More Than A Feeling: The Claire Wiche Chronicles

By Cate Dean

The story of The Claire Wiche Chronicles begins...

 

When Annie Sullivan steps into The Wiche's Broom, all she wants is a crystal, and a distraction from her life.

 

What she finds is Claire Wiche, owner, witch, and the distraction she never even dreamed of – an encounter with a ghost, and a request that throws them both into a murder mystery stretching back two hundred years.

 

The Claire Wiche Chronicles:
Prequel - More Than A Feeling
Book 1 - Rest For The Wicked
Book 2 - A Gathering of Angels
Book 3 - Carry On Wayward Son
Book 4 - Annie's Song
Book 5 - What Doesn't Kill You

Box sets:
The Claire Wiche Chronicles Volumes 1-3
The Claire Wiche Chronicles Volumes 4-5

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cate Dean
• Release date: Jan 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524294564

Cate Dean

Cate Dean has been writing since she could hold a pen in her hand and put more than two words together on paper. She grew up losing herself in fantasy worlds, and now creates her own worlds, infusing them with adventure and magic. When she's not writing, she travels to places that inspire her, having her own adventures, and reads pretty much anything she can get her hands on. There - I got the official biography out of the way. I love to write, and yes, I have been doing it most of my life. I've made up stories in my head for as long as I can remember, and I am thrilled to be able to bring those stories to life, and share them with you. If you want to be the first to know when the next book is released, or be in on some fun giveaways, join my list here: https://catedeanwrites.com/join-my-list. You can learn more about me and my books at my website: https://catedeanwrites.com I look forward to meeting you. :)

Book preview

ONE

Annie Sullivan stopped when she spotted the store on the other side of Forest Street. One she’d only glanced at before today. Before she acknowledged her growing power; before she found herself alone.

The Wiche’s Broom. She felt a smile coming on—her first in three months. I bet there’s a story behind that one.

At least it would be a distraction. And she badly needed a distraction.

Jaywalking across the two lane street, she opened the glass door, looking up when a bell chimed over her head. Not a headache-inducing screech, like the buzzers she’d set off when walking in other stores. Just enough to alert the sales staff in case they were out of sight of the door.

She stepped inside the store, and immediately felt calm. The scent of lavender soothed her—a nice alternative to the choking amount of patchouli Madame Serena pumped into the air at The Witch’s Way. Her store was three times the size of this one, but Annie never seemed to find what she needed.

Three steps in she saw the shelf of crystals.

Oh—yes. She strode over to the tall shelf, trying to take it all in at once. The crystals were displayed for easy access, some on stands, some spread out across the shelf, the palm size crystals in a shallow basket. And bless whoever did it, they were arranged by type, instead of size. The way Madame Serena had hers marching from smallest up on dark wood shelves gave Annie a headache every time she tried to find a particular one. Amethyst crystals—where are the amethyst—

Third shelf down, on your right. The voice froze her, the kindness in it touching a part of her she thought she managed to bury with her parents. Is it for a particular use? Or were you wanting something decorative?

Annie swallowed, forced herself to smile as she turned to face the voice’s owner. The smile faded when she looked down—nearly a foot down from her own almost six foot height—and met silver-edged blue eyes.

She blurted out her real reason for coming in before she could stop herself. It’s for—I’m just learning about my powers, now that my—

A small, warm hand closed over her wrist when she faltered. It is an exciting, scary time for you, isn’t it? How long have you known?

Annie blinked at her, and to her horror, tears started to fill her eyes.

I have to go.

That hand tightened on her wrist, incredibly strong for such a petite woman. Please stay. You need to talk. I can listen, and hopefully, offer you some relief.

Before Annie could refuse, the woman wrapped an arm around her waist and let her through the long, narrow store. A round table sat in the back, on a colorful rug. The woman settled Annie in the closest chair and moved to the chair on the other side of the table. It gave Annie a few seconds to blink her eyes clear, and study her new acquaintance.

A gorgeous face framed those unusual eyes, and a cloud of red brown hair surrounded it, falling almost to her waist. A blue blouse and black trousers enhanced her slender figure. She made Annie, with her jeans, boots and oversized jacket, feel like a plodding giant.

Those feelings faded when she sat, and smiled across the table. I am Claire.

Annie.

Annie Sullivan? Her heart clenched. She nodded, staring at the table. And jerked in shock when one arm slid over her shoulders. I am so sorry for your loss, Annie.

The same kindness filled Claire’s low voice, and shattered the thin wall Annie managed to build between her and her pain.

I can’t—

You can. You need to. Let it go, Annie.

Just like that, all the rigid control disappeared.

Annie cried, like she should have at the funeral, at the cemetery, with her parents’ friends. It took a stranger to finally allow her to give in to the overwhelming loss.

When she finally came up for air, feeling like an idiot, Claire handed her a box of tissue.

Stay put. I’m going to get you some water. Hey, she paused in the doorway of the back room. Do you happen to like roast beef? Annie’s stomach growled, and she clutched it, embarrassed. Claire smiled. I’ll take that as a yes. I have half of my sandwich left over from lunch. It’s yours.

Why are you doing this?

Pain flared in the silver blue eyes, disappeared so fast Annie wasn’t sure if she imagined it.

I know what it is to be alone. To lose everything you are, in a moment. She cleared her throat. So—roast beef and water, coming up. You stay right there.

The words should have sounded bossy. Should have gotten Annie’s back up. She hated the holier-than-thou attitude, the I know what’s good for you speeches disguised as concern.

But Claire’s words were—real. And Annie was more than a little curious about the woman who effortlessly broke through, when even her closest friends had been shut out.

Claire swept back in, set down a real plate, with—oh, God love her—one of the roast beef sandwiches from Lily’s takeout just down the street. Annie’s taste buds were already doing a happy dance.

I think I love you. The words jumped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Claire’s laughter had her blushing.

Lily is a genius with food. I’ve been addicted since my first bite. Please, Annie—eat. You look like you haven’t had a good meal in a while. I know how grief can chip away at you.

Claire. The other woman smiled at her. She looked—ageless. Not a line on her face, but Annie knew, somehow, Claire’s real age was not showing on her face. Thank you, for—everything.

It was my greatest pleasure. She leaned down, set a heart-shaped amethyst on the table next to Annie’s hand. And this is a gift. I hope it will help to ease some of the pain you carry. Annie looked up,