love her like a mother.

  She climbs from the fine carriage on loan from Sir William and Esme Meriwether. As a gentleman and a witch, Sir William straddles the line between societies. He’s always gracious in offering his vehicles when needed.

  Prudence gives me a warm smile and opens her arms for my embrace.

  I rush forward and hug her gently. “I missed you, Great Mother. Did you enjoy your time in the country?”

  Pulling back, she pats my cheek. “It was nice to spend some time there without demons lurking inside witches.”

  Her reference to Trina’s possession and the subsequent battles with the demon Forrester, my old lover Orin, makes my gut twist.

  Trina alights from the carriage. “It was nice to see the place through my own eyes as well.” She flips her brown hair over her shoulder and grins before hugging me. “We had a lovely visit with the townspeople and a relaxing summer.”

  The other witches, June and Winnie climb down and greet me.

  As I take Prudence’s arm to go inside, another carriage rolls down the alley. Minerva and Jonah Allen rush to see Prudence.

  Once we’re all in the gathering room upstairs, I say, “I’m going to cook if you have no other need of me, Great Mother.”

  She waves me off. “I’m well attended. Oh, I invited someone to join us for dinner.”

  I stop at the kitchen door. “Who?”

  “I’ve been corresponding with a young man from Scotland. He’s come on hard times. Actually, he’s had a long struggle, not of his own doing. He should be in town by now, and I’m sure he will join us tonight.” She blinks at me as if daring me to challenge her invitation to a stranger.

  Of course, I know better. He will sit at this table if the great mother deems him worthy. “Scottish, you say?” The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

  Sylvia laughs. “He wouldn’t pass himself off as a traveling mesmerizer and trickster, would he?”

  “I cannot say.” Prudence smiles, and her gray eyes light with amusement.

  It will be an interesting night.

  Two hours later, I’m deep into my cooking. Other witches rarely enter the kitchen when I’m preparing a meal. I prefer to work alone. When the door opens, I call out, “I’m not in need of assistance.”

  “I only came with an apology and to introduce myself. I shall note your lack of need, though.” His voice is deep and full of amusement.

  My body might burst into flames from his rich tone and woodsy scent. Steeling my expression, I turn. “You might have introduced yourself in the market square today.”

  Goddess! He’s even more handsome, dressed in simple white shirt and trousers with a black coat. His cravat is perfectly tied in a simple knot, and those green eyes are warm as they study me. “I apologize. I admit I knew who you were. I’d made a few inquiries when I arrived this morning. The local people gave me a very intriguing description.”

  “I can only imagine.” I try not to care, but my eyes roll just the same. “Go ahead. What did they say? Did they call me harsh and overbearing? Did they say I’ve cursed all the men to impotency?” That one is my favorite.

  His laugh is round and does inappropriate things to my female parts. Not that I’m a prude or a virgin, but I don’t even know this witch.

  One step brings him inches from me. He takes my hand and bows over it. “I should have made my presence known immediately. I’m Adam MacNab. The great mother has been a friend to me for a year and invited me to Windsor, for which I am grateful. I didn’t come to you this morning because I wanted to make a few coins to pay for a room with a bath and have my clothes properly laundered before we met. I apologize, but I only wished to make a good impression.”